Kitty by Deborah Challinor Read Free Book Online

retching, but by the time the feeling had passed and she was able to straighten up again, Ida Ormsby had disappeared.
    ‘Oh, Hugh,’ Kitty gasped, blinking back tears of dismay, ‘what will we do?’
    He was on his feet now, grim-faced, straightening his jacket and his cravat. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to go.’
    Kitty’s stomach lurched. ‘Go? Where? What about me?’
    Hugh fixed her with a level stare. ‘You’ll have to go back out there, pretend nothing’s happened. She might not say anything.’
    Kitty stared back disbelievingly: Ida Ormsby was one of the district’s worst and most vindictive gossips. ‘Why can’t we go out together? Thenwe could tell Mama about our plans to be married.’
    Hugh flicked a dried rose leaf off the sleeve of his jacket. He didn’t look up. ‘I’m sorry, Kitty, but I don’t have any plans to be married.’
    Kitty suddenly felt alarmingly light-headed. ‘But I thought…’
    ‘I know what you thought.’ He did glance up then. ‘Look, you’re a lovely girl but I’m not interested in being saddled with a wife. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more to be said.’
    And with that he stepped past her and strode off down the path towards the front of the house.
    Kitty stood alone for several long seconds, then pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The day was still warm, but she felt bitterly cold, a sharp iciness that came from deep within her. She took a long quavering breath, stepped out of the arbour and made her way back to the party guests.
    As she reached the lawn, she gradually slowed and then stopped as she saw that every single face was turned towards her.
    She sat on her bed, one hand rhythmically smoothing a section of white quilt. She’d risen at seven o’clock as usual, washed her face and hands in cold water, and had dressed by the time Dinah, her mother’s housegirl, knocked on her bedroom door with a breakfast of scrambled egg and a pot of tea on a tray.
    ‘Your mam says you’re not to come down this morning, Miss Kitty,’ Dinah said, giving her an apologetic look containing more than a hint of sympathy.
    Kitty nodded. Dinah must know what had happened—there had been enough raised voices after her mother had dragged her home from the garden party yesterday afternoon. Immediately after her reappearance on the lawn, Kitty had been bundled into the Carlisles’ gig and taken home. Emily had been disturbingly white-faced and silent but hadn’t exploded until they were within their own four walls, her wrath enough to confirm that Ida Ormsby had indeed publicly divulged every detail of what she had seen in the rose arbour. Kitty had subsequently been sentto her room, with strict instructions not to come out until summoned.
    She spent the night alternately weeping and sitting at the window, staring out at the moonlit garden but seeing nothing. She was hungry too, her mother not having sent up any supper, but the discomfort of her rumbling stomach was nothing compared with the stabbing, burning agony that consumed her entire body as the truth of his betrayal seeped into her during the long night.
    ‘Thank you,’ Kitty said to Dinah, and took the tray.
    For a moment she considered confiding in Dinah, but knew this would merely annoy her mother even more if she found out. And Dinah had her own problems; she had been told only yesterday morning that her services would no longer be required in the Carlisle household. Her wages were one shilling and sixpence a week, and Emily couldn’t afford her.
    ‘I’ll come back for the tray when you’ve finished,’ Dinah said.
    Kitty nodded and closed the door. She poured herself a cup of tea, but left the egg for the flies that were buzzing on the windowsill now that the sun was up.
    When Dinah came back to collect Kitty’s uneaten breakfast she brought a message from her mother: Kitty was to come down to the parlour at two o’clock, but not before then.
    The morning hours trudged past. At midday Kitty