“Certainly, my dear. That is a very ladylike accomplishment. Most suitable. Yes, you may practise on the pianoforte as much as you like.”
Well, that was something to be grateful for. There had never been enough time for music at Branton, but now she could play as much as she wished.
***
Thenextmorning,Katherinerose at her usual time. She had been warned that the family would not emerge from their bedrooms until breakfast at ten o’clock, so she recited the morning prayers, as she continued to do even without Papa, and then wrote letters to several friends in Branton who would be anxiously awaiting news of her safe arrival. She filled the rest of the time by reading soothing passages from the Bible.
Breakfast was like dinner the previous evening, the table groaning with food, of which only a small amount was eaten. The waste shocked Katherine, but she supposed a gentleman had to live in a higher style than a mill owner. No one at Branton would think to offer such an excess of food. She was even more shocked that no one said grace, either before or after the meal. What sort of Christian family would not give thanks for their meal, especially with such abundance placed before them? It was not her place to criticise, however, so she made a small prayer in her head before she began to eat.
“Mama, may we take Katherine to Birchall this morning?” Susan asked. “She will want to see all the shops.”
“What an excellent idea,” Aunt Cathcart said. “When you return, Katherine, I shall have an embroidery project for you to begin work on. I have a spare hoop somewhere.”
Katherine had no great desire for shopping, or embroidery either, and would much rather have spent the morning at the instrument, but she did not like to be unsociable. Shortly after eleven, therefore, she awaited Aveline, Susan and Lucinda at the foot of the stairs. The first person to appear was a thin-faced woman of around thirty, as plainly dressed as Katherine was.
“Good morning, madam,” she said, dipping a curtsy. “I am Miss Harkness. The governess.”
“Yes,” Katherine whispered. Never having had a governess, she was not at all sure how to address one. “How do you do? I am Katherine Parish.”
The governess gave a little smile. “I know who you are, Miss Parish. I hope you will be very happy at Cathcart House, despite the sad reasons for your move here. Ah, here are the girls now. Come, ladies, let us be off before the day is half gone.”
Birchall village was only a mile away, by way of the gardens and some pretty woodland, the bluebells just showing through but not yet in flower. The village was just like a thousand other villages, being no more than one main street with a few short side roads lined with cottages and a scattering of more substantial houses. A few people walking about stared openly at them, making Katherine feel very uncomfortable.
The Cathcart girls instantly ran off to a haberdashery, which seemed to be a focus for several other young ladies, but Katherine looked longingly at the church.
“Would you mind if I were to sit in the church for a while?” she said to Miss Harkness.
“By all means, Miss Parish. There are some fine memorials in St Timothy’s, and the rood screen is much admired.”
The chilly air inside the church made Katherine shiver, but it was still preferable to being stared at, or jostled in the busy haberdashery. Above all, she wanted quietude, and the church brought her a welcome sense of peace, with its familiar smells of damp wool, dust and candle smoke, and the echo from its high roof as her booted feet tap-tapped up the aisle. She found the Cathcart pew, one of the better ones, and sat there letting her thoughts wander. She was grateful to her uncle and aunt, naturally, and they were very kind, but oh, how she missed Branton and the familiarity of home. Everything here was strange. She would make friends in time, she knew that, but just at that moment, she felt quite alone.
Behind her, the door creaked open, and someone entered quietly, staying near the door. A few moments later, someone else came in and she heard low voices murmuring. Little of it was audible, but she caught‘thirty barrels’and‘is that all?’and something about storms at sea. Then, a sudden exclamation, and she heard footsteps approaching.
A man peered over the pew wall at her, a man not much older than she was herself, slender and with a smiling face surrounded by gentle curls.
“Good morning to you, madam, and an excellent morning it is, too.”
His eyes twinkled with such good humour that she could not be afraid of him. “Is it?”
“Why, indeed it is, for it is not raining, which is sufficient in itself to qualify as an excellent morning. Also, my brother has been shooting, and I am promised duck for dinner. I am excessively fond of duck.”
That made her smile.
“Ah. And I have brought a smile to your face, which makes the morning even better. How do you do, madam? Kent Atherton at your service.”
Kent Atherton! One of the Earl of Rennington’s family. She need not fear the evening at Corland Castle so much if this cheerful and friendly man was there.
“Katherine Parish. Miss… Parish.”
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Parish, quite delighted! I hope we shall meet again very often, so that I may have more opportunities to make you smile. You looked so sad when I first saw you, and since you wear black, you have reason to be sad, but is there not still so much in this world to be enjoyed? Every day brings us some new delight to beguile the eye or the ear, or even the tongue. You see, I am thinking of my duck again. May you find some small ray of hope every day to enchant you and relieve your sadness for a while. And one day, I very much hope that you will not be sad at all.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And now, I must not disturb your contemplation any longer. Good day to you, Miss Parish.”
“Good day, sir. Enjoy your duck.”
He grinned. “I shall! I most certainly shall.”
