‘Thank you,’ Kate replied.
As she made her way up to the servants’ quarters, his words went around and around in her head. ‘A lot to offer,’ he’d said. She let out a deep sigh at the thought of what that might be.
* * *
‘Oh, come on Kate. I thought you were serious about all this,’ Clara insisted to Kate a few days later, as she sought her out in the nursery.
The twins were laying out the train track and were fighting over who should have the red engine.
‘Now why don’t we settle this by doing eeny, meeny, miney, moe ?’ Kate suggested.
Sophie won and that settled it much to Kate’s relief for if Simon had won there would have been tantrums and tears.
‘You have so much patience, Kate. I couldn’t be bothered with all those hysterics,’ Clara said. ‘What would we do without you?’
‘Such things are important for children,’ Kate said. ‘They are only just finding their way in the world. The same went on in my house back in Micklewell. Standing up for yourself is important.’
‘My point precisely,’ Clara emphasized. ‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself. We must be listened to, Kate. We need to take a stand!’
‘But . . .’
‘The idea is that we set fire to postboxes on the same day across the country. That way the government will take more notice, know that we mean business,’ Clara said.
‘I don’t know, what if . . . ?’
‘If the women who started the campaign thought only of the consequences do you think we would have made any progress at all? Do you want to be a suffragette or not?’
Kate nodded.
‘Good,’ Clara said. ‘Now go and post this for me quickly so that it makes the last post and gets to our MP for who knows when we’ll get the call, it might go up in flames tomorrow.’
Chapter Ten
September 1913
An unusually warm September throbbed through the house and Kate took every opportunity to escape the airless confines of the nursery. She longed to be strolling beside the river in Micklewell or walking the shady towpath next to the Basingstoke Canal. The remembered joy of removing her shoes and socks and dangling her legs in the cooling waters made her ache inside. A visit to the park was a poor substitute for such delights, but it would have to do. She needed to get outside and do more than stroll round the garden.
The twins were only too happy to agree to her suggestion and, despite the heat, bowled along, eager to feel the freedom and wide-open space of the park. Thomas was less keen but, when Kate suggested bringing his magnifying glass and collecting box, he agreed it could be an interesting venture. Sophie and Simon rushed through the park gates and shouted to Kate and Thomas to hurry up. They were carrying their model boats and were impatient to begin floating them. Thomas dawdled with his nose in a classification book.
‘Come along, Master Thomas, we must catch up with the twins or we’ll end up dragging them out of the pond.’
Thomas had stopped and was bent over looking through his magnifying glass, his book tucked under his arm.
‘Look, come and look, quickly before it flies off. It’s a fine specimen of Lucanidae, a stag beetle.’
Kate was stuck between the older child and the two adventurers who were likely to get themselves into trouble. She knew neither of them would be distracted from their main purpose, but it would be easier to get Thomas to move than ask the twins to wait.
‘Fascinating, Master Thomas,’ she said. ‘Now I know that in the plants around the edge of the pond there are dragonflies to be found. Let us get there before Sophie and Simon disturb them.’
Thomas rushed off. He didn’t need more encouragement.
‘Cleverly done,’ a voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a stranger smiling at her. He removed his hat and released a tumble of dark hair which curled over his collar and around his ears. He had a broad mouth and was clean-shaven. He was a good-looking young man and Kate felt herself blushing at his comment. There was a dimple in his chin and his eyes were wide and blue and fixed upon hers. Kate didn’t know what to say. So instead she looked quickly away to check on the children who were all happily engaged in their separate pleasures.
‘My apologies, Kate. It is Kate isn’t it? How rude of me. Let me introduce myself. I’m Carnforth, Edward Carnforth, a friend of Philip Winton’s.’
Kate wondered how he knew her name.
