by Rosie Harris
Sensing his disapproval, Kate had done her best to fulfil her new role, but for the first few weeks it had been far from easy. She had no real place at Bramwood Hall. The servants resented her because she enjoyed privileges they didn’t. The family weren’t sure whether to include her at family meals like a governess, or confine her to the nursery wing and let her take her meals there with the two girls the same as Nursie had done.
Eventually, a compromise was achieved. The old nursery was converted into a sitting room. Kate and the girls took their breakfast and lunch there and dined with Sir George and Lady Helen only when there were no guests present.
David was considered to be one of the family, and his frequent visits were the highlights in Kate’s new life.
Whenever he visited Bramwood Hall, he sought Kate out, anxious to know if she was happy in her new surroundings. During dinner he would go out of his way to include her in the general conversation, asking her opinion or inviting her comments on all manner of topics.
Now, not being allowed to join them for dinner was a crushing rebuff for Kate.
Too angry to eat, she walked over to the window, waiting for the girls to finish their meal, scheming how she might meet David, determined that he should hear the truth about what had happened.
Polly regarded Kate’s untouched plate with raised eyebrows when she came to clear away. After she’d left, Kate told Beth and Mary to go to their rooms and read until it was time for bed. Their protests died on their lips as they saw the angry set of her face.
Draping the blue cashmere shawl around her shoulders, Kate went out on to the landing. She paused at the top of the great curving staircase, listening to make sure the meal had ended and the servants had withdrawn to the kitchen before descending.
As she went out into the garden, she could see the lights were still on in the dining room and wondered how long David and Sir George would sit there, smoking their cigars and drinking port. She pulled the cashmere shawl more closely round her shoulders. Already the evening air was chill.
At the sound of a man’s step on the gravel pathway, Kate took refuge in the summer house. She was barely inside before she heard David softly calling her name and his broad frame filled the doorway. He was stylishly dressed in slim-fitting trousers and a dark frock coat set off by a white stock, and a red and grey striped waistcoat.
‘Why were you not at dinner?’ he asked anxiously.
She explained about the girls’ misdemeanour and their punishment.
‘Such nonsense,’ David laughed derisively. ‘You should have sent yours back and come on down to the dining room.’
‘I hardly think Sir George would have made me very welcome, since he seemed to blame me for the girls’ unladylike behaviour,’ she replied sharply.
‘Helen was so evasive when I asked where you were that I thought you must be unwell,’ he told her.
‘How did you manage to get away?’
‘I told George I wanted a breath of fresh air. Helen guessed my intentions so she discouraged him from accompanying me.’
‘You’d better not stay out too long or Sir George may come looking for you,’ Kate said, looking over her shoulder nervously.
‘It might be more sensible if we took our walk in the sunken garden,’ David suggested.
As they descended the stone steps from the terrace, into a section that had been laid out in Italian style, David placed his arm lightly about Kate’s waist as though to assist her. When they reached the bottom level she was conscious that he made no attempt to remove it.
Blissfully, they sauntered between the sweet-smelling flower beds, the high-riding moon shedding a silvery glow around them. The night air was soft on their faces, and with David’s body so close to her own, Kate no longer felt cold.
‘You are looking very lovely tonight,’ David murmured, lightly fingering her cashmere shawl. ‘Is this new?’
In a subdued voice she told him about her grandmother.
‘It was because I’d only just heard the news that I was so inattentive and left the girls to their own devices for a few minutes,’ she said, a catch in her voice.
‘Did you explain that to George?’ frowned David.
‘No. I didn’t have the opportunity.’
‘You must tell Helen. She will understand. Now, just forget all about it,’ he murmured, drawing her into his arms.
‘David, we mustn’t,’ she stiffened, pulling back. Her concern that they might not be able to meet was now replaced by fear that they might be discovered together.
‘You must know how I feel about you, Kate!’ His breath was warm on her face, his voice harsh with emotion. He was holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe.
Her love for him had long been a secret joy, something she cherished. To know that his feelings reciprocated hers brought happiness greater than anything she’d ever known. Her mind was in a whirl. She’d been aware David held her in high regard when he’d arranged for her to work at Bramwood Hall, but his admission of love sent her senses soaring.
As he held her more tightly against his strong body, Kate melted into his embrace, and when his lips found hers she didn’t even pretend to struggle. This was the fulfilment of her most secret dreams, the most wonderful moment in her entire life.
She closed her eyes as wave after wave of emotion washed over her. Her fingers traced the outline of his face and brow, tangling in the silky softness of his thick dark hair, as she tried to convince herself that this really was happening and was not just some figment of her imagination.
‘Kate, my sweetest darling,’ David breathed before his lips once more covered hers. She felt his hands moving over her shoulders, his strong fingers pressing against the flesh of her forearms. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, taut against her gown, until their bodies seemed to fuse together as one.
She trembled in response to his touch. As one hand cupped her breast, she was aware that the pressure was making her nipples harden, so that she felt sure he must feel the erect nubs against his palm.
‘You feel as I do,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Kate, we belong to each other.’
‘It’s sighing for the moon, David,’ she protested. ‘It cannot be…’
‘Hush! I will not listen to such talk,’ David admonished.
As his lips sought hers again, her heart pounded. Her response to his kisses became as passionate as his own. All her grandmother’s warnings when she had first left home to work at the Manor flooded her mind.
His arm still around her, he led her to a secluded corner of the Italian garden where elm trees formed a natural arbour. As he drew her down beside him on to the soft, mossy grass, common sense warned her she was taking a grave risk in becoming so deeply involved with David Owen. Yet she knew she wanted him as fiercely as he wanted her. This was the moment she’d dreamed of: her grandmother’s warnings were forgotten.
The intensity of David’s passion thrilled her, yet at the same time bewildered her. He was Lady Helen’s brother, in a totally different class to her, yet she was confident that he wasn’t just taking advantage of her innocence.
Had he merely wished to satisfy his lust, then he would have done that long ago, she told herself. There had been ample opportunity during their secret meetings in the deserted lanes around the Manor. Instead, he’d treated her as an equal, insisted she should call him by his first name, acted like a real friend. Their walks together, their shared interest in William Barnes’ poetry, his genuine concern for her well-being, were as considerate as though he was courting her.
Her fingers flexed in the softness of his hair as his lips trailed kisses of fire over her throat and neck. When she felt him unbuttoning the bodice of her dress, and slipping it off her shoulders so that his lips could caress the flesh beneath, her whole body trembled in response.
David, seeing her aroused, covered her mouth with his, stifling her mild protests, exciting her to an even greater degree of ecstasy until, discarding the last remnants of caution, s
he surrendered to his lovemaking. Strange, wonderful sensations, as intoxicating as heady wine, brought shattering satisfaction.
She looked up at the leafy canopy above them, the linked branches making a tracery against the heavens. There was no breeze; it was as if a great stillness covered their world.
Suddenly she shivered. The moon had scudded behind a cloud and there was an ominous quality about the darkening summer sky. Something she couldn’t put into words filled her with foreboding.
Chapter 4
Early morning sunshine streaming into her bedroom wakened Kate. For a few moments she lay with half-closed eyes, enjoying its brightness, letting her thoughts wander. It never ceased to amaze her how everything had turned out so well for her at Bramwood Hall, just as David had predicted.
She felt a flush of colour staining her cheeks as the mere thought of his name brought the events of the previous evening flooding back. Had she been foolish to give way to him, she wondered anxiously. Was she inviting heartbreak?
From the moment of her arrival at Bramwood Hall it had been made blatantly clear that he was already destined for another. Beth and Mary talked of little else. Sometimes Kate felt like screaming, or boxing their ears, or both. Anything to stop them chattering away like two magpies about David’s future prospects.
To make matters worse, his chosen bride-to-be, Penelope Vaughan, sounded such an ideal match. As an only child, Penelope would inherit the vast estates her father owned at Tretower, on the north bank of the Usk in South Wales. In due course, she would bring to the marriage both considerable wealth and important tracts of land.
Kate pushed the matter to the back of her mind as she suddenly realized that it was Sunday and that David was still at Bramwood Hall. Her eagerness to look her very best when they met at church lent speed to her actions.
A half-smile played on her lips as she took a dress of white lawn, sprigged with tiny mauve violets, from her wardrobe. She held it at arm’s length to admire it. It was a dress she loved. As she laid it out on the bed, along with a wide-brimmed bonnet, lilac gloves and a matching parasol, she thought of how David’s eyes would light up when he saw her later in the morning.
As soon as Beth and Mary finished their breakfast she told them to get ready for church.
‘Do we have to wear two petticoats?’ Beth protested. ‘It’s going to be a stiflingly hot day.’
‘I don’t know why we have to go to church, anyway,’ Mary sighed, ‘the service is always so tiresome. I would much rather stay in the garden and play croquet.’
‘Croquet is banned, as you well know, and likely to remain so for quite some time to come,’ Kate reminded her severely. ‘And anyway, Mary, you should know better than to speak of such things on the Sabbath.’
‘Yes, Kate,’ Mary agreed demurely. ‘Though why it is wrong to enjoy oneself on a Sunday is something I will never understand,’ she added wistfully.
Helen’s entrance, while she was helping Beth to fasten the tiny buttons down the back of her dress, startled Kate. It was so unusual for Helen to visit them that she suspected something was wrong. One look at Helen’s face confirmed her fears.
‘Are you ready to leave for church, Kate?’ Helen asked anxiously.
‘Why, yes…’
‘Hurry!’ Helen gave her a little push towards the door.
‘What is wrong?’
‘It is important that David speaks to you on your own. Leave by the kitchen door and make sure Sir George doesn’t see you. David is waiting with the trap at the far end of the drive.’
‘What about the girls…?’
‘I’ll take them to church with us. Go on… hurry,’ she urged impatiently.
Her heart thudding, Kate tied the strings of her bonnet, picked up her gloves and parasol, and did as Helen instructed. As she reached the end of the gravel driveway she saw the trap a few yards further down the road and hurried towards it. David reached out a hand to help her up, then he picked up the reins and drove at a spanking pace towards Ingham Bray village.
For a brief moment, just to be sitting alongside David on such a glorious summer morning filled her with happiness. The sun was already high, climbing between puff-balls of scudding white clouds. The hedgerows, filled with lacy meadowsweet, dog-roses and honeysuckle, gave off a heady perfume. The roads were empty and it was as if they had the whole world to themselves.
As they passed through the village many of the cottagers were already in their gardens. Women sitting in the sunshine, shelling peas or scraping potatoes in readiness for the midday meal. The younger children, aprons over their Sunday best clothes to protect them until it was time for church, played contentedly.
David remained silent until they had driven through the village, then he took her hand, holding it against his thigh. As she felt the tenseness of his muscles beneath her palm she looked anxiously up at him.
‘I wanted this chance to speak to you alone, Kate. There may not be an opportunity later in the day as I am leaving Bramwood Hall directly after luncheon.’
As she studied his profile, the firm set of his jaw, the tenseness round his dark eyes, the furrow that ridged his brow, her concern grew.
David pulled suddenly on the reins and the trap swung to the left down a narrow lane. When they came to a halt at the bottom, alongside a weir, the roar in Kate’s ears was not just from the water cascading through the sluice gate and falling in a shower of white foam on to the riverbed below, but an inner turmoil of knowing that something was desperately wrong. This unplanned ride together must, she was sure, be the forerunner of bad news. She waited anxiously.
‘You are so lovely, Kate,’ he murmured, turning towards her, cupping her face in his hands, his dark eyes studying it as if trying to commit to memory every detail of her features. With his thumb, he gently outlined the curve of her mouth, the proud tilt of her chin, the dark brows that swept wide over her blue eyes. ‘You’ve meant a great deal to me, Kate,’ he murmured.
‘Why are you going away?’
As she looked into David’s dark eyes she saw her own face mirrored in them.
‘My father has sent for me.’
‘You mean you are returning to Wales?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’
Kate felt stunned by his news. Fear gripped her. Had he known he would be leaving in the morning when he had made love to her the previous evening? she wondered.
All the rumours she had overheard about David and Penelope Vaughan sang in Kate’s head.
‘You will keep in touch, David?’ she asked tremulously.
‘If you have any messages for me then give them to Helen to pass on.’
‘But why can’t I write to you direct?’
‘It would be inadvisable.’ He turned away, unwilling to meet her questioning eyes.
She bit her lip, debating whether to stay silent or not. To speak out might antagonize him, yet she couldn’t endure the suspicions that gnawed like mice at the wainscoting of her mind. If their act of love had meant anything at all then surely she had the right to know the truth.
‘Is it because you… you are going to marry Penelope Vaughan?’
The question sounded outrageous and she found the tense silence that followed alarming.
‘You’ve been listening to servants’ gossip,’ he said sharply, avoiding her eyes.
‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘My informants were Beth and Mary. They talked of little else when I first arrived here. Is it true, David?’
‘My father hopes for such a liaison,’ he said evasively.
‘And you, David?’
‘Kate, my dearest, you know the secret of my heart.’
Capturing her wrist, holding her hand between both of his, he raised it to his face. She felt his sideburns prickle against her fingers as his lips pressed against her palm. Of its own volition, her other hand moved upwards until her fingers were entangled in the thick softness of his dark hair, and she was pulling his face down to her own.
As David e
nfolded her in his arms, the trap rocked precariously. Startled, the grey mare reared up so that it seemed the trap would overturn. David jumped down to pacify the animal. Releasing it from between the shafts he tethered it to a tree, where it could graze the grass.
As he helped Kate from the trap, David picked up the plaid rug from the seat. Escorting her to a secluded spot a short distance away, he spread the rug on the ground for them to sit on.
With his arms around her, the thunder of the weir in the background, the drone of insects all around them and the birds singing in the trees overhead, Kate felt once more transported into a realm of fantasy.
As his lips trailed a string of kisses over her throat she pulled away. She had to know the truth. She would not be fobbed off with vague statements and improbable dreams.
She’d known when they made love that she was risking her reputation. She knew only too well that many of the young gentry took advantage of girls in their family’s employ as if it was their given right. They notched it up as a pleasurable experience, with no thought as to the possible consequences. If the girl became pregnant she was the one to bear the stigma of being no better than she should be.
David wasn’t like that. He hadn’t ravished or raped her. Their relationship had developed over many months, grown out of a deep regard for each other. She had wanted him to make love to her.
‘Tell me what is happening, David,’ she demanded. ‘Why you have suddenly reached this decision. Has it anything to do with Sir George?’
‘No, of course not,’ he said hastily, then he shrugged helplessly. ‘It has in a way,’ he admitted.
‘Go on!’
‘I think perhaps I have outgrown my welcome at Bramwood Hall. I suppose I have been a rather frequent visitor since you arrived.’
‘Has Lady Helen complained?’
‘No, she has encouraged it. In fact, my sister has grown increasingly fond of you since you joined the household,’ he added with a warm smile.
‘Sir George hasn’t! He isn’t even sure that I am the right influence on his daughters,’ Kate retorted bitingly.
