Stirring Passions
By
Maggi Andersen
(c) copyright by Maggie Andersen, September 2008
Published by New Concepts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, September 2008
ISBN 978-1-60394-223-2
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Creeping along the passage, Kate carefully avoided the spots where squeaky floorboards would announce her progress. It was close to midnight and the moon shone down through the upper hall window, lighting her way to the stairs. She was seeking hot milk from the kitchen. The prized copy of Jane Austen’s novel, Emma, brought down from London by a friend of her father’s, had made her unaccountably restless. As she passed her parents bedroom door, she heard a soft groan. Kate’s cheeks grew hot. She knew what that sound meant. Her parents were making love, and she knew that tomorrow at breakfast, her parents would be very tender with each other and her mother’s eyes would be soft and bright.
* * * *
Kate shook out the muddy hem of her blue cambric gown, and tucked a stray lock of chestnut hair into place beneath her blond, straw bonnet. Approaching the door, she seized the heavy brass knocker with both hands, rapping twice. Barely a minute passed before the butler, Keaton, opened it, a warm smile softening his dignified expression.
"Why, Miss Kate, Lord Laurence is away from home. The whole family has up and gone to London. Lady Firth’s mother has passed away."
"Oh, Keaton, how sad! Poor Lady Evenstock suffered dreadfully."
"It was a blessed release, Miss Kate. They will be gone for another week. Would you care to come in for refreshments after your walk?"
Kate looked down at her muddy boots and shook her head. "No. Thank you, Keaton."
"May I offer you a lift home? The gig is being taken into town."
"That’s kind of you, Keaton, but it’s lovely to be out after all the rain and a mere stroll home, which shall do me no harm at all."
Keaton gazed upon the glowing, heart-shaped face turned up to him. He knew this lively and healthy young person would have no difficulty with the three-mile walk back to Roseheath. He watched as she tied the strings of her bonnet firmly under her chin. She waved as she took the path leading away across the fields.
Keaton had been employed at Firth Manor long before Kate came into the world and had watched her grow up. Kate and Laurence had been inseparable. Friends and neighbors all their lives, the two played together as children, rode together as young adults and squabbled and teased each other still. He remembered nurse patching Kate’s knee when she fell out of an apple tree in the orchard. And sent for the surgeon to set Laurence’s broken arm when he tried to jump his horse over a hedge with Kate riding behind in hot pursuit.
He had laughed quietly to himself as Kate taught the reluctant young man to dance that new dance called the waltz in the old nursery with the rug rolled up. He was sure he wasn’t the only one to suspect they would marry when the young master completed his studies up at Cambridge. In the servant’s quarters over a dinner unusually relaxed with the family away, Cook certainly agreed. Mrs. Corbett, the housekeeper, offered the opinion that she’d never detected even the tiniest bit of romance between them. Why they seemed more like brother and sister! This lead to a lively discussion. The groom, Blackthorn, an extravagant fellow, ventured a bet of a half penny with Cook that Lord Laurence would propose by year’s end. Maisie, the parlor maid, who seldom was allowed to have her say, stated boldly that she thought the Master would want his son to marry higher, for, although Miss Kate was quite well-born--her maternal grandfather a Baronet--her father was a commoner and an Irishman to boot! Keaton thought this a surprisingly sensible observation from someone as young and romantic as Maisie, but he found himself hoping a marriage would come about while he was still above ground, for the bright pair would transform Firth Manor into a place full of life again.
* * * *
Gray clouds hung low and the air was heavy with the expectation of more rain. Kate had walked almost two miles and, feeling hot and sticky, stopped to swat a persistent fly. Spying some fat, juicy blackberries growing along the river, she pulled off her hat and tucked up her dress, exposing her short boots and a shameless amount of calf and ankle before clambering down the steep bank. She was busily engaged in picking the ripest berries while avoiding the prickles, her lips and fingers stained purple, when a rider appeared above her. She looked up to find a dark-haired man atop a big, black stallion, its nostrils steaming. The man’s dark brows rose in inquiry and she thought she detected a certain censure in his gray eyes at her dishevelled appearance. His immaculate tan riding coat was superbly cut across his broad shoulders and his riding boots gleamed like mirrors. He made Kate, who generally cared little for her appearance, feel rather grubby.
"What are you doing on my land?" he demanded, his eyes raking her from head to foot.
"Y … your land?" Kate tugged her gown down over her legs, vexed at the blackberry stain on a flounce that her mother’s sharp gaze would find.
"Yes, my land," he repeated, as if to one who was addled. "I am Jason Broughton from the Hall."
"Well, there’s no reason to repeat it, and so loudly, Lord Broughton. I am not hard of hearing," she responded, climbing up the bank, then added, having reached solid ground, "I am not in my dotage you know."
A glimmer of amusement appeared in his eyes. "Indeed you are not. Are you a servant from one of the big houses?"
Kate pulled her bonnet straight. Jutting out her chin, she looked the rather fearsome Lord Broughton directly in the eye. "A neighbour of yours, Lord Broughton. I am Katherine Kilgarth of Roseheath." She turned and pointed. "Roseheath is but a mile away over that hill. You must know of it. I thought Broughton Hall was boarded up and no one lived there. Indeed, no-one has lived there for as long as I can remember."
The stallion danced about, eager to be gone. "That cannot be so very long a time, can it? You use this path as a short cut. Where does it take you?" There was a slightly teasing note in his voice that seemed at odds with the aloofness of his expression.
"I only cross these fields when I visit Firth Manor. Surely, it can hurt no one." Kate was growing tired of being made to feel like a poacher. "Please rest assured that I shall walk the long way round in future."
"So, my blackberries will now be safe from further assault?"
Kate looked up quickly from beneath her bonnet. Was there the suggestion of a smile hovering about his full-lipped mouth? She found herself wondering what a smile would do to that face.
He lifted his hat. "Good day to you, Miss Kilgarth. I daresay we shall see more of each other, village life being what it is."
Kate had no time to answer before he took off, the powerful horse galloping with ease up over the rise and disappearing amongst the beech trees in the Homewood of Broughton Hall. She turned away down the path, wishing she’d worn her new spotted muslin with the yellow sash.
Chapter Two
Taking off her bonnet and pelisse, Kate shook out her waist-length curls as her mother called to her from the morning room. Walking in, she found her mother sitting with her sewing case beside her, her hands deftly darning a stocking. Before Kate could tell her the news, Mrs. Kilgarth said, "Darling, did you know that Broughton Hall is inhabited again?"
Kate sat down beside the sweet-faced woman with the wavy, chestnut hair and bright, blue eyes that she herself had inherited.
"Kate! You’re in such a state. I wish you wouldn’t go tramping all over the countryside in the mid-day. Your poor complexion! You’ll be a mass of freckles. You do look a fright. I hope no one saw you."
Kate tucked the berry-stained flounce out of sight as she rushed on with her news. "But I did, Mamma! I just met Lord Broughton."
"You did? What is he like?" Before Kate could answer, her mother shook her head and groaned. "And you, looking like that!"
Kate halted in the act of pulling off her gloves, remembering her juice-stained fingers. "He was quite fierce looking and rather rude."
"He was discourteous?"
"A little, I was on his land."
"Oh Kate. He can’t have minded that, surely?"
Kate shrugged. She was not at all sure about Lord Jason of Broughton Hall. "Mamma, why has Broughton Hall been empty for so long? Lord Broughton must be at least thirty. Where has he been all this time?"
"Living abroad. Paris, I believe."
"Paris!" Kate longed to travel abroad herself.
"When he was quite young, he quarrelled with his father and ran away. He was known to be a wild young man then, and there were rumors of trouble up at the Hall, some said gambling debts–we never knew for sure. They were twins, you know. He and Peter. Jason was the first-born son, but he didn’t come back to claim the title when his father died. In his absence, Peter took over the estate. You know the rest, how the whole west wing of the Hall was destroyed in a fire that claimed Peter’s life. That was eight years ago and it has been empty ever since."
Kate watched her Mamma thread her needle with a fresh piece of yarn. "I think it’s still a very fine old house," she went on, plunging the needle into the heel of the stocking. "I must say I am glad he has returned. I hope he means to rebuild the Hall and put things in order. The park and the Homewood have grown wild and there is much to be done. He is certainly old enough, and I trust mature enough, to take on his responsibilities."
"I wonder if he will attend any of the dances at the assembly rooms," Kate said. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had missed afternoon tea. She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and, polishing it on her gown, took a large bite.
Her mother made a clucking noise with her tongue. "Darling, not with your gloves. Oh dear. I’m never going to turn you into a lady."
"Broughton will certainly be expected to attend," her mother continued. "And despite the rumours that still cling to him, he is an attractive proposition for the marriage market. How are things at Firth Manor?"
"The family’s gone to London. Laurie’s grandmother passed away."
"I’m sorry to hear it, darling." Mrs. Amelia Kilgarth put down her sewing and gave her untidy child a quick hug. "Come, don’t be too sad, my love. She was a very old lady, was she not?"
"Does this mean Laurie will come into his inheritance?" This sally came from a young man who had just entered the room.
"Hush, Charles. ‘Tis none of your concern. Where have you been? Your father was going to take you with him to see John Polster’s new foal."
"Blast."
"Charles, Please! Your language."
Charles’s hair was more red than chestnut and he had considerably more freckles than Kate. His nose turned up slightly, giving him an impish appearance, which had so far been a good estimation of his character. He towered over his little sister, although almost three years her junior. He gave one of her curls a tweak. "I suppose you and Laurie shall soon be tying the knot, Sis."
"Ouch!" she said, slapping his hand away. "Well, you suppose wrong, Charlie. There is no question of that. I hope to have my season in London, very soon."
"Have you had a reply from Aunt Abbey, Mamma?"
Her mother smiled. "In today’s post. I was going to wait until your father returned to tell you, but," she drew a letter from the pocket of her apron, "Aunt Abbey writes that she has mourned long enough for Uncle Frederick. She says it will not bring him back to her. Two years have passed and now she is prepared to take you under her wing. You are to go to her this coming season!"
Kate took a deep breath. "Oh Mamma, that’s wonderful. When?"
"Right after Easter. We have four weeks to prepare and we shall need every day of them." She smiled. "Just think love, you shall put up your hair."
Kate shook her head. "Oh, fig. I’m much more interested in seeing the Tower!"
"Now Kate, you must make an effort. We shall have to start considering your wardrobe immediately."
"If you’re going to discuss bonnets, I’m going to feed the chickens," Charles said in disgust.
* * * *
On Friday, Kate walked the long way around to Firth Manor. The Firth’s had returned from London dressed in mourning attire. Laurie was home for only a brief stay. He had to return to Cambridge the next day.
They had an excellent ride together, exercising frisky horses that had been cooped up too long. When walking the tired horses back, Laurie suggested they stop by the river. They tied up their mounts at their favourite spot, an ancient oak tree splintered by lightning on the bank of the river.
They sat on the soft grass, leaning their backs against the petrified wood. "As you know, Kat, I finish my education at the end of this term. I have to be thinking about my future," Laurie said.
Kate realized that life was about to change forever. Exciting though it was, she couldn’t help feeling a little sad. "Do you still plan to go into the diplomatic service like your father?"
His warm brown eyes studied her with an expression she hadn’t seen before. She was suddenly aware that she was holding her breath.
"Yes," he answered seriously. He ran his hand through his curly, fair hair. "It means moving to London, initially, then .…"
Kate’s eyes filled with tears. "Then you’ll travel all over the world. How I envy you that."
He reached out and took her hand. "You might come with me as my wife."
Kate angrily wiped her eyes. "I’ll miss you, Laurie, but I can’t."
He frowned, a red flush appearing on his cheeks as if she’d slapped him. "Don’t you love me a bit, Kat?" he said roughly.
Kate brushed a leaf from her riding outfit. "Yes … but one day someone will love you a lot. In the right way."
"The way I love you."
"You mistake friendship for love."
"It darn well isn’t friendship." Laurie pushed Kate back against the tree trunk. He brought his lips down on hers in a clumsy, inexpert kiss.
Surprised, Kate kissed him back. His hands moved over her riding habit above her rapidly beating heart. She had dreams of this, but the man’s face in her dreams was always a blur. One day, soon she hoped, she would find him and they would make love. The way her parents did. She’d read all about it in a book on the human body she’d found in her father’s surgery.
He drew away with a mumbled apology. Kate touched her fingers to her lips. "I know your papa’s fond of me, but I doubt he would want you to marry me, Laurie," she said thoughtfully.
At the sound of a horse’s whinny, they looked up to find Lord Broughton sitting astride his stallion. He leaned forward in the saddle, one hand on top of the other, holding the reins in a studied, casual pose. Kate felt her cheeks burn, sure he had witnessed the kiss. If this was put about she would be sorely compromised and lose her chance to go to London. Worse, Laurie might be made to marry her!
"We’ve met before, Miss Kilgarth." Lord Broughton nodded politely. "I seem to have lost my prize, spaniel bitch. You haven’t come across her wandering about, have you?"
Kate and Laurie climbed to their feet. "Lord Broughton, I’d like you to meet Viscount Wexley," Kate said, horribly aware of a willow frond that had attached itself to her hair.
"I say, Sir, that’s a beautiful stepper you have there," Laurie exclaimed, sounding young again like the Laurie she knew. He moved forward to stroke the horse’s nose.
"Thank you. He has sired a foal. Perhaps you’d like to see it some time? It’s due to be born very soon."
"Would I! Oh, dash it. I’m off back to Cambridge tomorrow."
Kate sighed, wishing she was as easily distracted. Men could be quite simple at times.
"And my dog? A liver-spotted spaniel?"
"No, I’m afraid we haven’t seen it, but we’ll certainly keep an eye out for it." Kate wished Lord Broughton would go away and this embarrassing incident could be forgotten.
As if he heard her wish, Lord Broughton nodded good day and turned his horse’s head, riding away through the trees.
"Damn. I wish I could stay around to see the changes Lord Broughton brings to the place," mused Laurie, turning to Kate. Romance now seemed the farthest thing from his mind. "His pockets will bleed freely when the tradesmen start on Broughton Hall and its acres. But he looks like you couldn’t put much over on him."
"You’ll probably rub shoulders with him at the dances in town, Kat."
"Mm," responded Kate. She’d had as much contemplation from Lord Broughton’s intense gray eyes as she could stand.
"Kat, when you go to your Aunt in London, I’m going to try and come down to see you," Laurie said as they untied their horses.
"How can you do that, Laurie?" Kate said, doubting the wisdom of it. "Lord Firth will never allow it."
Laurie mounted his horse and grinned at her. "I’ll think of a way."
"I wish you wouldn’t, Laurie." Kate was torn between desire for a friendly face in London and discouraging him. "Most certainly not if it gets you into trouble."
Laurie kicked his horse into a canter and took off down the avenue. "I say, you are becoming a scold in your old age, Kat," he threw over his shoulder. "I’m determined to witness the hit you’ll be at Almacks."
Chapter Three
Kate’s first social engagement was a dance at the assembly rooms in Canterbury.
"This is an excellent introduction to society for you, Kate love," said her mother, "before you go off to London."
Kate wore her first ball gown, unadorned white muslin with cap sleeves and a scooped neck. The housemaid, Sarah–Kate’s father kept only a small staff at Roseheath–dressed her hair in the latest, Grecian style. "Your natural curls are perfect for this, Miss Katherine," Sarah murmured, as she coaxed ringlets around her finger, letting them fall to frame Kate’s face.
"You look quite charming, my love," her mother said proudly, clasping her pearls around Kate’s neck. "Simplicity is by far the best foil for a young woman."
At the assembly rooms, Kate was soon swamped by friendly faces. She joined in with half a dozen enthusiastic couples to form a set for a country-dance, partnered by the solicitor’s son, Samuel. It took ages to complete and Samuel stomped on her feet more than once, but it allowed Kate to chat to everyone as the groups formed and re-formed, from bottom to top.
Several dances later, when Kate sat thirstily drinking a glass of lemonade beside a potted palm, a hush came over the gathering. Jason Broughton strolled through the door, elegantly dressed in black evening clothes, his hair brushed into the 'Brutus'. A ruby pin glowed from the snowy folds of his cravat. After a pause, several women pushed their husband’s forward, wishing an introduction to their daughters in what Kate thought a deplorably toad-eating fashion.
“There’s Lord Broughton," her friend, Alice Berry hissed in her ear. "I heard Papa tell Mamma that he almost killed a man in a duel. I’ll wager it was a matter of the heart."
Alice had a fondness for her brother’s colorful expressions. Kate nodded in Alice’s direction. Turning back, she was surprised to see that after chatting briefly with those he knew and those who commanded his attention, Lord Broughton was making his way to her side. At that point, Alice was whisked away to dance with her brother-in-law and Kate was left alone.
"Miss Kilgarth, it’s nice to find you here," Lord Broughton said in a dry tone that made Kate feel he was bemused by them all. "I’d resigned myself to a dull evening." Kate studied his face. His manner always made her feel unsure of herself. She’d never met anyone like him. His years in Paris, she supposed, had made him quite unlike the country folk of a small, English village.
"We are not so dull as all that, Lord Broughton," she replied.
"Ah. No. That sounded rude. And certainly not you, Kate," he said. His enigmatic gray eyes studied her. "You look very well, this evening."
"Thank you."
A gleam appeared in his eyes. "Although you were quite fetching with that willow frond in your hair and with your lips kissed … by blackberries."
He had seen the kiss. Was it a challenge? She lifted her chin. "I’m just a country girl, Lord Broughton. I know you are at home in Parisian society. I’m aware of the brilliance of the repartee to be heard there. It is much too clever for me."
"Oh, I think not, Miss Kilgarth," he said unsteadily, "but I accept your reprimand and apologize again. It is I who am being boorish. Perhaps you could forgive me enough to save me the waltz? Or have one of the eager young bucks already claimed it?"
As the few young men who bothered to make an appearance at the dance were more intent on playing cards, there remained a blank space beside the waltz. Kate felt suddenly nervous, wondering if she was good enough, but before she could debate the question, the decision was made for her. After studying the card from over her shoulder, he reached across and pointed. ‘I see you still have the waltz free. Were you saving it for someone?’
"No .…"
He looked around the room. "I don’t see young Wexley. Is he here?"
"Viscount Wexley has returned to Cambridge," she replied icily. "I don’t waltz, Lord Broughton."
"I’m sure you will make an exception this time, for me."
He had neatly cornered her. To refuse him now would be rude and would bring censure from her mother, who was watching closely, she knew. "I’d be honoured, my Lord," she said, writing his name beside the dance.
"Thank you, Miss Kilgarth." Lord Broughton bowed gracefully and left her alone to ponder why he wished to dance with her. She watched as Clara Green and her mother claimed his attention. She had heard Clara’s gown discussed at length in whispered indignation. It seemed an unfair advantage to the lesser-endowed girls and those whose mothers demanded a more modest style of dress. Cut scandalously low, Clara’s ample bosom heaved alarmingly as she fluttered her eyelashes up at Lord Broughton and simpered behind her fan.
By the time the musicians struck up in waltz time, Kate had decided that Lord Broughton was merely fulfilling what society required of him.
He appeared at her side. "I do enjoy a dance, Miss Kilgarth. Do not you?"
She nodded, feeling strangely breathless as he took her in his arms. He ignored the general fashion of just touching and placed a firm hand at her waist. He turned her expertly as they sailed gracefully around the room. Kate felt as light as a dove’s feather. It was much easier to dance with him than it had been with Laurie, who always ended up stumbling over her feet and collapsing into laughter. As the room spun, her gaze alighted briefly on her mother’s smiling countenance, until she was too dizzy to look anywhere but shyly up into his face. The beleaguered expression she had seen in his eyes vanished as he smiled down at her.
When the dance ended, he bowed. "That was delightful," he said formally, the sparkle fading from his eyes. She thought his shoulders slumped as he made his way to the door, saying goodnight to those around him. It had been the last dance of the evening. The musicians began packing up and everyone was rushing to don bonnets, cloaks, and pelisses. Through the open doorway, rain began to fall.
"Did you enjoy your first waltz, my pet?" her mother asked on the way home in the carriage.
"Oh, it was lovely, Mamma," Kate answered, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. Lord Broughton was proving to be a fascinating addition to their small village. As she gazed out at the black night and pelting rain, she was quite sure that nothing in London could be quite as eventful as her first dance.
* * * *
Rising late the next morning, Kate opened the door to find a spaniel huddled on the doorstep.
“Hello, girl! You must be Lord Broughton’s lost dog. And very hungry I’ll bet. Come to the kitchen.” Kate made sure the dog followed her around the back of the house where she implored cook to give her water and a meaty bone to chew.
For some reason, Kate felt the need to take a little extra time with her hair and dressed in her spotted muslin before taking the dog back to Broughton Hall. Securing the animal with a long piece of twine, she began her trek over the fields. She picked some white snowdrops and tucked them into her sash before clambering over a sty. In a stop, start, process, as the dog sniffed here and there, they made their way towards the woods that spread over the hills at the rear of the great house. Kate was enjoying herself. It was a warm spring day and the daffodils were coming out, nodding their bright heads in the soft breeze.
She entered the woods, finding them dark and so overgrown they were almost impenetrable. It would have been wiser, perhaps, to have taken the road. Thorns caught at her dress and she had to stop to untangle them, afraid they would tear the delicate material. The spaniel’s fur stood on end and she began to growl. "What’s the matter, girl?" Kate asked, bending down to give her a pat. A squirrel probably, she thought uneasily. Ahead, a flock of pheasants flew into the air, squawking. Kate stopped, her heart beating fast. Laughing at herself, she continued on. She knew there were large numbers of pheasants and other game birds in the woods. It had been left undisturbed for years. Foxes, too, more than likely. The dog whined and propped, digging her paws into the ground. Kate pulled hard on the rope and coaxed her in a soft voice. She had to kneel down and stroke the dog to settle her before she got her moving again. When she rose, she gazed uneasily at the splashes of mud on her dress. "Come on, Girl," she cried, losing her patience.