The Lady's Maid (34 page)

‘Thank you, Squire.’ Kate could think of nothing else to say to him. His two precocious daughters were standing behind him, giggling behind their hands.

‘I really must call at the farm and pay my respects to your father and his wife.’ He inclined his head in the direction of Robert, who was assisting Honoria to climb onto the cart. ‘And I suppose there will be a christening soon.’

‘I don’t know, sir.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I heard that you had moved out of the farmhouse and into the cottage with young Molly.’

‘She is too young to live alone, and I’m very fond of her. She’s like a sister to me.’

‘You have a sweet nature, Kate, and I lived with Honoria under my roof for long enough to know that she is, or can be, a difficult woman.’

‘I really must be going, sir. Molly will be waiting for me.’ Kate looked round for Molly and saw her
standing
by one of the yew trees with her friend Sal. They were chattering like a pair of excited starlings, totally oblivious to their surroundings.

‘I think young Molly is enjoying herself with Farmer Cobb’s daughter,’ Squire Westwood said, smiling. ‘Why don’t you come back to the Grange with us, Kate? You would be a most welcome guest at luncheon, and I have something particular to say to you.’

She glanced over his shoulder at the mean little faces of Amy and Letitia. ‘Thank you, sir. But I’m sure your daughters would prefer to have you to themselves.’

‘My daughters are thoroughly displeased with me, Kate. They say that I do not understand them, and complain bitterly because I don’t entertain enough. To which I reply that it is difficult for a widower to invite people to his home when there is no lady of the house to act as hostess. I’m sure they would enjoy your company.’ He turned to his scowling daughters. ‘You would like Miss Coggins to come to luncheon today, wouldn’t you, my dears?’

‘Yes, Papa,’ they chorused, but the expression on their faces was as sour as yesterday’s milk.

‘Young girls,’ Edmund said with an indulgent smile. ‘They are as flighty as a pair of silly sparrows, but they are mine and I love them. You will come, won’t you, Kate?’

‘Thank you, no, sir. I’m sorry, but I still have work to do on the farm. The livestock don’t care how holy the day, they still have their needs.’

He shook his head, and his bright blue eyes clouded
to
a dull grey. ‘It’s not right, Kate. You are a well-educated young lady. You should not be doing the work of a farm labourer. I feel that I ought to speak to your father and tell him that it will not do. In fact, I shall tell him just that when I call at the farm tomorrow. Perhaps a few judicious words in Honoria’s ear …’

‘Please don’t even think of doing such a thing.’ Kate cast an anxious glance at the farm cart, smothering a sigh of relief as she saw Pa flick the whip over the horse’s ears and the vehicle lurched off in the opposite direction. ‘I mean, it is very kind of you to be concerned, but I am quite happy with the way things are. And it is only until the hiring fair; then my father will find a man to replace Sam.’

‘Papa, do come along. We’re getting cold and we’re hungry.’ Amy prodded her father in the back with her leather-bound hymnal, and Letitia sniggered.

‘Girls, please.’ Edmund turned on them, frowning.

‘I really must go, Squire,’ Kate said, seizing the chance to wave frantically at Molly while his back was turned. ‘Good day to you all.’

He turned to face her. ‘But I will see you tomorrow when I call at the farm? I need to speak to you in private, Kate.’

She nodded her head, unable to think of a valid excuse, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Molly hurrying towards them.

Squire Westwood tipped his hat. ‘Until tomorrow, Kate. Come, girls.’

‘We don’t want a drab like that as a companion, Papa,’ Amy protested as they walked away.

‘We want someone who knows how to keep herself clean and tidy,’ Letitia added in a stage whisper, casting a malicious look over her shoulder in Kate’s direction. ‘She smells like the farmyard.’

Kate could hear the squire scolding his daughters for their lack of manners, but that did not help. She glanced down at her mud-spattered grey dress with a damp patch seeping upwards from a wet hem. Her boots had seen better days and her shawl had moth holes the size of pennies. She knew that what they said was spiteful, but true. She forced herself to smile as Molly came bounding up to her like an excited puppy. ‘What did the squire want with you, Kate?’

‘Nothing much. Let’s go home. I need to change back into my working clothes and so do you.’

Molly tucked her hand through the crook of Kate’s arm. ‘Are you going to see him again? I think he’s sweet on you.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘But he wanted something from you. Sal and me could tell that by the way he was bending over you, all friendly like and looking as though he wanted to gobble you up for his dinner.’

‘That’s just your over-active imaginations, Molly.’

‘We think he wants to marry you, Kate. He may be an old man, but he’s very rich.’

‘And I’m the Queen of Sheba,’ Kate said, chuckling. ‘Come on, don’t dawdle. I’m looking forward to a bowl of that vegetable soup you made for us.’

Molly did a little hop and a skip. ‘At least I don’t have to go back to the farmhouse today, and I have
the
gaffer to thank for that. Her ladyship wouldn’t think twice about making me work all day Sunday without any time off. It’s just a pity that you have to see to the cows.’

‘Well, they can’t milk themselves, poor things. We’d best hurry, Moll. It’s starting to rain.’

Molly quickened her pace in order to keep up with her. ‘And what do you think about Miss Josephine marrying the toff from London? Sal says that he’s too good for the likes of her. What do you say to that?’

Next morning, Kate was in the barn keeping out of the squire’s way. She had seen him arrive more than an hour ago, and Pa had come out of the house to greet him. Molly had continued to tease her about her would-be suitor’s intentions, and Kate had given up trying to dissuade her from her romantic notions. If he had a proposition to make, she was certain that it was a repeat of his offer of a position as companion to his wayward daughters. There had been times when working at Westwood Grange had seemed like a perfect way out of an almost impossible situation, but that had been before Sam had left Molly in her care. She jumped as a voice from the doorway dragged her back to the present.

‘Your father told me that I might find you here, Kate.’ Edmund Westwood took off his silk top hat as he stepped over the threshold. ‘Good morning, my dear.’

She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Good morning, Squire.’

He stood with his back to the door, clutching his
hat
in his hands. ‘I – er …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have something to ask you, Kate.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I – I don’t quite know how to put this.’

‘If it’s about being a companion to your daughters, Squire, then I’m –’

‘No, my dear.’ He seized her hand and held it to his breast. ‘It’s not about my girls, although of course they will be delighted if you accept my offer.’

‘Please let me go, sir.’

‘I know that I’m doing this very badly,’ he said, clasping her hand even tighter. ‘Kate, I’ll come to the point. There is no easy way to say this. I’m not a romantic man, and I know I’m many years your senior, but –’

She snatched her hand away. ‘Please don’t say any more.’

‘I must. I’ve gone too far to retreat. I’ve admired you for a very long time. I’m asking you to marry me, Kate. I need a wife and my daughters need a mother. My dear Kate, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Chapter Twenty

THE SQUIRE HAD
taken Kate’s refusal with good grace, but she had seen disappointment in his eyes and heard a note of regret in his voice even as he wished her well. She had not told anyone about his proposal, not even Molly, who would have taken great delight in saying ‘I told you so’. Sometimes, in the dead of night when sleep evaded her, Kate wondered if she had done the right thing, but in the cool light of dawn commonsense reasserted itself, and she knew that marriage to the squire would make them both miserable. She would rather die an old maid than marry a man she did not love.

As the days went on, rumours abounded in the village. Most people seemed to think that Josie’s wedding would take place in June. Sal Cobb kept Molly up to date with gossip from the manor house. She told her that the servants’ hall was abuzz with excitement at the prospect of a big party. Miss Josie’s engagement had not, she said, sweetened her temper, and Mr Challenor’s visits to the house were infrequent and short. Some hinted that he was reluctant to come up to scratch, but Miss Hickson quickly put a stop to such gossip. It also transpired that Nanny Barnes was proving to be quite a handful. Lady Damerell, it seemed,
was
losing patience with the old woman who kept wandering about the house searching for the nursery. Being back at Damerell Manor seemed to have made her condition worse and quite often she was found lost and bewildered somewhere on the estate, and brought home by one of the gardeners or farm labourers. Kate felt somewhat responsible for her as it was she who had insisted on bringing Nanny Barnes back with them, but her attempts to see Josie and plead Nanny’s case were foiled by Hickson. Sometimes she saw Josie out riding, but they were now living in two completely different worlds. Their childhood friendship seemed to have ended and when Josie was married their separation would be permanent. Kate resigned herself to the fact and made a brave attempt to get on with the unrelenting day to day work on the farm.

The morning sun filtered through the windowpanes in the dairy, and a warm breeze wafted in through the open door, bringing with it the smells of the farmyard and the welcome scent of apple blossom from the orchard. Kate was humming as she used the Scotch hands to form the butter into shape. She looked up as a shadow momentarily blotted out the sun and she turned with a start to see the squire standing in the doorway.

He doffed his top hat. ‘Good morning, Kate. I was hoping to find you here.’

‘Where else would I be, Squire?’

‘I’m going to the hiring fair in Dorchester. I wondered if you would care to accompany me?’

There was no hint of embarrassment in his manner. He might have been speaking to an old friend rather than the woman who had rejected him so firmly just a few weeks previously. Kate glanced down at her soiled skirts and dusty boots. ‘As you see, I am not dressed for going into town, sir. And I have work to do. I don’t think that my father would allow me to go.’

‘That’s easily settled, my dear. I’ve already had a word with Robert and he gave his permission for you to have the rest of the day off. He’s going to the hiring fair to look for a strong fellow to replace young Loveday, as well as extra men to help in the fields.’

Kate hesitated. She could see her stepmother’s hand in this. She was well aware that Honoria’s attempts at matchmaking were motivated by a desire to rid herself of a stepdaughter who, even though she was banished from the house, was a constant thorn in her side. Kate also knew that her father felt guilty about the way in which she had been treated. He had taken to calling in at the cottage on his way home from market or business in Dorchester, bringing gifts of tea, sugar or other small luxuries which she and Molly could ill afford. A string of sausages or a hock of ham would find their way to the porch outside the cottage, sometimes even a truckle of cheese, which should have been taken to market but was left outside wrapped in butter muslin. There was, however, no question of Kate returning to the family home. Her father might have forgiven her for speaking out against her stepmother, but Honoria ruled the household with a rod of iron.

‘Come, Kate,’ Squire Westwood said with a jovial
smile
. ‘I promise that I won’t embarrass you by repeating my offer of marriage. Let us put the past well and truly behind us. I would simply enjoy the company of a pretty young woman on this fine day. What do you say?’

An involuntary smile curved her lips at the thought of shedding her working clothes for something tidier. It would be wonderful to get away from the hard physical work of the farm, even if only for one day. ‘Thank you, sir. I think I would enjoy it very much.’

‘There is one condition, Kate.’

She eyed him warily. ‘What is that, Squire Westwood?’

‘That you stop calling me sir, or Squire Westwood, and call me Edmund.’

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. ‘I’ll try, sir. I mean, Edmund.’

‘That’s better. Come with me. I’ll drive you to the cottage, where you can change out of those disgusting rags and put on something more suitable.’

After an initial period of awkwardness, Kate found herself relaxing in the squire’s company. She had changed out of her working clothes into her only decent gown, which she had washed and ironed, so that at least it looked respectable if not exactly elegant. She tied the blue ribbons of her straw bonnet at a jaunty angle beneath her chin and slipped a shawl around her shoulders. Glancing in the small, fly-spotted mirror that Molly had smuggled out of the farmhouse, Kate was satisfied that at least she looked clean and tidy. She might have chosen a
different
person with whom to spend her free time, but she felt a frisson of excitement running through her veins at the thought of a day out and a rest from the back-breaking chores that had been heaped upon her slender shoulders.

Edmund Westwood proved to be a considerate, if slightly dull, companion. Even when he was doing business, hiring men to work on his land, he saw to it that Kate did not feel neglected. He asked for her opinion on the suitability of each candidate, listening to her views as though they really mattered to him. He was solicitous as to her comfort. If there was a chair handy, he made certain that Kate was seated. He introduced her to his friends and acquaintances, and when he thought she might be tiring, he took her to the dining room at the Antelope Hotel where they enjoyed a pleasant midday meal. He was obviously trying his hardest to please her, and, in spite of everything, she found that she was enjoying herself.