Chapter Six
The rain started again in the afternoon and continued into the evening, which at least meant all was quiet from the direction of the Earl’s house.
The next day, though, the sun was shining and Joseph’s wife, Tilly, called after lunch to tell them she had thought of an excellent way to use up their copious raspberries.
Kate had already learned that Tilly had a job cooking lunches for schoolchildren, but when Tilly arrived and Kate asked her more, she was surprised to realise that the school was nearby.
‘Tilly, do you actually mean the school that closed years ago because it needed so many repairs? I remember my aunt was terribly upset about it.’
‘That’s the one, Miss Kate! It’s been rebuilt in just the last year, thanks to a generous benefactor whose name we don’t know—some of us guess it’s the Prince himself.
Anyway, there are nearly twenty pupils, and I work in the kitchen three days a week, so I’ll use your fruit to make puddings and jellies as a treat for the children.
The vicar’s wife, Mrs Pritchard, runs the school—did you know that?
—and she intends keeping it partly open during the summer. ’
‘You must be very busy, working there as well as looking after your grandchildren.’
‘Oh, they only stay from time to time, and they’re little darlings, all of them.’ Already, Tilly was putting on an apron. ‘Now, before I take your raspberries, I wonder if you’d like me to make something for the two of you? Have you some eggs?’
Quickly Harriet brought them from the larder and Tilly nodded. ‘Excellent. Now, Harriet. I hear from my Joseph that you are the cook in this household. Isn’t that right, Miss Kate?’
Kate had to smile at the expression of pride on Harriet’s face. ‘That’s quite true, Tilly. And I’ve a few things to get on with myself, so I’ll leave the two of you to your baking, shall I?’
Ever since arriving here, Kate had intended to explore the rooms up in the attic, and now, after putting on an apron, she went methodically through all the cupboards and chests up in those dusty rooms. At first, she found nothing except for some ancient bedlinen, a few old recipe books and trinkets of no value.
But then, on opening a wardrobe in the last room, she found a dress.
Kate’s first thought was that Jemima might have sewn it for herself, because her aunt had been a skilled needlewoman.
Those pretty samplers hanging around the house were evidence of that.
The gown was made of silk in a shade of dusky pink, and though the full skirt and buttoned-up bodice were years out of fashion, it was still gorgeous.
Yet it looked as if it had never been worn.
Kate couldn’t resist the impulse to go down to her bedroom and try it on herself.
‘It fits me perfectly,’ she murmured aloud. ‘How amazing.’
Jemima could never have worn it, since it was too long for her and would have trailed on the ground, but it was just right for Kate.
Why had her aunt made it, and for whom? And how sad that it had languished in the attic for so long!
Kate gazed at herself in the mirror, holding out the full skirt and taking a few steps as if she was dancing—and that was when she realised a folded piece of paper had fallen to the floor. She stooped to retrieve it and read:
Dear Kate, As I sewed this dress, I liked to think of you dancing in it at your first ball. From your ever-loving aunt.
Kate held the note tightly, feeling an ache of grief at finding another message from her beloved aunt.
Clearly Jemima had never heard of Kate’s illness, or her shattered girlish dreams. Keeping the dress on, she swiftly searched the remaining attic rooms but found no other treasures, and by the time she returned downstairs Harriet was alone in the kitchen, spooning raspberry purée into some fresh-baked meringue shells.
But she almost dropped her spoon on seeing Kate in the pink silk dress. ‘Oh, my goodness! Whatever are you wearing? It’s beautiful!’
‘I found it in the attic.’ Kate looked down at herself a little dubiously. ‘I suppose I really ought to get changed again.’
‘No, you absolutely must keep it on, at least for a while! It’s beautiful. And look what we have for our tea!’ She pointed to the meringues. ‘I shall make cucumber sandwiches as well, and you and I will dine like fine ladies.’
Fine ladies? thought Kate. Oh, how the Earl would laugh at such pretensions.
Later, after they’d both tidied the kitchen, Harriet curled up on the sofa with her romance novel, but Kate went outside to sit on the bench by the back door, still wearing the pink gown.
The sky gleamed with the dying light of the day, and though it was past eight no sound came from the Earl’s house, raising her hopes that maybe he and his friends had gone down to the town’s taverns.
But she couldn’t have been more wrong, because all of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the air.
She jumped to her feet in shock. From the far side of the woods fountains of silver stars hurled themselves into the sky, then a cacophony of further bangs and explosions shattered the evening’s peace and roosting birds flew in panic through the trees.
Fireworks. The Earl and his friends were partying again.
The twilight was splintered with streaks of harsh colour, and she realised she was shaking, because memories were flooding back of the night the Viscount’s son had coaxed her outside to watch the fireworks then had kissed her for a bet.
That was years ago, but now she stood alone and devastated once more while the peace of the night fell apart around her.
In fact, such was the noise that it took her a while to recognise the sound of footsteps crashing through the woods, and moments later three men came stumbling into her garden.
They pulled to an abrupt halt when they saw her.
‘Hold up there,’ the first one called back to his companions. ‘It’s the prickly spinster who’s Dan’s new neighbour!’ He turned to Kate. ‘Sorry to intrude, sweetie, but have you seen any ladies coming this way? We’re playing a game of hide-and-seek.’
‘You can hardly miss them.’ Another man chuckled, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘They’re dressed quite outrageously—in fact, to tell the truth, they’re not really wearing much at all.’ He peered at Kate. ‘You look lonely. Care to join us? We’re a little short of female company tonight.’
Kate could smell the alcohol on him as he drew closer. ‘Get out,’ she said. Her voice was miraculously steady, but inside she was trembling with fury. ‘Get off my land.’
The man who’d spoken laughed. ‘You know, you’re actually not that bad-looking.
Why couldn’t you find a husband, darling?
Maybe you’re a bit scared at the thought of what a man might want to do with a wallflower like you?
’ He leaned against a tall stone urn and it went crashing to the ground. ‘Oops,’ he said.
‘She doesn’t look like a wallflower to me, Gascoyne,’ another man was saying.
‘She actually looks quite sweet in that pink dress. Maybe she’s got a secret lover, and she’s waiting for him to arrive and warm her up.
’ He leered at Kate. ‘Is that it, darling? Are you all fire beneath that chilly exterior?’
She wanted to answer them with words of scorn, but they were drawing closer and she was forced to retreat. Somehow her heel caught on the edge of a paving stone and she stumbled backwards, only just saving herself from falling.
My ankle, she thought. I have hurt my weak ankle.
Somehow, she stood upright in spite of the pain, and this time something in her expression must have alarmed those men, because they started to back off.
‘Go,’ she said. Her voice was shaking now and her ankle was agony, but she was past caring. ‘You are drunken fools. Just go.’
They left, but it wasn’t long before she heard them whooping and shouting again as they hunted their female prey. Kate lowered herself slowly onto the nearby bench. The fireworks appeared to have finished, but acrid smoke still tainted the air.
After a few moments she limped painfully over to the broken stone urn, remembering how her aunt had filled it with flowering plants every spring.
But now the urn was shattered beyond repair and so were her dreams. What was the use of staying on here?
She had hoped to create a new life for herself at Clematis Villa, but she had only succeeded in becoming a laughing stock.
She was still standing there with her heart hurting far more than her sprained ankle when she heard yet more footsteps.
She whirled round. Not more intruders. Not…
It was the Earl, appearing out of the darkness between the trees.
She couldn’t help the thudding of her heart, because he looked as if he had stepped out of the pages of one of Harriet’s books.
His long green velvet coat was unbuttoned and his loose white shirt was only half-tucked into his skintight breeches.
He clearly needed to shave and his brown hair was tousled—probably because some woman has been pawing at him, she thought bitterly.
And because there was nowhere at all to hide, she stood there, waiting for the inevitable.
Dan had known his friends were planning another party that night, but he’d been slow to join them because he’d been with Oliver, listening to his brother’s latest findings about Brighton’s history.
Dan had not known that fireworks were involved in the evening’s entertainment, and he’d jumped to his feet when the silence outside was broken by the roar and crackle of explosions.
Oliver, he saw, had gone deathly white. ‘My God,’ Dan said to him, ‘are you all right?’
Oliver tried to nod. ‘I’m fine.’