Gallant Waif (8 page)

“Oh, don’t be such a ninny, Smithers. You’ve seen a man without his shirt before, haven’t you?” Lady Cahill cast a quick glance at her poker-faced maid. “Well, perhaps not. It’ll widen your education in that case.”

“Milady!” said Smithers indignantly.

“Oh, fetch me my wrap,” said the old lady. “I’m getting up.”

“Before eleven!” gasped Smithers.

Lady Cahill regarded the shocked face of her maid in amusement. “Perhaps not,” she decided. “You can fetch that child I brought with me. Ask her to come and take hot chocolate with me here, if such a thing can be found in this benighted place.”

Her maid stiffened in displeasure. “
That.
. .that shabby young person, milady?”

The old lady’s voice turned to ice. “That ‘shabby young person’, as you refer to her, is the daughter of my beloved goddaughter, Maria Farleigh, and as such, Smithers, is to be treated as my honoured guest. Do you understand?”

The woman curtseyed. “Yes, milady,” she murmured humbly.

Kate stiffened at the knock on her door. She hunched her shoulder away from it and remained curled up on the bed. The knock sounded again. “Go away!” she said.

There was a short silence.

“Miss?”
The voice was unmistakably female. Kate slipped off the bed and ran to the door. The disapproving face of Smithers met her eye. “Lady Cahill invites you to join her in her bedchamber to take chocolate.” The cold, pale eyes ran quickly over Kate’s shabby outfit and the long nose twitched almost imperceptibly in disdain.

Kate’s chin rose. “Have you prepared the chocolate?” she asked bluntly.

The stare grew contemptuous. “I am her ladyship’s dresser, not the cook. I will direct Mr Carstairs’s man to arrange for the cook to prepare it immediately.” The cold stare informed Kate that even a guttersnipe would know better than to expect an important personage like Lady Cahill’s dresser to lower herself with the preparation of foodstuffs.

Kate repressed a grin and took two steps in the direction indicated by Smithers. She would have liked to see this woman’s face when she realised there was no one to prepare breakfast for herself or Lady Cahill. Then a stab of compunction halted her. Lady Cahill was an elderly lady who had been exhausted by her journey into the country. And Kate knew that she had eaten nothing at all during the trip.

“Please inform Lady Cahill that I will join her directly. I will see to her ladyship’s breakfast first.”

The eyebrows rose in displeasure. The prim mouth opened. “But her ladyship gave me the clearest instructions—”

“If you would be so good as to convey my message to Lady Cahill,” Kate interrupted in a cool voice which, despite its soft huskiness, left no room for argument.

“Very good, miss.” The woman sniffed disparagingly, but left without argument, hiding her surprise. Despite her hideous clothing, this girl had some breeding in her.

Kate ran downstairs, keeping a wary eye open for the two men, but they were nowhere to be seen. In the kitchen she quickly built up the fire and set the kettle to boil. There was no chocolate to be had. She surveyed the barren storeroom ruefully and shrugged. She’d just have to do the best she could.

She found a large tray and set it with a cloth. In a few minutes it bore crockery, a pot of tea, two soft boiled eggs and some lightly buttered toast. It was not what Lady Cahill was used to, no doubt, but it would have to do. She carried the heavy tray upstairs.

“Ah, my dear,” said Lady Cahill. “But what are you doing carrying that heavy tray, you foolish child? Get one of the servants to do that for you.”

Kate deftly set the tray down on a table beside Lady Ca-hill’s bed. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said cheerfully. “I trust you slept well.”

The old lady grimaced.
“In this bed?
My dear, how could I?” She gestured towards the shabby hangings and worn furniture. “I suppose I must be grateful that I have a chamber at all, since my dear grandson refused even to see his sister. Thank heavens Smithers had the forethought to pack bedding. I don’t know what sort of place my grandson is running here, but I can tell you—I intend to have words with him on the subject.”

The old lady twinkled beadily at her and Kate found herself smiling back. She poured the tea.

“Tea?” said the old lady pettishly. “I told Smithers chocolate.”

“I fear there is none to be had in the house.”

“No chocolate?” said the old lady incredulously
. “
I know the countryside is uncivilised, but this is ridiculous.” She pouted. “I suppose there are no fresh pastries either?”

Kate shook her head.
“No, indeed, ma’am.
But I did get you some freshly boiled eggs and a little toast. Here, eat it while it is still hot,” she coaxed.

Ignoring the old woman’s
moue
of distaste, Kate placed the food before her. After some grumbling, Lady Cahill consumed the repast, pretending all the while that she was only doing it to please Kate. Finally she sat back against her pillows and regarded Kate speculatively. “Now, missy,” she said. “I gather you’ve met my grandson.”

“What did he say about me?” Kate asked warily.

The old lady chuckled.
“Nothing much, really.”

“Oh,” said Kate. Clearly Lady Cahill did not intend to enlighten her. “
He.
. .he doesn’t know who I am, does he, ma’am?”

The old lady noted with interest the faint colour that rose on Kate’s cheeks. “Didn’t he ask you?”

Kate looked slightly embarrassed. “No…I mean, yes, he asked me, and of course I told him my name. But I don’t think he understands my position.”

“What did you tell him?”

Kate looked uncomfortable. “I told him to ask you.” She was annoyed to find that her voice had taken on a faintly defensive tone and added boldly, “Indeed, ma’am, I could not answer him, having been kidnapped! I do not know why you have brought me to this place or what you intend me to do.”

Lady Cahill acknowledged her point with a slow nod. “Truth to tell, child, I had no clear intention at the time, except to get you away from that dreadful cottage and prevent you from ruining your life.”

“Ruining my life?
How so, ma’am?”

“Tush, girl.
Don’t poker up like that! Once you’d been in service that would have been the end of any possibility for an eligible alliance.”

“An eligible alliance!”
Kate spoke in tones of loathing.

“Yes, indeed, miss!” snapped Lady Cahill. “You’re not on the shelf yet. You have good
blood,
good bones and you have no business giving up on life in such a stubborn fashion!”

“Giving up on life? I’m not giving up on life. I am endeavouring to make my way in it. And I fully intend to do so—in the way
I
choose to do it!”

Kate jumped up from her seat at the end of the bed and began to pace around the room. It was vital that she get Lady Cahill to understand. It was simply not possible for Kate to make an eligible alliance any longer. She was ruined and, even if she attempted to hide the fact, it must come out eventually. But she had no desire to explain the whole sordid tale to this autocratic old lady whose sharp tongue hid a kind heart. It was cowardly, she knew, but if she could retain this old lady’s respect, even by false means, she would. She must convince her some other way.

“I know you mean well by your charity, but I cannot bring myself to accept it. I have been too long accustomed to running my father’s household, and have had responsibilities far in excess of other girls of my age and station.”

“Charity
be
damned!” snapped Lady Cahill.

“Ma’am, just look at me.
Look at my clothes. You say you wish me to live with you as your guest, to take me into society. Can you see me paying morning visits and attending balls in this?” She gestured angrily at her shabby garments.

Lady Cahill stared at her incredulously. “Well, of course not, you ridiculous child! I wouldn’t dress my lowest skivvy in those rags.” She leant back in the bed, shaking her head at the folly of the girl. “Naturally I will provide you with all that you will need—dresses, gowns, gloves, hats, parasols, trinkets—all the fal-lals that you could wish for. ”

“Exactly, ma’am.
I would have to ask you for each little thing, and that I could not bear.”

“Ah, bah!” snorted Lady Cahill.

“Besides, ma’am, I have no social skills to speak of. You seem to have overlooked the fact of my upbringing. I have no musical skills, I have never learnt to paint watercolours, I can patch and darn anything, and have even sewn up wounds, but I cannot do fancy embroidery. I can dance, but I do not know how to chat of nothing day in and day out. I have worked for most of my life, ma’am, and that is what I do best. I simply do not have it in me to act the social butterfly and that is what you want me to do.”

Oh, Lord, Kate prayed, let me not have to tell her the truth. Her arguments were valid enough; it would be difficult for Kate to accept charity—that was true. She knew herself to be overly stiff-necked about such things. But to attend routs and balls, to learn her way in society, to bury herself in frivolity for a time—a foolish part of Kate longed for those very things.

Lady Cahill stared, utterly appalled. “Child, child, you have no idea what you are saying. Most of those things are not necessary and the others you can learn. Entering society does not mean becoming a social butterfly and chatting of nothing—though, I grant you, a great many people do little else. But there are fools in every stratum of society.”

She fell silent for a moment,
then
waved her hand at the girl sitting so silently at the end of the bed. “You fatigue me, child, with your foolish intractability. I must give this matter further consideration. Leave me now. We will talk of this further.”

Kate rose, feeling a trifle guilty for causing the old lady distress. It was not her fault, she told herself defensively. She had not asked to be brought here. She had the right to make decisions for her own life and she owed Lady Cahill nothing except politeness. So why did she feel that she was in the wrong? Was it wrong to wish to owe nothing to anybody? Was it wrong to want to earn
her own
money, to refuse dependence on others? No, it wasn’t
wrong.
. .it just felt wrong when she had to refuse an old lady’s kindness, she reluctantly acknowledged.

She picked up the breakfast tray and left, closing the door softly behind her. A door ahead of her opened and Jack Car-stairs appeared in the hall. Kate halted abruptly. He was between her and the stairs. She could flee to her own room, return to Lady Cahill’s bedchamber or face him out.

Folding his arms, Jack leaned against the wall and awaited her arrival, a sardonic look on his face.

Kate’s chin rose stubbornly. She would not be intimidated by mere brute force! Even if he was over six feet and with shoulders as wide as…well, as wide as any shoulders had a right to be. But she wasn’t nervous of him. Certainly not! She gripped the heavy tray more tightly in her hands, taking obscure comfort in the fact that it was between them, and walked forward, her head high.

A faint glimmer of amusement appeared in Jack’s eyes. She was calling his bluff, was she? After tossing that coffee pot, she had a right to expect that he might want to throttle her. And then she’d slapped him—slapped the master of the house.
So foolhardy.
He could snap her in two if he chose; she would surely know that. She wasn’t to know he’d never hurt a woman in his life. But did she quail? No, on she came, chin held defiantly high. His amusement deepened.
Such a little creature, but with so much spirit.

Even if she didn’t fear violence from him, after that outrageous act of hers in the kitchen, she must surely expect to be dismissed without a character. It was, he knew, a servant’s biggest dread, for it meant they were unlikely ever to gain employment again. She must know that. Her dreadful shabby black clothes, clearly made for another woman and adapted to her thin frame, showed she was well acquainted with poverty. And starvation was obviously a recent experience.

But her precarious position hadn’t stopped her hurling that pot of hot coffee straight at his head.
Or over his head, as she claimed.
Cricket, indeed! He almost snorted. But why had she thrown it in the first place? Unlikely though it seemed, perhaps this little English kitchen maid did speak Spanish. Jack decided to test the theory. He remained leaning casually against the wall, watching her.