The Seventh Suitor (22 page)

Kate thrust two well-worn sheets of paper into his hands and commanded, “Read it, and then leave!”

Winterton regarded her with puzzled eyes. He had immediately recognized his brother’s handwriting. Kate said again, “Read it!”

Winterton dropped his eyes to the sheets in his hands and read:

My dearest Kate, I had hoped that I would make it home so that I might see you again and beg your forgiveness. It is not to be; I know I am dying. I have learned many things since I left home, the most important of which is that I treated you dishonorably. There is not another officer I know who could have done such a thing and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. I was used to having anything I wanted; Mother and Andrew were perhaps too kind to me. I beg you will disregard the foolish, miserable things I said—my death is of course in no way your blame. I have made a will with a bequest to you which I pray you will accept as a token of forgiveness of me. I cannot bear to think of Andrew and Mother knowing of my villainy, but you are to tell them if you think best. I can write no more. God bless you. All my love, Carl

Winterton sat perfectly still after he finished reading the letter. He did not raise his eyes when he asked m a choked voice, “He tried to blackmail you into marrying him? By saying his death would be your fault?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me? Why?”

“Because I knew it would hurt you. You were so proud of Carl. And you should have been. He made a mistake, but he is forgiven. I hope you will forgive him, too.”

“I spoiled him. He was young when Father died, but that is no excuse. I have been much harder on my wards.”

“They will reap the benefits of it.”

“Do your parents know?”

“No, but my father has a very fine sense of honor, too, Lord Winterton, and he wrote me that I should not accept the money. I was in Daventry then. You had found the sealed letter after I left, and forwarded it on to me, with the scathing note you wrote after reading the will. I assured my father that I had received a last letter from Carl in which my acceptance of the legacy was his dying request. I told him that
my
sense of honor demanded that I accept it, and he made no further objection.”

“He would of course accept your word, for he knows you well and respects you.”

“I did, however, tell Aunt Eleanor and Charity,” Kate continued. “They will allow the information no further. I was upset when I went to them at Daventry, you understand. Before Carl’s letter arrived I was badly shaken. You must realize that I was not yet twenty and for all my bravado in telling him before he left that it was his own decision to join the fighting and I would not hold myself responsible in the event of his death, I could not but believe that if I had married him he would be alive.”

Winterton’s hands were clenched in fists on his knees. The letter dropped unheeded on the floor, and Kate carefully retrieved it and held it tight. Winterton finally shifted his gaze to her; she had never seen such anguish in a man’s eyes before.

“I have no right to ask your forgiveness,” he said painfully. “I have wronged you even while you were trying to protect me from this knowledge. I am responsible for Carl’s . . . villainy, too. I will not trespass on your kindness longer.” He rose heavily and bowed to her.

“One moment,” Kate stayed him. “I only told you now because I . . . could no longer bear your scorn. That was weak of me, for I had never intended to betray Carl and cause you this agony. You have no need of my forgiveness; I have understood all along, you must realize, why you felt as you did. I have chafed under it, but I did not blame you for that so much. But lately . . . it has hurt me, and I did not think Carl would wish me to suffer for his mistake. It was your haughtiness and bitterness that used to make me angry. But you have been kind to me and to my family, and that is all forgotten. I cannot bear for you to leave without hearing that you forgive your brother.”

Winterton hesitated as he searched her troubled eyes. “I can do no less if you have forgiven him,” he said at last.

Kate smiled. “Thank you, Lord Winterton. You have made me very happy.” She extended her hand to him and he gasped it firmly. She suddenly remembered why his attire had stirred a memory in her. His younger ward had dressed just so carefully when he had come to propose to her. To avoid the confusion this caused her, she abruptly changed the subject. “Will you send Mr. Single to me again? Aunt Eleanor and I did some work in Daventry, and I would appreciate his assistance.”

“He has been looking forward to discussing your next project. We didn’t realize until yesterday that you had returned to the Hall. He can bring your copies of the book; I think you will be pleased with the finished product. Mr. Collins was most appreciative.”

There seemed nothing more for him to say, so he murmured, “I can see myself out.”

Chapter 19

When Mr. Single came to visit Kate, he brought her the extra copies of her book which she had ordered, including one for her Aunt Eleanor. After discussing the materials Kate had gathered for the next book and reaching a satisfactory direction for the text, Mr. Single took her in the Earl’s barouche to visit his brother and family in Stasby. Kate was able to satisfy her curiosity about the reading lessons the vicar’s wife gave and to meet her sister, who seemed to be a special object of interest to Mr. Single, Kate noted with a grin. On their drive back to the Hall their discussion turned to Winterton.

Mr. Single had dropped his bantering tone and commented, “He returned from the Hall the other day . . . disturbed. You did not see fit to give him another trimming, perchance?”

“No, nothing like that,” Kate answered vaguely.

Thomas knew when he was being warned off the subject, and he had only broached the matter at all in the hope of understanding the reason for the stricken countenance Winterton had presented that afternoon on his return. Winterton, who was often wont to confide in him, had been equally vague. It was not simple curiosity which prompted Thomas; he was sincerely attached to his employer and was disturbed to find him obviously upset. The only information Winterton had imparted was a flat statement that Miss Montgomery had accepted Carl’s legacy at his dying request and had done so properly. He had not elaborated on this. In itself it was such a turnabout that Thomas was sure there was more to it, but he had made no effort to press Winterton.

“I’m glad you’ve settled your differences,” Thomas now said simply to Kate.

“He told you so? I suppose he felt he must if he had made you privy to his previous beliefs.”

They had arrived at the Hall, and Kate said, “I have taken up far too much of your time today, Mr. Single, but I’m grateful to you.” She started to ascend the stairs, and then bit her lip and turned to him again. “I know you’re fond of Lord Winterton and that you will help him just now. If I . . . can do anything . . . I hope you’ll let me know.”

“I shall, Miss Montgomery,” he said seriously. When she had entered the house he returned to the barouche, thinking furiously. Good God, had he offered for her and been refused? Somehow his employer’s distress had seemed linked with Carl’s legacy to this young woman. It was no use trying to figure it out; he would have to content himself with keeping Winterton busy.

Thomas arrived at the Manor to find his employer returning from a ride. “You found Miss Montgomery well?” Winterton asked.

“Very well. We discussed another book, and I took her to visit my brother and talk with his wife about the reading lessons she gives. Miss Montgomery had expressed an interest in teaching her maid to read.”

“And how are things at the vicarage? Your sister-in-law has not produced the next Single as yet, has she?”

“Not for a month or       so. All are well there. Her sister plans to spend the entire summer with them,” Thomas said casually.

“I must give you more free time.”

They were strolling to the house now, and Thomas regarded his employer suspiciously. “I should not take it amiss,” he finally remarked.

“Did Miss Montgomery . . . oh, hell, Thomas, come into the library with me.” Winterton handed his gloves and hat to the butler before proceeding through the house to his own private retreat, redolent with the smell of leather. He seated himself, stretched out his long legs, and waved Thomas to another chair. “Did she say anything about the other day?”

“No, she was very reticent, but she voiced her concern for you. I could not help but observe your mood when you returned. I fear I tried to discover its source,” Thomas admitted ruefully.

“I would have told you, but it is a matter concerning Carl. He did not treat Miss Montgomery fairly when he was courting her.” Winterton attempted awkwardly to circumvent the whole truth.

“He did not seduce her! She was but a child at the time.” Thomas was aghast.

“No, no. Nothing of that nature. He . . . attempted to force her to marry him by threatening to join the fighting and get himself killed if she would not.” Winterton raked his fingers through his hair. “He begged her forgiveness in a letter he wrote her when he was dying and asked that she accept his legacy as a token of her forgiveness of him. She has suffered much at his hands, and mine,” Winterton groaned.

“The young fool!”

“Worse than a fool. It was inexcusable. And yet she has forgiven him, Thomas. What if he had died before writing that letter? That my brother should place such a burden on the girl! That I should have sneered at her for accepting the legacy!”

“You could not know.”

“She could have told me. Anytime these last three years she could have done so. And do you know why she did not? Because she knew it would hurt me.” Winterton rubbed his brow in an attempt to soothe the headache which would not go away.

“Why did she tell you now?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Because . . .” Winterton did not wish to disclose the
whole
of that discussion. “It stung her that I called her dishonorable.”

“I am shocked that you should do so,” Thomas said softly.

“She has a way of bringing out the worst in me.”

“And the best.”

Winterton returned the steady gaze. “As you say. Everything else I know about her is to her credit. This one point had to be . . . clarified. It has been an undercurrent in our . . . in all of our dealings.”

“I’m glad that it has been settled, though I doubt that Miss Montgomery had any joy in doing it.”

“The only joy she received from the interview was in landing me a ferocious slap,” Winterton said ruefully, as he rubbed his cheek reminiscently. “No, that is not true. She asked my forgiveness of Carl. I . . . gave it. But it is not something that can be easily forgotten.”

“It must be. You should be grateful that Carl realized his folly before he died. His infatuation with Miss Montgomery unbalanced him somewhat. I did not approve at the time of all the pressure that was brought to bear on her—from you and your mother, as well as Carl himself. She was scarcely out of the schoolroom. I wonder that she managed to cope with all of it. Her own parents also must have looked kindly on the match.”

“You are not consoling me, Thomas,” Winterton said wryly. “I did not wish to play that part, either, but I did not want to see Carl go to the Peninsula in such a frame of mind. He grew up there, though. Cotton spoke most sincerely of his courage and fortitude. And the letter to Miss Montgomery was an agony of realization of his ‘villainy.’ His wound was not sustained through any rashness, but in the line of duty.”

“Be content, then. You owe it to Carl and Miss Montgomery.”

“She has every right to hate me.”

“You know she does not,” Thomas replied firmly.

Winterton did not reply but gazed out the window as he tapped his fingertips on the chair arms. Thomas, correctly assuming that he was dismissed, quietly exited. His employer sat for a lengthy time considering the situation. He had offered for Miss Montgomery and been refused. That refusal, of course, was based partially on the clumsy pretext he had used to make his offer. At the time, too, he had still believed Miss Montgomery—Kate, for God’s sake—he had no intention of talking to himself the way he was forced to talk to others—well, he had still believed Kate had been wrong in accepting Carl’s legacy. He had not pursued his proposal owing to what followed.

Winterton was curious as to what other items Kate considered essential to marriage. But he was reluctant to press the matter. He did not wish to remind her of her pursuit by his brother. She had suffered enough at the hands of his family. Far better to stifle his own feelings and allow her to go on her way. He felt quite noble, and rather ill, with this resolution.

When several days passed and Thomas realized that his employer had no intention of calling at the Hall again, he felt it necessary to send a note to Miss Montgomery.

Chapter 20

Kate spent the days after her expedition with Mr. Single in a flurry of activity. She proceeded with work on the “town” book, obtained her father’s permission and surveyed the servants remaining at the Hall as to whether any of them were interested in learning to read, and prepared the schoolroom for the two who eagerly accepted her offer. She began to meet with these two experimental pupils an hour a day, every other day. Since they were members of the household, she accomplished this during the mid-morning when they could be freed from their duties for a short period.

In addition to these activities, she often rode over to Ralph’s farm to check on the running of the farm and the stable. She regretted that he had had to pass up the chestnut in London. It would indeed have been a wise addition to his stud. She had discussed with her father the possibility that another property be found for the tenant, so that Ralph and Charity could live in the farmhouse.

While her father looked into this matter she considered the remodeling of the building which would be necessary. Ralph was to be home within the next few days, and Charity and her parents would follow in mid-June so that they might meet Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. Since their visit could not be lengthy, owing to Mr. Martin-Smith’s being unable to desert his parish for long, Kate was determined that she would have all organized so that Charity and Ralph could make the necessary decisions in the short period of time they would have.