Cousin Kate (34 page)

It was nearly half an hour later when Kate escaped from her garrulity, and Torquil and the doctor had returned from their expedition. She heard Torquil's voice in the hall, demanding to be told where she was, and slipped away to her room. It had occurred to her that if she wrote to Sarah, explaining her circumstances, and warning her that she might shortly be arriving in London, Mr Philip Broorne would see her letter safely posted.

Her room contained an elegant little writing-table, furnished, (ironically, Kate thought, remembering the fate of her previous letters) with writing-paper, ink, wafers, a selection of pens, and a knife with which to sharpen them. Kate sat down to write to Sarah. She had meant to have given a full account of the situation at Staplewood, but the ink dried on her pen as she realized that, whatever she might confide to Sarah by word of mouth it would be injudicious - even dangerous - to set the whole story down on paper. So it was quite a short letter that was written, but it contained one piece of news which, Kate guessed, would delight Sarah.

She had been vaguely aware, while she tried to compose her letter, of voices in the garden, and as she wrote the superscription someone ran up the terrace steps, immediately below her window, and Torquil shouted: 'Kate! Are you there? Do come down!'

She rose, and went to the window, leaning out to look down into his upturned face. He was smiling, and his eyes sparkled; as soon as he saw her, he said again coaxingly:' '
Do
come out, coz! See what I've brought from Market Harborough!' He held up a circular metal plate, with a hole in the centre.

'But what is it?' she asked.

'Why, a quoit, of course! Matthew has been showing me how to throw it, and I can tell you it requires a great deal of skill! We've paced out the ground, and driven in the iron stakes at either end—' He looked over his shoulder to shout to the doctor: 'What did you tell me the stakes are called, Matthew?'

'Take care!' Kate said warningly. 'Don't disturb your mother!'

He looked rather impatient, but said nothing. Dr Delabole, who had come across the lawn to the foot of the steps, said: 'Hobs, my boy, hobs! Do you care to try your skill, Miss Kate? It is quite a diverting pastime!' .

She agreed to go down, wondering if Philip had emerged from the East Wing, and hoping that she might be able to snatch a word with him on her way out into the garden. However, there was no sign of him downstairs, so she was obliged to go out with the anxious question in her head unanswered.

The rules of the game were quite simple, the players standing facing one another, by one of the hobs and being provided with an equal number of quoits, which they cast, in turn, at the opposite hob, the object being to throw the quoits as near as possible to the hob.

The doctor offered himself as scorer, but had first to combine this role with that of instructor, Kate never having played the game before, and making a number of wild casts. Torquil, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural aptitude for it, getting the range immediately, and sending his quoits spinning towards the hob with an expert flick of his wrist. He was obviously enjoying himself, intent on improving his skill, and flushing with gratification when the doctor said jovially that he would have to be handicapped.

'I wish he might be!' said Kate fervently.

'Nothing easier!' declared the doctor. 'We can extend the range, you know: there is no limit! You shall be allowed to stand halfway, and he shall throw from - what do you say, Torquil? Twenty yards?'

'What is it now?' asked Kate. 'It seems more than that to me already!'

'Eighteen,' replied Torquil. He watched her throw the quoit she was holding, and exclaimed: 'No, no, don't
hurl
it! Use your wrist! Here, let me show you!' He came running up to her, looking just like an eager schoolboy, for he had thrown off his coat, and his neckcloth, and his hair was dishevelled. He grasped her hand, with his strong fingers, and forced her to bend her wrist over. 'There! Do you see what I mean?'

She said meekly that she did see what he meant, but doubted her ability to carry out his instructions, adding that she had never before suspected that her wrists were made of tallow. She then caught sight of Philip, who was leaning his arms on the stone parapet of the terrace, watching them, and hailed him with relief, inviting him to take her place.

The instant the words were out of her mouth she knew that the suggestion was unwelcome to Torquil, and realized that he was afraid his cousin would outshine him. Half his pleasure in the sport arose from the applause which greeted his best shots. It was regrettable, but understandable: even pathetic, Kate thought; and wished she had held her tongue.

But Mr Philip Broome said hastily: 'No, no, I'm no match for Torquil! I haven't played quoits for years!'

The cloud vanished from Torquil's brow. He laughed, and said boastfully: 'I have
never
played before!'

'Doing it too brown, you young gull-catcher!'

'I swear it's true!' Torquil said, his eyes alight with glee. 'Matthew, isn't it true?'

'I'm afraid it is,' said the doctor, with a lugubrious shake of his head. 'There's no beating you at it!'

'Oh, isn't there, by Jove?' said Philip. 'That puts me on my mettle! Have at you, Jack-sauce! Cousin, if you mean to sit on the steps, sit on my coat!'

He stripped it off, and handed it to her, murmuring, with a reassuring smile: 'I shan't have to abduct you after all!'

She gave him a look of heartfelt relief, but no further words passed between them. He walked away to bargain for a few practice throws, and she carefully folded his coat of Bath superfine, and sat down to watch the contest, at first thinking that Torquil was by far the better player, and then, as Philip's casts began to improve, coming to the conclusion that he meant Torquil to win, but not easily enough to make him suspicious. Now and again his cast beat Torquil's, but more often his quoit was found to lie an inch farther from the hob. At the end of the match, Torquil was flushed, and triumphant, very hot, and beginning to be very much excited. He promptly challenged Philip to a return game, and snapped the doctor's nose off, when that well-meaning but tactless gentleman advised him against over-exertion, repeating the challenge, the sparkle in his eyes hardening to a glitter.

'Tomorrow,' Philip replied.

'I tell you, I'm not tired!'

'You may not be tired, but I am! What's the time, Doctor?'

The doctor, pulling out his watch, announced that it was nearly half past five, at which Kate sprang up, exclaiming: 'As late as that? We shall be late for dinner! For heaven's sake, don't start another game!'

'Oh, what the devil does it signify? Mama ain't coming down!'

'No, but your father means to dine with us, and it won't do to keep him waiting,' said Philip imperturbably. 'Furthermore, I have already had one brush with Gaston, and, I warn you, Torquil, if his sensibilities are wounded again,
you
shall have the task of applying balm!'

'Gaston? What are you talking about?' asked Torquil impatiently.

'It's my belief,' said Philip, eyeing his severely, 'that you knew all about it, and took care to be well out of the way! See if I don't give you your own again, that's all!'

'But I didn't!' protested Torquil, diverted. 'I swear I don't know what you're talking about! I believe you're hoaxing
me I'

He was still hovering on the brink of fury, but his curiosity had been roused, and by the time Philip had regaled him with a highly coloured description of his encounter with the chef, he was laughing again, and had forgotten his determination to play another game of quoits.

He was strumming on the pianoforte at the far end of the Long Drawing-room when Kate next saw him, twenty minutes later, and paid no heed to her. She thought he looked tired, and dispirited, and so, apparently, did Dr Delabole, who was watching him covertly when Kate came into the room, an anxious frown on his forehead. It vanished when he became aware of her entrance, and he got up bowing, and smiling, and handing her to a chair, with the slightly overdone civility which characterized him. Torquil stumbled over a passage, and brought his hands down in a crashing discord, ejaculating savagely: Fool, fool, cowhanded fool! I shall never be first Kate, never!'

He jumped up from the pianoforte, slamming down the lid, and coming with hasty, impetuous strides down the room, just as Sir Timothy entered, leaning on Philip's arm. For a nerve-racking moment Kate feared that he was going to brush past his father, and fling himself out of the room, but either his cousin's presence, or Sir Timothy's gentle voice, bidding him good evening, made him stop in his tracks. He responded awkwardly: 'Oh - good evening, sir!' and, after standing undecidedly beside a chair in the middle of the room, sat down, but took no part in the general conversation. This did not augur well for the comfort of the evening, but his temper gradually improved, and he ate what was, for him, a very good dinner. By the time Kate left the dining-room, he had made three spontaneous remarks, and had allowed himself to be drawn into a sporting discussion.

As she walked up the Grand Stairway, Kate wondered how to keep him diverted, and decided that the best plan might be to set out the Fox and Geese. This had amused him on a previous occasion, and might do so again. On the other hand, he might despise it as a child's game: one never knew with him how long a craze would last. Everything depended on his mood, and tonight this seemed to be uncertain.

But when he came in he was smiling at something Philip seemed to have said to him, and as soon as he saw the Fox and Geese board, exclaimed: 'Oh, I'd forgotten that! Look, Philip, do you remember?'

Philip waited until Sir Timothy had lowered himself into his accustomed chair before turning his head towards Torquil. 'Look at what?—Good God! You don't mean to tell me those are the pieces I once made?' he exclaimed incredulously. He walked over to the table, and laughed, picking up one of the lop-sided geese. 'Ham-handed, wasn't I? How in the world have they survived? Do you still play?'

'Oh, no, not for years, until I played with Kate, three or four evenings ago! I thought they had been lost, but she found them at the back of the cabinet over there, and we had a famous battle! I beat her all hollow, and she swore revenge on me. Are you ready to begin, coz?'

'Do say you don't wish to play, Kate!' begged Philip. 'I am persuaded you would liefer talk to my uncle! I shall then offer, very good-naturedly, to play as your deputy. Lord, how it takes me back! I wonder if I remember the rules?'

He sat down as he spoke, and began to set out the seventeen geese. Torquil, who had been inclined to resent his intervention, at once became enthusiastic, and Sir Timothy made an inviting gesture towards a chair near his own.

She had purposely set out the fox and geese on a table towards the other end of the room, and although it was not out of tongue-shot, a low-voiced conversation could be maintained which would neither disturb the players nor be overheard by them. Nevertheless, Kate moved her chair rather closer to Sir Timothy's, saying, as she sat down: 'Philip was right, sir: I have been anxious to talk to you ever since - ever since I knew that he does
indeed
wish to marry me!'

'But were you in doubt? He must have expressed himself very badly!' said Sir Timothy.

She laughed, blushing a little. 'No, but - I wasn't expecting him to make me an offer, and I was afraid he might regret it. After all, it is only a week since we first met!'

'Are you afraid
you
might regret it?' he asked, still amused.

'Oh, no, no!'

'Then why should he? He is not at all volatile, you know!' He held out his thin hand, and as she shyly laid her own in it, said softly: 'I think you will suit very well, my dear. I'm glad to know that you are going to be happy. I feel sure you will be, both of you.'

'Thank you, sir!' she whispered, fervently squeezing his hand. 'As long as you don't dislike it! —'

'There's only one thing I dislike about it, and that is that I must lose you. You brought the sunshine to Staplewood, my child! And I fear that when you leave I shan't see you again. Your aunt won't make you welcome. It is not I, but she, who will dislike your marriage to Philip. You know that, don't you?' She nodded, and he continued, sighing faintly: 'Philip tells me that you mean to break the news to her yourself. You would oblige me very much, Kate, if you won't do so while she is still so unwell. She is all unused to having her will crossed, and I am afraid it will upset her very much.'

She replied immediately: 'You may be easy on that head, sir: I will do nothing to upset her until she is better. What does Dr Delabole say of her?'

'He went up to see her when we left the dining-room, and has promised to report to me how she goes on. I daresay he will soon be with us, so I will say only one thing more to you, my dear! Whatever your aunt may say to you, let Philip be the judge of what is best for you to do-and be sure that you both take my blessing with you!'

CHAPTER XVII

Kate had no opportunity that evening to exchange more than a few whispered words with Philip as she slid her letter to Sarah into his hand, for although Sir Timothy went away to bed, escorted by Dr Delabole, before the tea-tray was brought in, Torquil remained, and it was not many minutes before the doctor returned. This had the effect of making Torquil invite Kate to walk down to the bridge with him, to see the moonlight on the lake. The arrival of the first footman, carrying in the tea-tray, provided her with an excuse; she added that she was rather tired, trusting to Philip to divert his wayward mind. This he did by proposing a game of billiards, but not before Torquil had announced his intention of going down to the lake by himself.