Page 2 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘Miss Talbot,’ she corrected with frigid politeness. A shriek of rage was howling through her body, but she contained it, gesturing sharply to the door with a wave of her hand. ‘You’ll forgive me if I ask you to see yourself out, Mr Linfield.’

After a quick bob of a bow, he fled eagerly from her, without looking back.

Kitty stood motionless for a moment, holding her breath as if to prevent this disaster from unfolding any further. Then she walked to the window, where the morning sun was streaming in, leant her forehead against the glass, and exhaled slowly. From this window, one had an uninterrupted view of the garden: the daffodils just beginning to flower, the vegetable patch, still thick with weeds, and the loose chickens picking their way through, looking for grubs. Life outside continued on, and yet on her side of the glass, everything was utterly ruined.

They were alone. Completely and utterly alone now, with no one to turn to. Mama and Papa were gone, and in this hour of most grievous need, where more than ever she wished to ask for their advice, she could not. There was simply no one left to whom she could turn. Panic was rising within her. What was she to do now?

She might have stayed in this position for several hours, were she not interrupted by her youngest sister, ten-year-old Jane, who barged in only a few minutes later with the self-importance of a royal messenger.

‘Kitty, where is Cecily’s book?’ she demanded.

‘It was in the kitchen yesterday,’ Kitty answered without looking away from the garden. They ought to weed the artichoke bed this afternoon, it would need planting before long. Distantly, she heard Jane call to Cecily to pass on her words.

‘She’s looked there,’ came the reply.

‘Well, look again.’ Kitty dismissed her impatiently with a flap of a hand.

The door opened and closed with a bang. ‘She says it’s not there and if you’ve sold it, she’ll be very upset because it was a gift from the vicar.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Kitty snapped, ‘you may tell Cecily that I can’t look for her silly vicar book, because I have just been jilted and need a few moments’ reprieve, if that is not too much to ask!’

No sooner had Jane relayed this unusual message to Cecily, than the full household – all of Kitty’s four sisters and Bramble the dog – descended upon the parlour, instantly filling the space with noise.

‘Kitty, what is this about Mr Linfield jilting you? Has he really?’

‘I never liked him, he used to pat me on the head as if I were a child.’

‘My book is not in the kitchen.’

Kitty told them as briefly as she could what had happened, with her head still resting on the glass. There was silence after this, as Kitty’s sisters stared uncertainly at each other. After a few moments, Jane – having grown bored – wandered over to the creaking pianoforte and broke the silence by bashing out a jolly tune. Jane had never received music lessons, but what she lacked in talent she made up for in both fervour and volume.

‘How awful,’ Beatrice – at nineteen years, Kitty’s closest sister in both age and temperament – said at last, appalled. ‘Oh, Kitty dear, I am sorry. You must be heartbroken.’

Kitty turned her head sharply. ‘Heartbroken? Beatrice, that is quite beside the point. Without my marrying Mr Linfield, we are all ruined. Papa and Mama may have left us the house, but they also left an astonishing amount of debt. I was depending on the Linfield wealth to save us.’

‘You were marrying Mr Linfield for his fortune?’ Cecily asked, a judgemental note in her voice. The intellectual of the family at eighteen years of age, Cecily was felt by her sisters to have a rather over-developed sense of morality.

‘Well, it was certainly not for his integrity or gentlemanly honour,’ Kitty said bitterly. ‘I just wish I’d had the sense to wrap it up sooner. We should not have pushed back the wedding when Mama died, I knew that a long engagement was asking for trouble. To think that Papa thought it would look unseemly!’

‘How bad is it, Kitty?’ Beatrice asked. Kitty stared silently at her for a few moments. How could she tell them? How could she explain all that was about to happen?

‘It is … serious,’ Kitty said carefully. ‘Papa re-mortgaged the house to some quite disreputable people. The sales I made – our books, the silverware, some of Mama’s jewels – were enough to keep them at bay for a while, but on the first of June they will return. Not four months away. And if we do not have enough money, or proof that we can start paying them, then …’

‘… We will have to leave? But this is our home.’ Harriet’s lip wobbled. As second youngest, she yet remained more sensitive than Jane, who had at least stopped playing to sit quietly on the stool, watching.

Kitty did not have the heart to tell them that it would be worse than just leaving. That the sale of Netley Cottage would barely cover their debts, with nothing left after to support them. With nowhere to go and no obvious means of income, the future would be a dark place. They would have no choice but to split up, of course. She and Beatrice might find some employment in Salisbury, or one of the larger towns nearby, perhaps as housemaids – or lady’s maids if they were truly lucky. Cecily – well, Kitty could not imagine Cecily being willing or able to work for anyone – but with her education she might try a school. Harriet – oh, Harriet was so young – would have to do the same. Somewhere that would provide room and board. And Jane … Mrs Palmer in the town, singularly mean-spirited though she was, had always had a sort of fondness for Jane. She might be persuaded to take her in until she was old enough to find employment, too.

Kitty imagined them all, her sisters, separated and cast to the wind. Would they ever be together again, as they were now? And what if it was far worse than this already-bleak scenario? Visions of each of them, alone, hungry and despairing, flashed before her eyes. Kitty had not yet wept a tear over Mr Linfield – he was not worth her tears – but now her throat ached painfully. They had already lost so much. It had been Kitty who had had to explain to them that Mama was not going to get better. Kitty who had broken the news of Papa’s passing. How was she now to explain that the worst was still to come? She could not find the words. Kitty was not their mother, who could pull reassurances from the air like magic, nor their father, who could always say things would be all right with a confidence that made you believe him. No, Kitty was the family’s problem solver – but this was far too great an obstacle for her to overcome with will alone. She wished desperately that there was someone who might carry this burden with her, a heavy load for the tender age of twenty, but there was not. Her sisters’ faces stared up at her, so sure even now that she would be able to fix everything. As she always had.

As she always would.

The time for despair had passed. She would not – could not – be defeated so easily. She swallowed down her tears and set her shoulders.

‘We have more than four months until the first of June,’ Kitty said firmly, moving away from the window. ‘That is just enough time, I believe, for us to achieve something quite extraordinary. In a town such as Biddington, I was able to ensnare a rich fiancé. Though he turned out to be a weasel, there is no reason to believe the exercise cannot be repeated, simply enough.’

‘I do not think any other rich men live nearby,’ Beatrice pointed out.

‘Just so!’ her sister replied cheerfully, eyes unnaturally bright. ‘Which is why I must travel to more fruitful ground. Beatrice, consider yourself in charge – for I shall be leaving for London.’