by Mary Nichols
They returned to Holles Street in time for tea in the schoolroom, which Simon shared with them. He watched Kate dispensing cordial and bread and butter and correcting the children’s manners and marvelled. She had everything he looked for in a woman: gentleness combined with practicality, a certain willfulness, which was engaging, a sympathy with other people’s problems, an intolerance of bigotry, a love of children and an ability to reach out to them at any level and an indifference to gossip, which was something he had learned to ignore over the years, all combined with a serenely beautiful face and a trim figure.
He imagined her at Grove Hall, enhancing the lovely old place with her presence, surrounded by children, not foster children, but her own. And his. He shook himself suddenly. Had he run mad? Since his own engagement ended he had vowed he would not marry, and, remembering his own miserable childhood, had promised to devote his life to the welfare of deprived children. Until he had met Kate he had been content with that, but she had shown him something was missing, that, inside the core of him, was an emptiness that needed filling.
‘Shall we take the children to the fair on Hampstead Heath on Saturday?’ he suggested, as he was leaving. ‘Would you care for that? I can bring the coach and we could have a picnic.’
‘Say yes, Mrs Kate,’ Michael begged her. ‘I ain’t never been to the country afore.’
Kate laughed at the new name the boy had found for her. ‘Yes, Doctor, I am sure we will all enjoy it.’
Lady Morland was becoming increasingly concerned about the time Kate was spending with Dr Redfern. ‘You will get yourself talked about,’ she said, when told of the proposed outing. ‘What will the Viscount say when he returns to England and hears about it? I really think you should discourage the doctor from coming so often.’
‘He comes to see the children. It is part of his duty.’
Her grandmother looked closely at her. ‘Are you sure that is all? Have you told him about Robert?’
‘What is there to tell?’ She was feeling defensive. ‘Robert does not want anyone to know about our engagement until he has told his sister and his daughters.’
‘Then you should find some other way of discouraging Dr Redfern.’
Kate realised she did not want to do that. How could she tell him not to call? It was part of the work he did for the children and he might take them away from her if she objected to his calls. Besides, she enjoyed his visits. She felt as if she had known him for years and years and could hardly believe it was only a matter of weeks. They were so at one with each other in their determination to better the lives of poor children. She loved his cheerfulness, his way of taking every setback in his stride, his easy way with everyone, not only children, but adults too. She would miss him dreadfully if he did not come again, miss his broad smile, the easy way he had with everyone, not a bit stiff or formal. And he cared about destitute children, enough to try to do something for them when he could have had an easy life at home.
He arrived on Saturday in the old coach belonging to the Society to take them to Hampstead Heath and Kate pretended to be caught up in the children’s excitement, laughing and joking with them and pulling Joe on to her lap as they all crowded into the coach, the girls on either side of her and Michael sitting beside Simon on the opposite seat. Simon seemed to sense something was on her mind and let her run on, smiling now and again, but refraining from comment.
Once there and they had seen the horses safely tethered, they set off to walk round the stalls with Joe on Simon’s shoulders and the others dancing round them. There was everything there: clothing, furniture, tinware, chinaware, pictures and ornaments. Fire-eaters and jugglers vied for attention with boxing booths, purveyors of quack medicine and pamphlet sellers with an axe to grind. There was food and drink in abundance and the children were soon scoffing cakes and drinking lemonade. An arena had been set up by horse traders, who were busy taking wagers on a race to be held later in the day to prove their steeds were the best there was to be had. It was a wonderful day out for the children, especially as Simon gave them each a sixpence to spend on anything they fancied.
Then he turned to offer Kate his arm and they strolled round together, watching the children’s bright eyes and smiling faces. Did it have to end? Must she discourage him as her grandmother had suggested?
‘You are quiet, Kate,’ he said. ‘Are you not enjoying yourself?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I was thinking…’
‘About what?’
‘Oh, nothing, this and that. What a lovely day it is, hardly a cloud in the sky and how happy the children are.’
‘That is down to you.’ The more he saw of Kate, the more Simon realised that the past was losing its significance and his hurt over Isobel was fading into nothingness.
‘Not just me. It is you who took them from their sad lives and gave them hope, I simply love them.’
‘And you have a great capacity for love, my dear.’ He stopped himself. It was too soon to tell if the scars of the past had healed and he was reluctant to plunge headlong into another disaster. It might be that her love for children did not extend to adults. How did he know she was not still mourning the husband she had lost and if he could live up to that ideal? He had learned caution over the years and it was caution that governed him now. One great disappointment in a lifetime was enough.
She turned took at him. His expression seemed sad and she wondered what had made it so. ‘Love is a funny thing,’ she said slowly. ‘The more of it you give, the more it comes back to you.’
‘Do you think so? Have you not heard of unrequited love, or treachery?’
‘Yes, but I was not thinking about it in that context,’ she said, wondering what had occasioned that remark. Could it be the woman he was supposed to have jilted? She believed him to be an honourable man and could not imagine him doing anything like that. ‘Perhaps the loved one was not the right one after all.’
‘Perhaps.’ He paused before adding in a brighter tone. ‘Come, let us catch up with the children before we lose them in the crowd.’
He sped after Michael, who was leaning over the ropes where the horses were being paraded before the race. The moment was gone and Kate could not bring herself to tell him not to visit her again. He might be hurt and that was the last thing she wanted, the very last thing.
Chapter Five
Kate was so busy with the children, she hardly gave a thought to Viscount Cranford and when he might be returning to England. Her omission was brought home to her a week later, when a letter arrived from him, telling her he was already in England and proposed calling on her that afternoon.
The news put Kate in a dreadful panic. She had always known he would come back to claim her one day and now that day had arrived. Why was she dismayed rather than joyful? Why had he not given her advance warning instead of springing it on to her like this? What should she do about the children? She could hardly send them back where they came from; they had only been with her a few weeks and had settled down so well, it would be cruel to uproot them again. What should she tell Dr Redfern? Perhaps she had been remiss not to tell him about Robert.
‘I knew it was a bad idea to have those children,’ her grandmother said when she was told the contents of the letter as they sat over breakfast. ‘Now, what are you going to do about them?’
‘Nothing. They are settled and happy.’
‘But the Viscount will want to take you out and about.’
‘I will manage with Joan’s help. After all, most of our engagements will be in the evening and the children will be in bed by then.’
After spending the morning with the children, she left them to Joan and went to change ready to greet her fiancé. She tried to still the trembling of her hands as she dressed carefully in a rose-coloured jaconet gown trimmed with cream lace and had Corinne arrange her hair. She was just putting the finishing touches when she heard the door knocker. ‘My, goodness, he is early,’ she said and rushed to slip on her shoes.
> But when she reached the drawing room, she discovered it was not Robert, but Dr Redfern who was waiting for her. She stopped in confusion. ‘Oh, Dr Redfern, I was not expecting you today.’
‘I was in the area and thought I would take the opportunity to call.’ She was looking particularly fetching, he decided, and a little flushed and breathless. He did not flatter himself that he was the cause of it. His arrival had been inopportune. ‘If it is inconvenient, I will go away again.’
‘No, of course not. You are always welcome. Do you want to see the children?’
The children were always used as a reason for his frequent visits, even though he knew, and he suspected she did too, that he did not need to come so often. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I assume they are well?’
‘Oh, yes, perfectly well.’
‘Then I will see them another time.’
They both turned as Susan burst into the room and then stopped. ‘Viscount Cranford, Mrs Meredith.’
The man who entered behind the maid was tall, lean and classically handsome. He wore a slate-grey frock coat, and dove-grey kerseymere pantaloon trousers. His waistcoat was white, as was his meticulously tied cravat. He bowed. ‘Katherine.’
‘My lord.’ She bobbed a curtsy, trying to still the swift beating of her heart. ‘May I present Dr Simon Redfern. Doctor Redfern, Viscount Cranford.’
He was a darkly handsome man, Simon was obliged to admit, as he bowed in response to the other’s stiff acknowledgement.
‘I sincerely hope no one is ill,’ Robert said.
‘No, we are all well,’ Kate put in. ‘The Doctor is here on behalf of the Hartingdon Home.’ She turned to Susan, who stood uncertainly by the door. ‘Susan, bring in the tea things, please.’
‘I was about to leave,’ Simon said. ‘Mrs Meredith, your obedient. Viscount.’ He bowed to them both and followed Susan from the room, though he would have given almost anything to have heard what was going on behind him.
‘What is the Hartingdon Home?’ Robert asked as soon as the door had closed.
‘It is part of Cousin Eleanor’s charitable society, set up to look after the children of the poor. The Home is overcrowded and I am fostering some of the children for a short time.’
‘Fostering?’ he queried. ‘Good heavens, you surely do not mean you are housing urchins from the slums?’
‘Children are children wherever they come from.’ She was a little annoyed by his evident abhorrence. ‘And they are as good as gold.’ She hoped they would not do something in the next few minutes to prove her wrong.
‘And Redfern is involved?’
‘Yes. He told me he sees so much deprivation in the course of his work, he felt he had to do something to alleviate it, so The Society for the Welfare of Destitute Children was set up with Lady Eleanor Hartingdon and other benefactors, to house the children, either in the Home or with foster mothers.’
‘But how did you become involved?’
She told him about finding Joe as succinctly as she could, but even without the visit to Seven Dials she could see he was appalled by the tale. ‘Doctor Redfern asked Papa and me to a meeting and we met Lady Eleanor there. The Society home was overcrowded and so I offered to take some of the children.’
‘But is he a gentleman?’
She laughed. ‘Indeed, yes, a very gentlemanly gentleman.’
‘I was not referring to his conduct.’
‘If you are talking about breeding, he is the heir of Lord Redfern of Grove Hall, Finchingfield.’
‘Unmarried?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Gentleman or not, you should not be receiving him alone.’
‘My lord, he comes to see the children. It is part of the work he is required to do for the charity. Would you have me turn him away?’ She had not expected to be quarrelling with him the minute he returned. It was not a good beginning.
‘No, of course not. But where are Lady Morland and The Reverend?’
‘Papa is in his study working on his book. Grandmama is about somewhere. I think she meant to be discreet and allow us our reunion in private.’
‘Yes, of course.’ His severe expression suddenly changed to a smile and he stepped forward to take both her hands in his and lift them to his lips, one by one. ‘I have been looking forward to it for so long.’
‘I, too.’ He had been a great comfort to her after Edward’s death and had brought her out of her grief and given her strength to go on. His letters had been the mainstay of her existence for months, until she felt able to face the world again. She must remember that and then this awkwardness would go away. She smiled and led him to a sofa where they sat side by side. ‘When did you arrive in England?’
‘Yesterday. You received my letter?’
‘Yes, thank you. Are you home to stay?’
‘I do not think so. I have finished my time in Paris, but expect to receive advancement and be posted elsewhere in due course. I hope it might be Austria, but I have yet to hear from the Foreign Office. In the meantime I have received an invitation to a ball at the Austrian Embassy on the twentieth of June. I shall be delighted if you will accompany me.’
‘But that is only a week away.’
‘Yes, I am sorry it is short notice, but it is very important that I attend.’ He stopped to correct himself. ‘That we both attend. You see, the Foreign Office likes its diplomats to be married…’
‘They are looking me over too.’ She was horrified.
‘In a way I suppose they are,’ he admitted. ‘But you have nothing to worry about. I am sure you will not let me down.’
Kate was not so sure. Supposing she inadvertently said or did something that was unacceptable in those exalted circles and they rejected him on her account—whatever would she do? She had been nervous before; now she was shaking with the enormity of what lay before her. He turned to smile at her. ‘Do not look so stricken, Katherine, you will come through with flying colours, I am sure.’
Susan returned with the tea tray, closely followed by Lady Morland who had decided they had been alone together long enough. The old lady greeted him fulsomely, and while tea was dispensed she asked him about Paris and if the city was much changed since the war, and about the social life and the fashions, all of which he answered knowledgeably. It left Kate to muse on what he had told her. She felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her. It had all happened so suddenly.
She pulled herself back to pay attention and realised Robert was explaining about the Embassy ball and how important it was to him, and her grandmother was nodding and smiling. ‘I thought of announcing our betrothal at the ball,’ he was saying. ‘But I decided it would not be appropriate at a function like that. Perhaps later at some other function.’
The prospect of being on show at the ball was enough to have her in a quake without the added apprehension of a public announcement. ‘If we need a celebration at all, I would rather it was a private one,’ she said.
‘As you wish.’ He rose to take his leave. ‘I am going home to Cranford Hall tomorrow to acquaint my sister of our betrothal and will not be back until the morning of the ball, so I will not see you again before then. I shall call for you at eight o’clock.’
‘I am looking forward to it,’ she said, not altogether truthfully, as he put his lips to the back of her hand and took his leave.
‘I told you he would want to take you out and about,’ Lady Morland said, as the door closed on him. ‘We must pay another visit to Madame Lorette as soon as possible.’
Kate was about to suggest that she wore the gown she had worn to Hartingdon House, but decided it would not do. It would forever remind her of Dr Redfern and that waltz on the terrace. Neither had spoken of it since, but she knew it had marked a turning point in their relationship. It could no longer be called a purely business one. And yet she did not know what to call it. Friendship was the nearest she could think of, but that wasn’t quite right either. Whatever it was, she would be very sad if it were severed.
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br /> Next morning, she left the children with Joan and set off with her grandmother for Bond Street. Lady Morland was a very good customer, but even so, Madame Lorette was dubious about making a gown in the time available, even if she took her girls off every other order. ‘I shall have to wear the gown I wore to Hartingdon House,’ Kate said, a statement that made her ladyship throw up her hands in horror.
‘You cannot have the haut monde think you are so impoverished you cannot afford a new gown for the most important ball of your life,’ her grandmother said. ‘Perhaps we should go elsewhere.’
Madame Lorette certainly did not want that to happen. ‘I have a half-finished order that has been cancelled,’ she said. ‘It is about madam’s size. We could easily alter it to fit.’
It was brought out from its muslin wrapping for Kate to see. It was made of the finest gossamer, in a blue the colour of a summer sky, intended to be worn over a white satin slip. It had puff sleeves and a round neck and the bodice was caught under the bosom with a cluster of white flowers from which a wide blue ribbon floated down to the hem. It was far more costly that Kate would ever have agreed to, but as it was a cancelled order, Madame Lorette offered them a substantial discount. Kate put it on and stood on a chair for one of the seam-stresses to mark where alterations were needed and to pin up the hem, after which it was back to Holles Street and the children.
‘Joan telled us you are goin’ to a ball,’ Annie said, when she went up to join them. ‘What’s a ball?’
‘It is a very grand occasion when everyone dresses in their very best clothes and goes to a ballroom to dance to the music of an orchestra.’ She paused. ‘Shall you like to learn to dance?’
‘I can,’ said Michael and began cavorting all over the place, making Kate smile.
