Page 88 of The Housekeeper's Secret

She had to face him sometime.

Except, facing him was something she couldn’t bring herself to do. If she had to look at him directly, she wasn’t sure that she could keep it in—the loathing and contempt, the blame—and she was afraid of what she might say. But even without looking, she was aware of him, reclining in the velvet armchair where she used to drink tea in the quiet afternoons, his feet up on the coal box, his newspaper raised. Without thinking, her hand went to the chains at her waist, reaching for her keys. She remembered that they weren’t there as his laconic voice came from behind the newspaper.

‘You’ll be needing these, I daresay.’

The newspaper was lowered. He held out his hand, the ring containing her keys suspended from a soft white finger.

Hatred burned in her gullet, like something hot, swallowed too quickly. Reluctantly she went towards him, half expecting him to snatch the keys away as she reached for them. The fact that he didn’t was somehow unsettling.

‘You didn’t know, did you?’ Uncrossing his legs, he set the newspaper aside. ‘That he had form for this sort of thing? That he’d spent time in prison?’

She was glad to turn away from him and busy herself with unlocking the china cupboard, lifting out the Rockingham serving plates to put the servants’ hall ironstone beneath it.

‘None of us did.’

Her throat felt like it was filled with gravel. Behind her, she heard him sigh.

‘My dear Mrs Furniss… you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s rather pointless trying to maintain the fiction that there was nothing between you. I assumed he would have told you about his criminal past—if only to paint himself as an innocent man, wrongly convicted. When I began to suspect he wasn’t quite the model servant he claimed to be, I feared he might have charmed you into joining his little deception… I even wondered if you’d given your keys into his hand yourself. But I see now that he tricked you, along with everyone else.’ Another little sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’

Kate’s eyes were hot with the tears she couldn’t shed. This… kindness was disorientating and disturbing. A trick, she guessed, to compromise her, or trap her into some sort of confession.

‘Save your sympathy,’ she said coldly. ‘I don’t need it.’

She shut the cupboard and locked it. As she turned towards the door, Henderson stood up, making her stiffen with alarm. However, he made no move to block her way. His movements were slow and deliberately casual as he slid his hands into his pockets and stood in front of the fire’s glow.

‘My offer still stands, you know, in spite of this… unfortunate lapse of judgement.’

‘Offer?’

‘I know what it is to be given a second chance. I understand—perhaps more than you realise. A servant’s life can be a lonely one, especially for those of us above the rabble of the lower ranks, but it doesn’t have to be like that. An alliance could benefit us both. I could offer you protection, respectability, and you could—’

Oh God, was he talking about marriage? Was that the offer?

She’d had an uneasy suspicion of what he was hinting at when he’d spoken of an alliance back in the summer. Now he was talking about a united front… a powerful team… though his words sounded distorted, as if she had slipped underwater. The room tilted a little, as if she were in the cabin of an old galleon, pitching on rough seas. She groped behind her and found the handle of the linen cupboard to hold on to.

‘I think we could come to an arrangement that would suit us both, don’t you, Mrs Furniss?’ The silkiness of his tone filled her with queasy dread, and he started to advance towards her, with the predatory menace of a cat closing in on a bird. ‘Especially if—’

The door opened, stopping him quite literally in his tracks.

Miss Dunn came in, looking dismissively at Henderson before turning her attention to Kate.

‘I’ve made Lady Hyde some chamomile tea and there’s some left over, if you want it. I know you weren’t feeling too well, and I always find it works wonders for a headache.’

Kate hadn’t said anything of the sort, though she certainly wasn’t going to argue. The thank-you she mumbled as she walked stiffly to the door was wholly inadequate to convey her gratitude.

She didn’t look at Henderson. She didn’t have to. She could just imagine the flinty fury on his face at being thwarted like that—and by Miss Dunn, of all people: mousy, colourless, female. Of course, it wasn’t over. As she wearily went up the back stairs to her room, she knew she would have to deal with him sometime, and make it quite clear that hell would freeze over before she would make any kind of alliance with him. Though she supposed she ought to say it more neutrally than that.

But she was glad not to have to think about it now, when it felt like something inside her was about to snap and the grief and bewilderment and rage were rising in her chest, threatening to choke her. Inside her room she sat on the edge of the bed and unclipped her chatelaine, letting it slither to the floor. Then she lay down, tucking her feet—shoes still on—under her, clutching at the sheet that still smelled of their mingled bodies, laying her cheek on the pillow where Jem’s head had rested only a few hours earlier and a whole lifetime ago.

And she cried.

I know he must have told you that I used you. That it was all a pretence and I never felt anything for you. I wish I’d done enough to make you certain that wasn’t true.

I didn’t use you, Kate, you have to believe that. I fell in love with you, and though the time we had together only amounts to a few snatched, secret hours, they were the best of my life. They made me believe that happiness was a possibility. They gave me hope. I never pretended any of it—every moment was real.

I don’t know if that makes any difference though, because what I did in the end was even worse.

Chapter 30

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