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However, Lady Leaconham was not to be put off. She continued to refer to the picnic throughout the evening.
‘But my love, surely you do not want your mama driving out of town without a gentleman’s escort? Why, it is not done.’ Lady Leaconham resorted to her finest weapon, her handkerchief. She flicked it out and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I should never be allowed to travel unescorted if your father was alive.’
‘Very well, I will tell you what I shall do,’ said Garston, exasperated. ‘I will come with you as far as Barnet—it is on the way, after all.’
‘On the way?’ retorted my lady, in a far from lachrymose tone. ‘What nonsense is this? We will be taking the Cambridge road!’
‘Well, if you take the Great North Road instead you could drop me at the Rising Sun. After that it would not take you long to cross Enfield Chase to pick up the Kentish Lane. There, what do you say to that?’
It was not ideal; Lady Leaconham would much have preferred to have her son’s company for the whole day, but he was not to be moved so she had to be satisfied.
‘After all,’ she said to Kitty once Garston had left them, ‘my son is a dear, dear boy but he is so very much like his father: not stubborn exactly, but a man of fixed views, and once he has made up his mind, there is no changing it.’
***
Kitty did not see Ann again before the picnic, and since she heard nothing more about their outing to Lombard Street she hoped their attendance at the Abolition meeting had gone unnoticed. Although she was relieved at this, Kitty was nevertheless anxious to support the cause, but apart from persuading her godmother to refrain from buying sugar imported from the slave plantations there was little she could do as a single young lady. Judicious enquiries of her godmother elicited the information that the Leaconham fortune came from estates in England and Ireland and although an earlier Lord Leaconham had dabbled in investments in the West Indies these had not been a success and the link had been broken. A suggestion to Lord Leaconham that he should raise the matter in the House brought the daunting response that he had not yet taken his seat, being far too busy. However, the subject raised a dilemma for Kitty and when she next sat down to write to her mother she voiced her concern that since so many of the families in Town had connections with the slave trade she could not, as Papa’s Daughter, consider an alliance with any of them. Not that she had as yet received any offers, she hurried to point out. Her mother’s response was typically pragmatic: much as she applauded her daughter’s liberal views, Kitty must do and say nothing to discourage any advantageous offer, but to remember that as the wife of a rich man she would be much better placed to influence both her husband and the debate.
Lady Leaconham said much the same thing and, while she agreed that they would no longer use cane sugar from the West Indies, she begged Kitty not to voice her opinions in public.
‘It is a very worthy cause, I am sure, and I have read that Mr Wilberforce is very eloquent on the subject, but it is not something to be discussed in my drawing room.’
‘I beg your pardon, Godmama,’ replied Kitty, anger bringing a warm flush to her cheek, ‘but it should be discussed in every drawing room!’
‘Well, perhaps when you are with your close friends,’ conceded Lady Leaconham, ‘but it makes people uncomfortable to think about it, and that will make them shy away from you. My dear, the reason for you being here is to find you a husband, and we shall not do that if you do not conform. And while we are talking of such things, perhaps I should just drop you a word of warning.’ Lady Leaconham began to fidget and pluck at the skirts of her gown. ‘I have been very careful not to be too explicit about your circumstances.’
‘My … circumstances, Godmama?’
‘The fact that you have no fortune, my dear. It is nothing to be ashamed of, and you have such pretty manners that people cannot fail to like you, but we do not want to prejudice anyone against you.’
‘Are you saying that people will not wish to be acquainted with me if they know I am poor?’ said Kitty baldly.
‘My dear, there is no need to be quite so blunt,’ protested Lady Leaconham. ‘All I ask is that you refrain from discouraging eligible gentlemen by being too truthful—about your country upbringing, for example—or expressing your more … liberal views.’
Kitty bit her lip. She very much wanted to say that she did not want a husband if he did not share her opinions, but then she had a vision of poor Mama and Aunt Jane, sitting in their cold little cottage, struggling to set their stitches in the failing light and unable to afford to buy good candles and coal from their meagre income. They had scrimped and saved, forgoing all luxuries to send her to London. The more she thought about it the more she realised that, having spent their savings on this trip, Mama and Aunt Jane were now in a very perilous position, for if they could no longer make a living from their sewing then they would have nothing at all to live on. Fearful visions of them being thrown onto the streets began to haunt her. She must not let them down. Kitty fought down a sigh: her resolution to marry well had not seemed quite so problematic when she had been in Yorkshire.
Kitty saw that Lady Leaconham was regarding her anxiously and she gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Very well, Godmama, I promise you I shall try to avoid saying anything that would make you uncomfortable. I will do my best to do my duty.’
Lady Leaconham gave a very audible sigh. She smiled and patted Kitty’s cheek.
‘There. I knew you were a good girl! Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you that your new walking dress has arrived.’
‘Another dress? Oh, ma’am, you are spoiling me!’
‘Nonsense. We were agreed that you should have a new one, were we not? After all, you walk out every morning when you take Titan for his exercise.’
Kitty laughed.
‘No one sees me at that time in the morning, Godmama!’
‘Nevertheless you cannot have too many walking dresses. And when I was with Madame Sophie last week I saw the most beautiful sprigged muslin that I knew would look lovely on you. It is for our picnic tomorrow. I want you to look your best for Lord Harworth.’
‘But I am sure Lord Harworth has no interest in me, except as his sister’s friend.’
‘Perhaps not, but there is no harm in your looking your best for the picnic,’ responded Lady Leaconham. ‘And since you will be together for most of the day tomorrow, it would do no harm to make yourself agreeable to him, now would it? After all, he is by far the most eligible bachelor we know, and even if he is only a baron think how happy your mama would be if you were to become Lady Harworth!’
With her godmother’s words ringing in her ears, Kitty rose the next day and made her preparations for the picnic. She dressed carefully in the new gown of pale primrose, its bodice embroidered with tiny flowers in a deeper lemon, and she allowed Meakin to style her hair so that her glossy dark curls would peep out beneath the shady brim of her villager straw hat. When a servant scratched upon the door to tell her Lord Leaconham had arrived and that Lady Leaconham was waiting for her in the morning room, she took a final look in the mirror, picked up her parasol and hurried downstairs.
‘My dear, you look charmingly,’ smiled Lady Leaconham as she entered the morning room. ‘Well, Garston, what do you think of my protégé now?’
‘By Jove, Mama, she’s a veritable diamond!’ declared Lord Leaconham. ‘Been thinkin’ so for a while now.’ He raised his quizzing glass to stare at Kitty, who wished she had draped a neckerchief around the low neckline of her gown.
‘Yes, well I am hoping we can fix Lord Harworth’s interest,’ put in Lady Leaconham, adding pointedly, ‘It is not so important for him to find a rich wife.’
‘Dash it, Mama, he is not that much wealthier than me!’ muttered Garston but his mother was not listening.
She swept up, put her arm through Kitty’s and carried her towards the door. ‘The carriage is here—shall we go?’
In recognition of the sunny weather, Lady Leaconham had elected to travel in the open landau, and once the busy streets were left behind Kitty had to admit that it was very pleasant to be bowling along with the sun shining down upon them. There was just enough breeze to make it necessary for her to pull her Norwich shawl about her shoulders, which had the added advantage of screening her décolletage from Lord Leaconham’s admiring gaze. She was not sorry when at last they reached the steep hill leading to Chipping Barnet, where they were to part company with the young lord and she had the impression that her godmother, too, was relieved he was not now accompanying them further. Lady Leaconham had taken the precaution of hiring outriders, two liveried servants on horseback who would accompany them to Wormley and as they drove away from Barnet she now declared herself perfectly satisfied with their escort.
‘And who knows,’ she ended with a hopeful little smile, ‘you are looking so pretty today, my dear Kitty, that Lord Harworth might decide to accompany us on our homeward journey!’
Kitty said nothing. She could not recall Lord Harworth paying her any particular attention, and she hoped for nothing more from the day than a pleasant time spent in congenial company. The image of Daniel Blackwood flashed into her mind and in an unguarded moment she hoped he would be there. She quickly stifled the thought: she had come to London to find and marry a gentleman, not a blunt Yorkshire manufacturer!
Wormley Hall was a beautiful old manor house set in large grounds that had been landscaped some fifty years ago. The trees had matured, the gravel paths and artificial lakes were somewhat overgrown and the whole now possessed the beautiful, slightly neglected air that was fashionably romantic. Several carriages were drawn up on the drive when they arrived and it was not long before Kitty was being introduced to Lady Harworth’s guests, those considered worthy of sharing the treat of an alfresco dinner. Several young people were present and Ann soon carried Kitty away to join them.
‘I am so glad you could come,’ she declared, linking arms with Kitty. ‘I do so love to eat out of doors. We are going to dine down there.’ She waved her arm in the direction of the lake, where a dozen or so servants were following a lumbering wagon to the far bank. ‘But before we walk there Mama wants to show everyone the formal gardens.’ Ann giggled, then lowered her voice. ‘Mr Grant has written an ode that he is going to read to us.’
Kitty followed her glance towards a very thin young man with a mop of brown hair. He was even now poring over a notebook.
‘Do not expect too much, Miss Wythenshawe,’ laughed another member of the party, a stocky young man with a florid complexion. ‘Julian’s poems are never very good.’
‘Y-you w-will eat your w-w-w-words one day, Ashley,’ retorted Mr Grant, pushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘Just w-w-wait until my work is published!’
Laughing and chattering, the group of young people followed their elders round the house to the south front, where the formal gardens stretched before them. They gathered round while young Mr Grant read them his ‘Ode to a Fallen Rose’ and applauded politely, then Lady Harworth conducted them around the gardens, pointing out the new plants and marble statues that had recently been introduced.
‘I wonder that you will take so much time over these gardens, Mama, when you never stay here,’ said Ann, smothering a yawn.
‘One never knows what might happen,’ replied Lady Harworth, leading them back towards the house. ‘I am minded to live here, should Bertram take a wife.’
Lady Leaconham was looking about her anxiously. She waited for Ann to come up to her and said casually, ‘Ann, dear, is your brother not joining us today?’
‘Oh, Bertram is around somewhere … yes, here he is now.’
Kitty found herself smiling at her godmother’s look of relief when Lord Harworth emerged from the house, Mr Blackwood walking beside him.
‘My apologies that I was not here to greet you, ma’am,’ said Lord Harworth, bowing over his aunt’s hand. ‘Blackwood and I were looking at the new range we have installed in the kitchen—the latest thing, you know, enclosed firebox, bigger hot-water tank …’
‘Oh, Bertram, our guests are not interested in that,’ protested Ann.
‘Not yet, perhaps,’ put in Daniel. ‘It may not be so necessary on a warm day like today, but imagine yourself coming in after a day’s hunting, muddy and dirty and wanting a bath before going down to dinner. By keeping a small fire in the range there will always be hot water for you.’
He was smiling directly at Kitty, who found herself wanting to smile back until Lady Harworth’s voice cut across the moment.
‘Very interesting to you, I am sure, Mr Blackwood, since you understand these things and are always talking to my son about spinning jennies and water frames, but I do not think our guests wish to concern themselves with the domestic arrangements of the house, what do you say, Miss Wythenshawe?’
Everyone’s attention turned to Kitty. Her godmother was watching her and she read the appeal in her eyes—she must not appear provincial. She thought of her mother and her aunt in their cottage in Fallridge, cooking on the little hob-grate with only a maidservant to help them.
‘You must excuse me,’ she said quietly, ‘I know nothing of cooks and kitchens.’
‘That is not to say she is not an excellent housekeeper,’ Lady Leaconham rushed in, giving a nervous laugh. ‘But I doubt my goddaughter has ever had the need to venture into a kitchen. Am I correct, Kitty?’
‘No, I have not.’
‘Then Miss Wythenshawe is very fortunate,’ murmured Daniel.
His smile had disappeared and Kitty wanted to protest, to explain that it was not because she had an army of servants at her beck and call that she had never entered the kitchen of a grand house, but Lord Harworth was turning towards her, offering her his arm.
‘I think we should be making our way to the lake. May I escort you, Miss Wythenshawe?’
Kitty did not need the little nudge in the back from Lady Leaconham to remind her of her duty, but she did try to smile a little more warmly at Lord Harworth as she tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm and walked off. She would not think of Daniel and his black looks, nor the fact that when she had put her hand on Daniel’s arm at the recent ball she had felt a little buzz of excitement run through her body. She could remember even now the feel of the hard sinews beneath his sleeve, the coiled energy of the man in the solid muscle. Lord Harworth’s arm merely felt … solid.
The party making its way around the lake to the picnic site was a very jolly one, with plenty of chatter and laughter and Kitty did her best to join in, responding in kind to her escort’s jovial remarks. She tried not to think of Daniel, who was following some way behind. When they reached the designated dining area Lord Harworth excused himself and rushed off to instruct the servants on the placing of the remaining tables and Kitty was left to wait for the others to come up. Daniel and Ann were the first to arrive and as they approached she was somewhat surprised to hear Ann alluding to the Abolition meeting.
‘Kitty has successfully persuaded my aunt to give up plantation sugar, but I have not been able to help at all,’ Ann was saying to Daniel. ‘Bertram has investments in the West Indies, you see, so it is impossible for us to purchase our sugar elsewhere. And as Bertram says, if we all stop buying sugar then the poor plantation workers will starve, and what good will that do?’
‘It might force change,’ Daniel replied, but Ann was not listening.
‘Besides, if you consider what we use in one household,’ she continued reflectively, ‘it is not so very much, after all, so what good would our little protest do?’ She smiled at Kitty. ‘We would be inconveniencing ourselves to very little effect, do you not agree?’
Kitty hesitated; her godmother’s warning was still fresh in her mind.
‘I think, if there were enough little protests, they might have a profound effect,’ she replied carefully. She excused herself and moved away, determined not to be drawn into the argument, but not before she heard Daniel’s comment.
‘Miss Wythenshawe does not appear quite so eager to support the movement now. Perhaps her enthusiasm has waned since the meeting.’
‘We were all moved by Mr Clarkson’s talk that evening,’ replied Ann. ‘But when the heat of the moment is passed then rational thought returns. I tried to dissuade her from signing the petition, but she was adamant she would do it …’
Kitty heard no more. She moved away quickly to join her godmother, who was being invited by Lord Harworth to sit at his table. It would do no good to assure Ann that she was as passionate as ever about the evils of slavery, and such a public declaration could only upset her godmother, so she tried to put the conversation out of her mind and concentrate upon the picnic.
The sun continued to shine and the party was in excellent spirits as the footmen served them with a delicious assortment of dishes, most impressive of which were the sorbets and chilled lemonade brought down from the house in a wagon full of ice.
‘Oh, this is delightful,’ cried Ann. ‘I do hope the fine weather holds a little longer. Perhaps we could dine out of doors for my birthday, Mama.’
‘And where would you suggest we do that, miss?’ retorted her mother. ‘The terrace is not wide enough and Harworth will not allow you to trample all over his flowerbeds.’
‘No, indeed,’ chuckled Lord Harworth. He turned to Kitty. ‘You must know, Miss Wythenshawe—indeed, I am sure Ann has told you, such good friends as you have become!—that my sister has persuaded me to hold a little dance for her birthday before we go north for the summer. I hope you will be able to come?’
‘Oh, I—um—’
‘Of course we shall, Bertram dear.’ Lady Leaconham smiled. ‘And I am sure Leaconham will come, too.’
‘But why is my nephew not here today?’ demanded Lady Harworth. ‘I made sure my invitation included him.’
‘He is engaged to join a party of friends today, at Barnet,’ explained Lady Leaconham, helping herself to another dish of sorbet.
‘Barnet,’ cried Lord Harworth. ‘Ah, that will be at the Rising Sun, no doubt. They are famous for their dinners.’
‘That is correct,’ affirmed Lady Leaconham. ‘We shall drive back that way and collect him on our return to Town.’
‘I hope he has a good head then,’ laughed Mr Ashley, sitting at a nearby table. ‘I believe the wine and brandy flow pretty freely at those affairs!’
‘Not sure I’d want my m-mother to see me after such a meal!’ remarked Julian Grant.
‘Heaven forbid,’ muttered Mr Ashley. ‘It might give you inspiration for another of your dreadful odes!’
Lady Leaconham was busy conversing with her sister and Kitty was thankful she did not hear this interchange.
‘Tell me, Miss Wythenshawe …’ Lord Harworth turned to address her’ … how does this compare with your life in the north?’
‘It is very … different, my lord,’ she replied.
‘A little warmer, I don’t doubt,’ he chuckled. ‘My mother always bemoans the fact that when we are at Kirkleigh the weather is rarely conducive to dining out of doors. So how do you amuse yourself at home? Balls, assemblies.’
Kitty was at a loss to know how to reply and was thankful when her godmother came to her aid.
‘My dear Kitty has lived very retired, my lord. Her mother is a widow now, of course, but Mr Wythenshawe was a man of very strict principles. Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that he had any objection to parties, but only in select company.’
‘And are you well acquainted with Mr Blackwood’s family?’ enquired Ann.
‘Not at all,’ Kitty replied hastily.
‘Oh?’ Ann looked up, surprised. ‘But when we met him in Oxford Street you said—’
‘Yes, but we do not move in the same circles.’
Kitty hoped in vain that her words had not carried across the table to Daniel. She saw his dark frown descend.
‘I told you, my lord,’ he said, ‘Miss Wythenshawe is far above my touch.’
The icy words coincided with a small cloud crossing in front of the sun and a sudden, uneasy hush fell over the company. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but Kitty was mortified.
‘No, no, I never meant—’
Her anguished protest was no more than a whisper and it was lost as Lady Harworth rose from the table, signalling the end of the meal. There was a sudden flurry of activity as everyone followed suit and Kitty looked towards Daniel, hoping she might be able to apologise and explain herself, but he was already moving away, giving his arm to a dashing young matron.
‘Miss Wythenshawe?’ Lord Harworth was holding his arm out to her. ‘Shall we walk?’
Silently she put her fingers on his arm, responding mechanically to his remarks while inwardly berating herself. It was so difficult! In trying to please her godmother and conceal her impoverished circumstances she appeared proud and conceited. Suddenly she could restrain herself no longer; she burst out, ‘My lord, when I spoke just now, about my family in the north, I fear I offended Mr Blackwood—’
‘Blackwood, offended?’ exclaimed Lord Harworth. ‘No, no, I am sure he is not. After all there is no denying that he is a manufacturer and while you might bump into him at Harrogate, perhaps, it is not surprising that you have not met him at any of the grander houses. Not but that the situation might change in the future,’ he added and when Kitty looked an enquiry he tapped his nose. ‘Meetings in Whitehall, m’dear! Can’t say more, but let us just say that I am not averse to furthering my acquaintance with the Blackwood family.
‘Now, Miss Wythenshawe, if we take this path you will find we have a very good view of the house across the lake … well, what do you think of that? Magnificent, eh?’
Kitty duly admired the view, but even while she was conversing with her escort she was thinking of Daniel. She must talk to him. Despite their past differences and the fact that he had treated her abominably, her conscience would not allow her to rest until she had explained herself. However, Lord Harworth and his guests were in no hurry to conclude their rambles through the woods and it was a good hour before the party gathered again at the house and carriages were summoned. Kitty spotted Daniel standing by himself and resolutely made her way across to him, steeling herself for her apology. She needed all her nerve to keep going, for the look he bestowed upon her when he saw her approaching was not at all encouraging. Kitty squared her shoulders, bracing herself to meet his harsh stare.
‘Mr Blackwood, if I may have a word with you.’ He regarded her with eyes as hard as stone. She took a breath. ‘I w-wanted to beg your pardon. I think my words earlier might have been misconstrued.’
‘Oh, I understood you perfectly, Miss Wythenshawe.’
‘No! I never meant to imply that my family was above yours,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I know nothing of your circumstances.’
‘That much is very true!’
‘And you know nothing about me!’ she retorted. ‘I am sorry for it if I appear to you to be bent upon nothing but pleasure.’
His lip curled.
‘Why should you be any different from all the other fashionable young females in Town? And do not think that your attendance at Clarkson’s meeting gives you any reason to feel especially self-righteous: I am well aware that it is currently a fashionable cause.’
Kitty’s cheeks flamed. She said angrily, ‘Not for me!’
She saw the disbelief in his eyes and was surprised at how much his contempt stung her. She hated arguments and wanted desperately to turn and walk away: after all, what did it matter what he thought of her? But she found it did matter. She forced herself to speak.
‘My father died ten years ago, Mr Blackwood, when I was but a child, yet I remember his liberal views, and his correspondence with like-minded acquaintances on the subject of slavery. A number of pamphlets on the subject remain amongst my father’s papers. I have always considered the plight of those less fortunate than ourselves to be of the utmost concern.’