“Who is this Mrs Ryker?”
“A wealthy widow, apparently. Lives alone, needs a companion. More than that I cannot say. Emily has the direction, if you want to go down there.”
For an instant, Kent’s spirits lifted, but he realised at once that if he called upon Katherine at Helmsley, that would be as good as a declaration, and he was not at all sure he wanted to take that step yet. He liked her very well, that was true, but marriage was a big step, and once he was committed, there would be no possibility of a career for him. He would be dependent on his father’s largesse forever.
So he went home and pondered his future. Surely there would be a change in his fortunes soon? Something would turn up, he was sure of it.
***
Katherinefounditeasierthan expected to settle into her new home. Mrs Ryker was a kindly soul, who spared neither expense nor effort to provide her with everything necessary for her comfort. The demands on Katherine’s time were few, so she was free to play the instrument, read or write letters, as she preferred, no one insisted she attempt to embroider and no objection was made if she ventured down to the kitchen to make a cake or a pie, or talk to Sukey, the cook, about meals. All Saints Church was directly across the road, and its cool, echoing interior made an acceptable replacement for St Timothy’s. An array of shops was located within easy walking distance, and she found a reason to go there almost every day.
Saturday was the day for the market, and Mrs Ryker happily walked about on Katherine’s arm talking to the sheep farmers and wool merchants. Her late husband had been in the wool trade, having interests right the way through the process from the sheep, through carding and spinning, and finally weaving, and many a weather-worn farmer’s visage broke into a broad smile at the sight of her.
The house was comfortably appointed, rather than elegant. It was not as large as Katherine was used to, having only a book room, dining room and small parlour on the ground floor, the drawing room and Mrs Ryker’s bedroom on the first floor, and two more bedrooms above that. Katherine’s room was at the back of the house overlooking a long, narrow strip of garden, with a view of Helmsley castle beyond. The room was pleasantly appointed, the bed was comfortable, and with a small table and chair in the window, and a larger chair beside the fire, she could retreat there for solitude if she was not needed elsewhere.
In some ways, she was reminded of life in Branton. The house was different, in fact, the whole town was different, with its pretty little thatched cottages and houses in pale stone, whereas Branton felt darker, the tall houses, mills and warehouses looming over the people scurrying about below. And then there were the many mill chimneys belching out their clouds of dark smoke, to add to the smoke from kitchens and fireplaces in the houses.
Still, the Helmsley house held only the two of them above stairs and five servants, including Daisy. There was no butler and, with no man in the house, nor carriage in the coach house, not a single male servant, apart from the kitchen boy. The food was plain fare, such as she preferred, and not so excessively abundant as at Cathcart House. Life in Mrs Ryker’s house was, Katherine decided, very pleasant. It was not quiet, for Mrs Ryker was never silent for more than two minutes together, but there was not the crowded feeling Katherine had experienced at Cathcart House, surrounded as she was by so many other people.
Her Branton friends continued to write to her regularly, expressing surprise at the sudden move, but avid for news of her new home, and sharing all the little doings from home, and she wrote often to satisfy their curiosity. When she had first moved to Cathcart House, such letters had reduced her to tears of longing for the familiar faces and streets. Now, she delighted to hear their news, naturally, but somehow it was as if she looked back on Branton through a fog, for some of her memories were hazy. She had to struggle to bring some faces to mind, or recall which of the Mason brothers had just got married and which had the child with croup. Then she would panic a little at the thought that perhaps Kent’s face would fade away, too.
Emily wrote to her sometimes, but she was not a regular correspondent, and she did not describe things in sufficient detail, so the page might be crammed with outings and dinners and new gowns, but Katherine could not get a clear picture of any of it. But sometimes she mentioned Kent, which was a little thrill, the words read and reread to brighten the hours when Katherine had retired to her room.
Mrs Ryker’s social engagements were numerous but they were very consistent. A dinner out once a week, a dinner hosted once a month, and every other night but Sunday spent playing whist with a group of friends after dinner, one group for Mondays, one for Tuesdays, and so on. On Thursdays the friends came to Mrs Ryker’s house to play. This would have been dull for Katherine if she had wanted to play cards herself, for the whist players were precisely four, with no room for an extra, but she was quite happy to sit at the instrument and play soothing pieces, or else read or sew. On Fridays a larger group gathered, with a number of young people, and then she was drawn into a noisy round game. On Sundays, she could attend three services if she were so minded.
There were things she missed, of course. Her friendship with Emily. Her rides on the moors. The beautiful instruments that the Athertons and Franklyns had at their disposal, that she had been privileged to play on. Her music cabinet, which Aunt Cathcart said was too bulky to take with her. The walk through the woods to Birchall village. The gossipy sewing circle at the rectory. Most of all, her long conversations with Kent Atherton. But all things considered, she was not dissatisfied with her present life, and was not even sure she would want to return to Birchall if the opportunity were offered.
About a week after she had moved, a familiar carriage drew up outside the house. Looking down from the drawing room, Katherine squeaked in delight. Emily! There was Emily stepping from the carriage with a beaming smile on her face, and Lucas handing her down. By the time Katherine had raced downstairs and hauled open the front door even before the doorbell could be rung, there was another smiling face gazing at her, a face so familiar in her dreams that she almost could not believe she was actually awake. Had she nodded off over her hemming, and was imagining this?
“Miss Parish,” he said, the smile widening even further. “How delightful to see you again.”
If there were one sight guaranteed to brighten her day, it was Kent Atherton bowing over her hand with all his customary grace, rendering her speechless with joy.
“Are you surprised?” Emily cried, throwing her arms around Katherine. “I hope you are… and that it is a pleasant surprise… but if you are otherwise engaged… or it is not convenient…”
Mrs Ryker arrived just then and swept the visitors into the house, Katherine scurrying in her wake mumbling introductions, while the kitchen boy directed the coachman and groom to the inn.
Kent bore a large package, and as soon as Mrs Ryker’s tongue allowed, he passed it to Katherine while Emily explained.
“Mrs Cathcart would not agree to us bringing your music cabinet with us, for she says it is far too fragile to be transported—”
“Even though it came all the way from Lancashire unscathed,” Kent added.
“Exactly so,” Emily said. “I think it is such a pretty piece that she wants to keep it in her drawing room. But she could not prevent us from bringing some of your music, for it is yours, after all.”
“Goodness, what a great number of sheets,” Mrs Ryker said, as Kent cut the strings on the parcel for Katherine to unwrap.
“Oh, Katherine knows hundreds of pieces,” Emily said. “She was quite the best performer for miles around at home, and I am sure there will be few to equal her in Helmsley.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean… I’m very well aware of her talent, Miss Atherton. I meant only that printed music like this is very expensive. To have such a fine collection must have cost your father a pretty penny, Katherine, dear.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “And this is no more than a quarter of it. But I thought you were poor!” She blushed scarlet. “I beg your pardon, that was abominably rude of me.”
“No, no,” Katherine said. “It is a natural supposition, but we were not poor when Papa was alive, no. His income latterly was above three thousand pounds a year, but of course he had borrowed money for the new mill and when he died it was all lost. I am very poor indeed now.”
Emily wriggled uncomfortably. “I beg your pardon, Katherine. It must be intolerably painful for you to talk about, and I would not for the world distress you.”
“It does not distress me, not any more,” Katherine said, feeling no little surprise to find that it was so. “When I left Branton, with the bailiffs still in the house, that was very dreadful. But all our friends and neighbours gathered on the street to bid me farewell, even the mill workers who had lost their employment and the little children from my Sunday classes, and many friends still write to me and remember me kindly, so I am not downhearted. And I have new friends and a new home. Mrs Ryker could not have been kinder to me, and if I have very little money, I also have little need of it.”
