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
“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
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