Elizabeth Mansfield (9 page)

“Yes, we certainly are scorched,” Kittridge admitted, throwing an arm over his brother’s shoulders and leading him to a chair near the tea table. “I hope the news does not overset you.”

“You needn’t worry about me, Robbie, old fellow. I won’t be a burden on you. I’ll even leave school, if that will help.”

“What a sacrifice!” Eunice said sarcastically. She wiped her eyes and returned to her chair. “It seems to me you’d jump at any excuse to leave school.”

“We shan’t talk of leaving school just yet,” Kittridge said. “Let’s wait until we see just what our situation will be. Your schooling is the last thing I’d wish to cut off.”

“Rubbish, Robbie,” the boy said, cheerfully gobbling down a cucumber sandwich. “If we’re going to be paupers, who needs school?”

“Well, we won’t be paupers, exactly,” Kittridge said, sitting down in the family circle, “but our lives will be very different from what they’ve been in the past.” And, leaning forward and speaking with an earnest calm, he went on to explain in detail what their options would be.

He spoke quietly for a long while. By the time he’d finished, his mother was sniffing her smelling salts, his sister was white-lipped and his brother at a loss for words. Kittridge, however, looked at their stricken faces in some relief.
At least
, he thought,
the realities are beginning to sink in
.

Chapter Nine

Kittridge stirred his tea, eyeing his family from beneath lowered lids. Their reaction to the devasting news he’d just given them was crucial. If they showed themselves to be practical and courageous, he might feel encouraged enough to choose the second option: to live a few years in dire straits so that in the end they would have Highlands, the Lincolnshire property, to call their own. But they would all have to be brave and self-sacrificing to make a success of the venture. Very brave, and
very
self-sacrificing.

The family sat in silence for several minutes, trying to digest what Kittridge had just told them. Lady Kittridge was the first to break the silence. “I suppose we shall have to sell the new barouche,” she remarked in a quavering voice.

“Sell the new barouche?” Kittridge echoed, his heart sinking like lead in his chest. He’d found his mother’s remark unbelievably disconcerting. Hadn’t she understood
anything
of what he’d just been at such pains to explain? “Not only the barouche, Mama,” he said, forcing himself to speak patiently. “The entire stable must go.”

“The entire
stable
?” Gavin asked, horrified. “You must be joking!”

Kittridge winced. “
Et tu
, Gavin?” he muttered under his breath.

The boy peered at him closely. “You
are
joking, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not joking. We can’t afford stables. We shall manage to keep the old phaeton and a pair—the roans, I suppose—but nothing else.”

Gavin leaped to his feet. “You’re not implying that I must give up Prado!”

“Well, yes, I am. Prado is too valuable an animal to—”

“Damnation, Robbie, you may just save your breath,” the boy declared furiously, “for nothing you can say will induce me to do such a thing! You bought him in Spain for
me
, didn’t you? And now you want me to give him up! Give up Prado, indeed! It’s not fair! You cannot ask it of me!”

“But I must, don’t you see? We can’t afford—”

“This is ridiculous!” Gavin exclaimed. “I
must
have a horse to ride. And if I must have a horse, that horse may as well be Prado.”

“Didn’t you understand anything I said before, Gavin? We have to give up almost everything … this house, the London stables, the entire Suffolk property, everything. The stables are no longer ours. They belong to our creditors. We cannot pick and choose what we can keep and what we give up. And even if we could, we can no longer afford to keep racing stock or show horses to parade in Hyde Park. Besides, we won’t even be here in town.”

“I don’t care!” the boy cried childishly. “If I can’t have Prado, you may as well take me out and put a bullet in my head!” And he stormed out of the room.

Kittridge stared after him, nonplussed. He hadn’t expected difficulty from that quarter. He sighed, allowing himself to hope that when his brother’s tantrum had blown itself out, the boy would come to his senses.

Eunice, meanwhile, smiled ironically. “So much for sacrifice,” she muttered.

His lordship sighed and turned to his mother. She was the one he expected to be the most difficult to win over. “Speaking of sacrifice, Mama,” he ventured, “I hope you realize that we shall have only a very minimal staff in our new home. A cook-housekeeper, perhaps, and a—”

“You may staff your house as you see fit, Robbie,” his mother interrupted. “I realize you have a difficult row to hoe. I shall not place additional problems in your path. However, my love, you must understand that for my personal service I must have my Sophy. She has been my maid since my girlhood, so to dismiss her is out of the question. And I shall also require a hairdresser, a seamstress and at least one abigail.”

Kittridge gaped at her. “An abigail, a seamstress and a
hairdresser
?” he asked in a strangulated voice. He didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. It was as if everything he’d said had passed over her like an unnoticed gust of wind. “We’ll be in the country, ma’am, don’t you understand? You won’t be going to fetes and balls. Why would you need a hairdresser?”

His mother rose aristocratically from her chair. “I have never been without a hairdresser,” she declared, her fluttery hands patting her white curls, “and I am too old to change now. To move me to the country, to heaven knows what sort of hovel, is quite enough of a sacrifice to ask of me. Even
suggesting
that I do without my hairdresser, Robert Rossiter, is the outside of enough. I didn’t know that my eldest son, the pride of my heart and the light of my life, could be so cruel.” And she, too, swept out of the room.

Kittridge groaned and dropped his head in his hands. He hadn’t expected the interview to be easy, but
this
was beyond belief. Neither his brother nor his mother seemed capable of grasping the full ramifications of this catastrophic situation. How could he make them
see
?

He felt his sister press her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her in gratitude; at least he could count on
her
. “Tell me, Eunice, what must I do to get through to them?” he asked, his voice choked and desperate.

“Gavin’s only taken a pet. He’ll get over it. And I’ll talk to Mama. Leave her to me.” Eunice strode purposefully to the door, but there she paused. “When I came home to live after Henry’s passing, I fully expected to pay my way,” she said forthrightly. “I regret, my dearest, that Yarrow’s heir has forced me to become an additional burden to you. I hope you know without my saying how much I appreciate your taking responsibility for me and my girls.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Kittridge said curtly, getting up and wrapping her in a fond embrace. “We are family. We shall swim—or sink—together.”

She hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. But I promise you, Robbie, I shan’t be more of a burden than I absolutely must. I need no horses, no abigails, no hairdressers. Only Miss Roffey, of course, and a nursemaid to assist her. And I think we must have a seamstress, my love, to take care of the girls’ clothing—they grow so quickly, you know. But I wouldn’t keep her to myself; I could certainly share her with Mama.” Not noticing the stunned look in his eyes, she patted his cheek fondly and whisked herself out of the room. Before he could bring himself to move, her face reappeared in the doorway. “And a tutor, of course, Robbie,” she added cheerfully, “but that may not be a gross expense. He needn’t live in, you know. We could employ a local clergyman for half-day wages, I expect. For a couple of years anyway.”

Lord Kittridge stared at the closed door for a long time. Then, utterly discomposed, he sank into a chair in front of the fire and shut his eyes. It was as if he’d ridden into an ambush. Not expecting to be besieged, he’d found himself being shot at from all sides. And there didn’t seem to be a place of safety, a rock or knoll behind which he could hide. He felt depleted, beaten, defeated. There was no escape for him, for how could he run away when he had five people dependent on him?

But what was he to do for them? How could he even begin to teach these innocents, who’d been pampered all their lives, to adjust to the drastic changes he was proposing? Even he, who had experienced the dangers and deprivations of war, would not find the new life easy, so how could he expect the others, who had no inkling of deprivation, to accept it? “Seamstresses,” he moaned, resting his head on the back of the chair and covering his eyes with one trembling hand. “Abigails. Nursemaids. Hairdressers. They want a veritable
regiment
!”

“Per’aps not a regiment, but fer certain nine, minimum,” came his man Loesby’s voice behind him.

Kittridge sat up. “What?” he asked in confusion.

Loesby came round the chair and perched on the hearth in front of his lordship. “A staff o’ nine,” he explained. “Cook, houseman, Miss Sophy, the ’airdresser, the abigail, the seamstress, Miss Roffey, the nursemaid, an’ the tutor. Nine.”

Kittridge groaned. “Might as well be a regiment,” he muttered, “since I can’t afford even a third of them.” His eyes focused on his ex-batman’s weathered face. “You were eavesdropping again,” he accused.

Loesby shrugged. “The on’y way ye learn anythin’ is to eavesdrop.”

“Then, since you know so much, tell me how, on a captain’s half-pay, I’m to set up a household of six with a staff of—how many did you say?”

“Nine. Not countin’ me.”

His lordship peered at his batman with sudden intensity. “Why not counting you? Are you going to take my advice and find yourself another post?”

“Not on yer life. I din’t count me ’cause I don’t ’ave to ’ave wages.”

“Why should
you
sacrifice your wages, man? It’s more of a sacrifice than anyone in my family is willing to make.”

“Do ye need to ask, Cap’n? We been through a war t’gether. I ain’t forgettin’ that ye came back fer me when they left me fer dead after Talavera. Nor what ye did fer me at Badajoz, neither. It’s more of a bond, per’aps, then fam’ly.”

“Perhaps it is.” He looked his ex-batman in the eye. “I know I’d feel in a damned hole if you left me,” he admitted flatly.

“Well, I ain’t leavin’, so there’s no more to be said about that. About the rest of the staff, as I tole ye, I count nine. Not a small staff, I’d say.”

“No. Not small at all.” Kittridge’s shoulders sagged. “What shall I do, Loesby? I’m at the end of my tether.”

“Act like a cap’n, Cap’n. Treat yer fam’ly like a cavalry division. Give ’em orders. Tell ’em flat out—no ’airdressers, no tutors, nothin’. Just a plain ol’ couple to cook an’ keep the place clean … an’ me. Tell ’im wivout roundaboutation. This is how it’ll be, an’ that’s
it
!”

Kittridge snorted. “That’s it, eh? And if they don’t heel, it’s the firing squad?” He shook his head. “I don’t think I can, Loesby. It just occurred to me that Mama may feel about her Miss Sophy as I do about you. And perhaps Miss Roffey means as much to my sister and the girls. If I keep you, how can I ask Mama to give up her Sophy? And the girls their Miss Roffey, eh? And Gavin his beautiful Prado, the Spanish stallion that I gave him as a gift? No, Loesby, it’s too much to ask of them.”

“But you ’ave no choice, Cap’n, if you ain’t got the wherewithal …”

Lord Kittridge frowned thoughtfully and got to his feet. “Perhaps I do have a choice,” he said slowly, as if to himself, “if I’m willing to swallow my confounded pride. It’s the only way out of this fix.”

“What way is that, Cap’n?” Loesby asked, his brow knit suspiciously.

Kittridge strode to the door. “What did I do with that card?” he muttered under his breath.

He crossed the hall in three strides, the batman at his heels. In the study, he rifled through the papers he’d taken from Jennings’ office. “Here it is. Get out the curricle, Loesby, and drive down to the City at once. There’s a Mr. Chivers at this address. Tell him that Lord Kittridge has changed his mind.” His mouth tightened, and Loesby saw a telltale muscle twitch in his cheek. “Tell him the damned title is for sale after all.”

Chapter Ten

The color drained from Cassie’s cheeks. “You did
what
?”

“You ’eard me well enough, my girl,” her father snapped, surprised and hurt by his daughter’s reaction to his exciting news. “I’ve arranged for ye to wed Lord Kittridge. Why ain’t ye throwin’ yer arms round my neck an’ kissin’ me in ecstatic gratitude?”

The girl began to tremble from head to foot. “Oh,
Papa
!” she gasped, wide-eyed in horror. “How
could
you?”

Mr. Chivers glared at his daughter, angry and confused. He had achieved what he considered a brilliant success, and here was his daughter—the intended beneficiary of his triumphant scheme—behaving as if he’d condemned her to a life of hard labor in the workhouse! He realized again that he would never, if he lived to be a hundred, learn to understand her. He took his sherry from the tray Miss Penicuick held out to him and downed it in a gulp. “I ’ope, Cassie Chivers,” he muttered, “that y’re not goin’ to put on missish airs and make a to-do about this.”

The girl stared at him aghast. “You’ve
bribed
Lord K-Kittridge to offer for me, and you don’t think I should make a
to-do
?” She sank down on the sitting room sofa, the breath quite gone from her chest. “Missish airs, indeed!” she gasped. “I think I shall
s-swoon
!”

“Don’t you
dare
!” Chivers commanded. “No daughter of mine’d be so cowardly as to take leave of her senses just because ’er father gives ’er a small surprise.”

Cassie shut her eyes. “
Small
surprise?” she murmured, taking a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Papa. This is not a small surprise. It is a major crisis!”

Miss Penicuick hovered over her. “Shall I run for the sal volatile, my love?”