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Together they made their way around to the servants’ entrance on the west side of the manor house. ’Twas a vast building, with distinct east and west wings, and just looking at it made her dizzy.
Or perhaps that was the lasting impression of the marquess’s fingers on her palm.
Oh, Katherine, you mustn’t let this meeting turn your head. You really mustn’t.
And yet how could she not? To see him again was one thing. To speak to him—to touch his hand—oh, she would relive it for weeks to come. Months.
I am a silly peagoose and that is the plain truth.
But no amount of berating would make her heart slow or her cheeks cool. She was in a state of terrible agitation, and it took all of her will to hide it as one of the kitchen servants accepted the delivery and spoke to her, counting out payment.
Kate’s chest began to heave as she found it increasingly hard to catch her breath.
The servant, an aging woman with flour dusting her grey hair and apron, frowned at Kate with concern. ‘See here, are you ill?’
Kate shook her head but pressed a hand to her breast. ‘’Tis only the heat, I think. We have been driving since this morning...’
A wave of dizziness made her sway on her feet.
‘Oy, get her a chair!’ the servant woman barked, and the next thing Kate knew she was sitting on a wooden chair, a young girl beside her, and the woman was pushing a cup of tea into her hands.
‘Thank you,’ Kate said.
The girl pushed up Kate’s loose sleeves and fanned at her with a large leaf. Kate thought vaguely that it might be from a lime tree.
The elderly servant woman stared at Kate’s arm, her face draining of colour.
Kate frowned and took a sip of the tea. It was immediately restorative.
The woman was still staring, and Kate followed her gaze to the birthmark on her inner forearm. ’Twas an unusual one, she had to own: it looked a great deal like a butterfly. But for it to evoke such a reaction seemed very strange indeed.
‘My heavens, are you unwell now, ma’am?’ she asked.
‘No one believed me,’ the woman said. ‘No one would listen.’
Her words made Kate instantly uneasy, for reasons she could not name. The old woman met her eyes, then, her expression one of great intensity.
‘We must see the master at once,’ the woman said.
Kate blinked in shock. ‘Surely not! What would be the use of disturbing him? I am feeling more myself already. Only let me sit for another moment or two and I shall be on my way.’
‘You cannot leave!’ the woman snapped.
Taken aback, Kate tried to rise from her chair.
‘Pray, I beg you, sit. I shall send for the master at once!’
‘I do not understand, have I done something wrong?’ Kate asked, beginning to panic. ‘If I have, I apologise, only tell me what I did and I shall rectify it—’
The woman turned from her and grabbed the sleeve of another servant woman who passed. ‘Sarah, I must speak with Lord Inverley. Get Mrs. Bishop at once.’
This pronouncement had a ripple effect. The kitchen was already diverted by Kate’s dizzy spell, but now everyone was thoroughly distracted, and soon enough, servants of other types—maids, a footman, even a groom—appeared in the doorways to find out what the commotion was. Kate felt her ears growing hot and her breathing became laboured again. Desperately she sipped her tea and looked about her for escape. She saw none.
After a quarter of an hour of this, the elderly woman took her by the arm and marched with her in tow up the stairs to a finely appointed drawing room, bursting in unannounced. Kate took in the scene in bewildered panic: Lord Thorburn was there, his expression surprised, sitting in an armchair near to another gentleman in military red, and a middle-aged lady was upon the sofa, and a lord a good deal older than the two men stood close by her. The older gentleman had brown hair greying at the temples. He wore a fine coat and spotless trousers. His manner was archly removed, his chin raised as he gazed at the servant and the visitor she brought with her.
The Earl of Inverley.
Kate wanted to fall through the cracks in the floorboards.
