The Noble Life

Seven

"Catherine? Julia? Is that you? Oh, come quickly, please!"

Lady Cavendish's voice was the first thing that greeted Catherine as she was attended into the entrance hall of Broxcliffe Park by the butler. It was shrill, full of distress and accompanied by the hasty scurry of feet as Catherine's aunt suddenly came into view on the landing, galloping down the stairs before coming to a halt as she reached the hall and took in Catherine's drenched, dishevelled and shivering state.

"Catherine – whatever has happened to you?" cried Lady Cavendish, her voice creeping up another octave, face blanching as another thought suddenly occurred to her. "And – and where is Julia?"

"Julia is perfectly well, Aunt, do not worry yourself. She has accompanied Miss Russell to Wyndham Hall by carriage," Catherine told the hysterical woman urgently, suddenly not so envious of Julia's current situation. If the usually sensible Lady Cavendish was so worked-up at their being out in this weather, she could not imagine what sort of state Lady Russell might have worked herself into by now. 

"We found ourselves caught in the rain down in Barnbury when Professor Lawes drove by and offered his carriage. He then journeyed to Broxcliffe Park with me on foot," Catherine added grimly, rather reluctant to share that piece of humiliating information with her aunt.

"On foot?" echoed Lady Cavendish incredulously, eyes popping. She seemed briefly lost for words, unable to decide which of the professor's wrongs she was most angered by.

"What a dreadful man!" she exclaimed once she finally found her voice. "Evidently intelligence does not count for much in terms of manners. I cannot imagine what he was thinking, having you traipse through the mud together – did he not consider what it would mean for your reputation if you were seen alone with him, completely unchaperoned? Besides that, he clearly has no regard for the delicacy of a lady's health. I will send for Nancy to help you change at once, and then I must urge that you sit awhile by the fire and rest, for I fear dreadfully you will catch cold – but, oh Catherine!"

Lady Cavendish's speech had become increasingly distorted as it went on, quite incomprehensible by the time it tailed off in a high-pitched wail. Fearing her aunt was close to fainting, Catherine attempted to usher her into a nearby armchair. However, as Catherine tried to soothe her, Lady Cavendish seemed only to become even more hysterical, beginning to sob loudly in a most uncharacteristic fashion.

By this point Catherine was feeling increasingly unnerved - there was clearly something more sinister accounting for her aunt's  troubled state. Catherine was just wondering if she had better send for Sir William or a doctor when Sir William himself appeared on the landing, hurrying down the stairs as his wife had done moments previously.

"You have been told, I presume?" he asked Catherine sorrowfully, examining his wife's distressed countenance anxiously before doing a double-take at the muddy puddle of water Catherine's dripping clothing had created around her.

"Told of what, Uncle?" Catherine asked in a faltering voice. Her stomach began to twist itself in knots as she looked from one drawn face to the other, suddenly dreading what Sir William had to say.

Lady Cavendish let out a distressed whimper, covering her face with her handkerchief. Her husband gently squeezed her hand in a reassuring manner, before turning back to Catherine with an anguished expression on his face.

"There has been a letter, from Donbroke," began Sir William; speaking as though each word caused him a great deal of pain. Catherine's stomach contracted further as a deep sense of foreboding washed over her, heightened by a sorrowful sniff from Lady Cavendish.