by Anne Hampson
‘I think we’ve already decided the gossip will not very quickly die down,’ he commented, watching her with an odd expression in his eyes. ‘A short while ago you agreed to my suggestion. Have you changed your mind? Are you afraid of marrying me?’
Something in his tone brought her head up with a jerk ‘Afraid? No—but you can’t really want to marry me.’
‘You can’t want to marry me, for that matter,’ he countered smoothly. ‘But as neither you nor I have any desire to be the object of unsavoury gossip it’s a necessity.’ Again that air of unconcern. He appeared to have forgotten Delia’s existence altogether! Delia ... Kathryn looked apologetically at him and told him Delia had phoned.
‘I said you’d ring her back. You should have dined with the Slades.’
‘So I should, but they’ll understand. I’ll ring later. Come on, child, let’s eat.’
It was the first time John had asked her to dine with him, although he was well aware that she had dined regularly with her previous employer. She had been more one of the family then, but now she was merely a servant—Kathryn’s heart jerked. In the turmoil of her mind there had been no realization of her changed position. Now, as the knowledge filtered through, her eyes glowed, in spite of herself. To be here always, mistress of the lovely stately home to which she had become so attached ... to be the lady of the manor...
Such an exalted position. Could she fill that position in the way her husband would expect of her? Trembling now, she let her knife drop to her plate with a clatter which seemed to fill the whole vast Dining Room. Even the branch of silver candlesticks echoed musically to the sound. John looked up interrogatingly and Kathryn swiftly apologized.
‘What are you thinking of?’ he queried, frowning. ‘You look scared out of your wits.’
‘I was wondering,’ Her hands still trembled; she glanced across at him with great doubt and apprehension in her eyes. ‘John ... will I be able to fit in, do you think?’ She was pleading, although quite unaware of it—pleading like a frightened child for words of reassurance. She looked rather like a child too, with her cloud of fair hair falling about her face, and little lines of anxiety creasing her wide, intelligent brow.
‘You’ve fitted in very well up till now.’ He smiled at her, in a very special way, and she gasped. Never would she have credited him with such understanding.
‘It isn’t as if you’re not used to the life here.’ He shook his head. ‘You need have no misgivings, Kathryn, I have great faith in you.’
‘Oh ... thank you.’ At her swift response and grateful glance his smile broadened. A change had undoubtedly occurred in him as a result of that day and night up on the moors, and Kathryn dwelt for a space on their forthcoming marriage. A marriage of convenience, she had concluded, unable to see beyond that; a marriage in which there would be nothing for either of them. But now she wondered ... Perhaps, later...
‘I’ll ring Delia,’ John said, when they had finished dinner. ‘Go into the Drawing Room; I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
Kathryn sat on the chair by the fire, waiting for John to join her, and wondering how he would break the news to Delia. The Slades would be bitterly disappointed, for they had clearly been hoping for a marriage between Delia and John. As for Delia herself, Kathryn refused to dwell on what her reaction to John’s engagement would be, for in addition to the familiar patronage she extended towards Kathryn, there had lately been an added hostility which Delia hadn’t taken the slightest trouble to hide.
Kathryn looked up as John entered the room. His face was taut and at the corner of his mouth there were little lines of white showing through the deep tan of his skin. Was he very upset? Kathryn wondered, suddenly dejected. On the surface there had been a calm acceptance of the necessity of marriage to the girl who was merely an employee, but underneath it ail there must surely be the wish that he could have had a choice, could have married a woman more suitable—and who would also be a wife in more than name only.
Her anxiety was instantly communicated to him and, as he passed her chair to take the one at the other side of the fireplace, his hand came on to her shoulder and she knew the welcome reassurance of his grip.
‘I’m having this room for ourselves from now on,’ he said, deliberately ignoring the timid inquiry of her gaze.
‘It’s all very well to have these lovely rooms on show, but this particular one pleases me and I’m keeping it private.’
‘It is a beautiful room,’ Kathryn agreed. ‘I’m glad you’re having it for yourself—’ She broke off, an involuntary laugh rising to her lips. And all at once her shyness and unnatural restraint dissolved as she said, correcting her mistake, ‘I’m glad we’re having it for our own use, John.’
As Kathryn had told him on that first day, the Drawing Room had, right down through the centuries, been the principal living room at Marbeck Hall, and as she sat there, gazing dreamily into the fire, Kathryn tried to visualize those bygone days of glory, when the ‘fighting Fittons’ had sat here discussing some campaign in which they had been engaged—or were going to be engaged.
‘Where are you now?’ John demanded, startling her out of her dream.
Kathryn laughed.
‘I was just wondering what we’d hear if sounds could comeback—’ She broke off, wrinkling her brow. ‘Was it Marconi who said no sound is ever lost?—that it all survives in the ether?’
‘I believe it was—yes, I’m sure of it.’ He glanced towards the door as Emily entered with the coffee tray. She placed it on the table by the fire, then after a curious and rather searching glance at Kathryn, she left the room.
‘Tell me,’ John invited as Kathryn began pouring the coffee, ‘what do you imagine we’d hear, were we able to recapture those sounds that are supposed to be still floating about in the ether?’
‘Well ... I imagine we’d hear Sir Edward Fitton proudly discussing his grandfather’s campaign in the Wars of the Roses—how Sir Thomas was knighted for valour at the Battle of Blore Heath. He took about seventy Marbeck men with him on that day and over thirty were killed.’
‘Yes, and what else?’ He held out his hand for the coffee she was passing to him. ‘What about the great Sir Edward Fitton, the one you said was a friend of Queen Elizabeth?’
‘He was the one of the “haughty countenance and contempt of superiority”,’ she laughed, and went on to tell John more about the life of this Edward Fitton who became one of England’s great officers of state. ‘Many of the Fitton men held important offices and, therefore, included royalty among their friends.’
‘And what about the Fitton women? Tell me what gossip and small talk of theirs is sprinkling the atmosphere up there above the clouds.’ He put his coffee cup to his lips and regarded her from over the rim, his blue yes flickering with amusement.
‘I expect the talk of Mary would be interesting,’ she said on impulse. ‘As you know, she became Maid of Honour to the Queen, but her brilliant career was cut short by—by the misfortune that overtook her.’ Odd, she mused, but never before had she felt embarrassed on relating the story of Mary’s misdemeanour.
‘Ah, yes; she and the Earl of Pembroke were to dwell in the Tower, so you said.’ John was laughing and Kathryn responded, nodding in answer to his question.
They sat through the evening, Kathryn relating incidents in the history of the Hall, and the famous men and women who made that history. At ten o’clock John stifled a yawn and announced his intention of going to bed, advising Kathryn to do likewise.
‘It will do us good to go early,’ he observed, getting up from his chair. ‘It’ll make up a little for what we lost last night.’
The engagement coming only a few months after Mr. Hyland had taken up residence at Marbeck Hall, made front page headlines in the Chronicle, while the report of the mishap up on the moors occupied a mere half a dozen lines near the end of the report. This was followed by the statement that although the ordeal must have been most trying for the couple, it had had a most
happy sequel. All their friends, and especially the numerous visitors to the Hall who knew Miss Ramsey personally, would be relieved to learn they were little the worse for their ordeal, and delighted by the news of the engagement.
Congratulations poured in; Kathryn was overwhelmed by the good wishes she received from the visitors, and her eyes were actually bright with tears when she read the letter from Mrs. Percival. It was signed by all the other old people whom she had assisted at their time of difficulty. After the congratulations on her engagement, and her good wishes for the future, Mrs. Percival had gone on to express sincere thanks for what Kathryn had done for her and the others in their plight.
Amused by her emotion, John insisted on reading the letter.
‘It’s only for me,’ she began when he interrupted her.
‘Is it a congratulatory letter?’ Kathryn nodded and he held out his hand. With a shrug of resignation she gave it up, and then watched his face intently as he perused Mrs. Percival’s rather spidery writing. At last he raised his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you explain?’ he demanded, with a little flash of anger.
‘I did try to, John, but I’m afraid I wasn’t very convincing. You see, they’re all old, and most of them have no relatives. If I hadn’t let them come here those who were without relatives would probably have had to go into an institution, because they hadn’t any money to speak of.’
John handed her back the letter; as she took it he gripped her hand.
‘Tell me about your sisters,’ he asked. ‘They were turned out of their flat, you said?’
‘There isn’t really any excuse about them,’ she was bound to confess. ‘I know from experience how rowdy they are—Mother wouldn’t have them at home for that reason: But they are my sisters, so I offered them rooms here. I thought they’d stay only a couple of weeks or so, until they found another flat.’
‘I see.’ To her astonishment he pulled her to him and before she could collect herself he had bent his head to kiss her lightly on the brow. ‘I misjudged you, didn’t I?’ He retained her hand, and to her extreme embarrassment the paper she held began to flutter. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. You must forgive me for not being a little more patient about the whole affair.’
‘It wasn’t your fault at all,’ she hastily argued. ‘You had every right to be angry—anyone would have been, coming here and finding all that going on—’ She stopped, dismayed, for that skit was the last thing of which she wanted to remind him. But she had gone too far; the sudden compression of his lips told her that. ‘I’m so sorry,-John,’ she added unhappily. ‘We were given a totally wrong impression by the newspapers; we thought—’ She gestured self-deprecatingly. ‘That’s no excuse, for the new owner was entitled to respect, no matter who he turned out to be.’
A small silence followed her contrite declaration; John still held her hand and after a while he gave it a little squeeze.
‘I think we must forget all that and begin again,’ he said decisively. And he added, looking down steadily into her eyes, ‘Our marriage is not based on love, Kathryn, and for that reason we shall most likely encounter difficulties; we must not risk the added complications either of animosity on my part or of a sense of guilt on yours. From this moment all that’s happened in the past is to be forgotten, understand?’
She nodded, thinking how wise he was, and how practical. At the same time she was astute enough to guess that although he had referred only to guilt on her part, he was also telling her she must forget any animosity she might have felt for him; animosity resulting from his treatment of her when, in retaliation for her stubborn insistence on remaining at the Hall, he had made her do such menial tasks as waiting on the Slades. But little did he know that she had forgotten it already, that it had all faded into insignificance from the moment he had changed towards her when, in his new friendliness and consideration, she had seen the promise of his retaining her services. She had to smile at the recollection, for that was all she desired—to remain at the Hall as his employee. And now here she was, remaining at the Hall as his wife!
Kathryn’s thoughts reverted to his statement that their marriage would not be based on love and therefore they might encounter difficulties. What were these difficulties? she wondered, for the first time feeling she had perhaps been too precipitate in accepting John’s offer of marriage. ‘I shall try, though,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I shall try very hard—and perhaps, some day, he’ll come to care for me a little.’
John was still watching her with that steadfast expression; she smiled, saw his eyes soften, and all her doubts were quelled. Difficulties there might be, but if John could look at her like this then there was a very good chance of surmounting those difficulties.
‘I’ve to go into Macclesfield on business,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts, and he added, ‘I shan’t be sorry when the house is closed for the winter. It’ll be nice to have it to ourselves for a while—and to have a rest from these accounts.’
Was he contemplating closing it altogether? Kathryn wondered, watching him ease into the car before driving away down the road. It was a pleasant change having the house closed during the winter months, but always Kathryn had looked forward eagerly to the spring when, with the gardens ablaze with colour, the house had once more been thrown open and the crowds had come, thinly at first, but increasing as the days lengthened and became warmer.
As she stood by the window another car swung into the drive—Delia’s car. Kathryn’s pulses quickened in spite of herself. But almost at once her head tilted proudly and although she would obviously have preferred this visit to have taken place when John was in, she was determined to hold her own with this girl who, ever since John’s coming, had adopted a most supercilious air towards her and, more recently, treated her with open hostility.
Emily had let her in; Kathryn heard the inquiry for Mr. Hyland. She heard Emily’s reply and the next moment Emily appeared at the door of the room.
‘Miss Slade’s here, Miss Ramsey.’
‘Show her in, please, Emily.’
But Delia was in, standing just inside the door, her arrogant eyes sweeping over Kathryn from head to toe and then coming to rest on her face. Stepping aside to allow Emily to leave, she began to peel off her gloves.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?’ she asked with a deliberate raising of her brows which was meant to remind Kathryn of her lack of courtesy.
‘You usually sit down without being invited,’ came the smooth rejoinder. ‘However, please do have a seat.’ Kathryn sat down herself, and folded her hands in her lap. ‘John isn’t in—but Emily did inform you of that.’ Delia leant back in her chair with a languid movement which somehow reminded Kathryn of a panther, sleek, loose-muscled—ready to pounce and claw at its prey.
‘I suppose I should congratulate you,’ she said with sarcasm. ‘And offer my condolences to John.’
‘I don’t think I understand?’ Despite her apparent composure Kathryn seethed inwardly at the downright rudeness of Delia’s subtle implication. ‘Why, might I ask, should my fiancé require your sympathy?’
Delia actually flinched at the use of the word fiancé, and any doubts that Kathryn had as to whether or not Delia had cherished hopes of marrying John were instantly dispelled.
‘Are you trying to tell me he’s in love with you?’ queried Delia with a sneer.
‘I wasn’t aware that I’d tried to tell you anything, Delia,’ returned Kathryn quietly. ‘I asked you a question, which you haven’t answered.’
‘You’re almost insolent!’ Delia’s hand, resting on the arm of the chair, clenched so that her knucklebones shone through the creamy whiteness of her skin. ‘Obviously John’s to be pitied—a man in his position having to marry a girl like you. All this newspaper talk of romance,’ she went on, her lips curling in a sneer. ‘It suits the villagers and tenants; they take it in. But anyone with any intelligence can guess what’s happened. In John’s own circle he’ll be the object of pity, and what’s more, Kathr
yn, they’re not going to accept you.’ This last statement caused the colour to leave Kathryn’s cheeks, and her heart began to race uncomfortably. Had John considered this aspect of their marriage? True, he had not made a great number of friends as yet, but from the first invitations had poured in and Kathryn was sure that immediately the house was closed and John had more free time, he would accept these invitations and discriminately gather around him a circle of friends of his own class and culture.
‘John’s thought of all that.’ The assumed air of confidence was ineffective, for Delia shook her head emphatically. ‘He asked me to marry him, so he must have,’ Kathryn added with a little toss of her head.
‘You’re actually trying to convince yourself that he really wants to marry you!’ Delia’s harsh laugh grated on Kathryn’s ears; she tried to forget it as she said, in the same controlled tones,
‘John did want to marry me, Delia. He’s not the sort of person to make a wrong or hasty decision.’
‘Nonsense! He can’t want to marry you—Why, you’ve been out of favour with him right from the beginning, and if you’d had any pride you’d have gone when he wanted you to.’ She leant forward, and her voice was an invidious purr as she added, ‘He’s being gallant and saving you from disgrace, but at what a sacrifice to himself. Are you intending to let him make that sacrifice?’
Kathryn’s blue eyes sparkled, but she curbed her rising anger, for some instinct warned her to beware of this girl for whom John’s feelings were friendly, to say the least. It was not feasible that John would drop the Slades, simply because he had become engaged to Kathryn. There would undoubtedly be times when John and Delia talked together, and Kathryn made a silent resolve to say nothing which could be twisted by Delia, and then related to John.
‘You’ve guessed why we’re marrying, so I won’t deny that it’s owing to the gossip which would have followed upon the news of our staying together on the moors all night. But John’s decision was made with the object of saving himself, as well as me. He has a high position to maintain, as you implied, and talk of that kind would be most humiliating for him. So you see, Delia, he’s not being gallant, but has chosen the most sensible way out of the situation; he’s done it not only for me, but for us both.’
