“You are getting on very well, Daisy,” Katherine said. “Do you like it here?”
“Ooh, yes, miss. I have me own room which I’ve never had before, and so much food to eat I’m sure I’ll get as fat as a pig.”
Katherine could not help laughing at this image. “I am sure all the running up and down stairs will keep you slim. And is your conscience troubling you less now?”
“Conscience, miss?”
“Remember when we first met? You were in great distress because of some untruth you had told.”
“Oh… that. It don’t bother me no more, miss.”
She looked a little conscious, so Katherine forbore to ask about it any further. Apart from reminding the girl to say her prayers each day and ensuring that she went to church, she could only trust to time and the girl’s own sense of morality to bring her to the point of confessing her sin.
Katherine had expected Aunt Cathcart to try to impose her own choice of gown on her, but nothing at all was said and so she descended the stairs on Friday in the green silk, quite without hindrance. She had dressed her hair with ribbons of the same material, interspersed with tiny silk flowers, and wore only her mother’s silver cross at her throat, just as she had done many times at Branton but never before here. Aunt Cathcart’s eyebrows rose as she looked Katherine up and down assessingly, but she made no comment. It was Aveline who giggled.
“That must be one of your Branton fashions, cousin.”
“Katherine looks very well,” Uncle Cathcart said repressively.
James was one of the last down. “Here we all are, ready for a night of pleasure.” His eyes fell on Katherine, and his face lit up in a most unexpected way. “Well! You look delightful, Cousin Kate. What an elegant gown.”
“But very plain,” Aveline spat.
Happily for Katherine’s blushes, the carriage drew up at the door just then, ready to take the first group of revellers to the castle, and in the bustle of donning evening cloaks and getting themselves out to the carriage door, nothing more was said. The first journey was to take Uncle and Aunt Cathcart, Aveline and Katherine, with the three young men following later. Katherine, naturally, was the last to ascend the steps, but as she did so, James materialised by her side and offered his hand to help her into the carriage.
“I shall see you again very soon,” he said, and there was that glow in his eyes that she had seen before. That would never do! Katherine dropped her gaze and squeezed herself into the small space that Aveline had left for her. James folded away the steps, closed the door and called to the coachman, and in moments they were rolling away down the drive and into the blessed darkness that hid Katherine’s flaming cheeks.
10: An Evening At Corland Castle
Alongstringofcarriagessnaked up the drive to Corland Castle. The Cathcart conveyance stopped in its turn and disgorged its occupants. Katherine followed the others across the bridge and into the entrance hall, lit up as bright as day with hundreds of candles. There they were greeted by the earl, Lady Alice and Lady Olivia.
“So glad you could come after all, Miss Parish,” the earl murmured.
“Thank you,” Katherine whispered. “So glad to be here.”
Then, with a great press of people following behind them, they moved on, the ladies to one ante-chamber to deposit their cloaks, and the gentlemen to another to leave their hats. On again to the great hall with its high glass roof, already busy with chattering groups, the ladies’ gowns shimmering as they moved, jewelled bracelets sparkling in the candlelight with every gesture.
Aunt Cathcart and Aveline whisked off to greet friends at once, but Katherine took a moment to look around. At her first visit to Corland Castle not long after her arrival, she had been overwhelmed by the scale of the place, the great branching staircase, the massive chandelier suspended on a long chain from the roof and the walls covered with a multitude of fearsome weaponry. It was an appropriate home for an earl descended from a long line of earls and barons stretching back to the middle ages, men loyal to long dead kings, wielding those great swords with determination against equally ferocious opponents.
Now she could look around and see the castle as the backdrop it was, like the scenery on a stage. People did the same in Branton, like Mr Ridwell, whose vast new house proclaimed him a man of great wealth, if not much taste. Katherine’s own home had been less ostentatious, but each item of furniture, every picture or clock or carpet, had been carefully chosen by her mother with her impeccable sense of style.
At Corland, there was a great sense of history. Even the staircase was adorned with a dull display of armour and weapons, although she admired the two large urns in the Chinese style that flanked them. Elsewhere, however, the furnishings were modern, both tasteful and elegant, the rooms decorated in a pleasingly restrained manner. She could see it now as a home as well as a statement of wealth and power.
There was another difference, too, between her first visit and this one. Then, she had known no one but the Cathcarts, and even they were new to her. Elsewhere there was only a sea of unknown faces. Now, she recognised many of those pouring into the great hall. Near the stairs was pleasant Sir Hubert Strong, the magistrate, and some of his family. By the door to the gallery was the imperious Lady Esther Franklyn and her fashionable husband. Near the dining room was sweet Mrs George Atherton, fussing over her daughters’ shawls in case there may be the least draught. Emily waved cheerfully to Katherine. And over there was Mr Walter Atherton, and beside him—
Her heart jumped painfully, for there he was, Mr Kent Atherton, looking impossibly fine in his well fitted evening attire. He had not the muscular build of his brother, but she thought she preferred Kent’s slender good looks. His shoulders were broad enough, his waist narrow enough, his calves shapely enough, without the overpowering masculinity that some men had that made her wilt like a plucked bluebell in its presence. Kent was reassuringly male, but not intimidating, even to someone as shy in company as Katherine.
He looked across the room, he saw her and his face lit up in that warm smile that instantly had her insides turning somersaults. She blushed, of course, because she always blushed, but she no longer lowered her gaze as if turning away from him. Shewantedto look at him, to watch what he did, to glory in the fact that, after a quick word to his brother, he ploughed through the crowds straight to her side.
“Miss Parish! Now the evening is set fair, with your presence. And how delightful you look! That is a new gown, I think. I have not seen you in anything quite so becoming before.”
That made her blush even more — what a charming compliment! But she thanked him very composedly. Before she could say another word, Aveline materialised at her side.
“Why, Mr Atherton! There you are! Where have you been hiding, for I could not see you at all at first?”
“Not hiding, Miss Cathcart, merely standing beside my brother Walter. No one notices me when he is in the room.”
He grinned widely at her to signal the jest, but she took him seriously.
