Page 25 of Gallant Waif
“I’ll admit nothing of the sort!” he said angrily. “I won’t tolerate such unwarranted interference in my affairs, Grand-mama!”
“So you don’t wish to help the girl?”
“Help her? To social ruin by employing her as my maid…housekeeper? I don’t think—”
“No, Jack, you don’t think. Naturally I will send some respectable woman to act as her chaperon. And I’m not considering any ordinary terms of employment. I intend to put this to the girl: if she will consent to run your household for six months, turn it into a gentleman’s establishment instead of a ramshackle place where a lady cannot even get a cup of chocolate to break her fast, then I will consider—and, what’s more to the point, so willshe—that she will thereby have earned my sponsorship for a season in London.Shecan keep her pride,youcan live like a moderately civilised human being andIcan introduce Maria’s gel to society.”
Lady Cahill sat back and regarded her grandson with some satisfaction. “And, in the meantime, it will give me some time to have someone look into the matter of Kate’s finances. I cannot believe that she’s been left completely destitute. So, she stays here while I organise things. And setting this house in order will keep her nicely occupied, so that’s settled.”
“It isnotsettled.”
“Jack, if you say no to this scheme, it will mean the end of that girl, for I tell you she is as stubborn and foolish as you are and she tells me she will not accept charity from me, or from anyone else.”
Jack met her level glance.
“Ah! Dammit!” He slammed his hand down on the table in frustration.
His grandmother smiled. She reached up and patted his chin. “I knew you’d agree with me in the end.”
“I don’t,” he snapped.
“But you will have her here.”
“It is the most ridiculous, ill-considered, inconvenient and damnably outrageous scheme I have ever heard of!”
“Good, then you’ll do it!” nodded his grandmother complacently.
He glared at her and clenched his hair with his fingers.
“Yes, all right, you leave me no choice, though without doubt I should be clapped up in Bedlam for agreeing to it!”
“Don’t be silly, boy,” she said, suddenly businesslike again. “Now send that man into the village to tell my coachman to come and collect my baggage. Oh, and before you do fetch young Kate here. I’ll just explain to her what it is you want her to do.”
“WhatIwant?” he began. Fortuitously, he noticed the provocative glint in his grandmother’s eye. “Yes,” he said, goaded, “you do that, Grandmama,” and strode from the room, slamming the door after him.
“And so, my dear Kate, you can see that my grandson’s domestic circumstances are in a shocking state and yet Jack has no one to see to the smooth running of the house.” Lady Cahill applied a delicate wisp of lace to a wrinkled eyelid to emphasise her distress.
Kate became thoughtful. Lady Cahill had not resumed her arguments in favour of taking Kate to London with her and presenting her to society. Kate felt equal measures of disappointment and relief at that. A very small part of her, the wild, rebellious, frivolous part of her that her father had tried so hard to crush, wistfully longed for the prospect of a London season. Kate ruthlessly suppressed it. It was too late for all that.
An idea occurred to Kate. This could be her chance. Her domestic skills might once more be the saving of her. With Lady Cahill’s backing, Kate might be able to carve herself a niche in this household and earn herself a home, a living, some security.
“Ma’am,” she said hesitantly, “if you wish…I mean, if you think I am suitable…I could become the housekeeper here.”
“You, child? Don’t be ridiculous! You couldn’t possibly act as my grandson’s housekeeper!” said the dowager spider to her youthful fly.
“Indeed I could, ma’am. I’m young, but I’ve had a great deal of experience. I was my father’s housekeeper for many years. And it would be a better position than I would be likely to find elsewhere.” Kate fought to keep the eagerness out of her voice. “I would take good care of your grandson, and you could rest assured that I was safe and in a secure position.”
Lady Cahill tapped her finger thoughtfully on the small table in front of her, then grimaced at the dust it had collected.
“Faugh!” she exclaimed in disgust. “This place is a disgrace! And you think you can improve it, do you?” She looked at Kate. “It won’t do, you know.”
“Ma’am?” said Kate, a worried pucker between her brows.
“Oh, I don’t doubt you could do the job,” she added, seeing Kate’s readiness to argue the point. “But I could not possibly pay Maria Delacombe’s daughter awage!” She made a wage sound like some unspeakable insult.
Kate’s heart sank. She could not survive without money.
“I must confess, however, that I’d worry about my grandson a lot less if I could be sure someone sensible were here to look after him. “Tis bad enough he will never ride again—that I must accept, as he must…”
