Sylvia Andrew

by Lord Calthorpes Promise

  ‘Oh, my dear child! Is it Walter, or his father?’

  Katharine gazed at Tilly’s concerned face and tried to pull herself together. ‘It’s hard to say. I don’t know which of them is worse. I feel so…trapped. Oh, Tilly, I never thought…never thought I should long as I do to leave Herriards. I once loved it so.’ Her voice broke.

  Tilly sighed and said, ‘I assume that you haven’t heard from General Armitage?’

  ‘No. He promised to come and see me when he returned from Bath but there has been no word. I assume he’s still there.’

  ‘But he’s been away for three months now!’

  ‘The trouble is, Tilly, that he doesn’t see any need for urgency. Oh, what a fool I was! If I had known three months ago what a cunning man my uncle is, I would have made sure that the General heard what I had to say first.’

  ‘You mustn’t be too hard on yourself, Katharine. Tom’s death was still too close. You weren’t thinking very clearly.’

  ‘Well, whatever the reason, it gave my uncle his chance. He impressed those two old men the way he impresses everyone outside the house. And now Sir James doesn’t think it important to see me again, and the General thinks I’m unhappy simply because I haven’t yet resigned myself to the new regime at Herriards.’

  ‘I suppose that’s natural…’

  ‘Oh, yes! And so patronising! You’d think I was twelve, not twenty-one! Instead of coming to see what was wrong, he recommended me to be a good girl and do my best to learn to live with the changes.’

  ‘That would be good advice, Katharine, in other circumstances. But as it is… My dear, why don’t you try again? Write to him once more! More strongly this time.’

  ‘What is the use? My cousin has pulled the wool over that old man’s eyes, in the same way that he has deceived Sir James. Neither of my guardians will listen to me. I’m not to be taken seriously.’

  ‘Sir James is ill. You can’t blame him for not questioning your cousin’s motives.’

  ‘I don’t blame him! I blame my grandfather for not replacing them both with younger men! I blame my brother for leaving me alone like this with no one to turn to…’ Katharine got up and walked about the tiny room, twisting her hands. ‘Day after day I watch that…that greedy villain milking Herriards till there will soon be nothing left. The fences go without repair, roofs are leaking, fields are left unplanted… And yet Henry Payne has only to smile, to flatter, to clap people on the back and tell a few stories, and everyone in the county thinks he is a great fellow! I tell you, Tilly, I am heartsick to see it all.’

  ‘There, there, my love. There, there!’ Tilly put her arms round Katharine and led her back to her chair. Then she sat her down and poured out some cordial. ‘Drink that, and listen to me. General Armitage was right in one respect. You must stop feeling personally responsible for Herriards! I know it is hard, but, indeed, there is nothing you can do, Katharine! If you go on in this way you will be ill! I am rather surprised that you can’t see this for yourself—since you grew up you have always been such a sensible girl. But I suspect it is more than this, isn’t it? Tell me!’

  Katharine straightened up and tried to speak calmly. ‘Uncle Henry is determined to push me into marriage to his son. He has my guardians’ approval. And now Walter is… Walter is pushing his claims as well. He gets bolder by the day. I have absolutely no intention of giving way, but if you only knew what a strain it is! They are both so devious. I am so afraid that I shall have a brainstorm one day and wake up to find myself married to Walter after all. I have nightmares about it…’ Katharine got up again as if she couldn’t bear to be still. ‘Worst of all—’ She stopped, then went on, ‘Worst of all, Grandpapa and Tom—’ She broke off, then went on doggedly. ‘I used to find consolation in remembering the happy times we had together, but now I can only feel resentment! Why have they left me to face all this alone? Oh, Tilly, I feel so wicked! So ungrateful! What am I to do?’

  Tilly’s face showed real anxiety. ‘You must get away, my dear!’

  ‘I can’t! I haven’t anything worth mentioning to live on! And, until I am twenty-five, I can’t have my allowance increased without the consent of my guardians. That’s another four years away.’

  ‘It is a pity you never found anyone you could marry before now. To be so alone in the world is not pleasant.’

  Katharine shook her head. ‘I suppose before Grandfather was ill I might have met someone, when Tom and I used to visit the neighbours. But, compared with Tom, they all seemed so uninteresting! And my grandfather never allowed Tom to invite his friends to stay—he didn’t approve of most of them.’

  ‘Old Mr Payne,’ said Tilly carefully, ‘was the best of employers and a wonderful man. But he had a tendency to seek his own comfort rather than the best interests of others, especially when he was older.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t wish me to meet anyone I liked? Oh, no, Tilly! I am sure if I had found someone he would have been delighted. Oh, you’re wrong! He loved me—I’m sure he wanted me to be happy. Later, of course, when he was ill… Well, it was different then. I didn’t even want to leave him on his own. And in any case I never seemed to have the time for gadding about—with Tom away I was always too busy. So I lost touch with what friends we had…so many of them have died or moved away. And now…there’s no one but you.’

  Katharine came back to the fire and sat down. She took a sip of her cordial, then hugged the beaker close to her as if seeking comfort from its warmth. Tilly gazed at her in concern. Katherine’s fingers were bone thin, and her face was pale and worn. It was difficult to believe that just four months ago she had been a lively young girl, full of energy and enterprise, running Herriards estate, looking forward to her brother’s return, to the time when Tom should come home and take over. Now she looked years older, the spring had quite gone out of her step, and that wonderful smile, which had been so appealing in both the young Paynes, seemed to have vanished forever. The shock and distress of Tom’s death and its consequences could have accounted for it during the first few months. But she should now be recovering, shedding the melancholy, which had enveloped her then. This growing resentment towards people she had adored was seriously worrying. Tilly cast about in her mind for something—anything—that might be done.

  ‘Why don’t you write to Lord Calthorpe again?’ she said at last.

  This suggestion roused Katharine, but not quite in the way Miss Tillyard had intended. ‘Yes!’ she said bitterly. ‘There’s another miserable specimen! So eager to write the moment Tom died. Such a charming letter, too! Saddened and grieved by Tom’s death…di…da…di…da…such close friends, heard such a lot about me…would like to come to see me…entirely at my service… You yourself said what a charming letter it was. Someone to trust, we both thought. And what happened after that? Nothing! Now that I really need someone, charming Lord Calthorpe isn’t available. And he must be back from France again by now! ‘

  ‘You did say in your first letter that you needed time—’

  ‘I did need time! But I wrote again later…’

  ‘I remember. It was soon after Mr Payne and his family had arrived.’

  ‘Yes. Even as early as that I thought that I needed someone. Someone who had known Tom, who might even help me to talk to my wretched guardians. So I wrote again. Uselessly. There wasn’t a whisper from our noble friend.’

  ‘Perhaps your letter went astray? You weren’t sure of his address.’

  The burst of energy had faded. ‘It might have,’ Katharine said listlessly. ‘But I doubt it. I sent it to the War Office address in London which Tom gave me to use. No, it’s far more likely that Lord Calthorpe found life in London too amusing to bother. After all, his great friend died in June—a full month or more before. That’s a very long time for a busy man to remember a great friend, don’t you agree? Why should he feel obliged to leave his friends and come all this way to see a stranger? He probably assumed that my cousins were all the protection I needed.’

/>   ‘I don’t like to hear you speaking like this, Katharine. You are not usually so bitter. Besides, it’s possible your brother never mentioned Mr Henry Payne and his family. Lord Calthorpe is probably unaware of the real situation.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he would care if he did! Don’t let’s talk of him any more, Tilly. He is just one more disappointment in a world that seems to be full of them. But if I ever meet him…’ Katharine looked moodily at her drink, then finished it off. ‘I must go back—it will soon be dark. I’m sorry to have been such a misery. I promise to be more cheerful next time. Goodbye, dearest friend!’ Katharine bent over and kissed the little governess’s cheek. Tilly held the girl’s slender form to her for a moment, then let her go to walk her out to the gate.

  ‘Think about writing to Lord Calthorpe again,’ she said. ‘And this time let me take the letter to the Receiving Office.’

  Katharine stared at her. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  When Tilly stared back at her without saying a word, Katharine asked incredulously, ‘You’re surely not saying that Uncle Henry somehow stopped the letter?’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything. Except that you write again—and let me take it to the Receiving Office. Goodbye, my dear. Something will turn up, you’ll see.’

  As Tilly went back into her cottage she muttered to herself, ‘Pray God it does! And soon!’

  Meanwhile Katharine’s stranger had walked back through the churchyard and into the church. Here he went into the Payne Chapel to the left of the chancel and stood gazing up at a new white marble plaque on the wall.

  Sacred to the memory of Thomas George Frampton Payne 1791–1815 Killed in action at the glorious battle of Waterloo Only son of the late George Frampton Payne and his wife Harriet and beloved grandson of the late Thomas Frampton Payne of Herriards House He won the affection of his fellow-officers and the respect of his commanders for his courage in action and his loyalty to his friends throughout campaigns fought in Portugal, Spain, France and Belgium Deeply mourned by his loving sister Katharine who has lost the best of brothers and a very dear companion.

  Adam Calthorpe stood for some minutes before this silent tribute to Tom, laughing, devil-may-care Tom. They had more than once saved each other on the field. And he had so often kept Tom out of trouble off the field. It seemed wrong that he should not have been there when Fate at last caught up with Tom Payne…

  If she was married to you she’d be safe. Tom’s words echoed in Adam’s mind as he studied the simple tablet. He had not expected to be so moved at this memorial. So much had happened in the last months that memories of his life in the Army before Waterloo had been pushed to the back of his mind. But now he stood in the chapel, remembering so many campaigns, remembering the warmth of his friend’s vivid personality, the ever-present laughter, the golden hair forever flopping over one eye, the reckless courage, the ready repentance when his impish sense of humour had taken him too far… And then the night of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, the night before the last great battle. Tom had been ablaze with excitement for most of the evening. But shortly before their ways had separated he had been, just for a few moments, uncharacteristically serious, worried about his sister’s future… If she was married to you she’d be safe.

  Adam stirred restlessly. That was the last time he had seen Tom. Ivo had given him the news two days later. The battle was almost over, the French in retreat when a shell from one of the last French guns to fire had killed Tom outright.

  ‘I shall never forget the last I saw of him, Adam. You remember that look of his? The rest of us were fairly worn—it had been a long, hard fight. But Tom was charging up and down, urging his men on as if he was fresh out of barracks. He was laughing! If ever a man died doing what he loved most, that man was Tom Payne.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Adam had said sombrely. ‘He was a born soldier. And could have been a great one. I’m sorry he’s gone—I’ll miss him.’ After a moment’s silence he went on, ‘That sister of his is in trouble. Tom’s death will bring problems, as well as grief. I’ll write to her immediately.’

  And he had. And he had written again. He had written four times in all. But apart from a polite acknowledgement of his original letter, putting him off from visiting her in the immediate future, he had not heard a word from Miss Payne.

  It had taken longer than he had thought it would to get back to England. So many of the Duke’s staff had been killed or injured at Waterloo that Adam had been required to accompany his Commander-in-Chief to Paris. He had eventually managed to get away in September, and only then by pleading that his newly acquired estates in England urgently needed his attention. Since his return he had spent all his time on his estate near Bath, working with his lawyers and agents to sort out the tangle caused by his uncle’s unexpected death and his own long absence abroad.

  But he had not forgotten his responsibility towards Katharine Payne, and when there had been no reply to his fourth letter he had voiced his anxieties to his mother.

  ‘It’s clear, Adam! You must go to Hampshire at once. The poor girl might be in danger!’

  ‘Ma’am, don’t let your imagination run away with you! Katharine Payne is living in her old home, surrounded by her cousins. How could she possibly be in danger? Old General Armitage seems happy enough about her.’

  ‘General Armitage? What has he to say to anything?’

  ‘He’s one of Miss Payne’s guardians.’

  ‘Really? How did you know that?’

  ‘Tom once mentioned him. So when I was in Bath on business recently I looked the old fellow up—he’s taking the waters there. Since I was already acquainted with him, I thought it would do no harm to have a word about Miss Payne. His memory may not be what it was, but I would respect his opinion on most matters.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He is quite sure that Katharine Payne is being well-looked after, though she’s naturally a bit down at the moment. She was always a touch strong-willed and he thinks that having to give up control of Herriards has upset her, as well. But he has no fears for her. He’s met Henry Payne and likes him. He thought him a very sound chap, a sensible, kindly fellow, and well-respected in the neighbourhood, too. The son Walter made a very good impression on the old man, too. Though…’ He paused.

  ‘Well? What is it?’

  ‘Tom didn’t like Walter Payne. But there wasn’t anything specific. There’s nothing to suggest that these cousins, apparently perfectly respectable people, would keep Katharine Payne locked up incommunicado! Isn’t it far more likely that she is happy enough not to need help from outside?’

  ‘I still don’t like it, Adam! Unless the girl is shockingly ill-mannered she ought to write to reassure you, at least!’

  ‘Well, that’s what worries me, too. Tom was careless, but he knew how to behave. I confess that I should like to see for myself what is going on at Herriards. I don’t at all mind paying them a visit, now that most of Calthorpe’s problems have been sorted out. The difficulty is—’

  ‘That you don’t like the idea of forcing yourself on a girl who would apparently rather not meet you? My dear boy, you’re being far too scrupulous! I don’t know why she should be so reluctant. You’re a handsome enough fellow. Most girls would be delighted to make your acquaintance. You’re very eligible!’

  Adam grinned. ‘You wouldn’t be biassed in my favour, would you, Ma?’

  ‘Not at all!’ Mrs Calthorpe reached up and kissed her son. ‘I was never so happy as when you returned from the wars safe and sound, Adam. But you cannot call me a doting parent. I just wish that you would find a wife! I have an absurd wish to be a grandmother! It’s time you married!’

  ‘I assure you, Mama, I fully intend to!’ He grew serious. ‘It’s strange. The night before Waterloo Tom suggested that I should marry his sister.’

  ‘Just out of the blue? Gracious me! What a very odd suggestion! You’ve never even met her, have you?’

  ‘No. But Tom was worried abo
ut her. I had told him that I would look for a wife, you see, and he saw it as a solution to his problem.’

  ‘I should hope you can do better than to take an unknown girl to wife merely to solve someone else’s problem, Adam!’ said his mother somewhat tartly. ‘Why did her brother have to ask among his friends to find her a husband? She must be an absolute antidote!’

  ‘I don’t think she can be. Tom was a handsome fellow—blond, blue eyes, regular features—and he always said that his sister was very like him. She’s an heiress as well. I don’t think finding her a husband would be difficult.’ He considered for a moment. ‘He was quite pressing. Poor Tom!’

  Some business matter intervened, and their conversation had to be abandoned. But the next day his mother broached the subject again. ‘I think I may have solved your problem, Adam.’

  ‘Which particular problem is that, ma’am?’ asked her son with a harassed look. Life in charge of a large country estate was not all enjoyment and ease.

  ‘The Payne place is in Hampshire, is it not? Not far from Basingstoke? Well, I have some good friends near there who would be delighted if we paid them a visit. We could stay with the Quentins and still be in Dorking for Christmas.’

  ‘Dorking?’

  ‘I should like to spend Christmas in Bridge House, Adam. It’s our old home. Calthorpe is beautiful, but it won’t be a real home until it has a mistress. Your father brought me to Bridge House when I was a bride, and I’ve always loved it. Christmas there was always so…so cosy! Will you not spend Christmas with me there?’

  ‘Of course I will! Are…are the Redshaws still our neighbours?’

  ‘Oh, yes—and grander than ever! Ever since Julia married Viscount Balmenny, John Redshaw has been extending the Court to match Balmenny Castle. You never saw so many turrets! But Julia hardly ever comes to visit her parents—she spends most of her time in London—or Ireland.’

  Putting Julia Redshaw firmly out of his mind, Adam said, ‘Spending Christmas at Bridge House is an excellent idea! And to visit the Quentins on the way is an even better one. If we were staying within reach of Herriards, it wouldn’t be out of order for me to pay a visit. Miss Payne could hardly regard that as an imposition.’