Kitty Little (33 page)

Now two and a half, Dixie was proving to be a vexing nuisance, not least because Archie was so besotted by her. He spent hours in the nursery every day despite the child having a perfectly good nanny to take care of her every need. Admittedly she was fretting for her mother, but was that Charlotte’s fault for God’s sake? The child was becoming a real little madam, spoiled beyond endurance, and all because of Archie’s guilt.

If she refused to wear a certain pair of shoes, then Dixie would be allowed to choose another pair; a pink rather than a blue ribbon in her hair, or play on the swing in the garden instead of taking a healthy walk in the park. If Dixie declared a dislike of cabbage or rice pudding, then Nanny was instructed not to give her any, despite it being good for her. And if she did not get her own way, she would fling her dinner across the room in one of her “little paddies” as Archie termed it.

Evenings were the worst. At least a dozen of Charlotte’s carefully prepared dinner parties had been disturbed by Archie abandoning their guests to go and attend to the screaming child. If she ever did sleep at night, no one would know it. Even now, at well past midnight, Archie was sitting with her, no doubt telling her stories and singing lullabies, which was surely the nanny’s job.
 

It simply wouldn’t do. Archie should be here, with her, in their grand four poster bed. If there was one thing Charlotte could not abide, it was a rival to his affections. She hadn’t taken all those risks or abandoned Magnus, to be supplanted by a child.

Around two o’clock Charlotte was vaguely aware of Archie creeping back to bed. She kept her back firmly turned towards him, her mind a seething mass of resentment. Something had to be done.

There were more pressing concerns the next day, however, when the draper failed to keep his appointment to measure up for new curtains in the drawing room. Instead he sent a formal little note informing her that he could not accommodate her at present until she had settled her outstanding account. ‘Dear Lord, must I do everything myself?’ she railed, storming through the house on a tide of fury, seeking Archie upon whom she could cast the blame for this oversight. She found him, as expected, on his knees in the nursery, playing at building bricks with Dixie.

‘Drat you. Why haven’t you paid this silly little man for his paltry curtains?’ She flung the letter at him, then turned her temper upon the nanny. ‘And
you
can take that dratted infant out of my sight.
This minute
!’
Nanny hastily gathered up the now screaming Dixie with more haste than dignity, and fled.

‘Charlotte. Calm yourself. It is not the child’s fault. My dear, if you continue spending in this vein, we shall be bankrupt within the year.’

Charlotte bunched her small fists into tight balls of barely controlled fury. ‘You only say that to annoy me. Why won’t you even try to please me? I know why. Because you don’t truly love me. You never did.’

‘Utter tosh, old thing. You know how I adore you.’

‘No, you don’t. You give all your time and attention to that child, and no longer care about me.’ She swung about on her heel and marched off along the landing, forcing him to follow.

‘That isn’t true.’

His calmness inflamed Charlotte to such an extent that she snatched up a Japanese vase which had probably stood in that particular niche on the landing for the better part of a century and flung it with both hands, down the sweeping staircase. Archie’s appalled expression as it smashed into a hundred fragments gave her immense satisfaction.

‘See what you have driven me to, with your meanness and neglect,’ she screamed. ‘I gave up everything for you and this is the thanks I get!’

Archie frowned but responded with studied calm. ‘What exactly did you give up, Charlotte? The stage? The LTP’s? You said you were bored with all of that?’

He was looking at her now with that all too familiar coldness in his gaze which brought a shiver to her spine. Charlotte had spoken without thinking, for she’d given up Magnus, of course. At least, she’d failed to visit him in almost a year. But since Archie didn’t know about this other part of her life, about this man who truly was her husband, and indeed must never know, how could he ever understand? Anxious to cover her slip, Charlotte frantically searched her mind and impulsively decided to turn her blunder to advantage.

‘You must see that it is difficult for me, witnessing your joy over Kitty’s child, when I can have none of my own.’ Having “lost” the child she’d claimed to be carrying at the start of their “marriage” Charlotte had told Archie that she was no longer able to bear one. At the time of this revelation, it had proved to be an excellent way of cementing their relationship, of drawing him closer in his concern for her. Fortunately he showed no desire to rear a dynasty of his own, but he had developed a surprising fondness for Dixie.

Now Charlotte recognised that she’d struck exactly the right note as expressions of shock, concern and remorse flitted across his face. He was taking her in his arms and apologising for his crass insensitivity.

‘I never thought. How utterly selfish of me. Of course, it must tear you apart. My poor darling.’

The tears were very nearly genuine for nothing would have pleased her more than to give Archie a child, one who would inherit the title and oust this little interloper for good and all. Without a pregnancy, and there was little hope of one following Magnus’s past treatment of her, how could she ever be secure? The only way was to rid herself of the little monster. Archie was kissing her cheek, stroking her hair, begging to know how he could make it up to her.

‘I never meant to hurt you, my darling.’

Charlotte took both his hands in hers and kissed each in turn. ‘I do agree that we should keep a careful eye on Dixie. She is, I accept, still your child for all the pain it causes me to admit as much, but to witness the evidence of this relationship - day in and day out is too much to bear.’ She half turned away in her distress. ‘Couldn’t we - no - you would never agree.’

‘Agree to what?’

A sob broke and Charlotte put a hand to her mouth that trembled just the right degree. ‘To the child leaving this house. She could keep Nanny of course, but be accommodated elsewhere.’

‘I really can’t afford to set up two homes. This one is costing me a small fortune.’

Drat the man. Always money, money, money. Charlotte smiled beguilingly up at him, blue eyes shimmering with tears. ‘Oh I never meant you to provide her with a whole house of her own. She is but a child after all. But there must be good homely accommodation to be found somewhere locally, perhaps in Windermere or Ambleside, or nearby Carreckwater. And you could still visit her whenever you wished.’ But not spend every waking moment with her, or half the damned night.

Archie gazed upon Charlotte, his face thoughtful but sad. ‘I promised Kitty I’d keep her safe.’

‘She still would be safe. Just not in my sight all day, reminding me of my failure. Distressing me.’ Again the sob, with increased anguish this time.

‘Would you find that more bearable, dearest?’

‘I would.’

After another long pause, he said, ‘Then how can I object? We must find little Dixie a new foster home. But it must be clean and homely, the people kind and good to her.’

‘Dear Archie, of course. Perhaps she will thrive in it, for she seems far from happy here, constantly fretting and screaming. I shall begin making enquiries first thing tomorrow.’

Yet again she had triumphed. Charlotte kissed him and then remembered the note from the draper and the more pressing concern of her new curtains. ‘Oh, and do remember to pay the draper’s bill, darling. Perhaps you will be less forgetful of such matters, once you no longer have a demanding toddler on your hands.’

As she swung away down the stairs, Archie watched her go in fond if troubled silence. Then he picked up the letter and paled as he read the amount.

Once the draper had been pacified and duly put to work measuring and sewing cretonne and voile, Charlotte set about the task of finding a new home for Dixie with enthusiasm. In the end, levering the child out of Repstone had proved far easier than she’d anticipated. Hopefully, this would have the added advantage that the child’s mother would have no reason ever to come here again. Any lingering friendship Charlotte might once have felt for Kitty had long since dissipated. Kitty was now seen as a bitter rival and must be banished from Archie’s life completely.

After firing off numerous fruitless letters which brought no result, Charlotte had put a small advertisement in the Westmorland Gazette and in this morning’s post had come, at last, a response. The letter was from a Miss Frost who, together with her sister, owned a small “home from home” boarding house idyllically situated on the shores of Carreckwater. The letter stated that they would consider it their Christian duty to provide a home for an orphan while the child’s mother was away in France. Charlotte decided to pay the Misses Frost a visit without delay.

She drove herself to the tiny village of Carreckwater with its green slate cottages and narrow winding streets. These radiated outwards and ever upwards to the surrounding fells and hills from St Margaret’s church in the village centre. After parking the motor by the old boatyard she strolled along the path by the lake, pulling her warm coat about her in the February chill. The sun was shining, sparkling on the wave tips like diamonds and all around the crags and hills seemed sharp and clear on this bright winter’s day. Charlotte longed for her heart to lift at sight of such beauty but she was shivering, and not simply because of the cold. A cormorant took off as she approached, flying low over the sheen of water, beating its wings till it was a mere speck disappearing in the distance. Sometimes she half wished she could vanish just as easily. Fly away to a new life, a new beginning. But she’d already done that once before, hadn’t she? So what had gone wrong?

Despite disposing of her rivals, and those who represented a threat to her plans, she still hadn’t attained the riches or status she deserved. Having recklessly left Magnus for what she’d believed would be a more comfortable life, Charlotte now lived in fear of Archie discovering the truth: that their marriage was all a sham. It wasn’t as though she expected, or even asked for great happiness, merely security and a degree of comfort and contentment. Yet now, deep in her heart, Charlotte craved it. Why couldn’t she be happy like everyone else?

Laburnum House was a tall, grey stone property situated on the corner of the Parade overlooking the lake. In no time, it seemed, Charlotte was seated in a small parlour, heavily furnished in the Victorian style complete with aspidistra standing to attention in the bay window, drinking tea out of dull brown and white china and doing her best to appear interested in what her hosts were saying.

The Misses Frost had apparently once been debutantes and exceedingly pretty, they assured her, in their day. All suitors had sadly fallen short of their exacting standards however and now, thirty years on, it was far too late to even consider matrimony.

‘Though you can never be sure,’ Miss Bebe said and giggled, quite disarmingly.

Her elder sister cast her a somewhat reproving look before continuing with their life story. ‘When Papa died, leaving us quite comfortably off, we chose to retire to the Lake District and open this boarding house.’

‘Where we live somewhat vicariously by sharing the lives of our many guests,’ Miss Bebe concluded and now both sisters glanced at each other before bursting into paroxysms of laughter.

‘I beg your pardon Lady Emerson, but we are often fascinated by the eccentricities of our lodgers. Those who keep goldfish in the bath. Others who won’t eat meat, except on Thursdays, or young men who dash off to their employment in odd coloured socks. They are an endless source of entertainment. All quite harmless, you understand.’ Miss Frost seemed a little ashamed of this show of levity while Miss Bebe was still gasping into her handkerchief.

Charlotte, having suffered more than most from boarding house life during her days with the LTP’s, understood perfectly. She guessed the Players had often provided similar amusement with any number of landladies. Nevertheless, she decided upon this evidence that the two sisters were both quite mad but that they were also honest and well meaning. There was a regal quality about them with their straight-backed posture, high necked old-fashioned gowns and neatly coiffured white hair, which entirely suited their name.

Miss Bebe’s dress was navy and white polka dots, since today it was a weekday she’d blithely informed Charlotte, though on high days and holidays she claimed to splash out in red or green. Miss Frost, as the elder, more serious sister, clearly thought it more fitting to wear a restrained beige, though she had rather spoiled the elegant effect of this on Charlotte’s arrival by being weighed down with an armful of dirty linen. Even so, she’d managed to maintain dignity as well as her good looks over the years, despite being well past sixty.

It took no time at all for Charlotte to discover that they’d taken a keen interest in the LTP’s and never missed a show. They congratulated her on her recent marriage and understood perfectly that she would wish to abandon such a racketing, nomadic life style, for the more demanding one as Lady of the Manor.

They were all getting along so famously that the moment Miss Frost bustled off to the nether regions of the house to refresh the tea pot, Charlotte edged forward in her seat and confessed there was one, rather delicate matter she should mention - that of the child’s status. ‘I must be honest with you, for she is not - not quite...’