Chapter Nine
Wildewood Manor, Surrey
“Catherine Cardew, are you listening to me at all?”
Kitty looked up from the pages of her diary, which she had been idly examining as she considered how best to escape her French lesson. “Hmmm?”
When Kitty finally looked up, Miss Annesley was frowning at her. “You are uncommonly inattentive today, child.”
Miss Annesley was a kindly woman in her early fifties, with frizzy gray hair and a decidedly academic look about her.
She was affectionate outside of their lessons, but she expected her pupil to apply herself far more than Kitty was wont to do.
Miss Annesley frowned, but her spectacles and a scar at her temple rendered her expression more severe than she really was.
Kitty groaned. “I am not a child. I am eighteen, and I wish William had taken me to London with him. I always thought that by now he would have realized I must move in society if I have any hope of not growing up to be a tragic spinster.”
Miss Annesley sniffed. “I am sure your guardian has considered what is required of him, my dear. If he were not so often preoccupied with keeping that profligate cousin of his out of trouble, I am sure he might enjoy a proper trip to London with you.”
“He might bring me with him when he goes to Will Darcy’s aid – perhaps I could help him talk some sense into his cousin. Or better still, perhaps he might invite Mr. Darcy here; some time in the country must surely do him good.”
Kitty sighed and looked back down at her diary.
She had pasted in a fashion plate of an elegant blue ball gown, and had drawn over it with pastels, creating a medieval, almost fae-like appearance to the lady in the gown, whom she had made to resemble herself.
She had also drawn in a gentleman at her side, a man with golden hair and a dashing smile.
A pleasant breeze blew across her face, for Kitty had lately persuaded her governess to allow her to do her lessons out of doors; the weather was quite fine in the morning, in the shade of a large umbrella.
And then a voice was carried in their direction, and Kitty grinned as she looked around and saw Mr. Chasuble, the local vicar, running up a gentle slope at the edge of the meadow.
He perceived them from afar, raised one hand to wave eagerly, and came hurrying toward them in his awkward gait.
Mr. Chasuble was a portly, bespectacled man in his middle fifties.
He had a kind and intelligent look about him that rendered him not unattractive, and his style of address was meandering at times, but he was cheerful and pleasant.
He had been exceedingly attentive to Miss Annesley since he had taken the living at Markby three years ago, and Kitty found it vastly amusing that her governess always appeared so insensible to his admiration, when she clearly returned it.
“Miss Annesley and her fair pupil, Miss Cardew! What a picture of feminine domesticity you present, what a tranquil tableau, indeed. But I am sorry to interrupt your scholarly pursuits; Betsy let the cat out into the garden by mistake again. I fear my poor Duchess has run off, and is probably very frightened. I have a little of last night’s roast in my pocket to tempt the silly creature home again. ”
“Oh, poor Duchess! But we must help you,” Kitty cried, seizing upon this perfect opportunity to forestall her French grammar.
She turned to her breakfast plate, which she had abandoned a half hour ago, and collected a few pieces of bacon.
“We must help you locate the poor creature, musn’t we, Miss Annesley? ”
Miss Annesley certainly knew what Kitty was about, but her arch look of assessment turned into a gentle smile for the vicar. “I am sure Miss Cardew and I could spare an hour, engaged in such a charitable act as searching for your cat, Mr. Chasuble.”
“It is settled, then. But the pair of you must go together, for between the two of you, I daresay you make one pair of very keen eyes. I shall go another way, to cover more ground.”
Miss Annesley set off with Mr. Chasuble, and Kitty began to happily meander toward the front of the house, humming to herself as she walked along a tidy line of maple trees that shaded the pathway.
She did look about for the fat orange tabby, for she always enjoyed the way the fluffy creature lounged in her lap when she and Miss Annesley called at the vicarage on Friday afternoons.
After a few minutes, she sighted a carriage coming up the front drive – it was not her guardian’s barouche, and curiosity drew her to the front of the house in all haste.
When the carriage came to a stop, a tall, handsome man with tousled blonde hair emerged.
He was fashionably attired, and his figure appeared to advantage as he leaned back against the carriage, one leg bent, puffing on a cigar and taking in the sight of the manor house.
“So, this is Wildewood,” he mused aloud, as if he were sensible of her approach without looking at her. “I think I shall find this most agreeable.”
“I beg your pardon, sir – I can see that you just arrived, but on your approach to the house, did you happen to see a large and rather rotund orange cat?”
He turned and grinned at her, doffing his hat and sweeping into a bow in a fluid, graceful motion, and then stepping forward to raise her hand in his. “You must be my cousin Kitty.”
Kitty beamed at him. “And I presume you are my cousin Will Darcy – my wicked cousin Darcy.”
“I am not really wicked at all, cousin Kitty.”
She raised her brows as a pair of footmen began to unload an inordinate amount of luggage and haul it into the manor. “If you are not wicked, then you have been very cleverly misrepresenting yourself to poor William.”
He raked his gaze up and down her with a lazy grin.
“I suppose I have been rather too merry, but I am sure I shall be quite content here. Perhaps I might endeavor to convince you that I am actually quite charming – dashing, even. I would not have you think me wicked. Shall I help you locate this elusive orange beast?”
Kitty let out a breathy gasp as she recollected that she really did wish to locate Duchess, and she had a hunch she knew where the impudent creature might be. “I had intended on searching my tree house, in that willow tree just over there.”
“We must inspect the place at once,” he said, offering her his arm. “You may consider it a feather in your cap, both in locating the delinquent feline, and in reforming my character. We shall be heroes.”
Kitty happily led her cousin to the sprawling old willow tree. “Is that your purpose in coming to Wildewood?”
He flashed her a brilliant smile. “It is, fair cousin. Shall William Worthing be terribly impressed, do you think?”
“We must wait and see. We did expect him to return home today, but he sent word this morning that he will be delayed until Thursday afternoon.”
Her cousin stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Let me guess – there was some unexpected problem with his carriage?”
Kitty eyed him with cheerful suspicion. “I wonder how you could possibly know that sir, unless you engaged in some unspeakable act of sabotage. But I hope you will endeavor to reconcile with William, for he worries for you a vast deal.”
“It is a great pity, but I must depart Thursday morning and return to London.”
“No, indeed – you must wait and speak with William. I know he wishes to talk to you about emigrating.”
“Emigrating? Good Heavens! Does he mean to flee the country?”
“He said last month before he went away that you must choose between this world, the next world, and Australia.”
He screwed up his face. “That certainly sounds like what he would say. But are those my only options? How perfectly dismal they all sound. I should like to stay here with you, cousin.”
He stopped and took in the scenery as they reached the old willow tree.
A small stream ran along the side of the property, curling and twisting about along the gnarled, exposed roots of the tree.
Kitty came here as often as she could, but she allowed her companion to assist her in walking over the uneven ground as if she had not long since mastered the careful footing required.
She held one finger to her lips in a motion for him to be quiet as she gingerly approached the ladder to the treehouse, which rested six or seven feet up, along the lowest branch of the tree.
“Take a step back,” she hissed, drawing her skirts closer about herself. “You have hardly earned such a view!”
“I desire only the sight of a happy reunion between fair maiden and wicked feline,” He quipped, taking a few steps back. “And yet, if you should fall, I shall certainly catch you.”
“I shall only fall if you make me, with your distracting gallantry, cousin.” Kitty climbed the ladder with sure footing, and she was not at all surprised to discover Duchess inside the treehouse, for this was just where they had found her last time the maid let her out of the vicarage.
She was, however, astonished to find the cat nursing half a dozen kittens.
“Well?” Her cousin called out from below. “Have you found what you were looking for?”
Duchess meowed smugly at Kitty, who turned around on the ladder in a pose that she hoped was as beguiling as it was triumphant. “Yes; seven times over! Come and see for yourself.” She scrambled into the treehouse, earning a cautionary hiss from Duchess when she got too close.
Her wicked cousin clambered up behind her, and remained at the top of the ladder while Kitty sat at the entrance to her treehouse, which was still a favorite haunt of hers. “Is it not remarkable? I do hope Mr. Chasuble will let me keep one of the kittens!”
“It would only be right, for you are like a kitten, cousin. Besides, you have found his cat; you ought to have pick of the litter.”