Chapter Seventeen

"I 've brought you some chicken broth."

Rosalind's pretty face peeked around the edge of the door. Kitty sat up in bed, allowing the blankets to fall away from her as she blinked her way to wakefulness.

"How long have I slept?" Her whole body felt heavy and leaden.

"So many hours," Rosalind giggled as she edged into the room carrying a heavily laden tray. "Lizzie said you must have kept fine company up at the castle to be so weary."

Kitty blanched. She had done that and more. But no one at Shoreston must ever find out about it.

"You shouldn't be waiting on me." She swung her legs out of the bed, wincing when her feet made contact with the bare wooden floor. "I shall get dressed." She had no enthusiasm for the day ahead but was determined to pull her weight as usual.

"Stay right where you are." Rosalind's voice carried the authority of the lady of the house, despite the fact of her clean white apron. She placed the bowl of broth upon a side table and straightened Kitty's blankets. "You need to rest," she fussed, "and I'm here to make sure you do exactly that. Shall I open the shutters?"

Kitty shook her head. "No. The sunlight hurts my eyes." Her heart beat hollowly as she heard the echo of previous conversations with Guy.

Rosalind pulled a face. "It's very dark in here. I'll just open them a fraction."

Kitty submitted wearily to her ministrations, turning her mind from the man who still haunted her thoughts. "I didn't recover mother's jewels just so you could fetch and carry." She motioned towards Rosalind's apron. "They are your dowry; with them you can make a good marriage, but not if you insist on acting like a maid of all work."

"Never mind that." Rosalind batted away her hands and perched on the side of her bed. "I still can't believe you managed it. However did you fool the earl?" Her young face was alight with curiosity.

Kitty took a sip of broth. It was very good, seasoned to perfection by Lizzie no doubt, but she wasn't hungry. She wasn't sure she would ever be hungry again. Still, eating would buy her time against Rosalind's questions. She made a careful show of dipping the spoon into the bowl and swirling it around.

"Is he as fearsome as his uncle was?" her sister persisted.

Kitty sighed and put down her spoon. "Not at all." Sorrow darted through her and she bit her lip to stop the tears from forming.

"He's hiring new guards, did you know? Alfred told us there's been a great commotion down in the village."

Kitty swallowed hard. Her vision blurred, but Rosalind chatted on regardless.

"Lizzie said he must be wanting new guards since he discovered the jewels were stolen. He's guessed his castle was infiltrated, but he'll never work out who by." Her voice rose with pride.

"The earl has plenty of jewels and riches. He has no need of ours." Kitty forced her words to be level and calm.

"Still, though." Rosalind leaned closer, a smile dancing over her lips. "Men like that don't like to be stolen from."

How true. Kitty didn't trust herself to reply. She gazed down at the creamy broth and felt her stomach turn.

"But my clever sister got the better of him." Rosalind stood up and the thin mattress lurched. Kitty clutched her bowl to stop it from spilling. "I'm so proud of you."

Kitty's throat constricted. She hadn't been clever. She'd been foolish in the extreme.

"It's over now," she said, her fingers gripping the bowl so tightly the whites of her knuckles showed through. "We must put the whole thing behind us and look to the future."

Even though her future stretched out bleak and empty without Guy.

Rosalind's eyes widened and she bit down on her lower lip, a habit she'd had since childhood. "It's funny you should say that." She put a hand to her neckline, fingering a simple silver chain. "I have something to tell you." She paused and took a breath. "But Lizzie says I should wait until you're up and about." She folded her arms and wandered over to the shuttered window with a show of nonchalance. One slender hand played with the slats of the blind while the other tugged restlessly at her long braid of golden hair.

Despite the dull ache of her heart, Kitty was intrigued. "No, tell me now." She raised her eyes to her sister's, longing for any news that might distract her.

Rosalind shook her head. "Eat and get dressed," she insisted. "Come downstairs when you're ready. We have such a surprise for you." She smiled gleefully, unable to contain her excitement and Kitty felt a slight lessening of her own sorrows. It was a gift to see her younger sister so carefree.

But as Rosalind's light footsteps echoed down the wooden staircase, Kitty placed the bowl of broth down on the floor and put her head into her hands, sinking into the now-familiar sensations of loss and regret that she'd been working to keep at bay ever since she arrived back at Shoreston.

They had been so pleased to see her. Pleased and effusive with gratitude. She'd borne it as best she could, accepting the praise she didn't deserve. You must have been so brave , they'd told her. So clever, to trick the earl . None of it was true. She hadn't needed bravery or wit or cunning to recover her family fortune. All she'd needed was honesty. But she'd realised it too late.

"You must have had a terrible time," Lizzie had fussed over her, tutting at her ruined dress and tired eyes.

Kitty had pressed her lips together and nodded mutely, unable to confess the truth. She'd known both great despair and deep joy with the Earl of Rossfarne.

Alfred had said little, but the clumsy affection of his hand on her elbow, together with the relief shining in from his face, had told her all she needed to know.

Wordlessly, she'd tipped the jewels onto the scrubbed kitchen table and for a moment they had all gazed upon them in silent reverence.

Rosalind put her head back and shrieked with pleasure. "You did it."

"Mercy upon us." Lizzie clutched her crucifix. "I never thought I'd see those jewels again. Nor you, dear Kitty. I feared we had lost you to that terrible man." She blinked back tears.

Kitty bit back her instinctive defence of Guy. What could she say?

"It was easy, in the end. They were there for the taking."

"We can repair the roof," Rosalind enthused, "and hire new help. You won't have to work so hard now, Kitty. You've earned the right to a rest."

"No," Kitty protested. "The jewels are for your dowry."

Rosalind and Lizzie exchanged a look which she was too tired to try and decipher.

"Let's say no more of that now," Lizzie said firmly. "This is a day to celebrate. The roof can wait. It can all wait."

Such an air of gaiety hadn't been known at Shoreston for many years. Alfred fetched out his old penny whistle and Rosalind danced around the kitchen, occasionally swinging a mildly protesting Lizzie into her arms along with her. They all cajoled Kitty to sing, but she rebuffed the calls as lightly as she could. Singing would always remind her of that time in the solar with Guy. When they had laughed together and happiness had been truly within her reach, if only she'd known. Now, sadness had lodged itself deep within her heart and she felt as if she might never sing again.

It was a relief when Lizzie noticed her yawns and sent her off to bed. Kitty had believed she would lay awake restless, remembering all she had lost, but weariness had overcome her.

She straightened her back, tuning into the familiar sounds of Shoreston. Snatches of conversation floated up from the parlour below. Outside, the steady clip clop of horse's hooves announced a passerby or a visitor.

Glory be, she'd hoped she would be spared visitors for some time yet. Kitty sighed. As much as she longed to hide in the half-light of her bedchamber, she would have to face them all at some point.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up from the bed and reached for her stockings.

*

A bunch of freshly-picked wildflowers had been abandoned to wilt on a hall table. Kitty picked them up and inhaled deeply. At Rossfarne Castle, every sense had been tinged with sea salt and bracing winds, but here at Shoreston, the smells were homely and comforting: newly baked bread and dried lavender. The fresh fragrance of cornflowers and honeysuckle.

She must put the flowers into water. But who had brought them?

She glanced around. The hallway was empty, the house apparently deserted. She walked through to the sun-filled kitchen.

"Hello?" she called, but there was no response.

She poured water from a jug into a small vase and positioned the flowers so the smallest were at the front. They brought a splash of summer colour to the bare windowsill and plastered walls.

Kitty rubbed her arms. This kitchen had once been as familiar to her as her own hands, but now it felt quiet and strange. She missed the constant bustle and steam of the castle kitchen. The fussing of Cook and even the muted complaining of Agnes.

Where was everyone?

"Lizzie?" she tried.

They must be out of earshot. She left the kitchen and headed for the parlour, pushing away memories of how she and Rosalind had hidden behind the heavy drapes, surrounded by the wreckage of the room just a few weeks earlier. Tentatively, she pushed at the heavy door, bracing herself for unwelcome reminders of that fateful night. But the room had been put in good order. Mother's cabinet had been mended, by Alfred no doubt. And the candlesticks looked to have been recently polished. More surprisingly, the room bore the air of recent celebration.

Kitty put her hands on her hips and looked around. A pewter jug and four goblets stood on a silver tray on the centre of the table. She stepped closer and sniffed. The jug still carried the scent of mead. But neither Lizzie nor Alfred were fond of intoxicating drink. And Rosalind most certainly wasn't.

A stifled giggle came through the window. Kitty paced over and flung back the drapes, but there was no one there, only the swinging of the wooden gate disturbed a glorious summer afternoon.

"Rosalind?" she called. The giggle had a girlish quality, which could only be her sister's.

From the other end of the house, the back door banged shut. Kitty raced back through to the kitchen, to find Rosalind smoothing down her skirts. She'd thankfully removed her apron and was dressed in a pretty pale blue gown with wide sleeves and a demure neckline.

"What's going on?" Kitty demanded.

"Nothing, why?" Rosalind asked innocently, but a pink flush warmed her cheeks and her hair had partially come unbraided.

"Where have you been?"

"Just outside, in the garden." Rosalind twisted a strand of golden hair between her fingers.

"Alone?"

Her sister bit down on her lip, a telling trait. "Not exactly."

Kitty folded her arms and rested against the doorway, weariness battling her intrigue. "Are you going to tell me what's happening? Why have people been drinking mead in the parlour?"

Rosalind's gaze went behind Kitty, who turned to find Lizzie standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Can I tell her now?" beseeched Rosalind.

"Go on then." Lizzie wiped her hands on her long apron, a smile lighting up her face. "Miss Katherine, it's such good news."

"We were celebrating." Rosalind folded her hands behind her back. "Although it wasn't the happiest of celebrations, dear Kitty, because you weren't there."

"You mean, this was before yesterday?" Kitty tried to make sense of it.

Rosalind nodded. "It has been a most wonderful week."

Kitty sat down on a hard kitchen chair and crossed her ankles, waiting to hear more. Lizzie bustled forwards.

"Can I get you a glass of water? You look ever so pale, Miss Katherine."

"I'm fine." Kitty waved her attentions away clumsily. She had grown unaccustomed to such niceties.

Rosalind perched on the edge of a seat and then stood up again, too excited to be still.

"I can't keep it from you a moment longer. Kitty, I'm engaged to be married." Her face was alight with joy.

The words made no sense to her. Kitty repeated them, looking for some hidden meaning. "Engaged to be married? To whom?"

Rosalind nodded happily. "To Richard Erkine."

Kitty rubbed at her temples, trying to understand. The Erkines owned farmlands at the other side of the river and usually sat behind herself and Rosalind at chapel. Mrs Erkine was a stout woman with a kind smile, her husband was polite and well-presented.

"He's been learning his lessons with a cousin in Dun Holme. He came back to Rossfarne while you were away," Rosalind explained, eager for a reaction.

Of course. Mrs Erkine had been a regular caller to Shoreston when Mother was alive. Kitty cast her mind back to that golden-hued time and recalled a plump-cheeked young boy, just a couple of years older than Rosalind.

Richard Erkine.

The last time she saw Richard Erkine, he'd been playing hide and seek in the stable yard with her sister. The two of them had been good friends when they were young, she remembered now. Lizzie would bake honey cakes especially for his visits, then make a great show of chasing the pair of them out of the kitchen.

"But Rosalind, you're too young to be married," she exclaimed, her mind struggling to adjust to this new information.

Her sister pressed her lips together. "Kitty, you mustn't be so disapproving. Of course, we won't be married right away. But Richard and I have known one another all our lives. And anyway, you don't know the best news yet."

"The best news is that Miss Rosalind is happy," Lizzie said, with a pointed look in Kitty's direction.

"I'm very happy, but I also know how my sister frets," Rosalind declared. "The best news is that the Erkines have offered to buy some of our land."

Kitty frowned. How could so much have happened in her absence? "But are they offering a decent price?"

"Why should they not? And anyway, the land is just going to waste. We haven't had anyone to work the fields for years."

Kitty couldn't deny it. The fields of Shoreston had once yielded a decent crop, but years of neglect had left the land barren. She placed her elbows on the kitchen table, trying to make sense of it. "Why would the Erkines show us such kindness?" She bit back the word "charity."

Rosalind leaned forward and took hold of her hands. "Because their son is in love with me?" she offered, blushing despite the ease of her words. "Because they are decent people. Because they actually do want the land for themselves." She paused. "People do nice things, sometimes, Kitty."

Kitty put a hand to her head, struggling to keep up. She'd been so consumed with the need to build a better life for her sister, that she'd never imagined it could happen without her willing self-sacrifice. "What does all this mean?"

Rosalind gave a bubbling laugh. "It means that, even before you brought back the jewels, our financial worries were over. But now we have the jewels as well." She shrugged, brimming over with good fortune.

"We will have to offer them to the Erkines as a dowry," Kitty thought aloud, unable to let go of her natural instincts to worry. For so long she'd seen the Answick jewels as key to Rosalind's happiness.

"You will do no such thing," Lizzie interrupted. "It's all arranged now, with no need for a dowry. That family is lucky enough to have Miss Rosalind joining them."

"Don't you see, Kitty?" Rosalind leaned forward, her eyes alight with excitement. "We're rich. Our troubles are over. You can keep the jewels for yourself."

The happiness shining from her sister's face was enough to convince Kitty that she really had found love and the promise of a joyful future with Richard Erkine. Rosalind would be cared for and content, which was all Kitty had ever wanted for her. So why did she feel so much despair?

"I don't want the jewels." Kitty's throat closed over the words.

Rosalind sat back. Disappointment flashed through her eyes, but only for a moment. "Then we will sell them and use the money to make much-needed repairs to the house. Shoreston will be a grand residence once again. You shall live here in the style that Mother intended, no longer beating rugs or baking pies. And I shall come to see you often." She smiled beatifically. "It's all going to be wonderful."

An icy numbness spread across Kitty's chest. The future Rosalind described was everything she had once hoped for. But now she'd met Guy and known the possibility of love and happiness for herself. Now everything had changed. Now she wanted more. His touch, his kiss. The feel of his muscular arms drawing her close. His smile, his laugh. His strong body, which she had nursed back to health.

She put a hand to her mouth to keep this whirlwind of emotion inside her. Her eyes fluttered closed. In another moment she would regain her composure. Such bittersweet reminders of their fleeting time together might assault her often, but she would learn to put them aside. That part of her life was over.

"She's overcome," Lizzie remarked. "It's no surprise, not after all the poor girl's been through."

"You're safe now, Kitty. You never have to leave Shoreston again." Rosalind squeezed her shoulder.

Kitty forced her eyes to open and summoned a smile. "And I never shall," she stated, forcing her true feelings deep down and locking them away. "I'm so happy for you. For all of us."