The next day dawned overcast and dreary, a perfect reflection of Cat’s mood. She was angry with Reginald. If he had given Cat documents that were worth stealing, why didn’t he tell her? She wondered if yesterday’s attack was some sort of test, but dismissed that thought. Surely Reginald wouldn’t be so cruel as to put Cat in jeopardy like that. Would he?
Cat realised that her relationship with Reginald could all be a lie. Maybe he hadn’t known her father at all. She wondered if yesterday’s events were nothing more than a horrible nightmare, but her reflection in the mirror told her otherwise. Her eye had swollen into a mottled orb overnight and was now a fetching shade of blue. Her head pounded from the claret. Her stomach gurgled from the rich food.
She drank a glass of water and dressed for the day. The effort caused her head to throb with renewed vigour. She tried to cover her eye with make-up, but gave that up. She would eat some breakfast – and hopefully calm her queasy stomach – and check the newspaper. She must talk to Reginald, demand an explanation.
A scintilla of fear warned her to stay home where she would be safe, but she pushed it away. If Reginald had further work for her, she would take it, but she would demand that he tell her specifically what she was doing for him. She knew the errands she ran were not so innocent, but she would need the money if she were going to leave Benton and made a new life for herself. She stopped, realising that she had made up her mind. She was going to leave her husband, leave this house. She’d have to take Annie with her, but that didn’t matter. They would go to Aunt Lydia’s and see where things stood.
Downstairs, Isobel was seated at the dining table, while Blackie filled a plate with kippers and eggs from the chafing dishes on the sideboard. The smell of them made Cat’s stomach roil. She took two pieces of dry toast, filled a cup with tea, and sat down at the table.
‘Good morning,’ Blackie said. He set the newspaper down, revealing an article about the pageantry of the recent coronation of King George. ‘How’s the eye this morning?’
‘Swollen, but not as painful,’ Cat said. ‘I imagine it will get worse before it gets better.’
‘Probably,’ Blackie said. ‘They usually go from blue, to purple, to green, then yellow.’
‘Blackie, dear, how do you know about these things?’ Isobel asked. She didn’t even acknowledge Cat.
‘Used to box a bit as a teenager, Izzy. I’ve had my share of black eyes.’
‘Did you really?’ Isobel put the newspaper she was reading down. ‘I had no idea. I’m surprised your parents approved.’
‘They didn’t know,’ Blackie said. ‘My mother would have been furious with me.’
Isobel shook her head. ‘I remember you hated fighting when we were little. You used to cry –’
‘That was a long time ago, Isobel,’ Blackie said. He refilled Isobel’s tea before he poured for himself. ‘What’s everyone doing today?’
Isobel dabbed her mouth with the linen napkin and added sugar and milk to her cup. ‘Meetings all week. So busy. Small committee meeting today, then our big meeting tomorrow, here at the house. We’re going to be over-run with women, Blackie. You may want to take your midday meal out. We’ve got plans to host a luncheon and jumble sale and a dinner-dance in addition to the charity ball. Three separate fundraisers. And a man from The London Times has taken pictures and interviewed me. The exposure will be wonderful. There are a lot of other events competing with ours, especially given the coronation. Too much exposure on the social aspect of the charity balls, I’m afraid. I’m hopeful the Times article will convince people how necessary an orphanage is. Maybe he’ll do a feature article, and more people will come forward with their support. There is much to do, but if our projections are correct, we should have enough money to start construction on the new orphanage next year.’
‘That’s commendable, Isobel,’ Blackie said. ‘You’re remarkable.’
‘It’s important to make a contribution,’ Isobel said. She cast a disapproving glance at Cat, who ignored her altogether.
‘What about you, Catherine? Big day planned?’
‘Yes,’ Cat lied easily. ‘I have a few errands to run.’ Annie came in, carrying a small silver tray that held the morning post. She carried the tray towards Cat, but Isobel grabbed the letters before Annie could stop her.
‘Thank you, Annie. You may go and eat your own breakfast now,’ Isobel said.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Annie said. She flashed a shy smile at Cat and Blackie and hurried from the room.
Isobel rifled through the letters, inspecting each one. ‘Here’s one from Alicia Montrose.’ Isobel started to open it, until Cat caught her name scrawled across the front.
‘That’s addressed to me, Isobel.’ Cat extended her hand.
Isobel checked the front of the envelope. ‘Oh, of course. Sorry. Usually Alicia writes directly to me. Shall I open it for you? I’m sure it’s to do with our charity function –’
‘No, thank you,’ Cat said. She snatched the envelope from Isobel.
Cat felt Isobel’s eyes on her as she opened the letter, and read Alicia Montrose’s perfect handwriting. ‘Cat, Please come to the country with me this weekend. The air will do you good! You can become acquainted with my boys, and we can catch up. I don’t want to pressure you, but ring if you’re so inclined. In fond friendship, Alicia.’
Cat thought about chucking it all, taking Annie, and heading to Bournemouth to Alicia’s rambling estate. There were empty cottages scattered about the property. If she wanted to, Cat and Annie could stay there as long as they wanted. She smiled.
‘What does Alicia want?’ Isobel asked.
‘Really, Isobel, can I not have a modicum of privacy?’
‘We need to discuss a few things before you leave today,’ Isobel said. ‘Such as Annie’s duties. Will she still help Marie with the cooking?’
‘She can continue with her duties as long as one of you is within reach of her at all times. I won’t leave her alone in this house at the whim of Benton’s friends. However, I’m going to Lydia’s for a few days, and I’m taking Annie with me.’
‘When are you going?’ Isobel demanded. ‘I’ve got my committee meeting today and my tea tomorrow. I can’t do it without Annie’s help.’
‘I’m not sure, maybe tomorrow or the next day.’
‘I hope you’ll let Annie stay and help with the meetings that I have planned.’
‘Of course,’ Cat said. ‘As long as Annie is amenable.’
‘We’ll need to assure her that she’ll be safe. She won’t want to stay here without Catherine otherwise,’ Marie said. ‘I can’t say that I blame her.’
‘Don’t you think that you and Catherine are taking things too far?’ Isobel said. Before Cat could say anything further, Isobel spoke. ‘Very well. When you’re not here, Marie will be responsible for Annie’s safety.’
Isobel picked up the crystal bell that sat by her teacup. Soon Annie appeared.
‘Yes, Miss Isobel?’
‘Annie, Cat is going to stay with her aunt at some point. She wants you to go with her. Do you mind staying until after my meeting tomorrow? I assure you that Freddy Sykes will be nowhere near, and if for some strange reason he comes to the house, I promise to keep him away from you. The choice is yours.’
Annie looked at Cat.
‘I’ll keep you safe, Annie,’ Marie said.
‘If you don’t feel comfortable, you are under no obligation to stay. You’re free to do as you wish. You’re not in trouble. The choice is yours,’ Cat said.
Isobel rolled her eyes. ‘Really,’ she muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear her.
‘Do stop it, Izzy. The child has every right to be mistrustful.’ Marie’s cheeks flamed with indignation.
‘It’s up to you, Annie,’ Cat said.
‘When are you leaving?’ Annie asked.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You don’t have to stay here alone if you don’t want to.’
‘I can stay until after the meeting,’ Annie said.
‘We’ll keep you safe, Annie,’ Marie said. ‘I give you my word on that.’
‘I know. I trust you, Marie.’ Annie took the empty teapot without being asked and went to the kitchen to fill it.
‘How is Lydia?’ Marie asked.
Cat took the last piece of toast. ‘Aunt Lydia is fine, thank you for asking.’
‘Please tell her I said hello. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get us more toast.’ Marie picked up the toast rack as she left the room.
‘Does Benton know that you’re leaving us?’ Isobel asked.
Cat ignored her and spread a thick layer of butter onto her toast.
‘Are you going to ignore me? I asked if my brother knows you’re leaving,’ Isobel said.
‘I’m not ignoring you, Isobel. I’m just not going to discuss this private matter with you.’
‘The matter is not private when it concerns my brother. He needs a wife by his side. Have you ever given a moment’s thought to anyone other than yourself?’
‘Apparently not,’ Cat said.
Isobel shook her head and focused on her mail. She always got stacks of it and spent a good part of her day locked in her office with Marie, answering and writing letters, most of it to do with the charity work that consumed her life.
‘Cat? Are you listening?’ Blackie said. ‘I said, do you want the paper? I’ve finished with it.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Cat said. She took the paper and pretended to read the front page. It wouldn’t do for her to go right to the personals in search of a message from Reginald. Cat wanted to see him today, and hoped she would find a message there. She had to be careful, though. Despite his bumbling ways, Cat suspected Blackie saw more than he let on.
She took her time perusing the tedious articles on fashion and housekeeping and Lady Shelton’s at-home, before she turned to the personals. She skimmed the ads until she found the message from Sir Reginald. ‘Sir Edmund’s pippin in the garden today.’ Thank God. Cat felt Blackie’s eyes on her. She didn’t look up, rather she smiled, as though entertained by what she read.
‘Listen to this one,’ she said, ‘will the lady with the green eyes and the hair like mink please come back to the bench under the rowan tree Tuesday at four. I think we are meant to marry and I must know your name.’
Blackie laughed. ‘Read another –’
Isobel yelped and dropped the letter she was holding. A photograph slipped out of the envelope and landed next to it, face down on the table. She snatched it up, tore it into pieces and put the pieces in her pocket. Her breath came in short gasps. She put her hand on her heart, as though she were having a heart attack.
‘What is it?’ Blackie rose and hurried over to her.
Like a flash, Isobel grabbed the letter, pushed away from the table, and ran out of the room.
‘What just happened?’ Cat asked. She had never seen Isobel lose her composure.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Blackie said. ‘What should we do?’
‘I’m not going to do anything.’ Cat stood up. ‘I’m the last person she’d turn to for help. Isobel isn’t one for unsolicited comfort, Blackie. I’d leave her be.’
Blackie ignored Cat’s warning and hurried after Isobel, leaving Cat free to slip out of the house.
Reginald was already at their bench. Cat stopped and watched him as he took seeds from the packet and tossed them at the birds that scurried around his feet. Something was different today. Cat thought it might have to do with the clouds that blocked the sun, but when she got close to the bench where he sat waiting, she noticed the worry in Reginald’s eyes.
‘Don’t get up,’ Cat said. She sat down next to him. ‘The black eye isn’t from Benton, if that’s what you’re thinking. When I was making my delivery yesterday, I was attacked. I’m quite certain the woman who attacked me wanted the documents I was carrying.’ Cat glanced at Reginald, looking for some remorse. She saw none. ‘I’m asking you to trust me, Reginald, and tell me the truth. Who are you? Who do you work for? What, pray tell, have you got me into?’
Reginald didn’t speak for a long time. He and Cat sat side by side on the bench, in the grey day. A passer-by would think that the young woman was sharing a quiet moment of contemplation with her grandfather or aged uncle. Cat and Reginald had shared this garden square bench for years. As Cat reflected on her relationship with him, she realised she had never met anyone like him before. He taught without being pedantic. He was a well-travelled sophisticate, yet he never condescended. He always had a kind word. Because of knowing him, Cat learned to enjoy the space between words, the comfortable silence that good friends can share. Now she wanted some answers; she wanted some assurances from this man whom she so blindly trusted.