Uncertain Heritage - A Novel Of Orphaned Sisters In 1800's Canada

Were it not for the disappearance of Darra, which took place just before my arrival back in Kingston, I should be truly happy. I am now employed, surprisingly enough, in the home of Major and Mrs Kingsley. On my arrival early on the morning after my flight from the Dunne’s, I found the Kingsley household in an uproar. The young maid, Oonagh, greeting me at the servants’ entrance, was quick to fill me in.

“Ooh, Cat,” she wailed, “if only you’d arrived yesterday.” I had just finished explaining my appearance and she told me of Darra not returning from her day off.

“The mistress is right vexed, what with company expected and the new girl not arriving as promised. She has boxed my ears and told me to do Darra’s work and me with only my two hands.”

I grasped at the straw offered me. If only I could stay with the Kingsleys for a while, I could perhaps learn what had happened to Darra. It would also spare me from having to beg charity at St Joseph’s until I found a suitable position.

“Oonagh, I’ll stay. I’ll help you. I had the same training as Darra and I can do the work. Please tell Mrs Kingsley that I am a friend of yours. Don’t let her know that I am Darra’s sister. It might prejudice her against me.”

So it came to pass. Oonagh was delighted to have me and, after the solitude of the Dunne’s, I enjoyed her company, even if at times I could wish her to be less common in her conversation.

I do not care for Mrs Kingsley, but I am studiously avoiding trouble with her as I wish to keep this position until the spring next year. There is also the advantage that I am learning many social skills as I help her in her plans and in the execution of her entertainment. She is a lavish hostess and is eager to be among the best in Kingston. After her functions, she enjoys telling me of the company present and I am the repository of much gossip. As I become more experienced, she seeks my advice, as she did today,

“Catherine, lay aside your dusting for a minute, girl, and come to the sewing room with me that I can make preparations for the luncheon next Wednesday.” I followed her to the sewing room where she usually settles to plan her menus and to make out her lists of orders.

“You realise that this is to be in honour of the young Mrs Gildersleeve? There will be eight of us all told.”

I was looking forward to the occasion myself as there could not be anyone in Kingston who is not familiar with the name Gildersleeve. The family have been shipwrights for generations. The old man, Henry, arrived in Kingston shortly after the 1812 war and is living still. Since then, his two sons, Overton and Charles, have continued working in the Lake Ontario and Bay of Quinte Company, which runs the steamships between Kingston, the Thousand Isles and the Bay of Quinte, In the summer, visitors come for miles to admire the beauteous scenery and I long one day to make an excursion myself. Mrs Kingsley wishes to be accepted in the social circle of the Gildersleeves and the coming luncheon was quite a feather in her cap.

“Madam,” I suggested, “you will perhaps wear your bottle-green velvet? The underskirt is so cunningly fixed with the loops of Brussels lace and there are those shoes of latest fashion that you brought back from New York.”

“Do you think so, Catherine? I had thought of the more elaborate purple and pink satin.”

“No, Madam. It seems a little excessive for the luncheon and you would not have Mrs Gildersleeve think you overly eager to entertain her. After all, it was she who sought you out, asking you to contribute to the Mechanics Institute.”

“Indeed, yes, it was, Catherine, and I cannot really see why we should be contributing to the working classes.”

“For sure, Ma’am, it was you who told me yourself! It is better that men should occupy themselves with books and learning to improve themselves, rather than spend their earnings in the taverns.”

I hid a smile for, on her return from her last meeting with Mrs Gildersleeve, Mrs Kingsley had been so elated with her contact that she had willingly donated to the library. Personally, I envied the members who could settle down in the large room above Mr Dumble’s confectionery store and, were they free, read from ten o’clock in the morning to ten o’clock at night. Of course I could not, but I often had reason to visit the confectioners and on one occasion I had met with Terry, who was walking out with Oonagh.

“Morning, Cat,” he greeted me, his arms full of books. I looked at him enviously and he took me up the stairs to see the library. One day, I vowed, I will read every book I can put my hands on. I had already examined the books belonging to Major Kingsley while I was dusting, but I had not yet ventured to ask the officer if I might take one to my room. Major Kingsley daily reads the newspaper, the British Whig. I find it rather dry and difficult but am persevering, as now that I am privy to so much of daily gossip, I try to make sense of the news.

I must describe Major Kingsley as he is so kind and it gives me much pleasure to work for him, especially after Sergeant Dunne. I had thought never to trust men again, but I realise that a gentleman such as Major Kingsley would never force himself on a woman. I feel sorry for him in that his remarriage has obviously not brought him the happiness he deserves and he is saddened by the lack of children in the home. My first real meeting with him occurred thus.

At the end of September, the staff was called in for payment of wages. Being the most recent appointee, I was the last the Major called and the others had returned to their duties.

“Catherine,” he said, “I must congratulate you. You have pleased Mrs Kingsley well. She finds you eager to learn and well skilled.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, meeting his eyes rather timidly. They were vivid blue and the kindness in his gaze reassured me. His hair was greying at the temples and he had the moustache so common to military men. I noticed that his face was lined as if sorrow had become familiar to him.

The poor man, I thought, remembering Oonagh’s story of his losses. Of course, many men are forced to take a second wife, indeed, I knew Mrs Dunne to be step-mother to the older Dunne children. Yet surely Major Kingsley had earned happiness in his second marriage. He showed himself considerate to all his household and even though his wife tried him sorely, he never lifted more than his voice. At this point, he disturbed my thoughts by saying, “Where do you come from, Catherine? You look like a rose, fresh from an English garden, yet I can tell from your voice that you were brought up in the province.”

“Sir, I was brought up by the kind sisters at St Joseph’s. Father Andrew is the only father I have ever known.”

I hoped he would not question me further, for what could I tell him? One of my reasons for wanting to remain longer in Kingston was that I hoped somehow to gain more information about the arrival of the two small babies at St Joseph’s sixteen years ago. Of course, Darra and I were not the only foundlings, but we were the only children who had come with the two gold coins wrapped up with us in our quilt. Furthermore, the gold cross that never leaves Darra’s neck is valuable and so is the small bracelet that I keep hidden with my clothes. The fact that we were twins should also help me in my search. Did one of us resemble one parent and one the other? I suppose we must be love-children, but does this make us less valuable in the eyes of our Father in Heaven? We know it does not.

Major Kingsley looked at me compassionately. “You do the sisters much credit. I can only think you come of good stock. I hope you will be happy with us.”

I could not, however, leave the good man believing that I would be serving in his home past a few months, so I ventured to say, “Sir, I am not entirely alone. I have a sister whom I wish to join when I am able. I am anxious to save my coins so that I will be prepared. Could you advise me, Sir? I have thought of approaching Glassup’s Savings Bank, but I am inexperienced and I hesitate to enter.”

“Bravo, Catherine, how wise you are. I will take you myself and arrange things for you to your satisfaction.”

This he did that very week, but I was sad that Mrs Kingsley mocked me, saying, “Come, Catherine, aren’t you the canny little thing? We have a capitalist in our house, I do believe.”

I did not let her words disturb me, however, for my savings will enable me to reach Darra and to support her if she is in need. Naturally, on my arrival, I turned over every stone in seeking news of my sister. Oonagh told me of her interest in the theatre and how she suspects that she has gone to follow the players. Mrs Kingsley, still unaware that she was speaking of my sister, remarked unkindly of her.

“I am glad you are not as flighty as that red headed young miss I had before you. As soon as I saw her, I knew that one was going to make trouble. She had all the boys looking at her and making sheep’s eyes. When she started getting letters as well, I knew enough to hold them back.”

My attention was caught instantly and, hoping to draw her out further, I questioned, “Madam?”

“Yes, she had several thick letters addressed in an educated hand. Now why would some threepenny-piece girl be receiving those? I just threw them in the fire.”

Blazing with anger and resentment, I turned my back on the woman on the pretext of straightening a damask cloth on her bureau. So Darra had never received my letters! What must she have thought, longing and hoping for news as I had! I was certain she had written to me, indeed, Oonagh had assured me that Darra frequently talked of me and then put pen to paper. What had happened to her letters?

“She was real educated for a serving girl, like you, Cat, always looking at a book or reciting, Darra was. And she could put on a grand show. Why, she could be the Madam herself, she could, true as life and me laughing so much I feared to lay hands on the dishes.”

I would never forgive Mrs Kingsley for her arrogance, but I turned a bland face towards her. Little by little the clues would come in and I promised myself that I would find Darra.

This past week I have had an unexpected encounter which I believe gives me some clue as to Darra’s whereabouts. I have noticed, while about my errands in the shops, that at times a young man has been paying me attention. I learned from Oonagh that he was an ostler in Irons’ Hotel.

“Ooh, Cat, you have an admirer,” she confided. “My Terry tells me that young Caleb McBaine be asking about you.”

“And who might Caleb McBain be when he is at home?” I asked her. I had no interest whatever in followers.

“He is the ostler at the Irons’. You must know, the lad with the freckles. He says he knows something you’ll be wanting to hear.”

“Listen, Cat, he’ll be waiting for you on your next day off at Moore’s tearoom.”

I tossed my head, “Well, that’s as it may be,” but I resolved to be there, for the tearoom was a busy place and no harm could come to me,

Caleb was already there and waiting when I arrived. It was cold and the ice on the ground was slippery and treacherous. The snowfall had begun only the previous week and as yet we did not have the raised banks which had to be flattened by the horses’ hoofs and the runners of the sleighs. I had bought myself a warm muff and a smart matching hat, at which Mrs Kingsley looked askance, being accustomed to seeing her serving girls cover their heads with a scarf. My cloak was dark blue and the dry air caused the lining to crackle and cling to my flannel skirts. I pushed it into place with irritation.

I smiled and thought that, with his freckled nose and bright, friendly eyes, he looked like the brother Darra and I had often imagined. I hoped he wouldn’t spoil it by touching me. I kept at a safe distance from him as he opened the door of Moore’s tearoom and led me to a table at the back. I was relieved to see that he was scrubbed and clean, his clothes, though rudely made, were also clean and patched. He had obviously taken immense care to prepare himself for meeting me and I was touched and grateful.

“Well, Caleb, speak up,” I urged him when the hot chocolate he had ordered was put before us. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

“It’s about your sister, Darra” he replied. “I just happen to know that she was with that actor, Vaughn, and she was meeting with him at Irons’ Hotel. Then I saw her get on the morning stage-coach with him, all dolled up she was, but I knew her when I saw her. She was with all the actors, all laughing and talking and they was going to Toronto.”

I questioned him closely and was convinced at length that he was telling me the truth. I have now written to the acting company in Toronto, both to the actor, Vaughn and to my dear sister. I do not want to have my letters intercepted by Mrs Kingsley, so I went to Father Andrew and took him into my confidence. At first he was shocked and grieved that I should have been forced to leave Dunne’s but, seeing my distress, did not press me for reasons.

When he learned of Darra’s sudden departure from Major Kingsley’s household, he spoke angrily. I managed to persuade him, however, to regard Darra with all charity until we heard her story from her own lips. Our dear Father has promised, with true Christian love, that he will hold Darra in his prayers and ensure the safety of any letters that come for me. Indeed, I do believe he is as anxious to hear as I.

To return to Caleb, I thanked him heartily for his news and, on his pressing me, accepted an invitation to drive in a cab which a friend of his owned. This was certainly a rare treat for me. Caleb helped me onto the single seat and the black horse started off at a merry trot. The runners hissed as they traversed the snow-covered roads and the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs was muffled, enabling us to talk easily, without raising our voices.

I was bundled in a huge woollen blanket that Caleb’s friend had provided and, although our breath whitened the air, I was too exhilarated to notice the cold. We passed the redoubts, one by one, and I saw that at last the Martello towers, as Major Kingsley calls them, are completed. It seems they have been building these round forts with the pointed tops for as long as I can remember.

“Caleb, do you really think there is danger that the Americans will attack us again?” I asked, looking admiringly at the solid stone walls of Fort Henry rising above us. Caleb had stopped the cab and we gazed past the fort across the water towards the distant shores of our powerful neighbour.

“Naaa,” said Caleb scornfully. “I’ve heard tell how we put them to the run last time they came. My Da was a boy then in 1812 and he has plenty of tales to tell. Oh no, they won’t be taking us on again.”

I hoped that he was correct, I had heard Major Kingsley mention the land hunger of American settlers and the idea of war alarmed me. Putting the thought from me, I snuggled into the warmth of the blanket. Caleb shook the reins, calling out, “Giddy-up, giddy-up,” and we were on our way, past the fashionable houses with their limestone faces and on to the Kingsley’s home where Caleb let me out, laughing and bowing as if I were indeed a lady. As the horse’s hoofs clattered off and I ran through the carriageway to the back entrance, my heart sang. This was surely the happiest day of the year, I thought.

I give thanks to the Lord for seeing me begin this New Year in such favourable conditions. I daily expect to hear from Darra. My small savings are mounting in my account at Glassup’s Bank and I am in very good favour with Mrs Kingsley.

The Christmas season was full of good cheer and festivity and Major and Mrs Kingsley seemed more at ease with each other. Many guests were in and out of the house and the kitchen staff, Oonagh and I were kept fully occupied. Mrs Kingsley hired a young maid from St Joseph’s to help, saying that she must have a full staff in order to entertain according to her station. Our Christmas table was a joy to behold with pies, roast goose, a ham and a turkey, and many sweetcakes, confections, fruit pies and fresh fruit. Mrs Kingsley arranged for the fresh fruit to be sent from New York at great cost. Little Eileen from St Joseph’s could not believe so many delights could be gathered at one time. We in the kitchen did well, as Major Kingsley ensured that many delicacies came our way.

It was also a time for gifts, no one being forgotten. Caleb sent me a box of candies, tied in a huge blue ribbon which I folded and put in my chest of drawers. From Oonagh, I received some warm stockings she had herself knitted. Mrs Kingsley, with much ceremony, gave me a book of psalms. The major, who has somehow learned of my interest in Charles Dickens, gave me a bound copy of Dombey and Son. It is the first really new book I have ever owned.

I must explain how it is that Mrs Kingsley has taken me into her favour. It always falls to me to dress her hair. It’s long, of course, and of a rather indeterminate brown colouring. One day I suggested that I should fashion it in a different style and, finding her amenable, I washed and rinsed her tresses carefully. I used a preparation of rosemary which, when steeped in boiling water, brings a shine and light to the hair. When Mrs Kingsley arrived at Mrs Gildersleeve’s afternoon Christmas party, her modish appearance enchanted her new friend. On learning that it was I who was responsible, the young hostess begged to borrow me. Her own carriage would be sent to fetch me. Mrs Kingsley was much set up and told several of the young matrons that dear Mrs Gildersleeve had sought her advice on her coiffure and now asked for me several times a week.

“Of course,” Mrs Kingsley said, “Catherine is much needed at home, but I am always one to put my friends first.’’

As a token of her pleasure, my mistress gave me one of her gowns which she no longer wanted.

“Catherine, I think this will do you very well. My figure is somewhat more womanly than yours and I find the style rather too plain.”

I could not believe that anything so lovely could be mine. With a darker overskirt of daffodil-coloured silk, the underpanel and bodice are of a lighter shade and embroidered with white and yellow daisies. The frilled sleeves and bodice neckline are discreetly subdued in delicate lace. There are matching gloves which Mrs Kingsley generously added to the gift, making sure that Mrs Gildersleeve knew of her kindness.

“Catherine is quite valuable to me and absolutely devoted. At times it is necessary that she accompany me to functions and she must do us credit. Sister Isobel was begging me to take another of her girls last week, saying she has never known a better employer.”

Mrs Gildersleeve smiled pleasantly and, the next time I completed her elaborate hair style, gave me a small gift, saying, “Well, Catherine, I hope you will enjoy wearing this in appreciation of your skill.”

The small velvet box contained a necklace of yellow and white stones and is enchanting with the dress. I was wonderfully happy and before I fell asleep I prayed to the blessed Virgin Mary that I might not become too fond of the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, for it seems to me that they be very pleasant.

I must now describe our evening at the New Year’s concert which took place at the garrison. I would not give the occasion too much value so have left the account towards the end of my entry. I was not expecting to accompany Major and Mrs Kingsley to Fort Henry, but my mistress felt somewhat unwell and desired my presence. Since it was an important event with many social dignitaries present, Mrs Kingsley told me to wear the dress she had given me. I was delighted to do so and heartily wished I might dress my hair in one of the latest fashions.

In the servants’ room, I wound my heavy flaxen tresses in one style after another while Oonagh and little Eileen “ooohed” and “aaaahed” beside me. Finally, time running out, I hastily wound it into a neat chignon and pinned it carefully. When I arrived at the carriage with Mrs Kingsley, who was wearing her purple and pink satin with several strands of amethysts around her neck, the major was waiting for us. He saw me and started, then quickly smiled to cover his surprise.

“Catherine,” he exclaimed, “for a minute I did not know you. You take me back to my youth in England. How well that dress becomes you.” He then turned to his wife.

“Will you be warm enough? There will be a blazing fire, but you know how cold those stone walls can be.”

“See to it that we are well seated, Edward,” she responded, “I would expect as much consideration as the non-military people who are going may expect. I am not the mayor’s wife but you are an officer and we are well-known in the city.”

“Of course, my dear,” he replied absent-mindedly and we turned to our various anticipations of the entertainment.

What a magnificent performance it was! We were entertained first by the band. The players were most colourful in their dress uniforms. This was followed by several songs, the audience rising to applaud one fine young baritone. Next we were invited to partake of some refreshments.

Mrs Kingsley rose in high good humour and said, “Let us take a turn about the floor, Catherine. I am weary of sitting in one position, but I forgot all else as I listened to the songs.”

Soon we were being greeted by numerous acquaintances and exchanging many good wishes for the coming year. Major Kingsley stood with us and I looked and listened to my heart’s content. A newcomer approached the group and, as I glanced his way, I started with surprise. It was the young lieutenant who had helped me when Jed’s careless behaviour had resulted in our cart overturning.

His eyes were on me and he smiled. Suddenly remembering his lips on mine, I turned pink and then I think white, and my limbs betrayed me in a traitorous manner. I wanted to escape, but there was no justification whatever for my leaving Mrs Kingsley at that time. Major Kingsley, catching sight of the lieutenant, greeted him gaily.

“Welcome, Lieutenant O’Hara. I have not seen you for some weeks. I believe you are currently posted to Toronto, What brings you here?”

“Sir, I have leave over the holiday and I made arrangements to spend it with friends in Kingston.” The young man’s eyes left my face momentarily, only to return again.

I cast a cautious glance at him from beneath my eyelashes and then hastily looked away. Would he reveal the humiliation of our meeting? I prayed not. I met his gaze imploringly. Meeting my eyes and realising that I was asking something of him, his look changed from interest to surprise.

Turning to Major Kingsley, he said most courteously, “Sir, I have had the honour of meeting your good wife but I do not think I have the pleasure of your daughter’s acquaintance.”

Mrs Kingsley opened her mouth to protest. I drew a sharp breath, my colour now rising, ready to explain my position, but Major Kingsley answered him easily and with a pleasant smile.

“Lieutenant, this is Catherine, my wife’s companion, and she is thoroughly enjoying this delightful evening’s entertainment. Catherine, allow me to present Lieutenant O’Hara, recently of Ireland.”

To my relief, the conversation became more general, but all too soon Cavan made his way to my side.

“You little sorceress!” he said, “The last time I saw you, you were a tinker’s child and now you look as if you’d stepped from some enchanted palace. Who are you?”

“Catherine! Do you know you have haunted me? I’ve seen your face in my dreams and I have given you a hundred names, Catherine, and what is your family name?”

“Catherine St Joseph,” I said firmly. To my relief, the Kingsleys were moving to return to the entertainment. I was about to follow when Cavan caught my hand in his.

“I must see you again. Have I your permission to call on you, Catherine?” I remembered the warmth of his kisses, and then I recalled the horror of a man’s body forcing himself upon me,

Pulling my hand from his, I ran after my employers and sank hastily into my seat. I have no idea as to what took place in the second half of the concert. Sometimes, I reproached myself for dismissing Cavan so rudely; at other times I took great fear in the thought that he might ignore my words and appear at the Kingsley house. In the carriage going home, I was flushed and preoccupied.

“Catherine, I do hope you are not getting a fever,” remarked Mrs Kingsley and added, “you seem in quite a dither, girl.”

Major Kingsley came to my rescue. “She is naturally excited after so stimulating an evening, my love, there are no signs of fever.”

That night I tossed and turned and struggled with unruly feelings. Once I dreamt that Cavan pulled me into his arms and that I ran from him only to find that I was lost. My breasts tingled and strange vibrations shook my body as I slowly turned to look for him again.

Catherine, I reproached myself, have you taken leave of your senses? What good could come of your seeing Cavan? Why do you suppose he seeks you out? Have you not learned your lesson? What would a young officer like that want of a charity girl? With those words, I put him from my mind and it is my resolution not to allow him to return.

I have never felt the effects of too many glasses of wine, but I have observed the women at the Kingsley’s dinner parties with their flushed faces, the tinkling gay laughter and the provocative looks cast at the most handsome men. Tonight I, who have prided myself on my sense and reason, feel intoxicated without ever having raised a glass to my lips. My heart lifted with a curious delight and, as I gave my hair the required hundred brush strokes tonight, the mirror reflected lips curved in a smile.

“Cat! Cat! Cat, what is the matter with you?” It was Oonagh standing at the door.

“Cat, I’ve been waiting on you downstairs to help me lock up. You know how I hate to go about in the dark. You promised to come right down.”

To lock up? Oh yes. It seems like a dream. It is night-time, but there is sunshine. The kisses on my lips overwhelm me...

This morning began badly and I was much put out with Mrs Kingsley. Her complaints began with my taking in the breakfast tray and I was forced to return to Cook, asking for a fresh plate of eggs to be prepared. My Lady also wanted chocolate in place of the usual camomile tea. Cook took this much amiss and gave me the blame. On my return with the breakfast tray, there were complaints as to the hour at which the repast arrived, Cook and I being held responsible.

The good woman’s head was sensitive to the touch and she suffered much as I dressed her locks and prepared her for the day. Oonagh had scorched the linen collar required for Madam’s worsted frock and I had mislaid the ribbon to lace the bodice. I gave thanks as the task of dressing my mistress neared an end and promised myself some luxury when I dusted in the parlour. I hoped to be able to spend at least fifteen minutes reading the latest romantic serial printed in Mr Lovell’s Literary Garland which Mrs Kingsley received regularly. This time, the ornaments could be spared the flick of the duster.

But just as I had settled on this happy plan, Mrs Kingsley cried out, “Oh Catherine, my dear, tell Oonagh she must do the dusting today and pray put on your coat and go on an errand for me - and a little less of the sulks, please, I cannot abide the sulks.”

Finally, I was out of the house and, shivering in the bitter January cold, I hurried indignantly to Mr Dumble’s confectionery store. Upon exiting from the place, I braced myself against the wind and prepared to continue on my errands, the next being the haberdashery. The sound of horse’s hoofs caused me to look up.

A cheery voice called out, “Good morning Miss St Joseph, Whatever brings you out in such unkind weather?”

It was Lieutenant O’Hara bearing down on me, snowflakes decorating his uniform, his chestnut hair unruly in the wind with his cap pushed down at an unusual angle to prevent it being blown away. Explaining that I was hurrying to perform errands for Mrs Kingsley, I made to be on my way.

“Catherine, may I call you that? Please. I have to leave tomorrow and I have been racking my brains as to how I might best go about seeing you. Let me hire a cab and escort you on your errands. It is far too inclement for you to be out. Afterwards, in the time saved, perhaps you will come to the tearoom with me.”

“Then at least let me only accompany you on your errands. Catherine, you are shivering and blue with cold.”

Indeed I had begun to shiver and it was not entirely the cold. I was tempted by his offer, but I feared the impropriety. The numbness of my toes and fingers, however, decided me.

The fine animal tossed his head at that moment, snorting and filling the air with a white mist.

I had hardly realized his intention when the lieutenant leapt down and, putting his arm around my waist, swung me onto his mount. Jumping up behind me and pulling my body close to his, he flicked the reins and we proceeded at a brisk pace towards the inn. I was becoming acutely aware of the firm, lean body behind me, his warmth reaching me through the layers of clothing between us. Switching the reins to his right hand, the young man’s left arm encircled my waist completely. With the movements of the horse, I felt his hand move upwards, as though by accident, until it supported my breast. I moved slightly but his hand caressed me only more firmly and he tightened his grasp, thereby pulling me so close that I thought I felt his heart beating against my back. Waves of embarrassment, mixed with an extraordinary elation, swept through me. It was as well that we reached the inn shortly for I was fast losing my common sense.

Lieutenant O’Hara soon rented a closed-in cab and had me safely installed. I was careful to sit well to the side and, though the officer looked sharply at me and was obviously aware of my intention, he merely seated himself on the opposite seat.

“Indeed,” he said, “it is amazing how warm it becomes after a short ride, Catherine. I myself have lost all sense of the winter’s chill.”

I did not deign to answer, pointedly looking out of the window. Cavan, as I still privately called him to myself, had spared no expense in hiring the cab.

I reproached him, saying, “I had no idea that officers had so much cash in excess. We hardly need such luxury.” Once having made my protest, I settled down to delight in shopping in such a luxurious manner. After we had completed all my undertakings, I regretfully said that I should now return home,

“My little love, am I to have no payment?” Cavan leaned towards me, smiling teasingly.

“Thanks to my great charity, you have finished your duties at least an hour before time. Now would you not say that the hour belongs to me?”

“Catherine, my name is Cavan, and my heart longs to hear you say it. Say, ‘Yes, Cavan, I will come for a drive in this fine cab, for which you have impoverished yourself, hiring it for the love of me’.”

“Well, yes and sure I have, and I’m to be telling ye all of my doings.” Switching abruptly from his exaggerated Irish accent, he called to the driver.

“Drive for an hour and avoid the bad roads.” With a lurch, the cab leapt forward and I turned to Cavan timidly.

“Sir, I think you have misunderstood my position in the Kingsley household.” I then told him of my history and of my lack of social background.

“Why, alanna, my little love, did you think I was after your dowry? Major Kingsley has already told me all he knew about you, at my urgent request, and he respects you for the sweet, lovely girl you are.”

Taking advantage of my surprise, Cavan moved beside me and slipped his arm around me. It felt so comfortable that I did not think to resist.

“Tell me about your home. Tell me about Ireland. Do you know that I have only once left Kingston? I so long to travel and see the countries that I read about. I often beg Mrs Kingsley to tell me about New York and she has promised to take me with her should she be visiting her family there.”

Cavan drew me closer, taking one of my hands and putting it to his lips, drawing each finger across his mouth and kissing it in its turn.

“My home is a great house called Castle-Blaine and all around it are green Irish fields full of little streams. There are flowers and birds and small paths leading to the tenants’ cottages. We have beautiful oak trees planted by my great-grandfather, and there is a peat bog where I was forbidden to go as a child. But I went there, playing with Rory and Patrick and Larry an’ all.” For a minute, Cavan seemed lost in memory and I realised with surprise that he was homesick. Without thinking, my fingers touched the curves of his mouth and moved in a gesture of comfort to rest on his cheek.

“Tell me more. What about your father and mother? How wonderful it must be to know and to have grown up with them.”

Cavan laughed and placed a kiss in the centre of my palm, keeping my hand imprisoned.

“My mother is a good kind woman. She is saddened that I am her only child and have left home. My father is a hard man and we have had some grand quarrels. We breed horses at Castle-Blaine and our stock is famous in all the English-speaking world. I was nearly born on a horse and have never remembered a day when I could not ride. Like my father, I love all aspects of breeding, the waiting for the birth of a colt, the anxiety and the triumph if the new arrival shows promise.”

I listened in fascination. I could not visualise such a world nor such a life. I looked into his eyes, hazel and sparkling with green as his enthusiasm rose. There was a comfort and familiarity in the aquiline nose and the chiselled line of his cheek.

“Why did you leave, Cavan, when you love it so? Doesn’t your father need you?’’

“I object to his running my life. I did not welcome the marriage he proposed for me. Finally, we agreed that I would do a stint in the army and also try to further his sale of horses on this continent. At the same time, if I see any promising stock here, I have my father’s consent to act in his name.’’

Catching me unawares, Cavan put his arms around me and showered my face with kisses. A burning flame leapt in my body and my lips parted as his mouth found mine. I pressed myself to him for a moment, forgetting everything. Cavan’s hand busied itself at my coat buttons, slipped in, and found my breast. With a groan, he slid my coat from my shoulders and reached for the buttons at my neck.

“Cavan, no! No! Cavan, the driver may look round.” Oh, shame on me: So lost was I in the new and thrilling sensations that swept over me, that I thought only of the coach driver and not of my behaviour.

Cavan’s lips were on my neck, on the cleft between my breasts and then, oh, sweet Mary in heaven, forgive, I was exposed to his gaze.

“My little love, my sweet, how lovely you are. Do you realise your breasts are like the curve of some rare shell?”

Hardly taking in his words, I saw him bend his head and I felt the delicate touch of his lips, light as a feather. For a moment, my hand went to the head bent in homage before me and I ventured to touch the untamed chestnut curls. I sighed, and it was almost with relief that I felt him turn to the other neglected breast. An unexpected maternal impulse filled me and I held him close.

After what seemed an eternity, Cavan raised his head, “Heart’s dearest,” he said, “you must be getting cold and I must not take advantage of you. You make it difficult for me not to claim you utterly and this is not the place - nor the time. Sweet love, help me with these cursed buttons and I will take you back in good order to Mrs Kingsley.

My hands were shaking so much and I was so dazed and lost that I could scarcely do up my buttons. Laughing, Cavan tenderly restored me to propriety and set my cloak to rights. Pulling me beside him, he called directions to the driver and we set back towards the Kingsley home.

“My love, I leave for Toronto tomorrow. I will not be able to see you before I go, but I will be in touch with you. Farewell, alanna.”

He handed me down decorously and planted a kiss on my lips for all to see. I ran from him to the coachway, waving as I entered its shelter.

This morning I was surprised to find Mrs Kingsley still in bed, tear-stained and very quiet when I answered her bell.

“No, no Catherine. I have just had some news that has cast me down; Major Kingsley has been assigned on a mission to Montreal for a few months and I shall be left a grass-widow in Kingston.”

“I do not understand the expression - a grass-widow - Madam, will you explain it to me?”

Mrs Kingsley favours new and fashionable terms and sometimes leaves me quite mystified. As I hoped, the opportunity to instruct me cheered her immensely.

“It is the latest in our Anglo-Indian coinage, Catherine. The Major explained to me that the term is used for wives whose husbands have temporarily left them. I really do not remember what grass has to do with it. At all events, it is now my lot.”

At this point, Major Kingsley entered the room and, seeing me, said, “Ah, Catherine, I was wanting to speak to you. Mrs Kingsley has told you that my duty takes me to Montreal for a couple of months? I hope that I have your assurance that you will not leave my employ until my return. I should like to know that my wife has your companionship.”

I hesitated. At any point I hope to hear from Darra. Major Kingsley seemed to grasp my concern.

“Look, my girl. Stay with us till the spring. Then I will finance your journey to visit your sister. You may take a month’s holiday and should you wish, return to our employ. If you really insist on leaving us for the capital city, perhaps Mrs Kingsley and I can be instrumental in obtaining a position for you.”

His unexpected kindness brought tears to my eyes. “Thank you so very much. Of course I will be glad to stay with Mrs Kingsley till your return. Thank you.”

Indeed I do find that I can tolerate my mistress more kindly these days. Her barren state has made her self-conscious and she seeks appreciation and esteem for her social status, hoping to shine in the womanly skills of entertainment. I pity her and wish to help ease her pain.

Since it was my afternoon off, I put on my little blue coat, and, wrapping a woollen kerchief round my face to ward off the biting wind, I set forth to visit Father Andrew. I found him poring over his books in the rectory. Upon noticing my presence, he shifted his spectacles and peered vaguely at me.

“My dear Catherine! What brings you here on this most inclement day? Come up closer to the fire, my dear.”

“Father,” I hesitated, “I must know, I really want to know who I am. I’ve asked you before, and now I wonder if there is anything you held back from me. You see, if some young man - well, if anyone asked for my hand in marriage …” To my alarm, I found my words were fading and my face warmed in embarrassment.

Father Andrew looked at me with sudden interest and removed his spectacles to regard me more closely.

“But this is very good news, Catherine. Am I to understand that some young man is asking for your hand?”

I was overcome and near speechless, “Oh no, no, Father. It’s only that if ever I should marry. I’d wish to marry a gentleman,” my tongue tripped over my explanations, “And - well - how could a gentleman,,,?” I stopped in confusion.

Father Andrew was looking at me with some concern, “Surely you are not looking above your station, Catherine? No good can come of that, I am sure that many a young workman would be proud to have you for a wife and not ask for information that no one can give.”

I felt utterly dejected, but raised my head, nevertheless, and said, “Was there nothing? Surely Darra and I must come of good stock? The jewelry and the quilt are not the possessions of a labourer. Without a doubt the fabrics used in the quilt were most expensive and exquisite. No one from the lower classes could afford them.

Father Andrew looked at me sadly.

“Catherine, my dear child. Our Heavenly Father knows who you are and, if it is His wish, it will, in time, be revealed. Your only duty is to obey His commandments and to have faith. Heed my advice. Do not romanticise your birth any longer.”

Rising to give me his blessing, he escorted me to the door.

How I long for Darra. As for marriage, I really am not at all interested.

Chapter 5