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She laughed and regally arched a look at him. “I don’t do the polite with friends … no point.” She gave him a saucy smile.
He laughed. “I tell you what, zany, throw answers like that about at the ton, and you’ll do very well indeed.”
She giggled. “I shall be ostracized within a week.” She then pouted. “Besides, I don’t want to do well with them—I don’t care how I do with them. I just want to stay here.”
“The trouble is, my dear, dear Kit, Wharton Place now belongs to a bachelor. You can’t stay here.”
This made Kitty’s shoulders droop.
He swallowed a smile and gave her a wink before he left her to her thoughts. She sighed and put away the distance to Farmer Cribbins.
* * *
Some hours later, Kitty stepped out of Mrs. Cribbins kitchen, turned to wave again, and collected her horse from the round paddock where she visited with one of Farmer Cribbins big cob horses.
She was feeling much better after their cozy visit, accompanied as it had been with sweet buns and hot tea.
The Cribbins were one of Wharton’s tenant farmer families. Long ago, Mrs. Cribbins had taken Kitty under her wing, and a fond relationship had developed. Kitty often found herself visiting the kind woman when she was particularly troubled.
She grimaced now as she recalled how Mrs. Cribbins had sipped her tea and said, “Ye aren’t going to like what I have to say to ye, child.”
“That never stopped you before,” Kitty teased.
“Look at those deep green eyes of yers twinkling.” The older woman patted Kitty’s hand. “Aye then, like it or no, yer dear guardian set a task for ye. Might as well brace yerself and do him up proud. The way I see it, ye don’t have a choice.”
“You are right. I don’t have a choice, and you are right, I should do him proud,” Kitty responded at once.
“Aye, so it is,” Mrs. Cribbins pronounced.
Now, as Kitty rode away, she could hear the words again, “Do him up proud.”
She turned her horse onto the Post Road and headed for home. A moment or two later, a large chocolate barouche came into view. Ah, she thought, ’tis broken down?
She approached slowly and found its young driver bent over the wheel. He looked up and appeared surprised as he said, “Well, good afternoon to ye … er … miss …”
She realized she must look like no more than a gamin of a girl in her boys clothing and was thankful that at least she had thought to tie her hair neatly away from her face.
“Hallo,” she said. “Do you need some help?”
“Ay, but, none that ye can give me.” The driver grinned condescendingly.
Kitty made her own inspection of the lopsided wheel, and pointed. “You need a new bolt there, nothing more.”
“Aye, that Oi do, and Oi carry a spare wit me, but the thing is, Oi can’t be lifting the wheel and putting the bolt in place all at the same time, now can Oi?” retorted the young driver on a superior note. He indicated with a lift of his chin. “And that one is just about useless.”
Kitty thought the man beside him looked to be a valet. She smiled because although he spluttered, she could see he did not mean to lend a hand and said instead, “Bolts and wheels? I know nothing about bolts and wheels.”
Kitty laughed. “Well, lucky for you, sir,” she said, giving him a bantering eye, “that I happened along.” She regarded the young driver. “You lift, and I’ll manage the bolt.”
“Ha! Whot then, a slip of thing loike ye? I’d get two yards Oi would, and the blasted thing would come off again. Ye ain’t got brawn enough to do it up right,” the driver scoffed.
“No, perhaps I don’t. However, once it is on you can let down the wheel and tighten the thing to your satisfaction. What say you?” Kitty offered with an accompanying warm smile.
The driver considered her and with a nod of approval said, “Aye then, we’ll give it a go.”
Thus, he produced the spare bolt, handed it to Kitty, and proceeded to lift the wheel and shift it into place. That done, he ordered, “Go on then, girl.”
He obviously believed her to be a servant, but she allowed this form of address to slide and said, “Aye, aye sir.” She slipped the bolt in place and tightened it as best as she could before stepping away.
