and therefore quite eligible. I believe the Melroses considered that it wouldn’t hurt to wait a year or two before giving their consent to a marriage. Daniel himself had only just turned twenty when he set sail for India. I suppose he considered it would occupy his time until he could officially ask for Julia’s hand.’
Caroline cast a puzzled glance across at her mother. ‘But if Julia Melrose was truly in love with Daniel, why on earth did she agree to marry Simon Ross?’
‘That I couldn’t say, my dear. I do know that Julia, Simon and Daniel had known one another all their lives and had frequently played together as children, but from what I have gleaned over the years from the many friends I still have living in the area, Julia always showed a preference for Daniel’s company. Most people, including your grandfather, expected them to tie the knot one day.’ She shrugged. ‘One can only imagine pressure was brought to bear on Miss Melrose to marry Simon. After all, he was the one who had been destined to hold the title, not Daniel.’
Mrs Wentworth sighed and shook her head. ‘Whether the marriage was happy or not, I couldn’t say, but it certainly proved fruitful. Julia gave birth to a son some five or six years ago, if I remember correctly. One cannot help but feel saddened that the union was brought to an abrupt end. Simon Ross, sadly, was killed whilst hunting in the Shires.’
‘Which leaves the field now open for the Major, as it were,’ Katherine remarked, with just a touch of cynicism that made her aunt smile.
‘It is certainly a possibility that their love will rekindle,’ her aunt acknowledged. ‘He has, so I understand, never betrayed the least interest in marrying anyone else, even though his name has been linked with several—er—females over the years.’
Out of the corner of her eye Katherine saw her cousin glance in her direction, as though expecting her, now that the opportunity had arisen, to pass some remark, and she swiftly decided not to disappoint her. ‘I clearly remember that, when I resided in Dorsetshire for those few short months, Captain Ross, as he was then, betrayed an interest in a close neighbour of Grandpapa’s—Helen Rushton.’
‘Helen Rushton?’ her aunt echoed, frowning slightly. Then her brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I remember—Hermi-one Rushton’s girl!’ The frown returned. ‘Are you positive he was interested in her, Katherine? She must have been a mere child at the time.’
‘She was seventeen.’
Mrs Wentworth’s expressive brows rose this time. ‘Yes, I suppose she must have been. So very sad, her dying so young. I remember Mrs Rushton very well—a sweet woman, but something of a dreamer and not very bright. I recall your grandfather mentioning once that Helen had become very like her mother.’
Until that moment Katherine had never considered that Helen had been very immature for her years. Looking back now, however, she was silently forced to own that her friend had been something of a dreamer and might well have imagined that Daniel Ross had been betraying an interest in her.
Swiftly thrusting this traitorous thought aside, she said, ‘I also recall, Aunt, that he was displaying marked attention towards a young widow in the locale.’
‘Very likely, my dear. He could only have been twenty-three or-four at the time. I doubt his intentions were serious. Gentlemen rarely are at that age. And you must remember he had suffered a grievous blow over Julia Melrose. When I spoke to him at the party I gained the distinct impression that he is more than ready to settle down now, however. He is quite wealthy, so should have no difficulty in finding himself a wife.’
Caroline’s soft brown eyes glowed with a distinctly hopeful look. ‘Although it is unlikely that Major Ross will ever inherit the title, it is not impossible that he and his childhood sweetheart might one day find happiness together.’
Whether or not it was because she had never fallen in love herself, or that she simply didn’t possess her cousin’s romantic streak, Katherine was not sure, but her interest had already swiftly begun to wane. The ex-Major’s present romantic inclinations were of absolutely no interest to her. Consequently she experienced no compunction whatsoever in changing the subject by voicing something which was of far more concern to her, if a trifle mundane.
‘I sincerely hope the weather improves by tomorrow. I do not relish the prospect of returning all the way to Bath in the pouring rain.’
‘I wish you were not going back so soon, Katherine. Cannot Mama and I persuade you to remain a little longer?’
Katherine, smiling fondly at her cousin, shook her head. ‘I should dearly love to stay another week or two, Caro, but my conscience will not permit it. I have already left poor Clarissa Mountjoy to her own devices for two weeks.’
‘I think it was highly unfair of Aunt Augusta to foist that distinctly foolish female on to you, Katherine,’ Lavinia Wentworth announced, with a rare show of annoyance. ‘She is engaged as a companion and resides in your home for the sole purpose of ensuring that you, an unmarried female, are suitably chaperoned at all times. Yet I swear it is you who takes care of her. It is a fine duenna indeed who cannot bring herself to travel more than a mile or two because she fears becoming queasy!’
A further fond smile touched Katherine’s lips as she looked across at her aunt. ‘Believe me, Aunt Lavinia, I am not sorry that Mountjoy is afflicted with travel sickness whenever she steps inside a carriage.’ She couldn’t prevent a sigh escaping. ‘I am forced to admit too that I do find her company excessively tedious, for she is undeniably an extremely foolish woman, but she does try so very hard to please. And I would never go back on the promise I made to Aunt Augusta and turn Mountjoy off. The poor woman put up with Great-aunt Augusta’s megrims and ill humours for twenty years. I believe she has earned a little peace and contentment in a house where not too much is expected of her, and she can more or less come and go as she pleases.’
A further sigh escaped Katherine as she finally abandoned her book and set it to one side. ‘I must admit, though, as chaperons go, she could never be described as diligent. I cannot say that I would feel in the least sorry if she did decide to leave, and I could employ someone of my own choosing.’
‘I doubt there is much chance of that,’ her aunt warned. ‘I fear, my dear, that you have made the woman’s life far too agreeable since Aunt Augusta’s death for her to wish to take up another post.’
‘You are possibly quite right,’ Katherine agreed. ‘But there is just a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Mountjoy received a letter from her widowed sister a month ago, inviting her to make her home with her. Needless to say I would be delighted if she does decide to leave, but I am resolved that it must be her decision.’
‘You would have no need of a chaperon if you chose to make your home here with us,’ her aunt reminded her.
Katherine had wondered how long it would be before the subject was once again raised. Her aunt had asked her on several occasions to make her home in Hampshire, and Katherine had always neatly avoided giving a firm answer. It was not that she felt she would be unhappy living with her aunt and uncle, for she was fond of them both, and adored both her cousins. Nor was she afraid that the little independence she had acquired would be drastically curtailed, for her aunt was such an easygoing soul who would willingly allow her to do more or less as she pleased. No, stupid though it might be, she was afraid to take up permanent residence under this roof; afraid that, as had happened so often in the past, she would bring ill fortune to the household if she were ever to remove here.
‘That is certainly true, Aunt,’ she agreed, her warm smile concealing quite beautifully those deep-rooted fears that had continued to torment her in
