The weeks dragged by and Kitty fell into a regular routine at Fallridge. The squire and his lady agreed to take Kitty on as governess, but she was not required until the end of November, when the present governess was leaving to live with her sister. In the meantime Kitty worked at home and took over many of the household tasks, leaving Aunt Jane and her mother free to concentrate on their sewing. Aunt Jane might tut and bemoan the fact that Kitty’s hands were growing rough from the hard work but Kitty preferred the activity, because she found sewing left her mind far too free to think about Daniel.
Even when her hands were red and sore from washing clothes, or her eyes smarting from dust as she swept out the cottage, she could not regret calling off her engagement. It was not just the idea of marriage to a man she didn’t love: that might have been bearable. Given time they might even have grown quite fond of one another, but her heart recoiled from the thought of watching Daniel with another woman. Also, knowing that Daniel loved her, it would not have been fair to Ann for Kitty to remain. This way she could at least give them a chance of happiness. This thought was her only consolation as she dragged herself to bed every night, afraid her dreams would be filled with painful visions of Daniel, but disappointed if they were not.
She refused to discuss what had happened at Kirkleigh with her mother, and when Mrs Wythenshawe read for herself in the London newspaper the brief announcement that the betrothal was terminated, she immediately went off to visit the squire and to beg him not to pass on any further newspapers since her interest in London society was now completely at an end. Thus Kitty was spared any news of Daniel and Ann’s betrothal. That part of her life was over. She must now look to the future.
August was almost over when the quiet of the village was disturbed by the arrival of a large travelling carriage. Kitty had been gathering fruit from the hedgerows and was making her way home as the elegant vehicle swept past her. She saw it stop at the green and the driver leaned down to address one of the lads tending the pigs there before setting off again, only to pull up a few yards on, outside of her mother’s cottage.
Kitty stopped, her skin prickling with a presentiment of danger. As she watched she saw two ladies descend from the carriage and after a moment they disappeared into the cottage. Kitty breathed again. For a dreadful moment she thought it was Daniel come to find her. Settling her basket more comfortably on her arm, she began to walk towards her home. It must be someone with a commission for Mama. She quickened her step. It might even be a very lucrative order, since the lady could afford to travel in a coach and four.
The cottage was very dark after the bright sunshine and Kitty paused in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
‘Ah, here is my niece now!’ Aunt Jane’s greeting was preceded by her hacking cough. ‘Come in, Kitty, come in and meet our visitors!’
Kitty stepped in, dropping a slight curtsy towards the two ladies. They were mother and daughter, she guessed, because despite the difference in their ages they were both black-haired and dark-eyed, and both had the same direct gaze that they now turned upon her. Kitty gave them her shy smile, wondering if she had met them before.
‘Goodness, you have been busy, my love,’ said Aunt Jane, taking the basket from Kitty. ‘Wimberries, lovely—and elderberries, too!’
‘Yes,’ said Kitty. ‘I thought it might be a little early for the elderberries, but I found some, not enough for cordial, of course, but we can put them into a pie, I thought…’
‘Excellent! I shall take them through to the back. Your mama is gone to fetch down her pattern books but she will be back directly. Oh, but where are my manners? Mrs Blackwood, may I present to you my niece, Katherine. Mrs Midgley recommended us to Mrs Blackwood, Kitty, and she is come to have a gown made up for her daughter—’
Blackwood! Kitty’s heart lurched. No wonder they looked so familiar. She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, painfully aware of her old gown and fruit-stained hands. She welcomed the sound of Mama’s footsteps on the stairs.
‘Now, I have a number of patterns here that might be suitable, as well as a number of magazines that you might like to look at. My daughter was in London recently and brought them back for me… Oh, Kitty, there you are! I hope Jane has introduced you…’
‘Yes, she has,’ put in Mrs Blackwood, smiling and looking so like Daniel that Kitty wanted to cry. ‘I wonder, Miss Wythenshawe, if you are not too tired from your berry-picking, if you might take a turn around the green with me? There are such a number of books and pictures for Bella to go through that it will take her quite some time, I think. I am sure I can rely upon your mother’s judgement to guide her towards a suitable selection from which to make our final choice.’
‘Yes, do pray leave me, Mama,’ said Miss Blackwood, bending her own mischievous smile upon Kitty. ‘I am sure I shall decide much quicker without you sighing over me and growing impatient!’
‘You see, Miss Wythenshawe, we are quite de trop,’ chuckled Mrs Blackwood. ‘Let us walk.’
Silently Kitty stepped back out into the sunshine. This matron could only be Daniel’s mother—and he had mentioned to her that he had a sister—a minx had been his words, and recalling the mischievous twinkle in the girl’s dark eyes Kitty could well believe this was she. How unfortunate that Mrs Midgley should recommend Mama as a seamstress for them. However, it was highly unlikely that she would come into contact with Daniel. It was rare for gentlemen to accompany their womenfolk on such errands so there really was no reason to think it would ever be discovered that they had been acquainted.
Mrs Blackwood set out for the green at a brisk pace and Kitty fell into step beside her.
‘Well, Miss Wythenshawe, it has been quite a task to track you down.’
Kitty started.
‘Our cottage is a little out of the way…’
‘That is not what I meant, my dear. I was referring to the way you disappeared after jilting Lord Harworth.’
‘Oh.’ Kitty swallowed. ‘It…it was not deliberate. I merely came home.’
‘As any loving daughter would.’ Mrs Blackwood nodded approvingly. ‘I am sure I cannot blame you, for you could hardly remain at Kirkleigh, could you? And I understand Lady Leaconham has washed her hands of you.’ She gave a little tut of disapproval. ‘I find it hard to understand why people should object to a broken engagement, when one or other party realises they have made a mistake. It is surely better they discover the sad truth before the knot is irrevocably tied.’
‘It would have been a very advantageous match for me,’ put in Kitty, determined to be honest. ‘I have disappointed so many people by my action. I only hope that Lord Harworth can forgive me, in time.’ She added, ‘I do not believe his affections were engaged.’
‘No, I think you are right. My son tells me he is even now turning his attentions to Miss Leyton-Smythe, a wealthy heiress who has recently arrived in the area.’
Kitty hesitated a little before asking the question that was uppermost in her mind. ‘Is—does Mr Blackwood spend a great deal of time at Kirkleigh?’
‘Whenever his work can spare him, yes. But that is only to be expected. He is still advising Lord Harworth on his building project, and of course he must visit Miss Harworth.’
Kitty nodded, wondering miserably why it had been so important to ask the question, since the answer only brought her more pain.
Mrs Blackwood continued thoughtfully, ‘But I do not believe he is happy.’
Kitty’s eyes flew to her face and found herself subjected to a piercing scrutiny.
‘I think something occurred at Kirkleigh, something that my son will not divulge, but I hope that you can help me.’
‘Oh, no, no,’ stammered Kitty. ‘I am sure I do not know…’
Mrs Blackwood continued as if she had not spoken.
‘You see, when Daniel returned from London he made several references to you, Miss Wythenshawe.’
‘He—he did?’
‘Yes. He wanted to know if I h
ad heard of the family. I am afraid I could not help him, but I thought perhaps he had formed an attachment, for he was quite preoccupied, you see. Oh, he did not neglect his duties, but I found him not quite so…attentive as he had been. My daughter Bella noticed it as well, and she also noted that Daniel’s behaviour changed markedly when Lord Harworth brought a party to Kirkleigh.’ A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘It did not take long to discover that the mysterious Miss Wythenshawe was one of Lord Harworth’s guests.’
‘But there was nothing—’ cried Kitty. ‘We hardly saw each other—I mean—’
Mrs Blackwood patted her arm.
‘Oh, do not distress yourself, child. Daniel said nothing, I assure you. It was all conjecture on my part, but I think I know my son pretty well: it was very plain to me that Daniel had fallen head over heels in love.’
Kitty wrung her hands. ‘No!’ she whispered.
‘You may imagine my surprise when Daniel came home to tell me he was engaged to Miss Harworth. Of course, he also informed me that you were to marry her brother and I began to see that something had gone terribly wrong.’ She stopped, turning to look at Kitty, a mixture of sympathy and enquiry in her dark eyes. ‘Am I right to think you did not know of my son’s feelings for you?’ Miserably Kitty shook her head and heard her companion give an exasperated sigh. ‘Oh, the foolish boy.’
‘Pray do not blame him, ma’am! He…he believed I wanted to marry Lord Harworth. And…and I thought so, too, for a while.’ She fixed her eyes upon Mrs Blackwood, willing her to understand. ‘I did not know he l-loved me, until it was too late, until he was engaged to Ann. If I had married her brother then we would have been constantly thrown together. The idea of seeing him every day and not being able to…’ She pulled out her handkerchief and resolutely blew her nose. ‘Once I knew he…he loved me I was sure I must not stay. If it had been only my feelings that had to be suppressed, every look, every gesture designed to conceal what was in my heart, that would have been painful enough, but to know Daniel was suffering, too—I thought it best to leave. Without me there to remind him, I thought he would soon become accustomed to his new life. Miss Harworth is a splendid young woman: she will make him a good wife.’
‘But he loves you.’
Kitty closed her eyes. She said quietly, ‘It is an excellent match, ma’am. I believe in the highest circles many married couples begin with mere liking but soon develop a sincere affection. I can only pray that that will happen.’
‘I hope so, Miss Wythenshawe, since I can see no way out of the betrothal.’
‘I am so sorry.’
‘So, too, am I. You have been very foolish, the pair of you, but what’s done is done and we must look to the future. Tell me your plans, Miss Wythenshawe.’
‘Me? Well, I must earn my living,’ said Kitty. ‘I am to become a governess in November.’
‘And is that what you want?’
Kitty spread her hands.
‘It is a good situation; the present governess is only leaving because she is obliged to return to the family home. She has told me the squire and his lady are very considerate employers.’
‘And you turned down marriage to Lord Harworth for this?’ There was a note of wonder in Mrs Blackwood’s voice. Silently Kitty spread her hands again, too miserable to speak. ‘Well, you must let me do something for your family.’
‘Oh, no, please! That is not necessary—’
‘It is in some part my son’s fault that you are reduced to this.’
‘It was my decision,’ replied Kitty, raising her head. ‘I could not accept charity, especially from you, madam.’
‘You must accept it for your mother and your aunt,’ came the firm reply. ‘They will not be able to continue with their sewing for many more years, and if they remain in that damp little house their health will soon fail. I shall set up a fund of some sort to provide them with a small income. My lawyer will arrange everything. It shall be anonymous—your mother will believe it is some benevolent acquaintance of your father’s. Will that do?’
After a moment Kitty nodded.
‘I want nothing for myself, but I will accept your offer for my mother’s sake, Mrs Blackwood, and thank you for it.’
‘Good. Then it is settled. Now let us return to the house and see what unsuitable designs Bella has chosen for her new gown!’
‘…what say you, my dear?’
‘Hmm? Yes, if you wish, Mama.’
Daniel had no idea what his mother had asked him. His thoughts had been far away, as they were so often these days. He knew his mother’s eyes were upon him and gave her an apologetic smile across the breakfast table.
‘I am sorry, Mama, what did you say to me?’
‘It hardly matters, my dear. I was only saying that Cook has procured a couple of rabbits and I wondered if we should add them to the dinner tonight. Your father is bringing your uncle back to dine with us and he is very partial to rabbit.’
‘Then by all means have them,’ he replied. ‘I regret I shall not be here; I am promised to dine at Kirkleigh.’
‘Oh. I had thought that now your work on Lord Harworth’s mill was complete you would have a little more time for yourself. You are looking tired, my son: I am well aware that you have spent two hours at the mill already this morning. I wish you would stay home and rest today. I am sure you are eager to hear from your uncle how Barrowford Mill is faring.’
He said quietly, ‘Miss Harworth expects me.’
There was a heartbeat’s hesitation.
‘Of course,’ nodded Mrs Blackwood. ‘You must not disappoint her.’
After breakfast Daniel excused himself and went off to the study. There were letters to be answered before he could set off for Kirkleigh. He yawned. Perhaps it was not strictly necessary for him to visit the mill every morning, but when his father was away he liked to assure himself that everything was in order for the day.
He sat down at the desk and pulled the pile of letters towards him. There was nothing urgent but he wanted to deal with them all before setting off for Kirkleigh. A tiny voice in his head whispered that he was putting off the journey. It was true. He was reluctant to spend more time at Kirkleigh than was necessary. There were too many memories. With something like a growl he forced himself to concentrate on his correspondence, working his way doggedly through the pile of letters until each one had been answered. The official documents that had arrived from London received no more than a cursory glance before being put aside to discuss with his father.
The chiming of the church clock reminded him that it was getting late. Reluctantly he sent a message to the stables to have Marnie saddled up.
The ride across the moors toward Kirkleigh usually provided him with some relief from the deadly depression that dogged him, but today he could not seem to shake it off. It was a beautiful day, the sun blazing down from a cloudless sky on the purple heather, which was fading now that summer was ending. He told himself he should be enjoying the freedom of the journey, the refreshing breeze on his face and the skylark trilling above him, but it was no good. After a brief gallop he allowed Marnie to slow down and pick her own way along the well-worn path while he gave himself up to thinking about Kitty. He rarely allowed himself the agonising luxury of wondering what she was doing, if she was happy, but that did not mean she was not constantly in his thoughts. Every waking moment conjured a picture of her: when he poured himself a cup of coffee in the morning the dark liquid was the colour of her hair; when he was surrounded by the roar and clatter of the spinning shop he could hear her asking questions about the mill and its workers. At Kirkleigh it was even worse, for everywhere he looked there were reminders of Kitty—taking her riding lesson in the park, drinking tea in the drawing room. When he sat down to dinner he expected at any moment to see her peeping at him between the epergne and the candlesticks. There was no escape from her—even at night the sky reminded him of the time he had brought her back from Chapeltown. Sometimes she was so real
to him he thought that if only he looked around quickly enough he would see her at his shoulder.
Angrily he shook his head. It did no good to dwell on the past. Ann was waiting for him at Kirkleigh and not for the world would he have her know how bitterly he regretted asking her to marry him. As Kitty had said to him, the very last time he had seen her, they had to live by their choices.
He straightened his shoulders. This maudlin behaviour would help no one. Neither would being late for dinner. With a flick of his whip and a word of encouragement to his horse he settled himself in the saddle and cantered on towards Kirkleigh.
He rode Marnie to the stables and entered the house by a side door, where he was surprised to find himself accosted by one of the footmen, who informed him that Lord Harworth and his sister were awaiting him in the study.
‘I thought you might be sitting in the garden on such a lovely day,’ he said, tossing his hat and gloves on to a chair. ‘Is there some business to discuss, my lord? I thought we had covered everything on the mill.’
‘We have, Blackwood, and the building work is progressing smoothly.’ Lord Harworth replied. ‘This has nothing to do with the mill.’
Daniel looked from Ann to her brother, his brow contracting a little.
‘Is something amiss?’
Lord Harworth picked up a newspaper from the desk.
‘I need you to explain this.’ He held out the paper. ‘I have just read a report of the petition presented to Parliament by the West Riding Anti-Slavery Society—you did not tell me you were a member of the committee.’
Daniel’s brows rose fractionally.
‘The subject never arose.’
‘I thought I made my views on this matter perfectly clear.’
‘You did,’ agreed Daniel. ‘They are not my views, however, and I have never made any secret of that. The sooner we stop trading in slaves the better.’
To Catch a Husband... Page 23
