Katrina

Chapter Two

Thankfully for Katrina they finally reached Patrick‘s home.

“Welcome to my humble abode, I am afraid its not as grand as Linden hall” he then explained a little apologetically as the horse came to a halt outside the modest whitewashed building with its thatched roof .

And although he had been right, it was certainly not as grand as her childhood home Linden Hall, it still felt like a safe refuge for her, as Patrick helped her weary body down from the horse

After leaving the horse in the stables around the back, he led her into the cottage. She followed behind him a little warily, feeling she was an intruder who didn't really belong.

Inside the room with its low ceiling, was sparsely furnished, with a bench by the big open fireplace that took up most of the rear wall where the cooking pot and utensils stood by the rough hearth. There was also a table and two chairs. And a dresser with lined with various pieces of crockery and a small wooden stool.

Patrick’s large form seem to fill the room, his head almost touching the ceiling. He went over to the fire, which was mostly a glow of red ash and embers and he picked up a few logs to throw on top of it, using the long iron poker to stir the fire back to life so the logs would catch flame.

Then he invited Katrina to sit by the fire and dry of a bit, whilst he tried to get her sorted out. He walked across and disappeared through a green painted wooden door at the other side of the room.

Katrina moved as close to the fire as her body would let her, willing the logs to burn quicker so she could feel the heat better. She was too weary, and now past caring about what was going to become of her. In a way she was contented to let Patrick do all the deciding and worrying for her.

Before her father's death he had manage to shield her from any concerns or worries. Her days had been almost idyllic, with just thoughts and concerns of any young woman her age, of parties and romance and marriage.

Then it had all been suddenly snatched away from her when her father died, and she had found herself in a place she had never been before, totally alone and frightened.

Her once rosy future gone, and no one to turn to help, or tell her how to cope with the life shattering changes.

She was discovering the world could be a cruel and lonely place to survive without the protection of her father. He had done his utmost to make her life one of ease and comfort after her mother died when she was only six years old. Katrina had been the apple of her father's eye,

He thought he had been protecting her by hiding his dire financial situation from her. She understood his motives in that. But instead it had left her in shock, and totally unprepared for what would become of her when he had died suddenly of a stroke, leaving her penniless and losing the beautiful home she grew up in.

But for now she didn't want to dwell on the whole disaster. She was content to sit by the fire watching the flames flicker and lick around the logs which were starting to burn nicely, leaning back against the rough stone wall behind her, she closed her eyes, physically and mentally exhausted she allowed herself relax a little.

A few moments later the sound of a door creaking open made her start, and open her eyes again. Patrick reappeared. He had changed out of his wet clothes, and in his arm he carried what looked like a dark red dress.

"You will have to get out of those wet clothes, so I found this for you. I don't know how well it fit, it belonged to my wife" he explained as he came towards her

"Oh?" Katrina sat up suddenly looking around, somehow expecting a woman to appear from somewhere, "I-I never realised your wife was here"

"She isn't" Patrick replied a little gruffly, his eyes resting on the red dress draped over his arm "She died just over a year ago" he informed her quietly