‘How awful,’ Beatrice – at nineteen years, Kitty’s closest sister in both age and temperament – said at last, appalled. ‘Oh, Kitty dear, I am sorry. You must be heartbroken.’
Kitty turned her head sharply. ‘Heartbroken? Beatrice, that is quite beside the point. Without my marrying Mr Linfield, we are all ruined. Papa and Mama may have left us the house, but they also left an astonishing amount of debt. I was depending on the Linfield wealth to save us.’
‘You were marrying Mr Linfield for his fortune?’ Cecily asked, a judgemental note in her voice. The intellectual of the family at eighteen years of age, Cecily was felt by her sisters to have a rather over-developed sense of morality.
‘Well, it was certainly not for his integrity or gentlemanly honour,’ Kitty said bitterly. ‘I just wish I’d had the sense to wrap it up sooner. We should not have pushed back the wedding when Mama died, I knew that a long engagement was asking for trouble. To think that Papa thought it would look unseemly!’
‘How bad is it, Kitty?’ Beatrice asked. Kitty stared silently at her for a few moments. How could she tell them? How could she explain all that was about to happen?
‘It is … serious,’ Kitty said carefully. ‘Papa re-mortgaged the house to some quite disreputable people. The sales I made – our books, the silverware, some of Mama’s jewels – were enough to keep them at bay for a while, but on the first of June they will return. Not four months away. And if we do not have enough money, or proof that we can start paying them, then …’
‘… We will have to leave? But this is our home.’ Harriet’s lip wobbled. As second youngest, she yet remained more sensitive than Jane, who had at least stopped playing to sit quietly on the stool, watching.
Kitty did not have the heart to tell them that it would be worse than just leaving. That the sale of Netley Cottage would barely cover their debts, with nothing left after to support them. With nowhere to go and no obvious means of income, the future would be a dark place. They would have no choice but to split up, of course. She and Beatrice might find some employment in Salisbury, or one of the larger towns nearby, perhaps as housemaids – or lady’s maids if they were truly lucky. Cecily – well, Kitty could not imagine Cecily being willing or able to work for anyone – but with her education she might try a school. Harriet – oh, Harriet was so young – would have to do the same. Somewhere that would provide room and board. And Jane … Mrs Palmer in the town, singularly mean-spirited though she was, had always had a sort of fondness for Jane. She might be persuaded to take her in until she was old enough to find employment, too.
Kitty imagined them all, her sisters, separated and cast to the wind. Would they ever be together again, as they were now? And what if it was far worse than this already-bleak scenario? Visions of each of them, alone, hungry and despairing, flashed before her eyes. Kitty had not yet wept a tear over Mr Linfield – he was not worth her tears – but now her throat ached painfully. They had already lost so much. It had been Kitty who had had to explain to them that Mama was not going to get better. Kitty who had broken the news of Papa’s passing. How was she now to explain that the worst was still to come? She could not find the words. Kitty was not their mother, who could pull reassurances from the air like magic, nor their father, who could always say things would be all right with a confidence that made you believe him. No, Kitty was the family’s problem solver – but this was far too great an obstacle for her to overcome with will alone. She wished desperately that there was someone who might carry this burden with her, a heavy load for the tender age of twenty, but there was not. Her sisters’ faces stared up at her, so sure even now that she would be able to fix everything. As she always had.
As she always would.
The time for despair had passed. She would not – could not – be defeated so easily. She swallowed down her tears and set her shoulders.
‘We have more than four months until the first of June,’ Kitty said firmly, moving away from the window. ‘That is just enough time, I believe, for us to achieve something quite extraordinary. In a town such as Biddington, I was able to ensnare a rich fiancé. Though he turned out to be a weasel, there is no reason to believe the exercise cannot be repeated, simply enough.’
‘I do not think any other rich men live nearby,’ Beatrice pointed out.
‘Just so!’ her sister replied cheerfully, eyes unnaturally bright. ‘Which is why I must travel to more fruitful ground. Beatrice, consider yourself in charge – for I shall be leaving for London.’