Blackmoore by Julianne Donaldson
Chapter 29
“No. No no no no no,” I muttered to myself as I hurried through the halls and down the stairs. When I reached the entry hall, the butler was standing alone with several traveling trunks piled around him.
“My mother?” I asked.
He bowed. “In the drawing room, miss.”
I ran to the drawing room, my feet sliding on the marble floor, and entered the room breathless.
Her laugh rang through the room—husky and sultry. She sat right next to the younger Mr. Brandon on the settee. She was sitting so close to him her leg was pressed up against him and her bosom rested on his arm. My gaze darted around the room, finding Miss St.Claire with her mouth open in surprise, and Mr. Pritchard with a scathing look of reproach, and Herr and Frau Spohr, and that older couple whose name I kept forgetting, and the Delafield cousins, and more. At least half the guests were here. At least half the company was witnessing my mother practically sitting on Mr. Brandon’s lap.
“Mama!” I hurried to her. “I was not expecting you. At all.”
She looked up at me, but for a startled moment I had the strange sensation that she didn’t recognize me. Her gaze went right through me. Then she said, “Kitty! My dearest girl! I missed you too much to stay away.”
Her hand wrapped around Mr. Brandon’s arm and squeezed. He was not looking at me.
I tried to calm my racing heart. “Oh, did you? How silly. But where is Maria?”
She waved a hand. “Upstairs getting changed. But I could not spare a moment away from this marvelous company, and now I see how right my instincts were.” She looked at Mr. Brandon, and their faces were so close together they appeared to be breathing the same air. She licked her lips.
“Mama.” The panic in my voice made it louder than I intended. “I must speak with you. Immediately.”
She turned her gaze on me slowly, and there, in her eyes, was that dull gleam of determination that I had seen countless times before. “Don’t be silly, Kitty.”
“Kate,” I said, clenching my fists.
She laughed lightly. “Don’t be silly, Kitty. I am going to sit here with Mr. Brandon.” She turned her gaze back to him. “You were telling me about your estate. Do go on.”
Mr. Brandon flicked a glance at me. It was full of pity. My stomach turned at the sight. He was probably, right at this moment, thanking his good fortune that he had not connected himself to me.
He edged over slightly, moving his arm away from Mama, and said politely, “My father’s estate is in Surrey, Mrs. Worthington.”
“Surrey! I must hear all about it.”
He smiled politely at her but looked at me as he said, “I am happy to oblige.”
Mama followed his gaze and seemed surprised to see me. Her brow creased in a frown. “What are you doing still standing there, Kitty? Go and see to your sister.”
Frustration and fear and helplessness filled me, and I looked about the drawing room, and back to Mama. Finally I turned and hurried from the room.
“What are you and Mama doing here?” I yelled as I entered my room, which was where the butler told me Maria had been deposited.
Her boots and stockings and bonnet were strewn all over my lovely plum-colored bed, which she was lounging on.
She looked up and scowled at me. “Why should we not be here? You were the one who thought to invite me in the first place.”
“Yes, but then you were ill! And you were not going to come!”
She propped her chin in her hand, and her gaze slid over me with a vague curiosity. “I was not ill. What gave you that idea?”
I stared at her. “Mama said you were ill with a fever the morning I left for Blackmoore.”
She snorted. “I was not ill.”
“Then why did Mama say you were?”
She waved a hand. “I don’t know! She told me that we were invited here but that we had to wait a few days before we could join you.” She laughed. “Did she really tell you I was ill? And this is all a great surprise for you? Oh, that’s rich. Mama is so clever.”
“Maria!” Panic had me in its grip. I grabbed everything of hers that was on my bed and threw it to the floor. “This is no laughing matter! Mrs. Delafield does not even want me here. How do you think she feels about Mama being here?”
“I’d wager she’s ready to spit nails.”
“Exactly!” I grabbed Maria’s arm and pulled on it.
“Ow! What are you doing that for?”
“You have to leave. Immediately. Put your shoes back on.”
She pushed me away, and when I did not let go, she used her foot to send me sprawling backwards across the room. “I am not going anywhere, Kitty. Why should you be the only one to have any fun?”
I caught myself against the wall and advanced on her again, grabbing a foot this time and pulling. “This. Is. Not. Fun!”
She scrabbled for something to hold onto and ended up pulling all the bedclothes off the bed with her as she landed in a heap on the floor. Panting, I ran around the bed and looked for her shoes and stockings. Where did that other shoe go? I got down on all fours and reached under the bed, saying, “We will just send you right back in the carriage you came in, and it will be as if this never happened, and I will win my trip to India, and—”
“No! I shan’t go! You may be older than me, Kitty, but you are not in charge!”
I stood, holding one shoe and her stockings, as an overwhelming frustration took hold of me. I shook her shoe at her and yelled, “Kate! I wish to be called Kate!”
She crossed her arms and glared at me. And something in me broke. I threw everything to the floor and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.
I ran across the moors until I reached the large outcropping of rock. I climbed it without thinking about being careful. And then I sat at the top of the rock and looked across the moors and let the wildness and the solitude of the place seep into every broken crack of me. Birdsong reached me—the cry of the birds of the coast and the moors—and I regretted that I had never come out here with Henry. He would have known some of the birds here. He could have told me the name of the one that sounded like wind across water.
With the unexpected arrival of Mama and Maria, I knew my time here was over. I knew, as certainly as I knew my name was Kate Worthington, that they would ruin everything. Mama might already have ruined everything. I might return to the house and find Mrs. Delafield in an uproar and ready to throw us all out before we could cause a scandal that would taint her precious family name.
The sky was grey today, the wind cold. I felt the hint of rain in the air, the occasional chill of an errant raindrop landing on my arm. I breathed in deeply and thought I smelled the ocean. It was a tantalizing scent—a beckoning of freedom and adventure and escape.
This trip to Blackmoore had not been the dream I had nurtured for the past ten years. I had imagined an idyllic holiday with my two best friends, Henry and Sylvia. It had turned out so vastly different from my imaginings that I felt deeply disappointed, both in the reality and in myself. I had never thought I would regret something I had longed for. I had never imagined feeling this heavy emptiness here. And it saddened me deeply.
It frightened me, too. For if Blackmoore could disappoint like this, what guarantee did I have that India would not disappoint as well? I climbed down from the rock and wandered the moors until the worry about what my mother might be doing overcame my desire for this uninterrupted solitude. Finally I turned back toward the house and the trouble that awaited me.
I had crossed the entry hall and was approaching the drawing room when I heard Mrs. Delafield.
“Katherine!” I froze. Mrs. Delafield was coming in my direction at a fierce pace. “May I speak to you a moment, please?”
Mrs. Delafield’s smile was all cold fury and controlled rage. I glanced at the butler standing nearby and felt an almost overwhelming desire to throw myself at his feet and beg him to protect me.
Her hand closed around my arm. She gestured toward the arch that led out of the domed entry hall. “In the library, if you please.”
My heart quickened with dread and nervousness. But in the wake of that icy politeness and that cutting, threatening smile, I didn’t know what else to do but go with her.
I followed her with a pounding heart as she led me to the library and closed the door behind us. She stepped away from me and took two long, deep breaths, before turning around to face me.
“I allowed my children to convince me that your company might be acceptable here. But now you have brought that woman into my childhood home and brought scandal to me, to my father, and to the Delafield family name. I am certain all of my guests are looking for somewhere else to be for the rest of the summer.”
My face was hot, my clenched hands trembling. “I promise I had nothing to do with my mother’s presence here.”
Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “She told me that you invited her and that sister of yours.”
I shook my head. “No. I only invited Maria. Not her.”
She lifted her chin, looking down at me, and her voice shook with umbrage. “And who authorized you to do such a thing?”
“Henry.”
It was a mistake to name him. I could see it at once and wished I could snatch his name back from the air to undo the damage I saw in her. Bright spots of red dotted her cheeks. Her head began to shake, back and forth, back and forth, and I could see the fury building in her eyes.
“I will speak to my son. But let us be clear on this point: you will never become mistress of Blackmoore. You will never bear the name of Delafield. You do not deserve the honor of being connected to the Delafield family—not you, nor any of your sisters, and especially not your mother.” Her trembling finger pointed at me again. “Do you understand?”
Shame coursed through me. “Perfectly,” I whispered.
“Now.” She drew her shoulders back and smoothed her hair. “See if you can rein in that woman before she ruins everything. If not, the three of you will be leaving at first light tomorrow.”
She stalked out of the room. I sagged against the nearest wall and dropped my head in my hands. It would do no good to cry, especially now when I still had work to do. As soon as I reached the drawing room, I was grabbed by the arm and pulled to one side. It was Sylvia, and she looked fearsome.
“This is a disaster, Kitty!” she whispered. “My mother is ready to strangle your mother. She’s been flirting with every man here, and my Mr. Brandon just told me his plans have changed and that they might very well leave tomorrow! You have to do something before things get completely out of control!”
“I know. I’m going to fix this. I promise.” I tried to smile. I tried to look confident, so she would believe me. But in truth, I had no idea how to fix my mother.
Mama had made the same mistake I had made and was talking to the abominably rude Mr. Pritchard, who was looking at her with unfiltered contempt. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment as I approached them.
“Mama,” I said in a quiet voice. “Maria is not feeling well. I think you should check on her. Come. I will take you to her right now.”
She laughed. “Nonsense. Maria is in perfect health.”
I glared at her, feeling Mr. Pritchard’s gaze on me. “In truth, Mama, she is most unwell.”
Mama leaned close to me and said in a loud whisper, “Stop trying to ruin my fun, Kitty!”
“Mrs. Worthington.” I started at the sound of Henry’s voice behind me and whirled around to see him walking toward us, a wide smile on his face.
“Henry!” Mama turned from Mr. Pritchard and held out her hand for Henry to take. He bowed his head and pressed a kiss to her hand. She giggled. “Oh my! You are ever so gallant!”
Henry took her hand and pulled it through the bend of his arm, holding it there with his other hand. “I heard you were here and came immediately to beg the honor of taking you on a tour of Blackmoore.”
“My own personal tour! How you dote on me.” She squeezed his arm.
His smile stayed perfectly in place. His glance moved to me. “Kate? Would you care to join us?”
“Oh, no!” Mama answered before I had a chance to speak. “She must take care of Maria, who became very ill in the carriage ride here. In fact, I am surprised she has left her alone for this long. What are you thinking, Kitty? Abandoning your sick sister like this? Hurry away now, or else you will have everyone thinking you are completely unfeeling.”
I wanted to scream at her.
Henry touched my shoulder. “You should go, Kate,” he murmured, and I realized he was trying to save me from myself.
I nodded, turned, and walked silently through the door and up the stairs to the west wing. I sank against the wall of the corridor outside my bedroom and couldn’t find the strength to enter it.