“Can you press a gown? Brush mud from a coat? Arrange hair?”
“Oooh, I love doin’ hair, miss!”
“Then you can be my lady’s maid… what is your name?”
“Daisy, miss. Daisy Marler.”
“Well, Daisy, you can be busy at Cathcart House, and if you have a quiet moment to yourself, you can ponder the wisdom of telling lies, the damage to your immortal soul thereby and how much better you will feel if you unburden yourself by telling the truth.”
Daisy looked at her doubtfully. “Um… yes, miss.”
It was not to be supposed that Aunt Cathcart would accept this change in her household without protest.
“Is Jenny not giving satisfaction, Katherine?” she said frowning.
“Of course, but she has enough to do attending to Susan and Lucinda. A third person added to her duties is something of a stretch, so I have often been later than I should wish going downstairs. I know how Uncle Cathcart likes his dinner on time, and it mortifies me to be the means of delaying the meal. This way will not inconvenience anyone, and Susan and Lucinda will not have to share Jenny with me.” Then, when her aunt still looked dubious, she added, “I should pay her wages myself, naturally.”
“There is still her board to take into account.”
“She may live out, if you prefer. She lives with her uncle at present.”
“Who is her uncle?”
“Roger Bright, clerk to Mr Whistley.”
“Her name?”
“Daisy Marler. Her father is a farmer at Welwood.”
“I know of Marler, of course. A respectable family, by all I hear. Very well. She may live in. A lady’s maid must live in, Katherine, so that she is always on hand when needed, even when you return from a ball at four in the morning.”
On the whole, Katherine felt she was better off than before. She was no longer dragged along reluctantly to social events, she had her afternoons of riding, and she had her own lady’s maid again. Not that Daisy was particularly competent, but she was very willing and eager to learn, and Katherine’s needs were not great. So long as her gowns were clean and pressed when she needed them, she asked nothing more, being quite happy to mend tears and make adjustments herself, and her hair was always simply dressed.
But her greatest joy was riding again, despite her sluggish mount. Within a few days, Emily had learnt of her outings and her easy-going parents had agreed that she might ride with Katherine whenever she wished. The two ambled along side by side, chattering away, the two grooms trailing behind, also talking. Sometimes, Emily’s brother Lucas rode with them, too, although since his horse and Emily’s were much faster than Katherine’s, they tended to ride ahead at speed, and then wait for her to catch them up.
The best day, however, was the one when they encountered Mr Kent Atherton also out riding, and he stopped to chat. Then, glory of glories, he wheeled about and rode with them, not riding fast with Mr Lucas and Emily, but walking his horse at Katherine’s slow pace and chatting companionably to her. As if she were someone worthy of his attention. As if they werefriends!
Katherine returned home with her head in the clouds, unable to suppress a smile of pure happiness.
***
Kentwasrestless.Thedescription of Branton as a forward looking town, without further elaboration, had led him to look it up in various itineraries, which had described it as a‘thriving manufacturing town, with much production of cotton, linen and worsted. The population has grown rapidly in recent years, leading to the provision of numerous fine public buildings and a handsome new church. It has the privilege of markets on Wednesdays and Saturdays.’All of which could describe a hundred undistinguished northern towns.
If only he could see it! He knew so little of these industrious northern towns, churning out woollens and cottons, spoons and buckets, nails and glass and who knew what else. His experience was limited to London, York and Cambridge, a few coastal or small market towns, and the country estates of his friends and relatives. Other towns were passed through as quickly as a change of horses or an overnight stop allowed. What a dull life he had led!
One evening, when he and his father were the only men lingering over the port, he mentioned again his wish to learn more of engines.
The earl had shaken his head tiredly. “A gentleman does not deal in such matters, Kent.”
“I should not bedealingin engines, Father. I merely wish to understand how they work. If it is a question of money, my allowance would be enough for lodgings in Birmingham, I am sure, and—”
His father sighed heavily. “You are bored, I dare say. There is little enough for a young man to do here. You would be more settled if you had a wife. You are what, twenty-two now? I was not much older than that when I married your mother.” He paused, one hand rubbing his eyes. “I wish she had not gone away,” he went on querulously. “She knows I cannot manage without her. The place feels so empty now, with Nicholson gone, Alice keeping to her room, Walter gone off to do heaven knows what and Eustace never here. Thank God for you and Olivia, that is all I say. Without the two of you, I should run mad, I swear it. A wife, that is what you need, Kent. Every man needs a wife to keep him straight and give his life purpose. Find yourself a little woman to marry and bring her here to live. That would liven us all up, would it not? A woman about the place, and grandchildren to enjoy — that is what we need here.”
Kent gave it up. His father was not himself at present, with Mother gone away now that their marriage was invalid, and urging the earl to marry again and have more sons to inherit. No son who cared about his father could abandon him at such a moment. The engines must perforce wait a little longer.
Perhaps he could write to the foundry at Birmingham to ask their advice about reading materials to help him learn the principles behind beam engines? Steam power had so many possibilities, but he had only picked up snippets of information from the newspapers or gossip amongst the gentlemen who invested in the new mills or in mines where engines were employed to pump out water. There was so much more to learn!
He was riding the next day, mentally composing a letter to be sent to Birmingham, when he came across a little group of other riders — his cousins Lucas and Emily, and the blushing Miss Parish, whose face lit up with a smile of such brilliance as he approached that he could not resist turning his horse about to join them. And there was another motive, too, for perhaps in the less formal setting of a ride on the hills, Miss Parish would feel sufficiently at ease to talk to him freely. He could learn something of the manufacturing town of Branton, and also something of Miss Parish, too.
