Chapter Three
Some men are attracted to women who can make intelligent conversation, but unless you know this to be the case, it is advisable to suppress any such tendencies you may have. There is little more injurious to a courtship than a man feeling that his intellect is challenged.
—Advice to Young Ladies
W ith many of the men invited to the party still absent, Kate found herself seated at dinner between Lady Neston and Sir James Gildthorpe. Once the usual polite enquires about journeys had been made, the conversation of both her dinner partners was aimed at finding out more about Kate and her family—subtly, by Lady Neston, less so by Sir James. Kate didn’t mind; it was better than sitting in silence, and she said nothing in her answers that they could not have discovered elsewhere. And in the pauses when both were talking with their other dinner partners, she had time to observe the target of all this effort.
Both the Paynton brothers were tall, with a build that indicated a certain amount of outdoor activity. She’d noticed tiny creases beside Mr Paynton’s eyes when he talked to her earlier, and supposed he must smile often—certainly more than he was doing at the moment.
Kate’s lips twitched in amusement as she returned her attention to her plate. Cecy’s position beside him at the table showed that Lady Paynton thought her sister was a better prospect than Kate for her future daughter-in-law.
When Lady Paynton rose to withdraw, Kate hung back a little so she could leave the room with Miss Neston.
“Miss Ardley, isn’t it?” Miss Neston said.
Kate nodded. “I couldn’t help overhearing some of what you said to Major Paynton. Do you have a brother in the Peninsula? You seem to have been following events there closely.”
Miss Neston’s face turned pink, and she shook her head. “My brother is at Oxford.” She said no more until they were seated in the parlour and tea had been served. With a glance at Lady Neston at the other side of the room, she turned to Kate and murmured, “Mama wishes me to attract the attention of Mr Paynton, but my… my affections are otherwise engaged. Do not consider me as a rival, pray.”
“An officer?” Kate asked, equally quietly.
Miss Neston nodded. “My parents wish me to look higher.”
Kate smiled. “Do you read, Miss Neston? Other than novels?”
“Please, just call me Jane. Yes, a little. Why?”
“I have found that intelligent conversation can be most efficacious in repelling unwanted suitors.” Something she could put in her booklet on avoiding fortune hunters. “It does not work on all, however. ”
“You have unwanted suitors, too?” Jane asked, then bit her lips. “I mean… That is, I am not surprised that you have suitors, but—”
Kate laughed. “I know what you meant.” And by the time she had told Jane about her grandmother’s legacy, and heard about Jane’s captain, she felt they could become friends.
Mama came into Kate’s room as Jenny was brushing out her hair. “Lady Paynton is proposing a tour of the house after breakfast tomorrow,” she said.
“That will be interesting.”
“Possibly. However I would like you to decline, if you don’t mind. Mr Paynton is to give the tour, and if you are there asking intelligent questions, Cecy will not say a thing.” She raised a brow. “Unless you wish to bring yourself to Mr Paynton’s attention? It’s obvious the family have no need of your inheritance.”
Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head, then thanked Jenny and dismissed her. “I don’t mind staying out of the way,” she confirmed. “But I thought we were not here to find a husband for Cecy.”
“We are not. But if she cannot even look a man in the face, she will get nowhere this season. If you’re really interested in the architecture and decorations, the steward or housekeeper can probably give you a personal tour.” Mama smiled. “Without you having to be wary of attracting Mr Paynton’s admiration for your knowledge.”
“He may have a distaste for bluestockings.” But Mama had a point. “Very well. If the weather permits, I will have a strong urge to sketch the outside of the house, or the grounds. I noticed an elegant little pavilion near the lake. ”
“Thank you.” Mama patted her shoulder. “Sleep well, my dear.”
Kate crossed to the window, stepping behind the curtains so the reflections of the fire and lamps did not obscure her view, but all she saw were furiously swirling flakes of snow. She might need to find a different excuse in the morning.
When she awoke, the snow had reduced to only a few flakes drifting gently downwards. Beyond Kate’s window, trees and bushes poked through the smooth white blanket covering the garden and parkland. The wind had dropped, and a bright line on the western horizon indicated that the skies might soon clear.
Over breakfast, Mama leaned towards her and spoke in a whisper. “I hope you are not feeling unwell, my dear?”
Kate suppressed a laugh. “No, Mama, that will not do as an excuse. I have no wish to be confined to my room for the rest of the day! If necessary, I will ask to inspect the library and cement my reputation as a bluestocking.”
“Do not go too far to give Mr Paynton a poor impression of you, Kate, please. He could be a good match for you.”
Kate shook her head. “I have no wish to put myself forward.”
She sought out the butler when breakfast was over, asking if he thought the weather would improve.
“I believe so, Miss Ardley,” Foster said. “We may get some sunshine, but it is likely to remain cold.”
“I wondered if it would be possible to get some exercise out of doors.”
“There will shortly be a path cleared to the stables, miss, if that would suffice. It is not far, but you will be safe walking there. ”
“Thank you.” Kate couldn’t help smiling as she went to her room for her pelisse and sketching satchel. Foster concealed his feelings well, but hadn’t completely hidden his doubt about her sanity, wishing to brave the cold and snow underfoot when she had no need to.
Foster directed her out through the servants’ back door. Paths had been cleared through the courtyard, almost feeling like walled lanes because of the snow piled to each side. Beyond the enclosed area, the path bent towards the front of the house and skirted part of the garden, heading for the stable block beyond. The snow here was piled to one side, leaving a gentle downwards incline to Kate’s left—where a lawn sloped towards the main garden, she supposed.
She trod gingerly at first, wary of slipping on compacted snow. But sand had been spread and her footing was firm enough to allow her to appreciate the way the sky was turning blue above her, and the almost-blinding white of reflected sunlight from the snow. Trees in the distance were stark black, their branches limned with snow, and the golden stone pillars and domed roof of the pavilion added warmth to the scene. Turning at the stables, she paused to admire the proportions of the house. The rows of tall windows on the ground and first floors must give the interior a light and airy feel.
Kate walked back slowly, choosing a vantage point from which to make her sketch; the pavilion showed to better advantage from here than it did from the main house. She wouldn’t have much time to draw before her fingers froze, but she relished the challenge of depicting this mostly white landscape. Her spot chosen, she took a step away from the cleared path and unfastened her satchel .
Absorbed in the drawing taking shape on her paper, Kate didn’t hear the quiet crunching of approaching footsteps on the path.
“Good morning, Miss Ardley.”
Startled, Kate turned to face Mr Paynton and took a step back. A step into snow that gave way beneath her foot. Her sketchbook, pencil, and the contents of the satchel all went flying as she waved her arms in an attempt to keep her balance, but to no avail. She fell, landing on her back in deep snow, seeing only sky above her. Snow found its way inside the neck of her pelisse and soaked through her stockings and boots, making her shiver. She struggled to sit up—not easy with her legs stuck in the snow.
“Are you hurt?” Mr Paynton gazed down at her.
“No.” No thanks to him. She managed to roll over and pushed herself to her feet, soaking her hands and arms in the process.
“I’m sorry I startled you. Take my hand.”
She reached up; his grip was firm, and she gasped as he hauled her effortlessly to his own level, then put a hand in the small of her back to steady her as she staggered towards the cleared path. “Thank you, sir.”
He gingerly stepped down into the hole she had made in the snow, and handed her satchel up to her. “Allow me to escort you back to the house.”
“No need, thank you, sir.” She had no wish to prolong the embarrassing encounter. Looking on the bright side of things, by the time she had changed into dry clothing, she would have kept her promise to Mama to avoid the tour. And her undignified fall must have killed any interest he might have had in her, so she had no need to worry about that. Unfortunately, that thought did little to cheer her.