Kate smiled, and got up. “What should I do without you, Sarah?” she said. “You have so much sense! I beg your pardon for flying into alt: I’ll try not to be so stupid again. I think the—the things that have happened today have been rather too much for me. I shall be better tomorrow!”
Sarah gave her a resounding kiss. “That’s my good girl!” she said. She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and said: “If that’s Ellen, I’ll send her away!” She went to the door and opened it, saying as she did so: “I’ll attend to Miss—Oh, it’s you, sir! Yes, you can come in!”
“Philip?” Kate cried eagerly. “Come in, come in! How is Sir Timothy? Did you tell him what had happened?”
“I wasn’t obliged to tell him that Minerva was dead. He had guessed it. As soon as I went into his room, he asked me if she was dead, and when I said yes, he sighed, and said that he had feared she must be. Then he said: “Poor soul!” as though she had been a mere acquaintance. But when I told him that there was worse news for him to hear, I saw him brace himself. There was a painful look of anxiety in his eyes, and he lifted his hand, as if to silence me. Then he let it fall, and spoke just oneword—Torquil?”
Kate caught her breath. “Philip, you don’t mean—Good God, did he know that Torquil was mad?”
“Suspected it. He told me that he had asked Delabole for the truth more than a year ago. Delabole reassured him, just as he tried to reassure me. Delabole is very plausible, you know. I think my uncle wanted to believe him, perhaps because he felt helpless, perhaps because the thought that his only son was not of sound mind was so repugnant that he couldn’t bring himself to face it.” He stopped, and said, after a moment: “You know how it is with him—I told you once! His nature is too gentle—too yielding! He can never have been a match for Minerva, and after his health broke down he only wished to be left in peace.”
“I know, I know!” Kate said quickly. “And, indeed, Philip, it is hard to see what he could have done for Torquil, when his health is so precarious, and my aunt was determined that she, and she only, should rule the roast here!”
He smiled gratefully at her, and said: “You do understand, and I needn’t beg you not to think harshly of him.”
“No, that you need not! I couldn’t think harshly of him! But go on! Did he guess that Torquil had murdered his mother? Or had Tenby told him prepared his mind for the shock?”
“No, I don’t think so. If that had been so, he must have known that Torquil had strangled her, and he didn’t know that. When I told him that Torquil had strangled her, in a fit of mania, he changed colour—looked so ghastly that I obliged him to swallow some of his cordial. He was greatly distressed—far more than by the news that Minerva was dead! He said—oh, in an aching voice!—“Poor boy! poor, unhappy boy!” Then, when he had a little recovered, he asked me if I realized what it must mean: that Torquil would have to be put away in some asylum. That was what upset him more than all the rest. When I told him that Torquil was dead, too, he was merely thankful. He said, very frankly, that he had never been able to care for Torquil, as he had cared for little Julian, but that to have been obliged to condemn him to spend the rest of his life in a lunatic asylum would have left him with nothing more to do than to have put a period to his own life. Then, after a little while, he asked me if you were still here, and when I told him, yes, and that you had refused to leave Staplewood, he instantly became more cheerful, and said that you were the silver lining to a very black cloud, and that he need no longer be afraid that he wouldn’t see you again. When I left him, he was quite happily making plans for our wedding! He seems to have set his heart on leading you to the altar, and bestowing your hand on me himself—here, in the Church, as soon after the funerals as may be possible. I told him that I couldn’t answer for you, and if you dislike the idea you mustn’t hesitate to tell me so. It would be a private ceremony, of course: just ourselves, my uncle, Mrs Nidd to support you, and, if I can lure him back from his London dissipations, Gurney Templecombe to support me. Would you like it, or would you prefer to be married in London?”
“Oh, I should much, much prefer to be married here!” she exclaimed, flushing with pleasure. “And for Sir Timothy to give me away! How kind, how very kind of him!”
He turned his head to look at Sarah, a question in his eyes.
“The decision must rest with you, Mrs Nidd. It won’t do for Kate to remain at Staplewood without you to lend her countenance: I know the sort of scandal-broth that all the tattle-boxes brew! Can you stay with us until you’ve seen us buckled, or am I asking too much of you? I know you have your own home to manage, and perhaps your husband might object to it, if you were to extend your stay? Not to mention your father-in-law!”
“Joe knows Miss Kate must come first,” responded Sarah. “And as for Father, I don’t doubt he’ll cut up stiff, and make a great grievance out of it, but you don’t need to worry about him, sir! He don’t mean all he says: he’s just naturally full of crotchets! I’ll write a letter to Joe, explaining how it is.”
“Thank you!” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m very much obliged to you! Kate, my uncle wishes us both to dine with him, in his own room: may I tell him that we’ll do so?”
“Yes, indeed, you may!” Kate answered. I—I was dreading having to sit down to dinner in that huge, sombre room, trying to be civil to Dr Delabole! It is so much cosier in Sir Timothy’s room!”
“Dr Delabole,” he said, “will be eating his dinner in the breakfast-parlour! But you are very right: the dining-room was never used, in my aunt’s day, except for large parties. If we find ourselves obliged to take up our quarters here, I shall ask my uncle if we may revert to the old custom of dining in the Red saloon when we are alone.”
“In the meantime, Mr Philip,” interpolated Sarah, edging him towards the door, “I’ll thank you to go away! If Sir Timothy wishes Miss Kate to dine with him, she must change her dress! And if you’ll pardon me for venturing to give you the word with no bark on it, I’ll prefer your room to your company, sir!”
He laughed, but said: “Must she change her dress? She looks very becoming to me!”
“Well, if you think she looks very becoming, with her hair in a tangle, and her dress all creased and rumpled, you must be nutty on her!” retorted Sarah acidly. “She looks like a hoyden, and let her go down to your uncle like that I will not—not if you was to ask me on your bended knees! Get along with you, do, Mr Philip!”
She then thrust him out of the room, firmly shutting the door on him, and uttered, in accents of loathing: “Men!” However, she added grudgingly, as she passed Kate’s wardrobe under rapid review: “Not but what it looks to me as though Sir Timothy knows a point more than the devil, as the saying goes. That’s a very shrewd notion of his, Miss Kate! Once it gets to be known that it was him gave you to Mr Philip, in Church—and it will get to be known, make no mistake about that!—you’ll have everybody that is anybody coming to pay you morning visits. And as long as you don’t get to thinking yourself first in consequence, and setting people’s bristles up by condescending to them, which Mr Pennymore has told me your aunt was used to do, you needn’t fear they won’t like you. So just you sit down there, Miss Kate, while I brush your hair for you, and see if you can’t pluck up a bit!”