‘I shouldn’t have agreed so easily,’ she said, turning to Mrs Calthorpe with a worried frown. ‘What will Tilly do? How can I leave her to fend for herself?’
‘It seems to me very likely that once Miss Tillyard knows that you are safe and well she will be perfectly happy in her little cottage. Dorking is not a hundred miles away, you know. But ask her yourself. If she is anxious to keep a closer eye on you, I am very willing to offer her a room in Bridge House while you are with us.’
Katharine sighed and sank back. ‘You are so kind,’ she said in a slightly depressed tone. ‘How will I ever repay you?’
‘I’ll find a way,’ said Mrs Calthorpe, with a twinkle. ‘Give me time.’
They all agreed that Katharine’s departure had to be sprung on Henry Payne without warning. If he knew of her plans in advance, he would certainly set up some reason to delay her. Surprise was their best strategy. So it was arranged that Katharine would pack a small bag for herself, and that Adam and his mother would simply pick her up on their way from Basingstoke to Dorking. A carrier would be sent later in the day to collect the remainder of Katharine’s possessions under the supervision of Miss Tillyard, and she would see that it was sent on.
On being asked what she herself wanted to do, she had kissed Katharine affectionately and said, ‘I would prefer to stay where I am for the moment, Katharine, dear. Let us see what comes of your London excursion. Perhaps I shall change my mind after that. Meanwhile I shall be quite happy here. There’s so much to do.’
The day for departure came about a week later. Adam arrived at Herriards in the morning and asked to see Mr Payne. At first Henry was all affability, but when he learned that Adam was there to take Katharine away with him, he denied at first that Katharine was in, then he said she was ill.
‘And even if she were not indisposed, Lord Calthorpe, I could not in honesty consent to a mad scheme like this. What? Allow you, on the spur of the moment like this, to…to whisk my little cousin away from the only home she has ever known? To remove her from the company of those who regard themselves as her guardians and friends? No, no! I know my duty better than that. Katharine is a considerable heiress, an innocent in the ways of society. She needs protection from those who might seek to exploit her.’
‘Am I to suppose you count me among such people?’ asked Adam. His voice was quiet, but something in it caused Henry Payne to take a step back and hastily disclaim any such suggestion.
‘No, no! You misunderstood me, Lord Calthorpe. I am sure you seek to act from the best of motives—your friendship for her brother, for example. But whatever sort of friend you were to Tom Payne, it is not at all necessary for you to concern yourself with his sister, sir! She is not, as you might have thought, alone in the world. I am, after all, her guardian.’
‘You surprise me,’ said Adam politely. ‘I understood that Sir James Farrow and General Armitage were responsible for Miss Payne?’
Henry Payne gave him a malevolent look, then pulled himself together and gave Adam a smile of forgiveness. ‘I should have said that they regard me as one,’ he said. ‘Her real guardians are elderly—they know they can trust me to look after her as if she was my own daughter, and have been happy to delegate their responsibilities to me. Lord Calthorpe, I’m afraid that on behalf of Katharine’s guardians, I must decline your very kind invitation. I cannot allow her to go with you.’
Adam had had the forethought to arm himself with a letter from Sir James. He now handed it over in silence.
‘What is this?’ Henry Payne read it through twice. When he looked up the expression on his face was ugly, his mask of benevolence quite gone. ‘What are you trying to do, Calthorpe?’ he muttered. ‘The money, that’s behind this, isn’t it? Payne money—my money, if I had my rights! You’re going to carry the heiress off and marry her yourself, is that it?’
‘You would naturally think so,’ drawled Adam, allowing the distaste he felt for the man to show through. ‘However, that is not my purpose. I am merely escorting the ladies to Dorking. My mother, who is in the carriage outside, has simply invited Miss Payne to pay her a prolonged visit—an invitation which your cousin has accepted. It is very possible that my mother will do as the Payne trustees wish, and bring Miss Payne out next year.’
Henry Payne snarled his opinion of this idea. Adam raised his brows.
‘Really? I am disappointed in you, Payne. One might have thought that you and Mrs Payne, as Katharine’s self-styled “guardians”, would be delighted to see her introduced to Society at such little cost of time and trouble to yourselves. Fortunately there is no need for debate—it is already settled. Discussing it further would be a waste of time. Now, where is Miss Payne? She assured me she would be ready… Ah! Here she is.’
‘My cousin doesn’t need to be introduced to Society or to anyone else!’ Henry Payne said between his teeth. ‘She’s going to marry Walter. She’s going to marry him any day now! I won’t let you take her, do you hear?’
‘You must know that is not true, Uncle Henry,’ said Katharine as she came into the hall. She was carrying a small valise and was dressed for travelling. She looked pale, but steadfast. ‘I think Lord Calthorpe has explained the situation. We must not keep his mother—and his horses—waiting any longer.’ Adam watched in some admiration as she said, without the slightest trace of irony in her voice, ‘I must thank you for giving me a home for the last few months. And please convey my best wishes for their future to the rest of your family. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to speak to them—they are still in their rooms. A carrier will call for the rest of my things later today.’ She looked at Adam, who took her valise, gave the briefest of bows to Henry Payne and escorted her to his carriage.
Henry Payne came to the door. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this!’ he shouted, his face contorted with rage. ‘Abduction, that’s what it is!’
The groom was standing at the door of the carriage. Mrs Calthorpe was at its window, waiting to welcome her. But Katharine stopped and turned. ‘The only abduction I have ever feared,’ she said, the tremble in her voice revealing the depth of her feeling, ‘was that threatened by you and your son. Goodbye, sir!’
She entered the carriage, followed by Adam. The groom closed the door and got up behind. The coachman gave his orders, the horses moved slowly off, and Katharine’s journey to a new life had begun.
Chapter Seven
It was a distance of forty miles or so to Dorking, and now in winter the hours of daylight were limited. Adam had taken the precaution of reserving rooms for them at the Bush in Farnham, which was about halfway, and it was as well, for darkness was already falling as the carriage drove up the main street of the pleasant little town. Katharine had hoped to see the castle, which was the ancient seat of the Bishops of Winchester, but she saw little more than a tantalising glimpse up a broad street to the left just before they reached the inn.
A hearty welcome awaited them at the Bush. They were quickly taken to their rooms and maidservants scurried round to make them warm and comfortable. Both ladies were glad of a few minutes’ rest after the somewhat fraught circumstances of their departure from Herriards, followed by a journey of twenty miles on a cold winter’s day. But then they tidied themselves up and came downstairs for the evening meal. Winter was not a time when many people travelled, and though Farnham was on the main road to Winchester, the inn was not full. However, there was a great deal of noise and bustle about the place—a celebration of sorts appeared to be going on in the main taproom—and Adam and his ladies were glad to be served in a private parlour.
The food was good and plentiful, but Katharine found she had little appetite. She felt drained, both emotionally and physically. Reaction had set in after months of tension. Adam saw how it was with her—he had observed the same symptoms in his junior officers after a particularly vicious bout of fighting. He gave her a glass of wine and told her to drink it all.
‘And, if you will take my advice, you will go to bed as soon
as you have finished it,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow will be a different story. You’ll see.’
Katharine was too worn out to object. She made her excuses and went slowly upstairs, leaving Adam and his mother to finish their meal together.
But once alone in her room she felt restless, unable to relax. Though she was exhausted, the thought of undressing and settling into bed simply did not appeal. She dismissed the maid and sat by the window. She was missing Tom more than ever. Nothing could bring back those days of sunshine and laughter at Herriards when they had both been children. But today, when she had left behind everything they had shared, the old life had never seemed so dear.
Impatiently she stood up. This was no way to go about it! Katharine Payne was no watering pot, no weakling to mourn what she couldn’t any longer have! She must start on a new life, with new friends and new interests. Herriards was no longer a haven of happy dreams. It was a place of fear, of nightmare, even. She should be thanking her lucky stars that she had escaped at last. And perhaps thanking Adam Calthorpe, too.
The thought of Adam Calthorpe gave her pause. Something of an enigma, his lordship. Did he never lose his temper? Though she had been impossibly rude to him, he had maintained his calm. Though Henry Payne had insulted him, Lord Calthorpe had remained a gentleman. He must be a fighter—he wouldn’t otherwise have had such a long and successful career in the Army. But she had seen no evidence of it, apart from a certain officer-like arrogance which set her teeth on edge. But he was otherwise so impartial, so patient, so…cool! How unlike his mother he was! She was all impulse and warmth, and Katharine already liked Mrs Calthorpe a great deal. But not the son! What a contrast he was to Tom—laughing, mischievous, reckless Tom! Her heart sank as she realised that she was back with thoughts of Tom again…
This would not do! She was never going to be able to rest. She looked desperately out of the window. The moon was full, silvering the streets and houses opposite. The castle would look magical in this light… Katharine made up her mind. She snatched up her cloak and, without questioning whether she was being wise, slipped down the stairs and out through the side door. The street that led to the castle was only a step or two away. She would see if a little lunar magic would calm her, make it possible for her to sleep.
The castle was just as she had imagined—spectacular in the moonlight, the essence of fairy tales, the embodiment of dreams. Katharine stood at the bottom of the street in rapt contemplation. But she was given a rude awakening. A pair of arms grabbed her around the waist and brandy-soaked fumes breathed over her.
‘Well, well! What’ve we here, then, eh? Lookin’ f’r company, sweetheart?’
The voice was that of a gentleman, but the gentleman in question was more than half drunk. He must have been part of the crowd in the tap room.
‘You are making a mistake—’
‘No need to b’ coy, girl! What else would you be doing loose on the town like this? C’m here!’ He pulled her closer. Katharine managed to wrest herself free of his embrace, and, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, started to run back towards the inn. Unfortunately, the young buck had a companion, equally well to the wind. He caught her as she turned and half-carried her back to his friend, laughing at her efforts to escape. Katharine was in a panic. She forgot discretion and hit out wildly, fists bunched the way Tom had taught her. She caught one of them full in the face. Shock and pain made him angry, and, instead of letting her go, he stopped laughing and retaliated. Katharine could do nothing to stop them. One hit her straight away, then held her while the other prepared to take his revenge. Katharine strained desperately against the cruel arms holding her. She closed her eyes… Then she heard a voice she hardly recognised saying furiously, ‘Leave her alone, you scum!’ and she was suddenly free as the fellow holding her fell back, and measured his length on the cobbles.
A powerful arm skimmed past her ear and Katharine heard the crunch as a fist met its target. Her second attacker went staggering back, holding his jaw. If she had been less frightened she would have felt sorry for the man. She looked round. Lord Calthorpe was standing behind her, legs apart, rubbing his knuckles threateningly. The moonlight had turned his face into a mask of steel.
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, whereupon he looked round, ready to turn his attention on her attackers again. They had, wisely perhaps, vanished.
‘Do you need help to get back to the inn?’
Katharine shook her head, still unable to speak. They went back to the inn and up to her room in silence.
Then she said in a subdued voice, ‘Goodnight, sir.’
‘Oh, no, Miss Katharine Payne! You don’t get off as lightly as that!’ Lord Calthorpe pushed Katharine into the room and shut the door.
‘What…what are you doing?’ she asked nervously.
‘You needn’t be afraid I have designs on your virtue!’ he said in a scathing voice. ‘I merely want privacy to ask you what the devil you thought you were doing? Were you actually looking for adventure? Is that why you left us early?’
Katharine fired up. ‘Of course not! How dare you suggest such a th—’
‘That’s as well. You would have found more than you bargained for, believe me! And you chose to disregard the excellent piece of advice I’ve already given you!’
‘Which bit was that?’ asked Katharine mutinously.
‘Not to hit a man when he’s attacking you. Scream for help, run away, but don’t respond in kind! You’re bound to lose.’
She pulled the rags of her dignity together and answered him with spirit. ‘I…I assure you, sir, I was far from looking for any kind of adventure. I…I merely went for a walk! I wanted to see the cas—’
‘A walk!’ Words seemed to fail Lord Calthorpe, but not, thought Katharine miserably, for long. He proceeded to express with fluency and feeling his contempt for her intelligence, for her complete lack of any sense of self-preservation, and finally for her want of any consideration for his mother, not to mention himself.
‘You are meant to be in our care, Miss Payne, but how can we protect such a want-wit? How on earth is my mother to cope with such stupidity?’
Katharine was angry and ashamed. She hated to admit it, but the man was right. She had been stupid. She wondered briefly whether he would disown her and send her back to Hampshire, and said forlornly, ‘You need say no more, Lord Calthorpe. I was foolish. I see that now. I suppose I am not used to towns—though that is no excuse. I…I am ashamed. And grateful to you for rescuing me.’
Lord Calthorpe looked at her closely. ‘This doesn’t sound like you! Are you sure you are all right? Let me see!’ He took her chin in his hand and turned it to the light of the candle. ‘There’s a nasty bruise there. Why didn’t you say you were hurt? My God, I should have hit those brutes harder!’
‘I don’t think you could have,’ Katharine said, trying to smile. She winced as the bruise on her cheek made itself felt.
‘Sit down, here by the light!’ His voice was peremptory, but his hands were gentle. She allowed him to examine her face. ‘Just the one bruise on your cheek. What about the rest of you?’
‘They didn’t have time to do any real harm. You appeared almost as soon as they did. There’s nothing amiss, other than the bruise here.’
‘Thank God for that! You’ve been luckier than you deserve.’
‘I know,’ she said, trying not to sound resentful at his tone.
He gave her a look. ‘You have courage, Kate Payne, I’ll give you that, but you’re reckless, like your brother. I can see we’re going to have to teach you some sense. But enough said. That cheek must hurt like the devil. I’ll get something for it.’
He disappeared, but returned as discreetly as he had gone, with a small bottle. ‘Arnica,’ he said. ‘It will deal with the worst of it. And I’ve brought some drops. My mother uses them occasionally when she can’t sleep.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Don’t argue, Miss Payn
e! Just do as I tell you. I’ll bathe that bruise, and then wait while you take the drops. There’ll be time to undress after I’ve gone.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Katharine said rebelliously. ‘I was afraid you were going to deal with everything.’
He smiled. ‘I see that your spirits are improving. Shall I send a maid to help you? Or shall I undo the necessary hooks before I go?’
‘I’ll have the maid, if you don’t mind,’ said Katharine hastily.
‘Good! Then drink this…’ He poured one or two of the drops into a glass of water and handed it to her. She hesitated, but he looked at her calmly until she downed them. ‘And now I’ll find a maid. Goodnight, Miss Payne.’
The maid came, not without a slightly puzzled air, but Katharine was too tired to notice. In spite of her bruised cheek she smiled as she fell asleep. She had been mistaken. When roused, Adam Calthorpe was not at all cool… And that punch had been as good as she had ever witnessed—even Tom couldn’t have done better.
The next morning Mrs Calthorpe exclaimed at Katharine’s cheek, which was now purple. ‘You may well have a black eye!’ she cried. ‘My dear girl, how did you do it?’
Scarlet mixed with the purple in Katharine’s face. She hesitated.
Adam came to her rescue. ‘Perhaps Miss Payne knocked her head against the post,’ he said. ‘I very nearly did myself—the beams in our rooms are very low. Did you do it last night?’ Katharine nodded. ‘Then though it looks ugly—it does, though you must forgive my saying so—it is a good sign that it has discoloured so quickly. A day or two and it will have disappeared completely. No black eye. How did you sleep, Mama?’
‘Oh, there was so much to-ing and fro-ing that I took my drops before I got into bed. You know I always sleep very soundly after I have those. You needn’t look like that, Adam! I hardly ever take them now. Indeed, I’m not even sure where I put them last night. They weren’t on my bedside table this morning.’
Sylvia Andrew Page 10
