Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Two mornings later, after breakfast, Christine set off to the village to see Mrs Nash, telling herself she would only stay a little while.
She also wanted to see her brother Joshua at Allingham Farm, which she was looking forward to far more.
It was a warm and sunny day, and she wore one of her nicest summer dresses, tying her hair up beneath her straw hat with its silk flowers.
These days she had a wider array of clothing to choose from, but she was pleased with the effect when she looked into the mirror.
London attire was very different from what she wore in Barton Lacey, and while she always wished to look her best, she didn’t want to be overdressed.
The Nashes would probably think she was showing them up.
Her mother asked her where she was off to as she headed for the door.
“I thought I might visit the village,” Christine said airily, admitting nothing of her intentions.
Lady Meg raised her eyebrows, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Mrs Parker in the haberdashers will love to see you, I’m sure. You used to haunt her shop regularly when you were younger.”
Christine supposed she had. She had been dreaming about dressing up as someone else for as long as she could remember. She had been a born actress, and now she was being paid to do it! It was a dream come true by anyone’s measure.
Although sometimes, in her quieter moments, which thankfully weren’t very many, she wondered why she was so eager to be someone else. It wasn’t that she had been unhappy at the Hall, and she loved her family.
Perhaps it was just that not very much happened, well nothing exciting anyway, and she had longed for bigger and brighter things. She’d felt confined in Starling Hall and needed a bigger stage.
The walk to the village was pleasant enough, and she could see that Barton Lacey hadn’t changed much at all.
She found its familiarity soothing. As much as she tried to tell herself this place was boring after the rush and bustle of London, the truth was she enjoyed being back home.
She hadn’t admitted how much she had missed it until now.
She had been itching to leave for so long; now here she was, back again and enjoying herself!
Perhaps she needed both the stage in London and Starling Hall in Barton Lacey in her life.
The Lady’s House wasn’t far from the village, only about half a mile beyond.
The day had been so delightful she hadn’t given rain a thought, so it came as a nasty surprise when it began to sprinkle halfway to the Nash’s house.
She looked up. Where it had been blue and clear when she set out, there were now clouds rushing in to cover the sun.
A summer storm was upon her, and she quickened her pace, but she could see things were not going to get any better.
Just as she reached the gate there was a rumble of thunder, and it began to absolutely pour.
Christine hurried along the path and was almost gibbering with distress by the time she climbed up the steps.
Her hair dripped about her shoulders from the wreckage of her straw hat, and her clothing hung on her like a wet sack.
Her shoes were full of water, and her stockings bagged about her knees.
Had she ever been so wet? In a play she might pretend to be soaked by rain, but real life was so much worse.
Before she could reach for the knocker, the door opened.
“Oh! Miss Starling! Come in, come in! Oh, you poor thing!”
It was Mrs Nash. Still twittering, she hurried Christine through the entrance hall and into another room, where she knelt and lit a fire with her own hands while Christine stood shaking, dripping, and shivering.
“What is she doing here?” a voice hissed from the doorway.
“Izzy, fetch a towel for Miss Starling. Quickly, girl!”
A moment later, a dry towel was grudgingly placed in her hands.
Christine tried to pat herself dry as best she could.
By now, the warmth from the fire was reaching out to her.
Mrs Nash set a chair before the hearth and led her to it, sitting her down while apologising, as if the weather was somehow her fault.
Christine was still shaking, and her shoes sloshed whenever she moved, her toes frozen inside them.
Part of her wanted to weep. She had planned this visit in her mind in every detail.
Playing the bountiful lady, smiling and being charming to Mrs Nash, while proving to Zek she was nothing like the girl he remembered.
Now she was an object of pity, perhaps even amusement.
Standing at the door, Izzy’s face betrayed a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Christine wanted to set off for home before things got any worse, but she wasn’t sure she could manage it, wet and cold as she was. The only bright spot to this affair was that Zek seemed to be away from home somewhere, and would never know how she had made a fool of herself.
At that moment, she heard footsteps approaching from outside the room, and knew with dreadful certainty that it was Zek. He stared at her from the doorway, next to his sister, shocked at what he saw. She almost thought he might say something sympathetic before she saw laughter light his dark eyes.
Oh, of course! He would be enjoying this just as much as his horrible sister.
Christine glared at him, or tried to, but her teeth were starting to chatter, and it was all she could do to try to stop them.
“It isn’t funny,” she said, feeling tears fill her eyes.
No, no, no! She mustn’t cry in front of him.
She must not show weakness. She must not...
If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she would have risen from her chair and marched outside, except that it was still raining.
She could hear it drumming on the windowpanes, now with the occasional accompanying flash of lightning and rumble of thunder.
“Miss Starling.” To her amazement, Zek came to kneel at her side.
She looked into his eyes and now saw sympathy as well as the amusement, which only made things worse. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I am very wet,” she told him, at a loss for anything else to say.
“Indeed you are,” he agreed. “Mother, perhaps something warming for Miss Starling to drink?”
“Oh, yes, of course!” And with that, Mrs Nash was hurrying off again.
Izzy still stood at the door, staring at her. She must be sixteen years old by now. “What are you even doing here, in our house?” the girl asked in an unfriendly voice.
Christine looked from her to Zek in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You might be famous,” the girl said. “Probably the most famous person we have ever had in our house. But you were never our friend.”
Rather than soothe her shattered pride, the girl’s words upset her more. “I don’t feel very famous right now,” she said. “And, as you can see, even famous people get wet when it rains. And as for never being your friend... Wasn’t that a long time ago?”
Izzy’s gaze moved to her brother as if urging him to join in. “Not that long ago,” she said. “I still remember it. And so does Zek.”
Zek gave her a stern look and a nodding gesture to go. His sister turned and abruptly left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Ignore my sister,” he said, his voice almost kind. “My mother is thrilled that you are here. She will be telling everyone she knows that the famous Christina Silk came to call upon her. Any mention of your state of wetness will be glossed over, I assure you.”
She tried to read his thoughts. His eyes were still laughing, but it felt different now. As if he were laughing with her instead of at her. Could that be right, or was he deceiving her?
Christine swallowed her misery. She was beginning to dry out before the heat of the fire, and even her toes were coming back to life. It had been a horrible few moments, but she told herself it was over now.
“I didn’t expect it to rain,” she said, looking suspiciously at the windows, which had been dark with storm clouds just a moment ago. “And now it is sunny again! Such things do not happen to me.”
Zek cleared his throat, but she could tell that he was trying not to laugh at her ridiculousness. She was being ridiculous, she supposed, but she could not seem to help it.
“Miss Starling, I could have told you to prepare for the possibility of a summer shower. Have you already forgotten what the weather is like here in Barton Lacey? Never trust it this time of year, especially when the sky is blue and the sun is shining.”
There was some truth in his words. In London, there was always something close by to shelter under if one were caught in a downpour. But she had been so close to the Lady’s House when this had happened. It was as if the weather gods were mocking her.
Mrs Nash returned with a glass of something that looked like brandy. “I do hope you don’t catch cold, Miss Starling. This should help warm you from the inside.” She gave it to Zek, who handed it to Christine. She took a sip and tried not to choke.
“Best brandy money can buy,” he said seriously.
Despite herself, Christine gave a little laugh. Being able to buy the best brandy meant something to Zek, and she supposed she understood why he would be proud. “Thank you. Thank you both. I am feeling much better.”
“You won’t be walking home, that’s for certain!” Mrs Nash declared, with a look at her son. “Zek can accompany you in our coach.”
She said it very proudly, just as Zek had about having the best brandy. Christine supposed that for a family who had been as poor and unfortunate as the Nashes, such things mattered a great deal.
“There’s no need,” she began to protest.
“Nonsense. There is every need, and I won’t be sending you home on your own,” Zek informed her in an authoritative voice. “I will deliver you safely to your door.”
That sounded... Well, it sounded very nice, if she were being honest.
“I am sorry to cause you so much bother,” she said, turning to Mrs Nash.
The woman assured her she hadn’t, and that she was very glad to see her. “I enjoyed your play very much, even though you died in the second act,” she said a little shyly. “Zek took me to see it.”
“Next time, please tell me you are coming. I will arrange for tickets, and you can meet the rest of the cast.”
Mrs Nash became speechless with delight. She quickly left to order the coach to be brought around.
“That was very kind of you,” Zek said. “I do believe she will be talking about this day for weeks to come.”
Christine didn’t know what to say to that. She had meant to be kind, and she normally was, it was just that she had never been kind to the Nashes. Even her visit here today had been more of a performance, her wanting to appear to be better rather than a true desire to be better.
It occurred to her that Izzy’s response when she saw her just now had been very much like Christine’s reaction when she saw Zek at the dinner party.
It was how a child would behave. Izzy was probably still childish enough to hold on to old grudges and blurt out what she felt, but Christine should have grown out of it.
Mrs Nash had not behaved badly, had she? She must recall Christine’s bad behaviour in the past and yet she had been generous enough to welcome her inside, see her warm and dry and then send her safely home. Could Christine emulate that generosity of spirit?
Yes, Izzy was right that they had not been friends, but surely it was time to put the past to bed? Or at least change it for the better.