Chapter 4

There were some that might assume Kitty was a flighty girl because of her lightness of being. It was true that she seemed to flit from one place to another with ease, unburdened, but this was an elaborate cover; the truth was that she was excessively sentimental, covering her tender heart with protective layers of joviality and ease. When she was troubled, she took great pains to appear at her most content.

Such was the case in the days that she waited to hear from Lord Cluett. To the rest of the world, Kitty Johnson appeared as she always had: Light, always ready with a smile and a gentle jape. Inwardly, she was suffering an agony of anticipation. At every delivery of post, she would trip eagerly through the hall or skip down the stairs, skipping the last step and landing on both feet as was her girlish habit. She tried to be patient, reminding herself that the new Lord Cluett would be preoccupied with much in these early days.

"Try to be still, Kitty," her mother admonished her with a sigh, again and again. The news of the previous viscount's death had spread quickly, and Mrs. Johnson had looked as if she'd swallowed a canary when she heard. It was no secret that the son was harbouring a tendre for her daughter.

I can endure anything , Kitty thought to herself. I can smile and be the picture of patience, and no one will know that all the while I am in agonies.

She was as good as her word…but then, the days turned to weeks, and Lord Cluett sent no word to her. There was no invitation to his mother's house, no letters renewing his promise or affections. Kitty did her best not to waiver, sure in this kind, gentle man that she had been fortunate enough to find. She wasn't a fatalist by heart, but she refused to believe that it could have been a simple coincidence that brought them together; the circumstances were too strange.

At last, when Kitty thought that she might burst from waiting, there was a knock on the door. There had been a lot of them lately, men in dark jackets with creased faces parading in and out of her father's study. She ignored them, as they had little interest for her, much as his business interests had always been uninteresting.

This time was different; a voice was in the hall, deep and speaking lowly. Kitty could not make out the words from her place in the sitting room, seated near her mother as they both worked on painting a delicate pattern of flowers on a table. At the sound of the man's voice, Kitty's heart quickened, her cheeks flushing.

"Is that Viscount Cluett?" Mrs. Johnson hissed, but Kitty found that she could not speak. Taking a look at Kitty's face, this was all of the confirmation that Mrs. Johnson needed.

She was up like a shot, pulling Kitty to her feet and quickly removing the apron that had protected her calico day dress. "Quickly, now!" Mrs. Johnson urged, at last getting Kitty to come to her senses. Together, they hoisted the small table, putting it to one side. With her heel, Mrs. Johnson scooted their discarded supplies under the chaise lounge.

By the time the footman entered the sitting room to announce the guest, Kitty and Mrs. Johnson were both seated serenely, small reading volumes in their hands. The newly minted Lord Cluett loomed behind the footman, filling the doorway. From the onset, it was clear that he was in a state of agitation, his dark brown hat in his hands, which he turned over and over again.

Kitty looked down, attempting to compose herself as the requisite introductions were made between Lord Cluett and Mrs. Johnson. It was only then that she realised that it was a fortunate thing indeed that the gentleman seemed so distracted, for the book that she was pretending to read was upside down in her hands.

"It is so good of you to call on us, Lord Cluett," Mrs. Johnson was saying mildly. "I am sure that you must have a great deal of things weighing on your time."

"Yes," Lord Cluett agreed, his face oddly stiff and troubled. "To that end… I know this is very sudden, but might I request the privilege of speaking with Miss Johnson alone?"

Mrs. Johnson made a kind of surprised fluttering motion with her hands as if she had no idea what that could possibly entail. She looked to Kitty for acceptance of this, which Kitty was immediately grateful for. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and Mrs. Johnson curtseyed and departed, but not without giving Kitty a significant look. There was little doubt in Kitty's mind that Mrs. Johnson was listening at the keyhole.

"Would you care to sit?" Kitty asked as Lord Cluett continued to stand stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. The moment he sat, however, he sprang back up, pacing the room in great strides. "No, I should not. That is—it is hard to know what is proper in these situations."

"What ‘situations' might that be, my Lord?" Kitty asked, attempting to keep all excitement from her voice.

"This is…I did not want to do this in this manner," Lord Cluett said, stopping his pacing to stare out a window to the street for a moment. "Deserve better, which—which I suppose is the whole point."

A strange feeling was curling up in Kitty's stomach, like a snake of apprehension. Something was odd, starting with the way that Lord Cluett was speaking, unnaturally clipped. "Please do not make yourself uneasy for my sake," Kitty said, laying her book aside.

To her surprise, Lord Cluett whirled about, and in three great steps, was standing before her again. "Thought of nothing but your comfort for days now." He sat again, this time quite near her on the lounge, their knees almost touching. He angled himself toward her, perched precariously on the edge of his seat as if he meant to dash off at any moment.

"Miss Johnson," he began, unbearably formal, "my father's death has brought many things into sharp relief, and shined a bright light on others that had been hidden for some time. Have every intention of leading my family honourably, performing my duties." He paused, looking a little worn out and troubled from reciting this speech.

Kitty found herself naturally turning toward him as well. "I have never doubted it, Lord Cluett; your family should be grateful to have such an honourable man at its head. I'm only sorry that you lost your father so young."

"Honour—yes," Lord Cluett said, seizing onto this word. "It is a matter of honour, yes. Must tell you something in great confidence, but won't insult you by asking you to keep it secret; all of London will know soon enough."

"Of course," Kitty said, the feeling in her stomach growing and coiling tighter.

Lord Cluett took a deep breath, his large torso expanding even more. "Father was… No, that is not right. I do not even know what sort of man he was, not really. On his travels, it seemed that he made some…unwise investments."

"Oh dear," Kitty said, sympathetic. She had heard her own mother pecking at her father on a similar score, questioning the manner in which their funds were invested.

"To put a fine point on it, my family is ruined, or nearly," Lord Cluett said bluntly.

"Ruined? But how—your estate?" Kitty said, dropping her voice out of consideration for the subject.

"Mortgaged to the roof," he said, his face unhappy. "Had wondered why we weren't there of late, and now I know. I shall have to lease it out to start paying for it, possibly sell some of the land."

"Sell the land?" Kitty repeated, aghast. "Oh, dear one, no! This is too awful for you, I am genuinely so very sorry for all of it."

"There's more," Lord Cluett continued. "It seems that in all of this, Father did make one wise investment: A significant amount of capital was invested into Canadian timber. A mine, too," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"That's good though, is it not? At least your holdings have a lifeline, then," Kitty said, trying as ever to put a cheery face onto things.

"Perhaps," Lord Cluett allowed, but hesitated again. "They've been terribly mismanaged, from what can be gleaned from the books. They need to be taken in hand, and quickly." He stopped speaking, turning to Kitty again, his eyes searching her face.

Of course, Kitty understood at once: There was no one else that could be trusted with this task. The new viscount meant to solve his own monetary woes with his own two hands, as the saying went. Kitty felt a terrible foreboding wash over her, but attempted to tamp it down; Lord Cluett had more than enough worries piled onto his broad shoulders.

"I'm not sure what weight my opinion on the matter carries, but I am very sure that you shall do splendidly, just so long as you don't get eaten by a bear," Kitty said with forced lightness. "Perhaps Father might have some guidance for you."

Lord Cluett slowly shook his head, gripping his hat so tightly that Kitty could hear the brim creak. "Not why I'm here—kind of you to offer—but you must understand that I… I'm not in a position to—to marry," he ground out. "Thought you should be the first to know."

It was hard, but of course Kitty understood. "Well, it's not the most auspicious of beginnings, I grant you, but should you ask, I am willing to await your return from the wild frontier."

She could feel Lord Cluett take a deep, shuddering breath. "That's just it," he said, looking down at his hat. "Can't—won't—ask you to wait. Don't know how long I'll be gone, could be years, the crossing isn't reliable, and…anything could happen. Not fair for you; you must live your life."

"What? Do you think I couldn't bear the waiting? I'm made of sterner stuff than anyone credits me with. Why, I was the one—" Kitty began, indignant to cover her hurt.

"No," Lord Cluett said emphatically, dropping his hat to take Kitty's hands in his. "That's the trouble: Not a doubt that you could , that you would, wait. But you mustn't ," he said, gently pressing her hands. "Can't bear the thought of leaving you, but thinking of you always waiting, letting life pass you by…that would kill me. Truly." He dipped his head, trying to catch Kitty's eye. "You must understand, yes? Can't leave with this on my conscience."

Kitty found that her throat had closed over with unshed tears. She swallowed hard, painfully, and extracted one of her hands to swipe quickly at her eyes.

"Don't worry your head about me," Kitty said, patting Lord Cluett's arm as if he were a fretting child. "You go off and conquer the New World. I will be fine."

Lord Cluett stared at her for long moments. Kitty flashed him a smile, wishing to send him off comforted; whatever her feelings were, she would not dare to add to his worries. He stood slowly, retrieving his fallen hat as he did so. When he was nearly to the door, he turned back as if he were going to say something else to her, but thought better of it.

Blindly, Kitty smiled at him again, her eyes clouded by tears that she refused to let fall. Only when she heard the front door open and then close again did she turn away, the proverbial dam bursting. The room was colder, everything a little greyer. Whatever her sadness, her resolve remained steadfast.

I won't abandon him so lightly, she thought, wiping at her eyes again. I've waited this long for him, what do a few more months, a year even, mean to me?