“I’ll try,” Kate said, sighing. “But—oh, Sarah, it seems so fantastic that you should be dressing me for dinner when my aunt and Torquil are—are lying dead! It—it is almost indecent to wish to swallow a mouthful!”
“And when, miss, according to your calculations, will it be decent for you to eat your dinner again, like a Christian?” demanded Sarah somewhat tartly.
That made Kate laugh, and did much to lighten the oppression that weighed down her spirits. When she went down the Grand Stairway, she found Pennymore hovering in the hall, with the very evident intention of conducting her into Sir Timothy’s room. He smiled benignly upon her, saying that, if she would not think it presumptuous of him, he would venture to make so bold as to say that the sight of her would do Sir Timothy all the good in the world. “It’s a long time since I’ve seen him take such a fancy to anyone as he has to you, miss, and Tenby says the same. If you’ll come this way, you’ll find him and Mr Philip waiting for you.”
He preceded her to Sir Timothy’s room, but although he opened the door for her, and bowed her in, a discernment which she recognized as being extremely nice made him forbear to announce her. She went in unheralded, smiled shyly at Philip, who had risen quickly, and had taken two steps forward to meet her, but went past him, to bend over Sir Timothy, softly kissing his cheek.
He took her hand, and patted it. “Well, my pretty!” he said fondly. “So here you are! Pour her out a glass of Madeira, Philip! Sit down beside me, my dear! I’m afraid you have had a very uncomfortable day.”
She could not help feeling, as she recalled the events of the day, that this was a masterpiece of understatement, and she replied, rather faintly: “Yes, sir. It—it has been a little uncomfortable !”
He went on patting her hand. “Pennymore has been telling me that he doesn’t know what we could have done without you. Thank you, my dear! Your nurse, too! You must bring her to see me tomorrow: she sounds to be a most excellent woman, and I should wish to express my gratitude to her. That’s right, Philip! Pull up that little table, and set the glass on it! He and I have been discussing the future, Kate, and although it would make me very happy if you were to make Staplewood your home, you mustn’t do so if you feel the least disinclination! I shall go on very well, and I daresay you will come to visit me, so that I shall have that to look forward to.” He glanced across at Philip, with a melancholy smile. “I know you prefer the house your father built, my boy. Perhaps you will sell Staplewood, when it is yours: I shall be dead, so I shan’t know.”
“No, sir: I shan’t do that,” Philip said.
“Well, I can’t deny that I shall like to think that when I’ve cocked up my toes there will still be a Broome at Staplewood,” said Sir Timothy, more cheerfully. “You will have to decide both of you, whether you will come to live here immediately, or wait until I’m dead. I shan’t last for many more years, and I no longer have the health or the strength to manage my estates. You could do it, and I think it would be wise of you not to put off what I feel sure you think of as the evil day! However, I don’t mean to press you, and we won’t talk of it any more tonight.” He smiled at Kate. “Drink up your wine, my pretty! I think we won’t discuss anything that has happened today. We shall eat our dinner, and after that I shall challenge you to a rubber of piquet…’