She left him presently, knowing that, however much he might like her, she had no power to raise his spirits. She had not dared to disclose to him that she was about to be married to his cousin, for she feared that this might fan into a flame the embers of his inculcated hatred of Philip, always smouldering beneath the surface of his affection. His mood was one of profound melancholy, but she thought that it needed only a touch to send him into one of his fits of ungovernable rage.
She was looking deeply troubled when she entered her bedchamber, a circumstance that prompted Sarah, expertly folding one of the evening-dresses Lady Broome had bestowed on her niece, to say briskly: “If Father was to see you, Miss Kate, he’d say you was looking like a strained hair in a can! You’ve got no call to be so down pin, love—not unless you’ve been breaking straws with Mr Philip, which I don’t think!”
“No, indeed!” Kate answered. “I don’t think I could!”
“Ah!” said Sarah darkly. “Time will show! Where has he gone off to?”
“Market Harborough, to hire a chaise to carry us to London. Don’t put that dress in my trunk! I am not taking it. Only the dresses I brought with me!”
“Well, Miss Kate, you know best, but it does seem a shame to let a beautiful silk like this go begging!” said Sarah, sighing regretfully. “It isn’t as if it could be of any use to her ladyship. Still, I daresay Mr Philip will purchase another for you, because the way he’s wasting the ready is downright sinful! Not but what I’m looking forward to traveling in a post-chaise, and I don’t deny it! It’s something I’ve never done before, though we did come up to London in the Mail coach when we landed at Portsmouth—and a rare set-out that was!”
Kate laughed. “When Papa sent the baggage by carrier, and it was a week before it reached us? What a long time ago it seems!”
“Well, it is a long time. And if my Joe had brought the baggage it wouldn’t have taken him a week! Where shall I put these dresses, Miss Kate? It won’t do to leave them hanging in the wardrobe, where, as like as not, they’ll be pulled out one by one of the housemaids. I wouldn’t put it past that saucy little minx, Phoebe, or whatever she calls herself, to try them on!”
After a little discussion, it was decided to pack them carefully in the chest-of-drawers, which was done, not without argument, Kate being determined to do her share of the work, and Sarah being equally determined that she should sit in a chair, and direct operations. But, as she paid no attention to anything Kate said, Kate soon abandoned the chair, and began to fold the dresses herself. This earned her a scold, Sarah exclaiming: “Good gracious, Miss Kate! that’s no way to pack muslin! Just look how you’ve creased it!”
She plucked the garment out of Kate’s hands as she spoke, and was shaking it vigorously when a piercing scream almost caused her to drop it. She and Kate stood staring at one another for a startled moment. The scream was not repeated, but just as Sarah began to say: “Well, whatever next!” an even more unnerving sound reached them: someone downstairs was uttering wail upon wail of despair.
Deathly pale, in the grip of fear, Kate tore open the door, and ran out into the gallery, listening, with dilating eyes and thudding heart. She gasped: “It’s Sidlaw! Oh, what can have happened? What can have happened?”
She picked up her skirts, and raced down the broad stairs, almost colliding in the hall with Pennymore, also hurrying to discover what had happened, and looking quite as pale as she was. The door into Lady Broome’s drawing-room stood open. Within the room, an appalling sight met Kate’s shrinking gaze. Lady Broome was lying on the floor, her face strangely blue, her tongue protruding, and her eyes, starting from their sockets, fixed in a stare of fury. Beside her, Sidlaw was kneeling, rocking herself to and fro, and sobbing over and over again between her wails: “I warned her! I warned her! Oh, my beautiful! Oh, my dear lady!”
Sarah, thrusting her way through the servants who had begun to congregate in the hall, some frightened, some in the expectation of excitement, shut the door in their faces, pushed Kate aside, and knelt down beside Lady Broome, while Sidlaw continued to wail and sob. Seeing that Pennymore was trembling so much that he was obliged to cling to a chair-back for support, Kate slipped out of the room, and, singling the second footman out from the small crowd of servants, quietly told him to find Dr Delabole, and to inform him that he was wanted immediately in my lady’s drawing-room. She then dismissed the other servants, saying that my lady had had a seizure, and went back into the drawing-room, to find that Sarah had risen from her knees, and was trying to induce Sidlaw to abate her lamentations.
Pennymore, who was looking as if he might faint, said hoarsely: “Stop her, Mrs Nidd, stop her! The Master will hear her! Oh, my God, what are we going to do?”
Kate, feeling that if she allowed herself to look at Lady Broome’s distorted countenance she too would faint, kept her eyes resolutely averted, and her voice under strict control. “I have sent William to fetch the doctor. I think you should find Tenby, and—and tell him that her ladyship has had a—a seizure. That is what I have said to the others. Tenby will know what to do if Sir Timothy should be upset.”
“Yes, miss, I’ll go at once,” Pennymore replied mechanically, and went shakily out of the room.
Sidlaw’s wails had changed to wild laughter. Sarah looked quickly round the room, saw a vase of roses standing on the desk, snatched it up, pulled the flowers out of it, and dashed the water into Sidlaw’s face.
“Sarah, is she—is she dead?” Kate whispered, as Sidlaw’s hysteria ceased into a gasp of shock.
Sarah nodded, and said authoritatively: “Help me to get this demented creature into a chair, miss! Come now, Miss Sidlaw, don’t start screeching again, there’s a dear! You sit down here, and pull yourself together!”
Huddled in the chair, Sidlaw said: “He’s killed her! I knew it would happen! I knew it! She wouldn’t listen, she wouldn’t ever listen to me!” Her distraught gaze fell on Kate; she pointed a shaking finger at her, and said shrilly: “It lies at your door! You wicked, ungrateful hussy, you murdered her!”
A ringing slap from Sarah made her utter a whimper, and cower away. “That’s enough!” said Sarah sternly. “One more word out of you and that’s only a taste of what you’ll get from me! You should be ashamed of yourself! A woman of your age behaving like a totty-headed chit of a girl with more hair than wit!”
Sidlaw said fiercely, glaring up at her: “I know what I know!”
“Yes!” retorted Sarah. “And I know what I know, you spiteful toad! And, what’s more, I’ll tell you I know, if you dare to say another word against Miss Kate! Don’t you heed her, Miss Kate! She’s clean out of her senses!”
Kate, who had fallen back, and was standing by the window, grasping a fold of the heavy curtains for support, shuddered, and said, in an anguished voice: “Don’t, Sarah! Don’t!”
An interruption was created by the doctor, who came into the room, breathing hard and fast, as though he had been running. There was fear in his eyes, and when they alighted on Lady Broome’s body a green tinge came into his face, and he uttered a groan. Only a perfunctory examination was needed to convince him that she had gone beyond his aid. As he drew down the lids over Lady Broome’s dreadfully staring eyes, the fear in his own grew, and he was obliged to swallow convulsively, and to moisten his lips before he managed to say: “There’s nothing I can do. She’s dead. I wanted to remain with her, but she wouldn’t permit me to do so! She could always control him! I have never known her to fail! She did so this morning! I assure you, she checked his—his fury immediately! When I left this room, he was sitting in that chair, just as She had commanded him to do! I never dreamed—oh, dear, oh, dear, she must have told him!—I warned her to take care—I have frequently warned her that he was growing beyond her control! What a tragedy! What a terrible tragedy!”