Sylvia Andrew

by Lord Calthorpes Promise

  ‘Oh, no! You are not going to cozen me like that, girl! It’s time you learned a bit of humility. Dammit, a chit of a girl like you ought to be happy to leave the running of Herriards to someone else. You should be thinking of dresses and dances, not trying to tell grown men what to do.’

  ‘But I don’t want to think of nothing more than dresses and dances!’

  ‘It’s time you did. And about marriage. If your grandfather had taught you to think more about that instead of running estates and the like, we wouldn’t be in the fix we are now! However, your uncle has some very sensible ideas on that subject, too…but we’ll speak of that another time.’

  ‘What ideas has my uncle been suggesting? What right has he to suggest anything about my future? Please let me leave Herriards, Sir James. I—’

  ‘No, not another word, Katharine. My mind is made up. The General and I may be two old bachelors, but what your uncle said made sense to us. He and his wife have children of their own—they understand young people, and from all accounts they are already very fond of you. We believe that they can give you exactly the sort of attention a young girl needs.’

  When Katharine made a gesture of protest Sir James went on firmly, ‘You must put away this resentment and give them a chance.’

  In despair Katharine said, ‘Will you at least increase my allowance, Sir James?’

  Sir James leaned back in his chair, put one hand to his brow and rang the bell on the table at his side with the other. ‘No I shan’t! Now, no more, please! My head is aching, and I’m sure one of my attacks is imminent. I should never have agreed to see you. I knew I should pay for the exertion.’ He waved a vague hand at his ward. ‘Come back another time, Katharine, when you are in a more reasonable frame of mind. Meanwhile, be grateful for your uncle’s kindness. Ah, Roundell, see Miss Payne out, if you please. And then return immediately to attend to me. I must lie down. I don’t feel at all the thing, not at all!’

  Katharine left Sir James’s house feeling angry and distinctly worried. Her uncle seemed to have worked his spell on one of her guardians at least. But, she told herself, General Armitage would have been harder to convince. She set off to see her second guardian full of determination to put her case to him as convincingly as she could. However, when she arrived at the General’s house she suffered an even greater disappointment. He had left that morning for Bath and would be away for several weeks. Her heart sank. Henry Payne must have known about this, she thought bitterly, but he had said nothing to her. Once again her delay in coming to Basingstoke had cost her dear.

  As Katharine returned to Herriards she was dismayed, but not yet defeated. It might take longer than she had planned, but she was determined to get her guardians’ permission sooner or later. Sir James had always been something of a hypochondriac, and he was not fond of any disturbance. But she would ask to see him again as soon as she thought expedient. He couldn’t refuse forever. And Bath was not the other side of the moon. She would write to the General straight away. Sooner or later she would escape from Herriards!

  But even after summer had faded into autumn, and autumn was beginning to decline into the first signs of winter, Katharine had still not found a way of leaving.

  October 1815

  One dismal day in late October Katharine stood in her sitting room and frowned as she looked down at the garden below her window. It showed the signs of neglect which were beginning to be seen all round Herriards. She shut her eyes and gave the glass a thump with her fist. She must not give way to despair, she must not. But how long could she stay strong? Never before had she felt so helpless, so alone. There was still no prospect of escape, and now, to add to her worries, the plan hinted at by Sir James and her uncle was becoming all too clear. She was to marry Walter, thus at one stroke solving the problem of her future, and at the same time returning the Frampton fortune to the coffers of the Herriards estate. The prospect horrified her. Though she was certain that she would never, not even for one moment, consider such a match, everyone else in the house seemed to take it for granted.

  Katharine was under constant pressure to spend time with Walter, to respond to his overtures, his offers of help and sympathy. In the early days, it was true, she had accepted his company, though it hadn’t taken her long to realise that Walter’s charm was all on the surface. Underneath he was essentially a cold man, seeking his own advantage in everything he did. But once she realised what the Paynes were planning, she had avoided Walter wherever possible. It wasn’t easy. He was inordinately vain, and seemed to find it quite impossible to believe that Katharine was not attracted to him. For a time he had continued to exert his charm, teasing her for her shyness, suggesting that she was playing games with him. But recently he had begun to realise that she was serious in her refusals, and, though it hadn’t put him off, his attitude had changed. He was becoming more persistent, while at the same time taking less trouble to disguise his true character. Katharine had found that the best way to avoid him was to keep to her rooms, and, apart from meals, she now spent very little time with the rest of the family. It all added to her sense of isolation.

  There was a knock at the door, and it opened before she could say anything. Walter came into the room. She looked at him coldly. As usual he was immaculately dressed in clothes that were the acme of suitability. Today he was the country gentleman. His linen was, as always, spotless, his boots shone brilliantly, his buckskins were without stain or crease, his coat fitted like a glove. The guinea-gold hair was brushed with contrived carelessness over one brow, and his smile gleamed whitely as he sauntered in.

  Katharine winced as a sudden vision of her brother Tom, coming into this very room a year ago, flashed across her mind. The contrast was painful. Tom had been out for a ride, his fair hair blown by the wind into a tousle of curls round a laughing, bronzed face. His buff breeches were spattered with mud, and his old green riding coat sat comfortably rather than elegantly across his broad shoulders. She had been annoyed with him, she remembered, had protested at his coming into the house in such a mess. With his usual insouciance he had only laughed the more, and in the end she had laughed too… They had seemed to spend most of their time together laughing…

  Dear God, why wasn’t Tom here to help her now? But Tom was dead, he had died at Waterloo, leaving her on her own to deal with the consequences—including the unwelcome attentions of her cousin Walter.

  Katharine pulled herself together and said coolly, ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Walter? Your father returned these rooms to me for my own private use. This is my room. And you are not welcome in it. Please leave! Now!’

  ‘Demme, if you’re not the most unfriendly girl I ever met, Kate,’ he said with unimpaired good humour. ‘As prickly as a bramble bush. How else can I talk to you if I don’t come up here? You’re never seen downstairs except at mealtimes. Come on, Kate! Be nice to your cousin. I’m starved for the sight of you.’

  Katharine stiffened as he came further into the room, but she didn’t move. Any sign of weakness would encourage him. She said stonily, ‘I’ve told you. I like my own company.’

  ‘That ain’t very friendly, Kate.’

  Katharine didn’t answer, but turned back to the window. Walter came up behind her and put his arm round her waist. ‘What’s wrong with me, sweetheart?’

  Katharine twisted out of his grasp and pushed him away. ‘Stop fondling me, Walter. I don’t like it, any more than I like you. I am not your sweetheart, and I wish you to go!’

  Walter frowned and said, ‘I wish I knew what the devil goes on in that mind of yours, Kate. Why are you always so hard on me? It’s not as if there’s anyone else—is there? If so, I don’t know where you can have met him.’ He studied her for a moment then shook his head. ‘No, I’ll swear that you haven’t met anyone else…but there’s something…’ He moved closer and she stiffened.

  ‘I’ve warned you, Walter. Stay away from me!’

  Her cousin smiled. ‘You look so fierce—like a litt
le wild creature. The temptation to master you is almost irresistible. But there’s no need to fight me, Kate. I’m on your side. I’d be your friend if you’d only let me be.’

  ‘A real friend would help me to get away from this place and your wretched family!’

  ‘I’ll take you from here the minute you say the word, sweetheart! All you have to do is to marry me.’

  ‘That is not a solution I would contemplate for one second. Now please get out of my room and leave me in peace!’

  Walter regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You have a great deal of spirit, Kate—I admire that. But you’ll give in sooner or later, my dear. Apart from that old woman in the village, you have no friends that I can see. And, for all your fortune, you can’t get your hands on very much cash. How will you ever escape? I shouldn’t place your hopes on your guardians, if I were you. They aren’t going to take you away from us. They’d have to find somewhere else for you to go, and Sir James isn’t going to give himself that much trouble. Besides, they are delighted with my father—and with me. They think we are excellent fellows and quite right, too! We’ve worked hard to persuade them. No, Kate, face up to it. You’ll have to give in in the end. Why not sooner rather than later? I’m sure I could make you happy.’

  ‘You’ll never have the chance! I’m as much of a fighter as Tom in my own weak, helpless, female way! I won’t be beaten by such contemptible creatures as you and your father.’

  ‘You poor deluded thing!’ said Walter laughing softly. ‘But I can wait. I’m looking forward to the fight. You won’t be the first I’ve tamed.’

  ‘Are you going, or shall I call one of the servants?’

  Walter laughed again, his blue eyes alive with merriment. ‘I’m going, my sweet. But I’ll just take something on account…’ Without warning he pulled Katharine towards him and bent her back against his arm. His fingers pulled her hair cruelly until she was forced to look up at him. He kissed her hard, then pushed her away, so that she stumbled against the window. All pretence of good humour quite gone, he said coldly, ‘You’ll have to learn something about me, Kate, my dear. I don’t like being called a contemptible creature by a dab of a female. It’s apt to make me rough. Don’t do it again.’ With that he turned and went out of the room. Katharine was left shaken and trembling by the window.

  She stayed there staring out for some time. Walter’s attack had shocked her. Nothing remotely like it had ever happened to her before. Till now the men in her life might have been careless, had often forgotten that she belonged to the weaker sex—indeed, Katharine herself had frequently denied it!—but no one had ever before humiliated her in such a manner. In some ways she was very innocent for her age. At sixteen she had been forced to abandon a normal life in Society in order to look after her grandfather, who had become increasingly reclusive. In her few dealings with the outside world she had deliberately suppressed any femininity, preferring to treat the men she met in a businesslike manner. But now Walter’s attack had made her aware of her vulnerability as a woman. And, for all her courage, Katharine began to feel the stirrings of fear.

  For the first time she looked at her future realistically. Her uncle had made clear his desire—no, his intention—that his son should marry her. She could not forget the ruthless speed with which Henry Payne had acted immediately after his arrival. No sooner had he discovered that the Payne fortune was in Katharine’s hands than he had persuaded her guardians to say she must stay at Herriards in his care. Even at that early stage he had taken Walter with him to visit them, Walter with his charm and his manly appearance, who was bound to make a favourable impression on them. At the moment Henry and his son were still hoping that Katharine’s isolation from any other company, her loneliness, would make her vulnerable to Walter’s powers of attraction. But when that failed she was fairly certain that other, less scrupulous, ways of persuasion would be found. And where could she turn then?

  Her distress grew. Fear mingled with feelings of rage and frustration—not only with the living but, worse than that, with the dead, too. She had loved her brother and her grandfather, had grieved, and was still grieving, for them, but between them they had left her alone in the world, with no one to help her to fight Henry Payne, or to cope with his son. Clouds of resentment were beginning to obscure her memories of the two people she had loved best in the world. A groan of despair escaped her. She must get out of the house! She would go to Tilly. They must find some way to save her from catastrophe.

  It was a cold, grey day and the wind was tossing the branches overhead. As she marched along the path to Herriard Stoke, the weather seemed in keeping with Katharine’s mood. Her sense of injustice was growing by the minute. She was only twenty-one, but she felt that the cares of the world were bowing her down. Her guardians were useless! Why on earth hadn’t her grandfather done as she had asked and replaced them with younger men—his lawyer, perhaps, or his man of business? General Armitage and Sir James Farrow might well be the men of repute and honour he had called them, but they were of little help in her present predicament. Katharine kicked a branch which lay in her path and gave an exclamation of angry frustration. Tired old gentlemen, however honourable, were not the ones to deal with a scheming, conniving villain such as Henry Payne. Nor with his worm of a son! Where in Heaven’s name was she to find the help she needed?

  As she came through the gate which led into the churchyard a sudden gust of wind caught her cloak and blew it up into the air. It was too much! Muttering, desperately trying to hold her hat in one hand, and anchor her cloak with the other, she ran full tilt into what felt like a wall. She staggered and sat down.

  ‘I’m sorry! Ma’am, are you hurt? No, don’t move, let me see if you are hurt first.’ A tall figure squatted beside her and started to feel her legs. This was too much!

  ‘Don’t touch me, sir!’ Katharine exclaimed fiercely. ‘And don’t try to help me get up, either! You’ve done enough damage already.’

  To her annoyance the stranger ignored her words and, taking hold of her arm, helped her to rise. ‘Let me escort you to your home, ma’am. I shan’t be happy till I know you are not hurt.’

  As soon as Katharine was on her feet she shook his hand off her arm and looked up angrily into his face. It was a good face, not exactly handsome, but definitely attractive. Just now it showed nothing but concern, but there was discipline and firmness in the jaw and mouth, and lines of laughter round the steady hazel eyes.

  Katharine saw none of this. She said furiously, ‘I told you! I’m perfectly able to manage, thank you! Will you kindly get out of my way?’ Without looking at him again she started to walk away, brushing some leaves and mud from her cloak as she went. But Fate was not on Katharine’s side. Her hat, without a hand to hold it, was attacked by another sudden gust of wind and was borne aloft, sailing away across the churchyard.

  With a speed and dexterity which secretly impressed her, the unknown gentleman leapt after it and trapped it after a short chase. He returned and presented it to her with a bow. There was a distinct twinkle in his eye as he said, ‘Forgive me for interfering yet again, ma’am. May I assist you to put it on?’

  Katharine tied the strings of her cloak with a vicious tug, then more or less snatched the hat from the gentleman’s hand. She was almost in tears. The fall had winded her more than she would admit even to herself. And now this…this man was laughing at her! ‘I…I…’ Her fingers were trembling as she fumbled with her hat.

  ‘Allow me.’ He took it from her, placed it carefully on her head and tied the strings under her chin. His touch was deft and quite impersonal. ‘And now I shall accompany you to wherever it is you’re going. Come!’ He put his hand under her arm. She was appalled to find herself feeling helplessly feminine, experiencing an almost irresistible desire to lean on this stranger’s arm and let him take control. If only she could just once place her burdens on such a man’s shoulders… She stiffened. How could she be so weak? In her present situation she could not afford such idiocy. S
trength came from independence.

  She thrust him away from her again and said pugnaciously, ‘Thank you for rescuing my hat. But I neither need nor want any more of your help. Goodbye, sir.’ She marched along the path and turned into the street without a backward glance. But at Tilly’s gate she turned and looked back. He was standing at the corner, presumably waiting to make sure she arrived safely at her destination. What a busybody he was! When he saw her looking he gave a slight bow, but Katharine ignored him and went in through Tilly’s door.

  Chapter Four

  There was a small fire in Tilly’s tiny grate. Katharine went over and warmed her hands, while her governess hung up her hat and cloak.

  ‘What on earth have you been doing, Katharine? Your clothes are covered in mud!’

  ‘I…I fell. In the churchyard. The wind caught me just as I came round the corner.’

  ‘Did you trip?’

  ‘No. I…I…er…bumped into someone and lost my balance. But I shall be fine in a moment. I’m a little cold, that’s all.’

  ‘You shall have a warm drink in an instant. Mrs Banks from the inn brought some of her raspberry cordial this morning. Sit there while I get it.’ Tilly hurried to put a kettle on the hob and fetch the cordial and some beakers. Then she sat down in the chair on the other side of the fire and said, ‘But what are you thinking of coming out on a day like this, my dear? I am delighted to see you, of course, but it’s hardly a fit day for walking.’

  ‘I had to get out, Tilly. It…it suddenly all seemed too much.’ To Katharine’s shame her voice trembled and she was hard put not to cry.