A thoughtful look came over her beautiful complexion, her lips twisted. “Well, best be off then,” she said, a resolution clearly made, probably to go and snatch it off him herself. And with that she pranced out, a confident smirk on her wide mouth like she’d swallowed a toad.
I rolled my head back on the pillow and groaned. That’s all I needed. Another person in search of my money as well as the Tilling woman and the Brigadier after me.
You’d better burn this letter, Clara, and the rest, in case the old you-know-who gets wind of it. You never know which walls have ears these days.
Edwina
Thursday, 8th August, 1940
What not to do
I heard about Venetia and Henry. Silvie told me, running up to the stables to find me.
“There’s news,” she called as she saw me in the stable yard saddling up Amadeus, who started shuffling away nervously.
“What news?”
“Venetia is going to marry Henry,” she panted, coming up next to me, an intense expression on her face. “She said yes!”
“What?”
“Henry asked Venetia to marry him, and she said yes,” she repeated, her face creased with worry.
“She can’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “She’s pregnant with Slater’s baby.”
“I know. That’s why she’s marrying him.”
“That’s not fair!” I said, struggling with the enormity of it all. “Poor Henry! Won’t he find out? Won’t it all have to be called off?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, coming up beside me.
“But why would he ask her to marry him when he’s engaged to marry me?”
“Maybe he forgot,” she said softly. “He likes Venetia a lot, Kitty. He always wants to talk to her.”
I turned and screamed at her, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She ran, faster than I’ve ever seen her go, and I was left stroking Amadeus, convincing myself she was mistaken, that this was just some ludicrous joke.
“Come on, Amadeus,” I whispered into his neck. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Once I had climbed onto his back and sat above my surroundings, looking over the green-and-gold patchwork of countryside, I felt more at ease to consider the possibility of Silvie’s news.
Reasons why Venetia can’t marry Henry
She’s in love with Mr. Slater
She’s pregnant with Mr. Slater’s baby
Henry’s supposed to marry me
It simply wasn’t the way things were meant to be. When I look into the future, I always see Henry and me, living at the Hall with four children, three cats, and a big dog called Mozart. I don’t see Venetia there. She wouldn’t suit living in Brampton Hall, I don’t think she aims to have quite so many children, and she doesn’t even like dogs, or Mozart.
It just wouldn’t work.
I trotted Amadeus down the path and broke him into a racing gallop over the pasture. I wasn’t really thinking about which way I was going, but it didn’t surprise me when I found myself in front of Brampton Hall, the sprawling redbrick, Gothic-style mansion gleaming in the brilliant sunlight. It was built a few generations ago by the original Brampton trader who got rich in India. Now they’re a grand local family, with Mrs. B. determined to make them even grander.
It was Henry himself who came to the door when I rang, looking rather flustered, and I remembered that all their servants had left.
“Henry.” I beamed.
“Kitty? Nice to see you.”
“I thought you might like to go for a walk?”
He glanced back into the house. “All right. Let me just tell Mama.”
He left the door open and strode off.
I returned to Amadeus. “You see, he’s not engaged to Venetia. Silvie was wrong.”
He reappeared, and off we went, walking up the path to the lane, while he hastily buttoned his collar and smoothed his hair. I was on foot, running slightly to keep up with his long strides, Amadeus trotting beside me. We quickly reached the lane, with steep grassy banks up each side, and the sky blue and cloudless over us.
“I’m afraid I can’t walk for long today, Kitty,” he started. “You see, I have some wonderful news.”
“Oh, about the war?” I asked, feeling the earth beneath me uncertain, like a tremoring earthquake waiting to rupture open the ground.
“No.” He looked at me with a grin. “I suppose I need not keep it from you, of all people. Venetia has made me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me.”
I stopped, rooted to the spot, terrified. “It’s true,” I uttered, the sunshine piercing a blinding light into my eyes. “It’s true.”
“Yes.” He stopped and turned to me. “Did you already hear about it? I say, are you all right, Kitty?”
I looked up at him. “But we were supposed to be married, Henry,” I cried out. “You said we would be married once I was old enough. You said so.” Tears had begun forming fat, pointless fingers of water that rushed down my cheeks.
Henry looked horrified. “But, Kitty,” he said quietly. “I never said that. When? Where?”