“Hmm. Let us have her here for dinner one night. Olivia is wild to start entertaining again, now that this Shapman fellow has confessed to the murder and your Aunt Alice has emerged from seclusion. We can have a few people to dine, and perhaps a bit of dancing afterwards, for those so minded. It will almost be like the old days, when your mother was here. I shall tell Alice and Olivia to start planning. And I shall expect to see some sign of this conversable Miss Parish, Kent, understand?”
Kent laughed. “I shall do my best, Father.”
***
Eustacehadwordthatthere was to be a delivery within the next day or two, given that the moon was nearly gone and the night sky was clear. Kent’s rôle on these occasions was more to support his brother than to participate directly, but he enjoyed keeping watch from the topmost room of the tower, peering eastward through the beautifully engineered telescope, admiring its elegant lines and wondering at the skill of its maker as the hours passed by.
One of the men came up shortly after midnight to bring Kent a pot of ale, cool from the cellar, and a plate of bread, cheese and ham for his supper.
“Lord, it’s hot up here! Don’t you find it stuffy, Mr Kent, sir?”
“It is a bit, but these windows are warped shut. Open the roof door, if you like. That will let a bit of air in.”
He rattled the knob. “It’s locked, sir.”
“The key is in the lock.”
“No, ’tisn’t, sir.”
“Really? Well, it should be.” Ambling over to the door, his hands full of bread and cheese, Kent peered at the lock, then frowned. “How strange! I wonder who could have taken it? Maybe it is downstairs.”
But no amount of searching discovered the missing key.
It was the second night before the train of pack ponies finally became visible on the horizon, winding their way across the moors from… well, Kent was not entirely sure where the barrels were first stored when they came ashore. Eustace probably had some idea, but he always said that the less everyone knew, the better.
“No one can let slip something unknown, after all,” he said. “We all play a small part in the operation, with no need to know anything more than our own duties.”
Kent had only asked once, and after that he simply did as Eustace bade him without comment. But it made him uneasy, all the same, and he wished once again that he could find some escape from Eustace’s crazy scheme.
***
Katherinewashappierthanshe had been since the dreadful day when Papa had died. No, that was not the worst day — that was when Mr Gray, the attorney, accompanied by both his brothers as well as Mr Humber and Mr Wentworth from the bank, had come to tell her, very gently, that all the mortgages were to be called in, and Katherine was not merely penniless, but homeless, too. That had been her lowest moment.
But now, she felt optimistic for the first time. She had gradually become accustomed to her new home, and some of the wearisome aspects that had depressed her spirits when she first arrived no longer troubled her. Her riding afternoons meant that she missed most of the dreary morning calls which Mrs Cathcart and Aveline undertook. Sometimes she was even allowed to stay at home when the rest of the family went out to evening engagements. She had her own lady’s maid, and no longer had to wait for Jenny to attend to Susan and Lucinda first. Miss Harkness had realised she was not an uneducated peasant, and had stopped trying to instruct her. And to her great relief, Aveline no longer made pointed jibes at her, instead mostly ignoring her. They would probably never be great friends, but perhaps Aveline now saw that Katherine was not her rival in the quest for a husband.
Best of all, of course, she had the shivery joy of Mr Kent Atherton’s company sometimes as she rode. It was not a regular occurrence, for he had many other calls on his time, but perhaps once a week he would be there waiting at Westwick Heights with Emily and Lucas, and then her heart skipped about in delight.
At first, he had only wanted to talk about beam engines and mill management and how her father had dealt with his workers, almost as if he planned to become a mill owner himself. But after a while, the conversation turned to other channels.
“Tell me about your house at Branton,” he said one day. “It was very much smaller than Cathcart House, I imagine.”
“It was narrower, certainly, but taller, so the number of rooms was not so different. More old-fashioned, of course. But that is not the greatest difference. At Branton, there were never more than four of us living there, and latterly only my father and me. We managed with only five servants. At Cathcart House, there are nine of us in the family, and I have no idea how many servants. It is so noisy, Mr Atherton! Sometimes I retreat to my room just to escape the tumult.”
“Ah.” He seemed to ponder that for a while, before saying, “Corland is not noisy like that. Perhaps it was, once, when all my brothers and sisters were at home. Six children and my parents, Aunt Alice, Uncle Nicholson and Tess — that is eleven, but it never seemed…tumultuous.I suppose the castle is so much bigger than even Cathcart House that it never seemed to be overpoweringly noisy, although I confess we spent a great deal of time outside, roaming the estate, and the Strongs’ estate, too. But even indoors, one could always find a quiet corner to hide away, if one wanted, and now… the place feels empty.”
“All those rooms for just a handful of people.”
“True. More than thirty principal rooms, not counting ante-rooms, basements or attics. Would you enjoy living in such a place, do you think? If you had quiet corners to retreat to?”
She hesitated before answering. “I should not be comfortable in such a place, no. Cathcart House is not so very different from houses in Branton, and less imposing than some. The wealthiest mill owners and mercers and bankers lived in very large, ornate houses. But Corland Castle… that is a different matter. It is on an entirely different scale, as is fitting for his lordship’s position in society. I do not feel entirely at ease in my uncle’s house, for he is a gentleman and I am not a gentleman’s daughter, but I should find your father’s house overwhelming. I find the Franklyns’ house overpowering, too. It is so… grandiose, I suppose, but then Lady Esther is a duke’s daughter.”
“It sounds to me as if what overpowers you is not the scale of these houses but the rank of the occupants. You must not be overawed by Lady Esther, or my father, either. They are mere mortals, beneath the carapace of superiority that nobility brings them.”
“Oh, I know it, sir. Nevertheless, it is only fitting that I should respect their rank, and accord them due deference. For that reason, I do not like to be treated by my uncle and aunt as if I were another daughter. I should far prefer to make myself useful to them in some way — in the kitchens or the schoolroom, perhaps, but they will not hear of it. That is what overpowers me in society — that I am expected to be alady, which I am not and never will be.”
Mr Atherton laughed out loud. “Why, Miss Parish, you must not so denigrate yourself. You are far more of a lady than— Well, perhaps it is better not to name names, but believe me when I say that there is nothing about you that is in the slightest bit unladylike.”
“Perhaps not, but one may behave in ladylike ways and still not be truly a lady, just as a man may behave in gentlemanlike ways even if he is not a gentleman.”
