A Sense of Duty

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Paradoxically, it was Worthy who provided the opening for her explanation. ‘How is it that a presentable woman like yourself has never married?’

  ‘I was close to it once, but he jilted me.’ Remembering Ninian Latimer, she did not look at Worthy but heard his murmur of contempt for this bounder. ‘I received quite substantial compensation, but money’s no substitute for being treated in so vile a manner, is it?’

  ‘No, indeed.’ Worthy had turned pensive. ‘An experience like that turns your mind against marriage.’

  Kit tried to imagine what was causing that furrowed brow, then righted his assumption. ‘It was bad, yes, but its effect was only temporary. I would have accepted another proposal had I been given the chance, but no one asked.’ She went on to tell him that after that painful episode she had invested the money in business, adding that she had carried out her skills as seamstress to the gentry until recently. ‘I’m considering reopening for trade here, once I become acclimatized.’

  Worthy made no comment on this. They walked on, enjoying desultory conversation, until Kit said perhaps they should return to the house as the joint of beef must be almost done by now. Up until today she had eschewed the help of a servant, but the fact that she was starting once again to entertain guests meant that someone had to tend the cooking. ‘I’ve left a little girl in charge but I wouldn’t trust her to prepare the whole meal – not with such an important guest.’ She smiled. ‘I shouldn’t be mean, she’s a nice lass. I’ll be glad of her help if I do reopen for business.’

  * * *

  Worthy was not to comment on her future plans until Sunday luncheon had been consumed and they had chatted about a whole range of subjects throughout the afternoon.

  Directing the conversation from the world in general to more pertinent issues, Worthy spread his graceful fingers upon his great big thighs and studied them thoughtfully. ‘What you were saying before about opening your business – wouldn’t you rather be married and have children?’

  Sitting opposite, Kit flinched at the mention of children but maintained the gay air that their former dialogue had engendered. It was a long time since she’d chatted so easily to someone, and certainly never to a man, except Mr Popplewell. ‘I’m a bit long in the tooth for anyone to ask me now!’

  ‘There’s one here who would ask.’

  She was nonplussed. ‘Is that – a proposal?’

  He nodded his ox-like head. The starched collar bit into his neck and carved white lines in his tan.

  Kit found it impossible to answer. Always quick to spot the irony of a situation she saw it in bucketsful now. Why could he not have come along a year ago when she was carrying Serena? Instead of having the baby wrenched from her she could have passed it off as his. She studied his face. Would she have been able to commit such deception against this honest simple man? Perhaps, if it meant she could keep her longed for baby. But she would never know now. The chance had gone.

  He took her silence as refusal and began to rise as if to leave, muttering apologies, but she bade him wait. ‘Worthy, I genuinely appreciate your offer – but you know absolutely nothing about me!’

  He was not a man to guffaw out loud, confining his laughter to his eyes, but he emitted an uncommon laugh now and listed everything she had told him in the last few days, making her objection look ridiculous.

  She allowed him that, but insisted, ‘It’s not really the same as living with a person, is it?’

  ‘I’ve seen all I need to see to know you’ll be more than capable. The woman who bears my children will have to be big and strong – like you.’ He showed not the slightest recognition that he’d made her sound like a prize cow.

  Kit was offended, but gave this her serious consideration. Even in such unglorified terms it was a tremendous proposal. After giving up Serena, on top of Beata’s death, there had seemed no reason to her life, now he was offering Kit what she had always wanted: a husband and children – as many as she liked. Even if they would never replace those lost to her, she had not dared to envisage such consolation.

  Yet still she faltered. ‘It’s come as a shock. I took you for a confirmed bachelor.’

  ‘And so I was until I met you.’ It was hardly an impulsive gesture. Worthy had been thinking very hard about this since the day he had met her. He hoped she would not ask him to enlarge on what it was that attracted him, for he could not put into words that which he drew from her clear blue eyes – purity and intelligence, an honest and upright woman in whom, at last, he could place his trust, one to share his dreams, to bear his children. In silence, he waited for her response, trying not to show how much it would bother him if she said no.

  ‘It must have been something very bad to turn you against women.’ Though it was not a direct question, her eyes asked that he enlighten her.

  There arose a hint of his former gruff manner. ‘I suppose you’ve a right to know. When I was sixteen I gave my heart to a girl – asked her to marry me. She laughed at me.’ His gaze came up briefly from the floor. ‘It sounds very paltry now, I know—’

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ she interrupted kindly.

  ‘It was just the cruel way she did it – in front of an audience. And all the time she was leading me on, she was going with another chap.’

  ‘Don’t say any more,’ begged Kit. Though his confession had lent a touch of humanity to the proposal, she had no wish to prolong his discomfort.

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t bother me now.’ He was surprised to find that this was true. ‘I’ve found someone much better, someone of integrity.’

  Looking into his expectant, weather-beaten face, Kit wondered whether it was too late to furnish this unwitting suitor with the whole truth. But then why should she? One child was dead, the other as good as – why risk losing the only genuine proposal of marriage she had had – for at her age it would be her last? No, Kit had come here to start a new life, she could not take a backward step now. Wondering just what she was letting herself in for by marriage to this stranger, she gave her considered reply.

  ‘Thank you for asking me, Worthy. I’d be honoured to become your wife.’

  * * *

  Mrs Treasure was beside herself with happiness at the prospect of such a match and, disallowing Kit any chance of escape, launched herself into preparations for the wedding, even suggesting that there was no need for the couple to wait for the banns to be called, they could get married by licence. Already swept up by the suddenness of it all, Kit answered kindly that three weeks would be quite soon enough – she had never been married before and this one and only occasion required a special gown; she must be allowed time to create it. Of even more importance was where she and Worthy were going to live. Mrs Treasure put a stop to this objection, informing her that it had all been decided long ago: when Worthy married he would have the farmhouse and his parents and sister would move into smaller premises. This large house was meant to contain children and Mrs Treasure hoped her son and his wife would be blessed with many of them.

  So, all the problems appeared to have been solved – at least in Mrs Treasure’s eyes. Little did she know what lay beneath the veneer of her future daughter-in-law’s honest smile. Unsure what to do about the house in York, for the sale of it would mean a complicated explanation to Worthy, Kit decided to continue letting it out. An agent already collected the rent for her and sent her a monthly cheque, which she paid into her bank account. Even allowing for the money she had given Amelia, such an enormous accrual in her bank book would still be a shock to her new husband were he to know of it, but she had told Worthy about the compensation she had received for being jilted, and had not quoted an exact figure so that provided no difficulties – but the receipt of regular instalments would do.

  In a quandary, she decided to open a separate account. As currently happened – for she had not yet bothered to alter the arrangement – the cheques would still be sent to Ralph Royd where she could pick them up from time to time and take them to the bank. It was no good ask
ing her brother to attend to this matter – he never went into town and Kit doubted he had ever entered a bank in his life. With no one else competent she would have to deal with this herself. Others would tell her that she was making life very complicated for herself, but Kit saw no other way out.

  Apart from any other reason, Kit deemed herself most fortunate only to have rented her present abode. The fact that there were still several months to run on her tenancy and this would incur needless expense was not without hidden benefits: if the wedding fell through she would still have a roof over her head. It might appear cynical to others but Kit had learned not to set too much store by people’s promises. If the marriage went ahead she would count herself most fortunate, if it did not – well, just wait and see what the day brought.

  During the interim, whilst stitching and sewing at every opportunity, Kit grew to like her intended even more. In contrast to many of the men she had known he was totally without artifice. If he said he was going to do something he did it. He was a blunt man who uttered the first thing that came into his head and, though it was sometimes hurtful, Kit preferred it to lies. It was a comforting thought to know she could always expect the truth, though this in itself spawned guilt that he could not expect the same from her. Telling herself what was past was past, she relegated all signs of bereavement to her solitary moments, outwardly appearing calm and committed, whilst underneath experiencing the awful fear that she might burst into inexplicable tears.

  Thankfully, her betrothed interpreted any unusual signs as nervousness over the wedding. He was nervous too and had been putting off something which should have taken priority, but this evening when he visited his bride-to-be he raised the subject. ‘I suppose by rights I should ask your brother for your hand – as he’s your guardian.’

  Kit had been forced to hide her half-finished wedding gown at his arrival and already looked flustered but was now even more so. ‘I’ve been thinking of that too – not about asking permission – I’m a bit mature for that, but whether I really want any of them at my wedding.’ She showed a marked lack of inclination, especially after her last visit, when Monty had accused her of leading Wyn astray – and thereby lay the main reason for her reluctance. What if they should reveal her secret? Still reeling from Worthy’s unexpected proposal the last thing she had thought about was that someone else could report her colourful past, but now she had to face the serious possibility. How could she risk taking him to Ralph Royd where everyone knew her?

  ‘What – have no member of your family attend your special day?’ The big man portrayed surprise.

  ‘It’s for that very reason I don’t want them here,’ explained Kit, ‘because it is my special day. I don’t want any of them to spoil it with their silly comments.’ She sighed and made a face. ‘I suppose it would look a bit odd, wouldn’t it?’

  Worthy had placed her silver thimble on his fingertip and was reading the name, Villa Garcia, though he did not need to ask about it for Katherine had told him she had been to Spain with the family she had once worked for. In fact she must have told him just about everything about herself, such was the volume of her conversation. Finding it impossible to remember every detail, he intended to ask her to recite her exciting tales again when winter came upon them, to while away the dark nights. It was still something of a miracle to Worthy that one so widely educated could choose to marry him.

  Kit decided. ‘Very well, I’ll go over and tell them tomorrow.’

  ‘If you wait until evening, I can take you,’ he offered.

  That would not do at all. ‘No, I’d rather prepare them for the shock.’ Kit smiled, then grabbed the thimble from his fingertip and shooed him from the house. ‘Now, Mr Treasure, would you please take yourself off or I’ll have nothing to wear for this wedding!’

  * * *

  It was a mixed blessing that she happened to be visiting her brother on the first Sabbath of the month, thus finding all her siblings – what was left of them – gathered in the parlour of her old cottage. With Amelia in America, Owen in self-imposed exile, Sarah dead and most of the young ones married, it was a poor gathering nowadays. Wyn had been quickly marched down the aisle and was living with her husband’s parents, leaving Merry the only girl at home. It was disappointing to find Probyn absent too; gone on an outing with his pals.

  Gwen was as vociferous as ever, being the first to comment on her youngest sister’s appearance. ‘My word, to what do we owe this honour?’ Her rather miffed attitude sprung from the fact that two of her siblings had benefited from Kit’s generosity whilst she had received not a bean – nor had she yet been invited to Kit’s new home. ‘Must be months since I saw you last.’

  Kit sat down, unperturbed now by the dead-eyed stare of Beata’s portrait, glancing instead at her brother to check what sort of mood he was in, wondering how to begin her news.

  Gwen did not give her time to answer. ‘You haven’t noticed, have you?’ At Kit’s blank look, she exclaimed, ‘There’s one missing!’

  ‘There always somebody missing.’ Kit received a brief mental vision of Amelia with Serena in her arms. It was rare for her to think of her sister as a separate unit now; she was always holding a baby. Kit’s baby.

  ‘I’m talking about Flora!’ At Kit’s modicum of interest Gwen dealt her trump card. ‘She’s only run off with another woman’s husband, that’s all!’

  Kit gaped and looked at the others for confirmation.

  Charity smirked. ‘It’s right! Never mentioned a word about him before. Last Saturday morning she packs her bags and gets on a boat for America — seems he’s a bigwig on the White Star Line. Loaded by all accounts.’

  ‘It’s always the quiet ones that are the worst,’ opined Gwen, then gave a sideways look at Kit and added, ‘with a few exceptions that is.’

  Kit demanded more details, inwardly scolding herself for being as bad as the rest of them, though she just could not help but be astounded. Flora of all people!

  Gwen concluded the information with a laugh. ‘He can’t ever have taken tea with her, all that sniffing every morsel of food. If he ain’t mad enough for taking her on she’ll drive him mad!’

  Kit had to join the laughter. Then, still with a twinkle in her eye though a note of apprehension in her voice, she admitted, ‘There’s another madman on the loose – one who’s promised to marry me.’

  She had everyone’s full attention now. Gwen could not speak for many seconds. ‘You’re joking!’ she stuttered at last.

  After receiving astonished congratulations from all, Kit told them briefly about her great good fortune in meeting Worthy and the speed of his proposal.

  Gwen had recovered somewhat. ‘It goes without saying that he’s not from round here – must be desperate too, or ugly as sin.’

  ‘Now, Gwen, there’s no need to spoil the girl’s good tidings,’ warned Monty, trying to make amends for his previous slander: with Wyn safely wed everything had settled down now.

  Kit was grateful for this unspoken forgiveness. ‘He’s a lovely man,’ she told her sister firmly. ‘And he’s looking forward to seeing you all at our wedding – though if you carry on like that you won’t get an invitation.’

  ‘Sorry, Kit, I was only joking.’ Gwen gave her a fond tap. ‘I’m genuinely glad you landed a bit of luck – mind you don’t let this one get away.’

  ‘I don’t intend to,’ replied Kit. ‘That’s why I wanted to have a private word with you all before you meet him. Worthy doesn’t know anything about what went on in the past.’

  Gwen gave a nod of recognition at Charity. ‘I didn’t think he’d have the full story.’

  ‘And I don’t want him to have it,’ said Kit, her expression becoming pleading. ‘This is my last chance – I know that. I didn’t tell him at first because, well, I just didn’t – and now it’s too late.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I can’t risk losing him.’

  ‘So you want us to keep mum,’ guessed Monty. ‘Well, that’s not too much to ask, is it?’ he
enquired of the others, Gwen in particular.

  The latter shoved out her chest. ‘I don’t know why you’re looking at me, Monty Kilmaster! I never yet advertised the fact that my sister is a woman of loose morals and I don’t intend to start now – though I can’t speak for the rest of the community.’

  Kit said she was well aware of that risk. ‘We’re having the wedding in Worthy’s parish. You’re all welcome.’ She told them exactly when the ceremony would be.

  Afterwards there was a lot of superficial chatter and genuine compliment from Kit’s relatives. When she departed at the end of the afternoon it was with a much lighter heart than when she’d arrived.

  ‘Well, that be a turn up for the books,’ remarked Monty to his sisters, who had stayed behind to gossip. ‘I feel really happy for the girl. She seems to have found a decent man at last.’

  Charity echoed this, though Gwen’s final comment held a note of caution. ‘But she’s carving a difficult path for herself by lying to him. You can’t keep things like that hidden for ever.’

  * * *

  Encouraged by the reception from her other siblings, Kit decided to visit Owen that same week and invite him to the wedding. The long summer days meant that she could arrive when he finished work and still be home before dark.

  A note of apprehension accompanied her journey, for her route took her close to Postgate Park. Remembering her last meeting with Ossie at the dance, she pondered over the amount of water that had passed under the bridge since then, and wondered whether he and his wife had had children, and whether or not she would bump into him.

  But she was not to see the Viscount nor any other member of the Earl’s family today, her brother’s being the first familiar face she set eyes on.

  As expected there were jokes on the competence of her groom. ‘Will they let him out unattended?’ came Owen’s deadpan enquiry, before he elaborated, ‘Well, I can’t see any man in his right mind taking thee on.’