by Olivia Ritch
She just could not say when she was from. There had to be other words.
“I have a sister far away and she and I are all each other have. I just don’t know how to get back to her and I have to try. I’ll be leaving soon but I promise, I will ask Michael to keep you on. It might…work for you to stay and serve the woman he marries. I am sure he’ll have to find someone soon for this big old house.” Her half-laugh wouldn’t fool Ellie one bit.
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“Miss, I beg pardon, I really do but don’t you see? You are the one we want to be mistress here. You. You belong here. This is your place.
Your home.”
Kathryn sat silently facing Ellie, let her eyelids fall, then reached her arms for her maid. Ellie came forward and Kathryn stood to embrace her.
The hug was a relief for both of them for the pent up frustrations. Ellie let tears stream and Kathryn gave vent to days of frustration over her own helpless situation.
Kathryn did love it here. She loved Ellie and Hallthorpe and Cassandra, all in that platonic wonderful way you feel about friends. She was devastatingly attracted to Michael but he was far away on the social scale and arrogant and because she would never be a presentable public companion for him, she thought he treated her probably like he would a mistress. If she really knew how anyone treated a mistress. They were wonderfully comfortable in the privacy of his house or in his own meadow but in public, he would probably not even know her. She knew enough about how gentlemen treated their mistresses that the kindness could be very real and affectionate behind closed doors, even more so than with their wives in most cases, but it was a false security that only existed inside her home. There was no publicly acceptable acknowledgement of her presence forthcoming. The tenant visits had been the only indication he might not see her as a totally unworthy distraction …but that was the tenants. Who knew what Michael thought the tenants thought of him and whether he even cared.
Kathryn had never fooled herself into believing that Michael saw her as a wife candidate and she had had pleasure and companionship from her time with him. Recalling the visit of the neighbor lady yesterday that she had overheard from the stair landing, Kathryn replayed Michael’s assurances to the woman that his Aunt and Sister would work with her on the festival. His respectable family. Not her, not Kathryn. Even without this confirmation, she had no question about their relationship and she accepted it for what it was. Indeed, she knew who she was and no man had ever looked down on her. Kathryn and her mother and sister had long ago made their own way in the world and needing a man’s approval had never been part of her vocabulary.
Pulling a few inches away from Ellie, she looked at the young woman’s now mottled face. “I am going to ask him and I am going to try to make it right. You belong here.” Ellie looked at the floor, wiped her face again on her apron and resumed the task of dressing Kathryn’s hair.
From deep in the house the dinner gong rang and Kathryn straightened to see Ellie’s handiwork. The person in the mirror was 102
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becoming more familiar but this incarnation was so much more fabulous than she had ever felt before. The blue dress was like the deep of the Gulf of Mexico miles from shore where the bottom fishing was the best.
Its lace hem floated and bounced teasing the floor like the ocean waves.
The scooped low neckline showed her tan lines at her breasts and was so low that her white flesh was on display. Ellie had woven green, blue and gold ribbons throughout Kathryn’s hair and even through the dangling strands so that instead of bouncing ringlets, she had slender braids down her neck.
Kathryn felt like a princess.
* * * *
Michael snapped to attention as the parlor door opened but the woman who entered knocked him back a step causing him to bump the low table nearby, and scratch the floor behind him. Reining in his swirling emotions, Michael strode to Kathryn’s side, placed her suddenly trembling hand on his sleeve and brought her with him deeper into the room toward the chaise nearest the fire. He seated her before he spoke but he could only manage a breathy whisper. “You, madam, are exquisite.” She smiled at him beatifically and his heart stopped in his chest for one fraught moment. Michael was saved from embarrassing himself further by the arrival of Cassandra in company of her footman. “Oh, my, Kathryn, look at you. That dress has never looked better…certainly didn’t do me that kind of justice,” Cassandra declared as she swept in.
“Wow, between the two of you my head’s going to swell like a pumpkin. Thank you. I do feel rather splendid. Isn’t that a British expression?”
“Splendid, Michael, would you agree?” Cassandra dared him.
Michael turned his attention to his sister. “Yes, my darling I do believe Miss Ragland is splendid but I had actually said exquisite. But I would be remiss if I didn’t compliment you also on your radiance. What a treat to be in the company of such exquisite radiant splendor. I shall endeavor to be able to eat without spilling my food and stumbling over my conversation.”
“You are such a tease, brother. However did we get along all those years without your quick tongue?”
“In your case, you didn’t get along all that well.”
“Touche’.” Cassandra surprised herself at how well she took that little comment. She glanced at Jem whose eyes were wide as saucers. He had never heard Michael mention her illness in any but the most reverent ways. This must be good. She was glad to see Jem react. He sure did 103
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have the most lovely jaw line and she hesitated just a second more than she should have in regarding him.
Agatha came bustling in. “Oh dears, I am so sorry. My maid was feeling poorly and I tried to get my hair by myself but I finally had to call on Kathryn’s maid to help me.” Immediately Kathryn realized she had the perfect opening to ask Michael about Ellie.
“Lady Agatha, didn’t you think she was just the most wonderful help?”There were always people getting sick. She could be a fill in for either Cassandra’s or Agatha’s maids.
“Yes, she is a strong, capable girl. Got everything done in such a quick fashion. I can see why you like her.”
“Oh yes, she’s been a Godsend. You know that all these trappings are a little beyond me. She’s guided me through it.”
“So gel, how has your stay with us been so far?” Agatha turned her full attention on Kathryn.
“This has been such a wonderful adventure. I’ll never forget it,” she answered wistfully.
“Forget it?” Michael asked. She heard the suspicion in his tone. All the ladies turned toward him, for he had not spoken in several minutes.
“Yes, when…uhh…I am no longer here. When I am…home.”
This was not a conversation Michael was going to have in front of his sister and his aunt. He was tired of the repeated threats of departure.
She wasn’t leaving and she needed to get it through her head but this was not the time or the place. He could be a good host and change the subject. He would right now. “Cassandra, I noticed your easel had been brought out of the attics.”
“Oh yes, I dug out paints and brushes. Well, actually Jem dug them out and then we went through them all to see what worked. Most were dried and shriveled. I’ve made a list of what I would need to get started painting again. Will you place an order for me?”
“First thing in the morning if you desire, just mark it for Smithers and he will handle it. Are you also going to teach Miss Ragland to paint?
I know you two have been working on the rose bushes.”
“Roses yes, paints no,” Kathryn declared. “Not much I do with my hands ever looks like it’s supposed to. In fact, I was just complimenting Ellie on her handiwork such as this hair and her sewing and it reminded me that there is not where my talents lie.”
“Miss Ragland, where do your talents lie?” asked Agatha in a rather more pointed tone.
Michael shot her a reproving look.
“Well My Lady, I am really good with people. It sounds trite but if I 104
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told you what I did for a living, you’d probably be a little shocked.”
“Nothing can shock me gel, as long as you don’t say something provocative like you’re a courtesan.” She laughed and the others followed but it wasn’t really all that funny or appropriate.
“No, not that. I’m a counselor. I work with women and children in crisis.”
“Crisis?” It was Cassandra’s turn to sound surprised. “What kinds of crisis?”
“Abuse, homelessness, poverty, unemployment, mental illness, anything that would cause them a tremendous amount of stress. I work at an agency where we help women get back to being productive members of society or get away from abusive husbands or simply get training for new careers.”
All three of the mouths of the gentry were gaping as were Jem’s and Hallthorpes’ who had returned just as she had begun speaking. “You’re all staring at me.”
“You are right and we have all lost our manners, terribly uncouth of us. Do tell us what kinds of help you provide,” Michael said, looking at her as if for the first time all over again and trying to recover some of his usual élan. What she had said had shocked him to the core. She was someone who worked with poor and downtrodden women to help them improve their lives. Wouldn’t that be just what he’d expect of her? What an intriguing, beguiling, good woman he had found.
“One example is recently a woman came in with a baby and she didn’t have a job but she couldn’t afford childcare to go job hunting. She was in the proverbial catch-22. How to get out? We set her up for a few days with our resident day care that allows people to job search, got her some clothes from our thrift closet, and identified some job leads. After four interviews over eight days, she got a job at a day care. She takes her daughter with her and makes enough money to keep her own apartment.
A storybook ending I’d say.”
“Sounds like it. Do you believe in story book endings, Miss Ragland?” Cassandra asked skeptically.
“Not for me. But for some.”
“Miss Ragland,” Michael intoned in the soothing voice he used when he spoke to her. “Why should you not have a story book ending?”
“I am too much of a realist. I’ve seen too much in my life, but don’t get me wrong,” she said, her tone lightening the mood. “I absolutely believe in Sleeping Beauty and fairy tales and romance and love.”
“Kathryn, I’ll bet you could teach us all about love. You seem to be a very giving person.”
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“Thank you, Cassandra. Don’t know for sure that I am a love guru but I do think I know how to make people recognize happiness or at least reach for it.”
“You made me want to reach for it. I think you have a gift. Doesn’t she, Michael?”
“Yes. Let’s drink to gifts.” And he winked at his glowing baby sister.
* * * *
The dinner conversation with Agatha and Cassandra and Kathryn had finally lightened and become animated. A houseful of women. How had he come to that? But these women… he cherished them each one. His years of being responsible for hundreds of men was now exchanged for the responsibility of a stable full of intriguing, amazing, stubborn, difficult, women. As odd as it seemed, Michael believed he could get used to this.
Since he was the only gentleman, he took his port in the drawing room with the ladies even though it was not really socially acceptable to drink in front of them. The awkward moment came when the tea tray was delivered and Hallthorpe hesitated a fraction of second in deciding who to place the tray in front of. Kathryn would someday be the lady of the house but she wasn’t yet. Agatha was the senior lady but Cassandra lived here all the time. Thorpe’s quick thinking placed the tray by Agatha and she smoothly began the pour. No one questioned his judgment.
* * * *
The next morning, Michael was attempting once again to catch up on his neglected business. “My Lord?” “Yes, Thrasher, what is it?” Michael waved him into the room.
“One of the lads said as he saw a midnight black hunter stabled over to the woodsman’s cottage on the Hamilton property. He was coming back from visiting his mother over to Badlinton and was cutting through.
Figured there shouldn’t be anyone in residence when he heard the horse.”
“Did he see anyone about?”
“No but it did look like fresh activity. Hoof prints were churned by the door. Said he wanted to see the horse. It was a beauty, the man announced.
“Thank you. We’ll need to put a watch on the place. Can you tell me which grooms we can spare from the stable?”
“Aye, My Lord and…”
“Yes, Thrasher?”
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“I…we…want to help you lay the blackguard low, sir.”
“Thank you Thrasher.” Watching the groom’s retreating back, he realized there had been much more in Thrasher’s offer than simple loyalty. He suspected Thrasher and indeed all of his servants had been affected by the warmth of his home that had bloomed from the moment she had arrived.
It wasn’t just Kathryn’s dazzling smile or her quick wit, her earthy beauty or her mesmerizing voice…it was her radiant joi de vivre. She just lived so fully, like when she took the stairs two at a time or caught the hem of her gown hopelessly in the rose bushes and laughed at herself until she tore it beyond repair or when her smell of vanilla and warm woman filled any room she entered. The reactions of his servants, the males especially, were not surprising. Kathryn Ragland was the most delicious female he had ever met. Ever. And she would be his for the rest of his life, once he ‘laid low’ the villain trying to take her from him.
Her knock interrupted his musings. “Come.”
“There you are. Working hard or hardly working?”
“Kathryn, you have my measure, I was woolgathering. What can I do for you?’
“I need another run.”
Immediately his imagination conjured a vision of her passion drunk, sweating and sated from their previous run. But the assassin had targeted them as well. He still had not told her she was being targeted by an assassin who could strike from anywhere at any time so how could he discourage a run. “Was our last run not just a bit too eventful?”
“As I told you at the time, it was great. I am hoping you might indulge me again.”
“You, minx, are absolutely mischievous. How could I possibly refuse that invitation? We will however choose another route.”
“What, too many vivid memories of the last time?”
“Ahhh, I…don’t always know what to say to you, My Lady.”
“Say you will race me and that’ll be enough for now.”
* * * *
Michael had chosen the path through the woods away from Worley and Hamilton, deeper into his own property. Maybe the villain—if it was Harold Stafford or another—would avoid coming too far into Hawthorne’s park and they would be safer. He could not countenance any other outcome. They set a slow pace on the well-trodden bridle path. She spoke first while he was contemplating their safety. “I wanted to ask about your wife. You have never really mentioned her and well, as I am getting to 107
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know about you, that’s one area of your life I know nothing about.” She turned and glanced at him. “That is if you are comfortable talking with me about it.”
“You know, Kathryn, I never thought I would feel as comfortable with a woman as I do you. My mother was sad and fragile. My sister has been a veritable recluse for the last years and Agatha is a formidable matron. You are much like a …friend.”
“Thanks, that’s a compliment. So what was she like?”
“Catherine was a Baron’s daughter. Her family spent the Season in London and she met
and I believe fell in love with my cousin who…dishonored her.”
“By that I take it you mean, they had an affair?” She looked at him without the judgment he expected to see in her face. His family, even his sister had thought he had been mistaken to take Catherine to wife. Why he felt that Kathryn Ragland would understand his decision, he did not know but unburdening himself felt somehow comfortable. He had held this anger in for too long.
“Yes, she was with child and he might have married her but he dallied and did not ask her and she was afraid her condition would out while she waited on him to make the arrangements. I don’t think she would have come to me of her own volition but I happened upon them talking privately in the gardens at a soiree’ and I could tell she was trying to bring him to some point and he was being particularly evasive. When they separated she began to cry and I showed myself. The words just rushed out of her. When she realized she had told me enough to guess that she was with child, she looked as if she would die right there. I took pity on her and offered for her.”
“Just like that, a woman pregnant by another man?”
He regarded her river moss eyes and saw an altogether unexpected emotion… admiration.
“I know marrying her yourself was certainly chivalrous but why not encourage your cousin to marry her?”
“I had made the offer and I just somehow knew that if he had been so lost as to have bedded a virgin and then not immediately married her, he probably wasn’t going to. He had a certain reputation—all of the men in my family do.”
“Except you?”
“Except me.”
“Michael Stafford, you are a truly amazing man.”
She thought again about telling him of the portrait that had brought her to him but decided to let his admission sink in before throwing that at 108
