Gallant Waif. Anne Gracie
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“I know a little Greek and Latin from my brothers—” the rude expressions “—and I am acquainted with the rudiments of mathematics…” I can haggle over the price of a chicken with the wiliest Portuguese peasant. It suddenly occurred to Kate that perhaps Mrs Midgely had grandchildren she wished Kate to teach. Hurriedly Kate reverted to the truth. It would not do to be found out so easily.
“But I cannot imagine anyone offering a tutor’s position to a female. I have no skill with paints and have never learnt to play a musical instrument…” No, the Vicar’s unwanted daughter had been left to run wild as a weed and never learned to be a lady.
“I do speak a little French, Spanish and Portuguese.”
“Why did you not seek work as a companion, then?”
Kate had tried and tried to find a position, writing letter after letter in answer to advertisements. But she had no one to vouch for her, no references. Someone from Lisbon had written to one of her female neighbours and suddenly she was persona non grata to people who had known her most of her life. It hadn’t helped that the girl they remembered had been a wild hoyden, either. There were many who had predicted that the Vicar’s daughter would come to a bad end. And they were right.
Life in service wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. As one of a number of servants in a big house, she would have companionship at least. A servant’s life would be hard, harder than that of a companion, but it was not hard work Kate was afraid of—it was loneliness. And she was lonely. More lonely than she had ever thought possible.
Besides, a companion might be forced to socialise, and Kate had no desire to meet up with anyone from her previous life. She might be recognised, and that would be too painful, too humiliating. She had no wish to go through that again, but none of this could she explain to this autocratic old lady.
“I know of no one who would take on a companion or governess without a character from a previous employer, ma’am.”
“But surely your father had friends who would furnish you with such?”
“Possibly, ma’am. However, my father and I lived abroad for the last three years and I have no notion how to contact any of them, for all his papers were lost when…when he died.”
“Abroad!” the old lady exclaimed in horror. “Good God! With Bonaparte ravaging the land! How could your foolish father have taken such a risk? Although I suppose it was Greece or Mesopotamia or some outlandish classical site that you went to, and not the Continent?”
Kate’s eyes glittered. Old harridan! She did not respond to the question, but returned to the main issue. “So, do I have the position, ma’am?”
“As my maid? No, certainly not. I never heard of anything so ridiculous.”
Kate was stupefied.
“I never did need a maid anyway, or any other servant,” the old lady continued. “That’s not what I came here for at all.”
“Then…then are you not Mrs Midgely, ma’am?” Kate’s fine features were lit by a rising flush and her eyes glittered with burgeoning indignation.
The old lady snorted again. “No, most decidedly I am not.”
“Then, ma’am, may I ask who you are and by what right you have entered this house and questioned me in this most irregular fashion?” Kate didn’t bother to hide her anger.
Lady Cahill smiled. “The right of a godmother, my dear.”
Kate did not return the smile. “My godmother died when I was a small child.”
“I am Lady Cahill, child. Your mother was my goddaughter.” She reached up and took the girl’s chin in her hand. “You look remarkably like your mother at this age, especially around the eyes. They were her best feature, too. Only I don’t like to see those dark shadows under yours. And you’re far too thin. We’ll have to do something about that.”
Lady Cahill released Kate’s chin and looked around her again. “Are you going to offer me a seat or not, young woman?”
This old lady knew her mother? It was more than Kate did. The subject had been forbidden in the Vicarage.
“I’m sorry, Lady Cahill, you took me by surprise. Please take a seat.” Kate gestured to the worn settee. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any refresh—”
“Never mind about that. I didn’t come here for refreshments,” said the old lady briskly. “I’m travelling and I can’t abide food when I’m travelling.”
“Why did you come here, ma’am?” Kate asked. “You’ve had little contact with my family for a great many years. I am sure it cannot be chance that has brought you here just now.”
Shrewd blue eyes appraised her. “Hmm. You don’t beat around the bush, do you, young woman? But I like a bit of plain speaking myself, so I’ll put it to you directly. You need my help, my girl.”
The grey-green eyes flashed, but Kate said quietly enough, “What makes you think that, Lady Cahill?”
“Don’t be foolish, girl, for I can’t abide it! It’s clear as the nose on your face that you haven’t a farthing to call your own. You’re dressed in a gown I wouldn’t let my maid use as a duster. This house is empty of any comfort, you can’t offer me refreshment—No, sit down, girl!”
Kate jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Thank you for your visit, Lady Cahill. I have no need to hear any more of this. You have no claim on me and no right to push your way into my home and speak to me in this grossly insulting way. I will thank you to leave!”
“Sit down, I said!” The diminutive old lady spoke with freezing authority, her eyes snapping with anger. For a few moments they glared at each other. Slowly Kate sat, her thin body rigid with fury.
“I will listen to what you have to say, Lady Cahill, but only because good manners leave me no alternative. Since you refuse to leave, I must endure your company, it being unfitting for a girl of my years to lay hands on a woman so much my elder!”
The old lady glared back at her for a minute then, to Kate’s astonishment, she burst into laughter, chuckling until the tears ran down her withered, carefully painted face.
“Oh, my dear, you’ve inherited you mother’s temper as well as her eyes.” Lady Cahill groped in her reticule, and found a delicate lace-edged wisp which she patted against her eyes, still chuckling.
The rigidity died out of Kate’s pose, but she continued to watch her visitor rather stonily. Kate hated her eyes. She knew they were just like her mother’s. Her father had taught her that…her father, whose daughter reminded him only that his beloved wife had died giving birth to a baby—a baby with grey-green eyes.
“Now, my child, don’t be so stiff-necked and silly,” Lady Cahill began. “I know all about the fix you are in—”
“May I ask how, ma’am?”
“I received a letter from a Martha Betts, informing me in a roundabout and illiterate fashion that you were orphaned, destitute and without prospects.”
Kate’s knuckles whitened. Her chin rose proudly. “You’ve been misinformed, ma’am. Martha means well, ma’am, but she doesn’t know the whole story.”
Lady Cahill eyed her shrewdly. “So you are not, in fact, orphaned, destitute and without prospects.”
“I am indeed orphaned, ma’am, my father having died abroad several months since. My two brothers also died close to that time.” Kate looked away, blinking fiercely to hide the sheen of tears.
“Accept my condolences, child.” Lady Cahill leaned forward and gently patted her knee.
Kate nodded. “But I am not without prospects, ma’am, so I thank you for your kind concern and bid you farewell.”
“I