Gallant Waif. Anne Gracie
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The disapproving face of Smithers met her eye. “Lady Cahill invites you to join her in her bedchamber to take chocolate.” The cold, pale eyes ran quickly over Kate’s shabby outfit and the long nose twitched almost imperceptibly in disdain.
Kate’s chin rose. “Have you prepared the chocolate?” she asked bluntly.
The stare grew contemptuous. “I am her ladyship’s dresser, not the cook. I will direct Mr Carstairs’s man to arrange for the cook to prepare it immediately.” The cold stare informed Kate that even a guttersnipe would know better than to expect an important personage like Lady Cahill’s dresser to lower herself with the preparation of foodstuffs.
Kate repressed a grin and took two steps in the direction indicated by Smithers. She would have liked to see this woman’s face when she realised there was no one to prepare breakfast for herself or Lady Cahill. Then a stab of compunction halted her. Lady Cahill was an elderly lady who had been exhausted by her journey into the country. And Kate knew that she had eaten nothing at all during the trip.
“Please inform Lady Cahill that I will join her directly. I will see to her ladyship’s breakfast first.”
The eyebrows rose in displeasure. The prim mouth opened. “But her ladyship gave me the clearest instructions—”
“If you would be so good as to convey my message to Lady Cahill,” Kate interrupted in a cool voice which, despite its soft huskiness, left no room for argument.
“Very good, miss.” The woman sniffed disparagingly, but left without argument, hiding her surprise. Despite her hideous clothing, this girl had some breeding in her.
Kate ran downstairs, keeping a wary eye open for the two men, but they were nowhere to be seen. In the kitchen she quickly built up the fire and set the kettle to boil. There was no chocolate to be had. She surveyed the barren storeroom ruefully and shrugged. She’d just have to do the best she could.
She found a large tray and set it with a cloth. In a few minutes it bore crockery, a pot of tea, two soft boiled eggs and some lightly buttered toast. It was not what Lady Cahill was used to, no doubt, but it would have to do. She carried the heavy tray upstairs.
“Ah, my dear,” said Lady Cahill. “But what are you doing carrying that heavy tray, you foolish child? Get one of the servants to do that for you.”
Kate deftly set the tray down on a table beside Lady Cahill’s bed. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said cheerfully. “I trust you slept well.”
The old lady grimaced. “In this bed? My dear, how could I?” She gestured towards the shabby hangings and worn furniture. “I suppose I must be grateful that I have a chamber at all, since my dear grandson refused even to see his sister. Thank heavens Smithers had the forethought to pack bedding. I don’t know what sort of place my grandson is running here, but I can tell you—I intend to have words with him on the subject.”
The old lady twinkled beadily at her and Kate found herself smiling back. She poured the tea.
“Tea?” said the old lady pettishly. “I told Smithers chocolate.”
“I fear there is none to be had in the house.”
“No chocolate?” said the old lady incredulously. “I know the countryside is uncivilised, but this is ridiculous.” She pouted. “I suppose there are no fresh pastries either?”
Kate shook her head. “No, indeed, ma’am. But I did get you some freshly boiled eggs and a little toast. Here, eat it while it is still hot,” she coaxed.
Ignoring the old woman’s moue of distaste, Kate placed the food before her. After some grumbling, Lady Cahill consumed the repast, pretending all the while that she was only doing it to please Kate. Finally she sat back against her pillows and regarded Kate speculatively. “Now, missy,” she said. “I gather you’ve met my grandson.”
“What did he say about me?” Kate asked warily.
The old lady chuckled. “Nothing much, really.”
“Oh,” said Kate. Clearly Lady Cahill did not intend to enlighten her. “He…he doesn’t know who I am, does he, ma’am?”
The old lady noted with interest the faint colour that rose on Kate’s cheeks. “Didn’t he ask you?”
Kate looked slightly embarrassed. “No…I mean, yes, he asked me, and of course I told him my name. But I don’t think he understands my position.”
“What did you tell him?”
Kate looked uncomfortable. “I told him to ask you.” She was annoyed to find that her voice had taken on a faintly defensive tone and added boldly, “Indeed, ma’am, I could not answer him, having been kidnapped! I do not know why you have brought me to this place or what you intend me to do.”
Lady Cahill acknowledged her point with a slow nod. “Truth to tell, child, I had no clear intention at the time, except to get you away from that dreadful cottage and prevent you from ruining your life.”
“Ruining my life? How so, ma’am?”
“Tush, girl. Don’t poker up like that! Once you’d been in service that would have been the end of any possibility for an eligible alliance.”
“An eligible alliance!” Kate spoke in tones of loathing.
“Yes, indeed, miss!” snapped Lady Cahill. “You’re not on the shelf yet. You have good blood, good bones and you have no business giving up on life in such a stubborn fashion!”
“Giving up on life? I’m not giving up on life. I am endeavouring to make my way in it. And I fully intend to do so—in the way I choose to do it!”
Kate jumped up from her seat at the end of the bed and began to pace around the room. It was vital that she get Lady Cahill to understand. It was simply not possible for Kate to make an eligible alliance any longer. She was ruined and, even if she attempted to hide the fact, it must come out eventually. But she had no desire to explain the whole sordid tale to this autocratic old lady whose sharp tongue hid a kind heart. It was cowardly, she knew, but if she could retain this old lady’s respect, even by false means, she would. She must convince her some other way.
“I know you mean well by your charity, but I cannot bring myself to accept it. I have been too long accustomed to running my father’s household, and have had responsibilities far in excess of other girls of my age and station.”
“Charity be damned!” snapped Lady Cahill.
“Ma’am, just look at me. Look at my clothes. You say you wish me to live with you as your guest, to take me into society. Can you see me paying morning visits and attending balls in this?” She gestured angrily at her shabby garments.
Lady Cahill stared at her incredulously. “Well, of course not, you ridiculous child! I wouldn’t dress my lowest skivvy in those rags.” She leant back in the bed, shaking her head at the folly of the girl. “Naturally I will provide you with all that you will need—dresses, gowns, gloves, hats, parasols, trinkets—all the fal-lals that you could wish for. “
“Exactly, ma’am. I would have to ask you for each little thing, and that I could not bear.”
“Ah, bah!” snorted Lady Cahill.
“Besides, ma’am, I have no social skills to speak of. You seem to have overlooked the fact of my upbringing. I have no musical skills, I have never learnt to paint watercolours, I can patch and darn anything, and have even sewn up wounds, but I cannot do fancy embroidery. I can dance, but I do not know how to chat of nothing day in and day out. I have worked for most of my life, ma’am, and that is what I do best. I simply do not have it in me to act the social butterfly and that is what you want me to do.”
Oh, Lord, Kate prayed, let me not have to tell her the truth. Her arguments were valid enough; it would be difficult for Kate to accept charity—that was true. She knew herself to be overly stiff-necked about such things. But to attend routs