The second day was longer, four stages, and a lengthy delay at Boroughbridge, where there were not horses enough. At first, they waited for some to arrive, but after some discussion with the ostlers, they went on with only a pair. At Thirsk, they were able to get two pairs again, and got on a little better.
Having not slept the night before, Katherine dozed on this early part of the journey, although every lurch of the carriage or the rumble of a passing farmer’s wagon or remark by her uncle or cousin brought her jerking awake again. After Thirsk, the scenery became more interesting as they came into the hills of the North Riding. She had never been so far afield before, so she peered out of the window with great interest, but neither the hills nor the small villages they passed through were wildly different from Lancashire.
At Helmsley they made their last stop, collecting Uncle Cathcart’s own horses and coachman for the final climb to her new home. Cathcart House. Katherine had no idea what she would find there. Uncle Cathcart was a gentleman, so it would be a gentleman’s house, but what would that mean? The largest houses she had seen were on the hill at Branton, and the largest of those was the Ridwells’ fine house, but Mr Ridwell was only a mill owner like Papa. He was not a gentleman. There were proper gentlemen’s houses on the outskirts of Branton, but they were all hidden behind high walls or hedges, and she had never seen them, let alone been inside one.
The horses strained up a long hill, turning this way and that, before the road levelled off somewhat. There was not much to see. They passed gateposts or smaller roads, but with no sign of any habitation. Trees closed in beside the road, then became fields, then more trees. Once or twice a vista opened up to one side, as if they were overlooking a deep valley, but the trees pressed close again before Katherine could examine the view. She supposed she would have many opportunities to travel this road in future, for the family went often to Helmsley for the shops, James told her.
“Here we are,” Uncle Cathcart said, as they turned in through two neat brick gateposts.
The horses put on a little burst of speed, aware that they were almost home. The drive was short, and in a moment they were turning, the carriage slowing and then stopping. The footman on the back of the carriage hopped down and opened the door, and they all descended.
Katherine looked up at the house — her new home. It was rather plain, apart from a small portico at the front door and a tiny amount of decoration above the windows. But no statuary anywhere, nothing ornate or overwhelmingly grand, and it was not even as large as the Ridwells’ house, although longer than it was tall, with three storeys only in the middle section.
But there was no time to take it all in, for the front door opened and people poured out. So many! Her aunt, sister to Mama and just a little like her, beaming and rushing down the steps, arms wide to embrace her. Two young men, Alex and Neil, at eighteen well grown and handsome, not quite identical but very alike. And the three daughters, Aveline, nineteen, Susan and Lucinda still in the schoolroom. Aveline she recalled only slightly as a rather stout child. Now she was an elegant young lady, eyeing Katherine up expressionlessly. At only a year younger than Katherine, they would be expected to be friends, no doubt. A friend! Something like a sister, perhaps. How odd that would be.
Wrapped in her aunt’s soft embrace, with many kind voices expressing their welcome, Katherine felt the strangeness of it all. Having been herself an only daughter, and for many years now an only child, she was unaccustomed to being part of a large family. Six children not yet fully grown, and so many servants to look after them! Footmen and maids poured out to help with luggage, and a butler and housekeeper stood on the steps overseeing the activity.
Now the younger girls took an arm each and towed Katherine up the steps and into the house, while their mother remonstrated ineffectually with them.
“Girls! Girls! Do give Katherine a little room to breathe. Think how tired she must be after her long journey! Susan, Lucinda, do not tug her arms quite out of their sockets. There now, my dear, let me look at you. Ah, you look so pale, but that is your mourning clothes, of course. Such adrainingcolour, black, I always say. But it is some time since your dear papa passed away, so perhaps we shall persuade you into half mourning soon.”
“It is only three months, aunt.”
“Well, true, but that is long enough for so young a girl, and you will be going into a very different society now, my dear.”
Katherine felt the now familiar spasm of terror at these words. When her aunt had written to her, just after Papa’s death, and offered her a home, she had mentioned society and balls and finding a husband. Katherine had existed quite happily without such things for all of her twenty years. She had plenty to do at home, or at the mill, or amongst their workers’ families, and then there was church to keep her busy. There were occasional evening engagements with their friends, and sometimes a riotous assembly at one of the inns, but a ball! What would she find to do at a ball? She had never participated in a formal dance in her life.
Susan and Lucinda towed her on, up the stairs and then up again, into a pleasant bedroom, plainly but expensively furnished, everything solid wood and polished to a high shine. There were windows on two sides, with a view over tidy flowerbeds from one, and trees and shrubs from the other. She was relieved to discover that she was not to share a room with Aveline. Her aunt chased her daughters out of the room and helped Katherine remove her bonnet and pelisse.
“Well, these are very suitable for travelling,” she said, holding them up to examine them more closely. “Excellent stitchwork! You must have had a talented seamstress in Branton.”
“I make all my clothes myself, aunt.”
Her aunt stared at her. “Goodness me! Well, you will not need to do so any more. Ah, here are your boxes. Just the two? And here is Jenny, who will look after you… acting as your lady’s maid… taking care of your clothes and so forth. I suppose you have never had a proper lady’s maid before.”
“Well, I—”
“Jenny looks after Susan and Lucinda, but she can easily accommodate you as well. Now, which box holds your evening gowns? This one? Unpack this first, Jenny. I need to see if you have anything suitable for Tuesday.”
“Tuesday, aunt?”
“We are to dine at the Castle. Corland Castle, with the Earl of Rennington and his family, so you will need something… well, not so plain as your travelling gown.”
The Earl of Rennington! Katherine’s horror must have shown on her face, for her aunt laughed, and said, “Now, now, child, you have nothing to fear from the Athertons. They are very grand, of course, and live in a style we can only dream of, but you will find them not at all high in the instep. We dine with them half a dozen times a year, and sometimes they condescend to dine with us, and we always enjoy a very pleasant evening.”
“Must I go? I do not know them, so—”
“Naturally you must go. You are included in the invitation. Lady Rennington is always most particular about such things. She wrote that if you had arrived by Tuesday, then she would be delighted to welcome you to Corland Castle. So you have nothing to worry about. Well, you have not many dresses, have you? We shall have to increase your wardrobe quite substantially. Ah, lay the blue one on the bed, Jenny. Now, let me see… Hmm, it is excessively plain for an evening gown.”
“Aunt, I cannot wear colours! I have a black evening gown if I must go, but I should much sooner not. Indeed, I never expected to be treated like my cousins. It would be inappropriate for me to set myself up as a lady of fashion, like them. Plain gowns are very suitable for my station, and I shall be happy to make myself useful to you, in the kitchen or still room, perhaps, running errands, helping the governess… That is my place, surely. It is what I am used to.”
Aunt Cathcart sat down on the bed, drew Katherine down beside her and took her in her arms for a long hug. “My dear Katherine, you are my niece, and my sister’s only surviving child. The very idea that we would treat you as some kind of unpaid servant! Whatever you may have been obliged to do at Branton no longer applies. Your father may have left you in poverty, but your uncle is to settle a little money on you — No, no, do not protest, for he is quite resolved upon it, and we are agreed that we will treat you exactly the same as our own daughters. You will have your own pin money, and naturally you must wear suitable clothes. You would not wish to shame us by appearing less well dressed than your cousins, surely? What would our friends say if we appear to neglect you in that way? You need not be a lady of fashion if you dislike the idea, but you must be a lady ofquality, Katherine. Above all else, you must be a lady, and there is no need to mention your father’s mill. No need at all.”
“There is no mill to mention, not any more,” Katherine said sadly. “But what shall I do with myself all day if I may not help with the domestic duties? What does Cousin Aveline do?”
“Why, I hardly know, but she manages to fill her days. Embroidery… every lady must have a piece of embroidery in progress. She paints, too. Her watercolours are greatly admired. We make and receive calls, of course. She rides, sometimes, and… well, she finds plenty to do. If you like, you may sit with Susan and Lucinda and listen to Miss Harkness. She teaches French and Italian, as well as music, drawing and the usual things. That will help to fill in any gaps in your education, you know, for if you have been busy making clothes and mixing pastry, I am sure you have not been keeping up with your lessons.”
“You have a pianoforte? May I practise?”
