Gallant Waif (12 page)

“The two situations have nothing in common.” He ignored the disbelieving arch of her elegantly pencilled brows. “In any case, what has her situation to do with me?”

“The girl intends to hire herself out as a maidservant.”

“What?” His voice thundered. Kate had mentioned it earlier, but naturally he hadn’t believed her. For a gently born girl to seriously consider such a thing was unheard of, particularly if she had other options.

“That’s utterly ridiculous!” Aware of his revealing over-reaction, he lowered his voice. “She can’t be serious. What’s the chit playing at?”

“Of course it’s ridiculous,” said his grandmother, “but I do believe she means it. She intends to earn her own way. When I first met her she took me for her new employer.”

“Well, then, if she is so determined to ruin her life, what can you do?” he said in a show of indifference that deceived no one.

Lady Cahill smiled the sort of smile which had always made her family uneasy in the past. Jack watched her suspiciously.

“I intend to provide her with the kind of position she says she wants.”

“As your maid?”
Jack was incredulous. “I must say, Grandmama, that seems rather shabby to me—”

“Not as my maid,” the old lady interrupted. Jack’s eyes narrowed, dark suspicion forming even as she spoke.
“As yours.”

“Mine!” he exploded. “I’m damn—”

“As your housekeeper, I should have said,” continued his grandmother imperturbably. “It’s as clear as daylight to me that you need someone to prevent this house from crumbling into complete barbarism, and you have told me yourself that you are not willing to waste your money employing anyone to do it. I, however, am not prepared to allow a member of my family to live in such a disgraceful state. And you must admit this admirably solves the two problems.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort!” he said angrily. “I won’t tolerate such unwarranted interference in my affairs, Grandmama!”

“So you don’t wish to help the girl?”

“Help her? To social ruin by employing her as my
maid.
. .housekeeper? I don’t think—”

“No, Jack, you don’t think. Naturally I will send some respectable woman to act as her chaperon. And I’m not considering any ordinary terms of employment. I intend to put this to the girl: if she will consent to run your household for six months, turn it into a gentleman’s establishment instead of a ramshackle place where a lady cannot even get a cup of chocolate to break her fast, then I will consider—and, what’s more to the point, so will
she
—that she will thereby have earned my sponsorship for a season in London.
She can
keep her pride,
you
can live like a moderately civilised human being and
I
can introduce Maria’s gel to society.”

Lady Cahill sat back and regarded her grandson with some satisfaction. “And, in the meantime, it will give me some time to have someone look into the matter of Kate’s finances. I cannot believe that she’s been left completely destitute. So, she stays here while I organise things. And setting this house in order will keep her nicely occupied, so that’s settled.”

“It is
not
settled.”

“Jack, if you say no to this scheme, it will mean the end of that girl, for I tell you she is as stubborn and foolish as you are and she tells me she will not accept charity from me, or from anyone else.”

Jack met her level glance.

“Ah! Dammit!” He slammed his hand down on the table in frustration.

His grandmother smiled. She reached up and patted his chin. “I knew you’d agree with me in the end.”

“I don’t,” he snapped.

“But you will have her here.”

“It is the most ridiculous, ill-considered, inconven-ient and damnably outrageous scheme I have ever heard of!”

“Good, then you’ll do it!” nodded his grandmother complacently.

He glared at her and clenched his hair with his fingers.

“Yes, all right, you leave me no choice, though without doubt I should be clapped up in Bedlam for agreeing to it!”

“Don’t be silly, boy,” she said, suddenly businesslike again. “Now send that man into the village to tell my coachman to come and collect my baggage. Oh, and before you do fetch young Kate here. I’ll just explain to her what it is you want her to do.”

“What
I
want?” he began. Fortuitously, he noticed the provocative glint in his grandmother’s eye. “Yes,” he said, goaded, “you do that, Grandmama,” and strode from the room, slamming the door after him.

“And so, my dear Kate, you can see that my grandson’s domestic circumstances are in a shocking state and yet Jack has no one to see to the smooth running of the house.” Lady Cahill applied a delicate wisp of lace to a wrinkled eyelid to emphasise her distress.

Kate became thoughtful. Lady Cahill had not resumed her arguments in favour of taking Kate to London with her and presenting her to society. Kate felt equal measures of disappointment and relief at that. A very small part of her, the wild, rebellious, frivolous part of her that her father had tried so hard to crush, wistfully longed for the prospect of a London season. Kate ruthlessly suppressed it. It was too late for all that.

An idea occurred to Kate. This could be her chance. Her domestic skills might once more be the saving of her. With Lady Cahill’s backing, Kate might be able to carve herself a niche in this household and earn herself a home, a living, some security.

“Ma’am,” she said hesitantly, “if you
wish.
. .I mean, if you think I am suitable…I could become the house-keeper here.”

“You,
child?
Don’t be ridiculous! You couldn’t possibly act as my grandson’s housekeeper!” said the dowager spider to her youthful fly.

“Indeed I could, ma’am. I’m young, but I’ve had a great deal of experience. I was my father’s housekeeper for many years. And it would be a better position than I would be likely to find elsewhere.” Kate fought to keep the eagerness out of her voice. “I would take good care of your grandson, and you could rest assured that I was safe and in a secure position.”

Lady Cahill tapped her finger thoughtfully on the small table in front of her,
then
grimaced at the dust it had collected.

“Faugh!” she exclaimed in disgust. “This place is a disgrace! And you think you can improve it, do you?” She looked at Kate. “It won’t do, you know.”

“Ma’am?” said Kate, a worried pucker between her brows.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you could do the job,” she added, seeing Kate’s readiness to argue the point. “But I could not possibly pay Maria Delacombe’s daughter a wage!” She made a wage sound like some unspeakable insult.

Kate’s heart sank. She could not survive without money.

“I must confess, however, that I’d worry about my grandson a lot less if I could be sure someone sensible were here to look after him
. “
Tis bad enough he will never ride again— that I must accept, as he must…”

Kate frowned. Jack’s limp was bad, to be sure, but she had observed it closely. It seemed to her no worse than Jemmy’s limp had been… Perhaps— Lady Cahill’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“But allow him to sink into sloth and misery I will not.” The old lady looked at Kate speculatively. Kate held her breath.

“All right, Kate Farleigh, I’ll strike a bargain with you. You work here as my grandson’s housekeeper for the next six months without wages. At the end of the six months you come to live with me in London and I’ll present you to society.”

Kate blinked at the old lady in surprise. It was a magnificent offer.
Too magnificent, she realised slowly, and utterly impossible.
She opened her mouth to refuse.

“Well, child, what do you say? Do I rest easy tonight, knowing my grandson is in good hands, or not?” Lady Cahill touched Kate’s hand gently, confidingly. “My dear, I know that living with an old woman like me in London isn’t what every young girl would want, but I do like a bit of youth about me. You’d be doing an old widow a great favour.”

A lump in Kate’s throat threatened to choke her. She had never thought to find such kindness again. It was almost too much to bear. Yet she could not take advantage of the old lady’s ignorance.

Lady Cahill had made the offer without knowing the real reason why Kate could never enter society, would never be able to marry, why no decent man would have her. Kate would have to tell her, explain once and for all. And afterwards she would no doubt have to leave and return to the life she had planned for herself before Lady Cahill’s well-meaning interference.

Chapter Five

”
Lady
Cahill,” said Kate, “I do thank you, but your offer is made in ignorance of my circumstances. If I were to accept, you would surely despise me once you learned the truth. And society would condemn you or think you a fool to have been so taken in.”

When Lady Cahill saw the look on Kate’s face she bit back the pithy comment she had been about to make on her complete indifference to society’s opinions on anything.

“May I ask why, child?”

Kate was very nervous. She didn’t want to tell Lady Cahill, didn’t want to lose her affection and her respect. But there was no choice. The story would eventually come out—it always did. Better to get it over with, instead of having the threat hanging over her.

“I am not regarded as fit for marriage,” said Kate at last.

“Will you tell me why, child?”

“It’s a long story,” said Kate. “When my brothers, Jemmy and Ben, went to the war on the Peninsula, my father and I accompanied them. I’ve spent the last three years living with the army.”

“Child.
How dreadful for you!”
Lady Cahill looked appalled.

Kate shook her head. “No, ma’am, it wasn’t at all. In fact those three years, while the boys and my father were alive, were the best years of my life.”

Lady Cahill made a shocked sound of disbelief and Kate smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid it’s true.
I.
. .I’ve always been a bit of a hoyden, you understand, and I found the life suited me—much better than at the vicarage. I was never lonely and
. .
.and my father valued me as he never had before.” She looked down at her hands. “You see, when my mother died, Papa blamed me—she died giving birth to me.”

“But, child, that was not your—”

“Oh, I know, but Papa could never see that… You said I had my mother’s eyes… Papa was a good man, but when he looked at me all he could see was my dead
mother.
. .so he never looked at me.
Never.
’
Kate choked on the word.

“Oh, my dear…”

“But somehow, on the Peninsula, things changed. Perhaps, with death and danger all around us,
everything else faded into insignificance. I don’t know…
And because, in such a difficult situation, comfort comes to mean a great deal…” Kate looked at Lady Cahill. “I became quite a good housekeeper, you see. And hot
food at almost any hour, a warm, dry place to sleep and clean clothing mean
a lot to men at war…”

She sighed. “They truly needed me and I was happier than I have ever been in my
life.
. .until poor Ben was killed at Ciudad Rodrigo…” She fell silent for a moment,
then
continued, “And then everything fell apart at Salamanca.”

Lady Cahill frowned. Jack had been wounded at Salamanca.

As she spoke, Kate’s hands unknowingly began to pleat the stuff of her skirt in tiny, deliberate folds. “Last July, our army was retreating from the Douro River, back towards Salamanca—you may have read of it; the newspapers hate it when we retreat. The French were close behind us. At times they were even parallel with us and so close that you could see them through the swirling clouds of dust.” She gulped.

“Jemmy was hit in the chest… We got him on to our
cart.
. .but with all the dust and confusion we fell a long way behind.”