help thinking that at five-and-twenty, her godmother’s only son was more than old enough to be taking responsibility for his inheritance.
‘But you will come?’ Ann implored her. ‘Do say you will, dear Aunt!’
‘Lady Leaconham has agreed to attend, and to bring Miss Wythenshawe with her,’ replied Lady Harworth, a touch of impatience creeping into her well-modulated tones. ‘Now, pray you go away with your new friend and talk quietly so that your aunt and I may enjoy a little conversation.’
Ann turned to address Lady Leaconham.
‘Perhaps Miss Wythenshawe and I could take your dear little dog for a walk, Aunt.’
‘But Kitty took him out this morning.’
‘I am sure he would enjoy another airing,’ Ann persisted. ‘It is such a lovely day. I am sure the fresh air would do us good.’
‘Oh, do let them go out, sister,’ begged Lady Harworth. ‘My maid is sitting in the hall with nothing to do, so she may accompany them.’
In the face of such enthusiasm Lady Leaconham capitulated. Ten minutes later the girls were stepping out into Portman Square with the little Scottish terrier trotting merrily along beside them on his silken leash.
Ann gave a noisy sigh and slipped her arm through Kitty’s.
‘It is so good to be on our own, where we may say what we please. Oh, you need not worry about Norris,’ she added, as Kitty glanced back towards the maid following silently behind them. ‘She has been with us for ever and is very discreet. And I am so pleased that you will be coming on Friday.’
‘It will be my very first ball,’ Kitty admitted.
Ann gave a little squeak of excitement.
‘How wonderful! I shall be able to introduce you to everyone! How long will you be staying in Town?’
‘I do not know … as long as Lady Leaconham is pleased to have me with her.’
‘I hope it is for ever!’ cried Ann. They had reached the gate in the low railing that surrounded the gardens and she stopped. ‘This is very pretty, but shall we go instead to Hyde Park? There will be so many more interesting people there.’
Kitty hesitated. ‘I do not think …’
‘Oh, do say yes,’ Ann squeezed her arm. ‘We have only to slip across Oxford Street to get there.’
‘I do not know London as well as you, Miss Harworth, but I do not think one can slip across such a busy thoroughfare.’
‘No, but there are crossing sweepers, and we have Norris, so there can be no objection. Oh, do say yes, Miss Wythenshawe!’
Kitty was not proof against her new friend’s entreaties. They left the square, safely negotiated the traffic of Oxford Street and soon found themselves in the relative peace of the great park. Although it was not the fashionable hour there was a considerable crowd and several carriages to be seen, but once they had crossed the broad carriageway and walked some distance from the gates they found themselves alone. Kitty released the little dog and watched him running happily amongst the bushes.
‘Oh, this is infinitely better than a dusty street,’ declared Ann.
Kitty turned her face up to the sun, so much warmer here than in her native Yorkshire.
‘I have to agree, Miss Harworth.’
‘Let us be done with this formality. You must call me Ann and I shall call you Katherine.’
‘Kitty, if you please—apart from when Godmama introduces me to new acquaintances the only time I am called Katherine is when I am in disgrace.’
‘Very well, then, Kitty! And since we are now such good friends, you can tell me if you have a beau.’
‘Goodness me, no,’ replied Kitty, laughing and blushing at the same time.
‘What, is there no gentleman waiting back in Yorkshire for you?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘There were no gentlemen in Fallridge. None that Mama approved,’ she added, thinking back to the occasions when she had seen the carriages driving up to the King’s Arms for the monthly assembly.
‘Farmers and tradesmen,’ her mother had said, dismissively. ‘Very good people, I am sure, but not suitable companions for you, my love.’
‘Were you very lonely?’ asked Ann.
Kitty looked up quickly, and Ann smiled at her.
‘You looked so wistful that I thought, perhaps.’
‘Yes, I was lonely,’ Kitty confessed. ‘I should have liked to go to school—’
‘Oh, I went to school,’ broke in Ann, pulling a face. ‘It was the most horrid experience and of very little use, for apart from learning to dance what do I need with history, or the use of globes, or even to speak French, when we are forever at war with that frightful country?’
‘But surely you made friends there?’
‘Well, of course, although most of them are married now. Or betrothed.’ She flicked a glance at Kitty. ‘I am considered quite old to be still unwed, you know. Poor Mama is beginning to despair.’
‘And do you not wish to marry?
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Ann casually, ‘eventually I suppose I must accept someone. Poor Mama is even more desperate for Bertram to wed, because he is nearly forty and Mama says we must have an heir. As for me, I am enjoying myself far too much flirting with all the gentlemen of my acquaintance! Do you like flirting, Kitty?’
‘I do not think I have ever tried it.’
Her frank reply brought Ann’s astonished gaze upon her.
‘Never?’
‘No, never. I know so few gentlemen, you see. The Squire and Reverend Denny are the only gentlemen who called upon Mama, and they are both very old.’
‘But surely you must have come into contact with younger gentlemen?’ said Ann, appalled.
Kitty considered for a moment.
‘Well, there is Joshua, of course: he is the local farmer’s son who drove me to Halifax.’
‘No, a farmer’s boy does not count,’ declared Ann firmly. ‘But you must know others. Think, Kitty.’
Kitty tried to think, but the only other man who came into her mind was the fierce-eyed Mr Blackwood, and he had not even liked her. At last she shook her head, saying ruefully, ‘I fear I am not the sort of girl that gentlemen like to flirt with.’
‘Gentlemen will flirt with any female,’ Ann retorted. ‘It is quite clear to me that you have lived far too sheltered a life, Miss Kitty Wythenshawe, so we must do what we can to make it more exciting!’
Kitty laughed at her. ‘I shall be delighted if you can do so! For now, though, we had best return to Portman Square before Godmother thinks we have been kidnapped!’
Kitty called the little dog to her and fastened him on the leash, then the two young ladies set off to retrace their steps in perfect harmony. When they reached the edge of the park Kitty noticed something white fluttering against the trunk of one of the trees. As they drew closer it became clear it was a printed sheet, secured to the trunk with a nail.
‘It will be a handbill,’ said Ann, when Kitty directed her attention to the paper. ‘Perhaps there is a new play at Drury Lane!’ She stepped closer, peering up at the words. ‘No, it is one of Mr Clarkson’s meetings.’
‘Thomas Clarkson the abolitionist?’
‘You have heard of him?’
‘Why, yes,’ said Kitty, coming forwards to stare at the paper. ‘He travels