6. Chapter 6
Kitty hurried up the stairs to her room in the attic and glanced around the tiny space that had been her temporary home.
No, not home. It had just been a roof over her head.
Would she feel more settled in Mr Barrington’s house?
Did the man really want a companion for his daughter and nothing more?
If so, why hadn’t he employed someone before now, instead of offering a refuge to a poor, friendless woman?
The reality of her circumstances chilled her. If her situation deteriorated, there would be no one to rescue her. No one to notice if she disappeared into Mr Barrington’s house never to return.
“Is this where you sleep?”
Kitty jerked around. She’d been followed upstairs. Laura’s presence brought her back to her senses. She was to be a companion to this young woman. Hopefully, a friend. There was nothing sinister about that.
With a shake of her head, she tossed out her irrational fears and answered the question. “Yes.”
“It doesn’t look very comfortable.” She prodded the straw mattress of Kitty’s cot. “You’ll find your room at our house much more pleasant.”
Kitty smiled to herself. It would be hard for anywhere to be less agreeable than her current accommodation.
The girl picked up the books that lay on top of the closed trunk and glanced at the titles before tossing them on the bed. “You don’t have many things, do you?”
“No, but it means I won’t take long to pack.”
Kitty retrieved her precious possessions from where Laura had thrown them and lifted the lid of the trunk. The Bible her grandfather had bequeathed to Edward lay alone at the bottom, reminding her of the two people she loved the most. One was gone, and the other…
“What’s your given name?”
Laura’s voice brought Kitty back to the present with a jolt. Blinking hard, she stowed her books inside the trunk, burying her grandfather’s Bible along with her memories.
“Catherine—but that always makes me think I’m in trouble, as that was the only time my grandfather ever used it. My friends address me as Kitty.”
“Then that’s what I’ll call you, and you must call me Laura, for I desperately want us to be friends. It will be pleasant to have another lady in the house.”
She kept chattering while Kitty gathered her wash things, folded her other clothes and retrieved her half-boots from under the bed.
“Someone Papa approves of. There aren’t many of those.
Especially men. He doesn’t think anyone is good enough for me and scares off all my suitors.
That’s why he’s so eager to have you live with us.
To keep a close eye on me. To prevent me from forming an undesirable attachment and to protect me from unwanted attentions.
I seem to be adept at attracting those. I suppose it’s because I’m so pretty. ”
How matter-of-fact Laura sounded! Was she as ambivalent about her beauty as she appeared, or had she grown so used to praise that she saw it as her due?
Either way, her words came across as vain, but as they had only just met, Kitty suppressed the urge to correct her new companion.
The girl might not appreciate having her vanity challenged, if her father had never done so.
“I’ve always believed it pleasant to be on the receiving end of compliments.
” Not that Kitty had much personal experience.
She’d received little praise on her appearance—except from her grandfather, and that didn’t count.
Those words had been spoken out of love, with a cheerful disregard for the truth.
“I suppose so, but it is rather tiresome to be always on my guard. There’s one man in particular who is most persistent.”
How curious. If Mr Barrington was so protective, why had his daughter been left in a position where she could be bothered by a man’s unwanted attentions?
“Have you ever had a suitor?” Laura asked.
The sudden enquiry took Kitty by surprise. The tone of the girl’s voice hinted that such a thing was nigh on impossible. It wasn’t far from the truth.
“I have—but I did not believe we suited as much as he did.”
“You received an offer, and you rejected him?”
She would not sound so incredulous if she’d seen the man Kitty had turned down. “I did and I don’t regret it. I would have been little better than a servant in his house—and I would have had to share a bed with him. Ugh!”
Laura fumbled with the worn cover on the cot. “Have you ever been in love?”
What a personal question to ask someone you’ve known for less than an hour!
Kitty was not ready to admit to this stranger that she’d never fallen in love, though she knew it was just as well she hadn’t.
It would only cause heartache, because she could not imagine a gentleman returning her affection. Instead, she turned it back on Laura.
“Have you?”
Colour rushed into Laura’s cheeks as she bombarded Kitty with another barrage of words.
“What possible opportunity would I have to fall in love? There are very few gentlemen where we live—on the Isle of Portland. It’s not really an island, but it may as well be.
It’s so remote. Can you believe it? There are people who have never left the island.
Those who have never seen the world outside.
They still view us as newcomers, though we’ve lived there for fifteen years.
Fifteen years too long, if you ask me. I wish we could move to Weymouth, but Papa won’t hear of it.
The shops are so much better, and there are balls in the assembly rooms and several libraries… ”
By the time Kitty had finished packing her trunk, she had learned a great deal about Laura, and it gave her pause for thought.
The girl claimed she wanted to be friends, but true friendship was based on trust. That was not something you could conjure in an instant, but you could not even start building it without openness.
And she suspected her companion wasn’t being honest with her. The tell-tale blush that had coloured Laura’s cheeks when they talked of love had said what her words had not. Unless Kitty was much mistaken, the young woman was already in love—but something prevented her from confessing it.
It was a personal matter to share with a new acquaintance, but it had been Laura who had brought up the subject.
Why, then, had she been so reluctant to admit it?
Wouldn’t it be a relief to have another female to talk to about things of the heart?
These were matters girls discussed with their mothers and sisters. With their friends.
Here was her chance to make a difference. Mrs Barrington had handed Kitty over to her son like an unwanted piece of furniture, but Laura needed her. That gave her a sense of purpose.
It would take time to get the girl to confide in her, but time she had in abundance.
Kitty suppressed a sigh. Laura was not the only one in desperate need of a friend.
Once her trunk had been taken outside, Kitty took a hasty but affectionate leave of the housekeeper and joined Mr Barrington and his daughter inside their carriage.
Laura fell silent, a complete contrast to the chatterbox she had been whilst Kitty packed. The man made no comment on his daughter’s quietness. How odd. Was this how she normally behaved in her father’s presence?
Mr Barrington kept up a flow of conversation as the vehicle travelled down the incline from the village of Wyke Regis toward the sea. At the foot of the hill, Kitty was taken aback to see a stretch of water blocking the road. The only way across seemed to be by a rope ferry.
Oh my! When Laura had said Portland was not a real island, Kitty had assumed they wouldn’t have to take a boat to get there. It appeared she was wrong.
She had never travelled over the sea before, even for a short distance, and the choppiness of the waves unsettled her stomach. Fortunately, the crossing was swift, and the carriage was soon bowling along a narrow spit of land with water on both sides.
Once on the island, they passed through a village as they mounted a steep hill.
Kitty gazed out the window in awe at the picturesque view back over the way they had come, the shoreline stretching for miles.
The white froth like a frill down the length of the beach, with green hills rising in the distance.
At the summit, there were vast stone quarries on either side, and in front of a small hut, there was a man who appeared to be selling fossils.
The carriage headed across the island and not long after, they arrived at Mr Barrington’s home, Rufus House.
It was a substantial grey structure, its mullioned windows indicating it was much older than his mother’s home in Weymouth.
The entire journey had taken little over an hour, and yet Kitty felt she had been transported into another world. A world that promised more comfort than she had experienced in weeks.
As soon as they arrived, Laura scurried off to talk to the housekeeper to arrange for a bedchamber to be made up for their guest, leaving Kitty alone with Mr Barrington.
He led her into the drawing room and begged her to sit.
“I hope you will be happy here, Miss Lacey. It makes me feel somewhat guilty that my mother inherited the fortune that should have gone to my uncle—the man you knew as grandfather—and will ultimately come to me. I hold myself responsible for your welfare. To stand in the place of your brother and offer you a home is the least I can do.”
How odd that he should claim to be acting like a brother when he was old enough to be her father.
“I confess I’m hoping you can do something for me in return. You see, I have invited you here under false pretences—not just for your benefit, but for my own.”
Kitty held her breath. Was Mr Barrington about to make the sort of proposal she would have no hesitation in refusing?