Kitty Little (18 page)

‘That’s what you think, is it?’

It was too late to back down, not without looking foolish. ‘Yes, that’s what I think.’ It was true. Kitty did believe that Charlotte Gilpin was after Archie’s money. The girl had entranced him with her winsome charm, her tales of woe, her
fragility
, and, because of the loss of his own tragic family, he couldn’t resist her.

‘That’s the cruellest, most heartless thing I’ve ever heard you say.’

One glance at his tight-lipped expression told Kitty that further argument was futile. Having given him the perfect excuse to defend Charlotte, she’d unwittingly widened the gulf between them. Turning on her heel she began to walk, almost run from him, blinded by tears her booted feet slipping over the ruts in the drive. But by the time he caught up with her, even more grimly silent than before, her eyes were quite dry and her chin tilted high for Kitty realised she’d just lost the perfect opportunity to tell him about the baby, and not for a moment would she allow him to see how much that hurt.

Chapter Ten

Magnus was in a fine temper when Charlotte arrived home. Where had she been all this time, he wanted to know? What kind of a wife was she to spend so long away, wandering the world on some endless holiday?

‘Is it any wonder with you like a bear with a sore head all the time. I haven’t been on holiday, not the whole time anyroad. I’ve been staying with Mam for some of it,’ Charlotte improvised, remembering her tale to Archie.

‘Why? I thought the two of you didn’t get on.’

‘She’s still me mother and she’s been ill.’ In no time Charlotte had invented a whole case history of troubles and tribulations for this make-believe mother, who she hadn’t in fact clapped eyes on in years. ‘And since I’m her only surviving child, and she doesn’t have the advantage of a Mrs Pursey to wait upon her hand, foot and finger, who else is there to see to her but me?’

Magnus, still sulking, was not easily mollified. ‘What about your stepfather? Isn’t he still around?’

Charlotte was tempted to say that he’d run off with some young floozy and left her in the cart, but common sense prevailed as too many lies were difficult to keep track of, so she reluctantly cut that dramatic story from her repertoire. Besides, if her mother had been left alone then there’d be no reason why the old woman couldn’t have come to stay with them, thereby destroying a useful alibi. ‘What use would he be?’ she scoffed. ‘What use is any man?’ She brushed a brief kiss upon Magnus’s cheek. ‘I’ll ask Mrs Pursey to cook your favourite hot pot and we’ll enjoy the meal together, here in your room, to celebrate my return. All on us own, eh?’

‘All on
our
own,’ he reminded her, eyes glinting nonetheless.

‘Whatever you say. Wensleydale cheese and fruit loaf for afterwards, eh?’

‘Lovely.’

Charlotte did her best to placate him over the few days she was there, reading the papers to him each morning, instructing Mrs Pursey in the preparation of more of his favourite dishes, allowing him tidbits and treats that the doctor had denied him, in view of his rapidly increasing girth. She even let him kiss and fondle her now and then, although managed to avoid any further intimacy on the grounds that it was bad for his blood pressure.

‘Young Lord Bickerstaff is to be wed,’ he informed her with relish one morning as he lay propped against his pillows reading the paper. ‘What a disappointment for you.’

‘Tommy Bickerstaff was your choice, not mine.’

Magnus chuckled. ‘Even your latest beau, what was his name - Councillor Miles Something-or-other has found himself a bride half his age, the old roué.’

Charlotte was stunned. Best not investigate too closely how Magnus knew about her affairs. But for some reason this news utterly devastated her. It felt almost like a betrayal. It somehow hardened her resolve to have Archie, no matter if he was secretly lusting after Kitty. He’d find she wasn’t so easily put off, oh dear me no.

It took five days not three before Charlotte managed to extricate herself from Magnus’s grip, which was cutting it a bit fine. Even then she’d been driven to write herself a letter, purporting to come from her mother, begging for her to return since she’d suffered a further relapse. Charlotte read the letter to Magnus with tears rolling down her cheeks, declaring her sorrow at being forced to leave him when matters between them were on the mend.

He’d railed against it, raging at her for leaving him so soon. Unfortunately, because of his condition, his control over her was slipping and he knew it. Magnus believed she should have no other life beyond these four walls, that Charlotte belonged to him absolutely and must stay by his side, morning, noon and night.

 
‘
If you don’t come back soon I’ll get out of this damned bed and come looking for you myself
!’ he shouted as she strode away, gently closing his bedroom door with an audible sigh of relief.

She was on the afternoon train, complete with luncheon hamper, again especially prepared by Mortimer the ardent chauffeur, except that this time she knew where she was going and found herself welcomed back if not exactly with open arms, then with relief, by Archie at least.

‘Thank goodness. There’d have been all hell to pay if you’d been late.’

Charlotte pouted sulkily. ‘I’m surprised you noticed I’d gone.’

‘Of course I did.’

‘Good. A girl likes to be missed.’ She had a way of lifting her shoulders when she smiled that was so sensual Archie almost reached out for her there and then. But it was true. He had missed her. Despite his fancy for Kitty, he’d found himself thinking more and more of Charlotte recently. She was beautiful and sexy, amusing and lively. Positively fizzed with vigour and fun.

As he smiled thoughtfully down upon her, Charlotte was embroidering the story of her mother’s failing health, now so well rehearsed she almost believed it herself. It was a fiction which could well prove useful in the months ahead. ‘I hated to leave her, and will have to visit her from time to time,’ she wept, dabbing at a tear.

‘Of course you will, old thing. I’m sure we can manage to give you the necessary time off. Don’t upset yourself. Can’t bear to see a woman cry.’ He put an arm about her, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.

‘Kitty mightn’t agree.’

‘I’ll see to Kitty. Don’t you fret.’

‘Will you? Darling Archie,’ and twisting her head a little so she could reach, she kissed him with an enticing sweetness, so very gently that he thought he might have imagined the flicker of her tongue brushing over his lips. He gazed wonderingly into those cornflower blue eyes, but when the lids drooped he allowed the kiss to deepen and did not draw away.

Charlotte caught up with Kitty the next morning on the stairs. It was vitally important that these new friends of hers behaved as she wished them to behave. She may not love Archie Emerson but she intended to have him all the same, along with everything he represented. He would be good insurance in case her expectations from Magnus went awry. ‘I know you don’t think much of me Kitty, but I’d like to explain...’

‘Charlotte, I...’

‘No, it’s all right, I can see it every time you look my way.’ Charlotte sank down on the edge of a stair but Kitty remained where she was, tall and stiffly dignified beside her. ‘I’d just like to say that it’s easy for you, always having had loads of friends. I’ve had nowt, ‘ceptin what I grabbed wi’ me own fair hands.’ This was so close to the truth that Charlotte began to feel uncomfortable so hurried quickly on. ‘I know you think I’ve been monopolising Archie but the truth is - I’ve only been putting in a word for Esme.’

The lie came out all in a rush, followed by a stunned silence, then Kitty sank down beside Charlotte on the stair. ‘What do you mean “putting in a word” for Esme?’

‘Esme’s so shy, she’d say nothing on her own account. She’s pining after him, anyone with eyes in their head can see that.’ A sideways glance at Kitty’s face told Charlotte not only that she’d inadvertently stumbled upon the truth but a good deal more besides. Her mouth fell open. ‘Lord above, you’re potty about him an’ all.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘It’s all right. I’ll not breathe a word. Oh, you poor love.’ Charlotte’s mind was racing, noting the depth of pinched misery on Kitty’s expressive face, the paleness of her skin, the bleakness in her eyes; calculating, observing, playing with possibilities.

Kitty, finding herself discovered and unable to deny the truth almost sobbed out loud. ‘You won’t tell him?’

‘Course not, what d’you take me for? So that’s why Esme’s hanging back, because she reckons you have first call on his affections, being the boss.’

Kitty hastily explained about their pact and Charlotte sadly shook her head.

‘Ah, that explains a good deal,’ she murmured sympathetically, almost wanting to laugh out loud at her own cleverness. ‘I’m sorry to say that you’re the loser. Told me he’s been like a brother to you, since you lost your own. That’s how he thinks of you, as his dear little sister.’

‘Sister!’ Kitty’s tone was bleak, for all she recognised the truth of Charlotte’s words.

‘It’s Esme who Archie loves. No doubt about that. Plain as the nose on your face. He virtually admitted as much to me the other night.’ Charlotte felt perfectly safe devising this fiction, since she didn’t believe Kitty had the courage to challenge Archie about it.

‘He did?’ Kitty’s voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Worships the ground she walks on but reckons she’d think he were too old for her. How blind can a chap be. Men! If he knew how she truly felt, there’d be no holding him, eh?’

Neither of them spoke for some long moments. Kitty sat with her arms wrapped tight about her knees, hardly able to breathe, the pain in her chest was so overpowering. Charlotte wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already suspected. Though it hurt to have it confirmed, she must face the truth. Archie didn’t love her, not like a man should. He never had. She should be pleased for Esme, that she at least had a real chance of happiness. Tears were rolling unchecked down her cheeks and Charlotte was putting her arms around her, drawing her close as if she truly cared and was not, in fact, the cause of them.

‘Who needs men eh? More trouble than they’re worth.’

‘I’ll not stand in her way,’ Kitty sobbed. ‘I promised her.’

‘Here, have a good blow.’ Charlotte handed Kitty a large silk handkerchief, far too fine to actually use. ‘As for our differences, well, I may not be as practical as you, or as capable but I’ll pull me weight in other ways when the tour starts, see if I don’t. Till then, I’ll try to do better on the work front, I promise.’

Kitty looked into those bewitching eyes glistening with moist sympathy and felt a sudden rush of warmth for this diminutive, fiery figure. Perhaps she’d entirely misjudged her. Perhaps Charlotte wasn’t half as selfish and greedy as she’d imagined. All the time she’d been thinking of Esme, not herself. Archie was right. The girl clearly knew what it was to suffer, and that’s why she was so kind and understanding. Leaning forward, Kitty kissed her on the cheek. ‘Friends?’

Charlotte blinked, looking faintly stunned as if no one had ever done such a thing before. ‘Aye. Why not, eh? Friends.’

Two days to go before the start of the tour and Esme’s role of mechanic’s mate had been superseded by that of assistant wardrobe mistress to Mrs Pips, who set her darning holes in stockings which would be needed by the men in the Shakespeare.

‘Though I don’t hold with chaps in women’s clothing,’ Mrs Pips muttered through a mouthful of pins, her thin face looking quite pink and not half so disapproving as she sounded. ‘They don’t have the legs for one thing.’

Giggling, Esme allowed herself to be pressed into service as a model for various dresses which needed pinning and tacking up. Kitty then sent her dashing to the post office with another bunch of letters, for which purpose Felicity Fanshaw kindly loaned her bike. On her return she painted scenery, fashioned spears and shields for the halberdiers and any number of other jobs, of which she quite lost count.

Smiling fondly at her friend’s obvious enthusiasm, Kitty drew back into the shadows of the barn as Esme hurried past bearing an armful of linen. It was there that Archie found her. ‘We never did finish our talk.’ His voice, soft in her ear, making her jump, and she scolded him for creeping up on her.

He slid one arm about her slender waist to pull her close against him. ‘Are we still friends? I recall a time when you were not so unwilling to have me near. Could you be avoiding me, my sweet, when all I desire is to recreate those magic moments we once enjoyed.’

His fingers were caressing her cheek, his breath soft against her cheek and Kitty felt bathed in a hot panic. Had she not known otherwise, she would have sworn he was genuine, but this was simply an example of Archie’s droll wit.

She managed to laugh up at him. ‘Can’t you see that I’m desperately trying to prepare every last detail in time for first night, which is less than two days off in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘You might at least apologise.’

‘For what?’

‘Kitty. Don’t be obtuse. Are you telling me that you believed all that nonsense you were saying about Charlotte?’

‘Well, yes, I did think it true at the time, but perhaps I was a bit hard on her.’