Page 50 of By the Sword
‘Well if it’s my advice you’re after, Kate,’ William tapped a second letter that lay beside Nell’s on the table, ‘you’re better off without the place. If what yon lawyer says, the whole estate’s in financial ruin.’
‘You are right.’ She bit her lip and sighed. ‘But there are people involved, William. People I care about.’
‘They’re not your responsibility, Kate,’ interposed Suzanne who had been listening to the conversation.
‘Aye. Leave ’em to make their own way in’t world,’ agreed William. ‘The Lord alone knows they’ve been precious little help to you and yours over the years.’
Suzanne, more perceptive than her husband, leaned toward her sister and spoke in a gentler tone of voice. ‘You have to leave your heart out of this, Kate. You cannot take responsibility for Jonathan Thornton’s life, no matter what your feelings for him.’
‘Aye, Suzanne’s right,’ William said. ‘He’s a good lad but if he’s not prepared to make his peace and settle down, that’s his lookout.’
‘It wasn’t Jonathan I was thinking of.’ Kate said sharply.
She stood up and walked over to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. The snow had gone at last and there was the faintest breath of spring in the air. Suzanne joined her, putting her arms around her sister.
‘Don’t leave us, Kate. Particularly not now,’ she said.
Kate turned to her sister, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the lines of strain at her sister’s mouth.
Robert was dying. The doctor had given him only days to live and Suzanne needed her sister. Kate squeezed her sister’s hand.
‘Of course, I won’t leave you,’ she reassured Suzanne.
From behind her, William spoke up again. ‘Apart from naught else, lass, you’ve done a grand job of running the Ashley lands. But an estate like Seven Ways, well that’s a man’s job.’
Kate stiffened and shook off her sister’s hand as she turned on her brother-in-law. ‘Queen Elizabeth reigned over England for forty years, William. I am sure I, a mere woman, am equal to managing an estate. Even one like Seven Ways.’
Suzanne glared at her husband.
‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, William Rowe,’ his wife snapped. She turned back to Kate. ‘Have you considered, Tom? You would be taking him away from all that he knows.’
Kate picked up her lawyer’s letter. ‘You are right to suggest this should be a business decision with Tom’s best interests in heart. If I were to sell Seven Ways now, I would never recover its full worth.’ She looked up at them both. ‘You cannot seriously tell me that it is in Tom’s interests to squander his inheritance in such a manner?’
Suzanne and William looked at each other. That had not been what they had meant.
‘All right,’ said Suzanne. ‘Keep Seven Ways but put a steward in to manage it. There is no need for you to go there.’
Kate nodded. ‘I have considered that,’ she acknowledged.
Suzanne visibly relaxed. She picked Nell’s letter up from the table and scanned the contents again.
‘What have you told Tom?’ she asked.
‘I have told him Sir Francis is dead. Nothing more,’ Kate replied. Her voice softened and almost broke, as she said, ‘You know as well as I that now is not a good time.’
As Robert’s health failed, Tom spent every waking moment with him and had to be prised away from his cousin’s bedside at night so that both children could rest. Tom could not accept that his dearest friend, who was as close to him as any brother could be, lacked his own robust good health and would not recover.
Tom would have given his own life to prevent what was coming.
Kate looked from her sister to her husband. ‘This is not the right time to concern either of you with my problems.’ She managed a weak smile. ‘I will pray and I am sure God will show me the way to resolve these difficulties.’
‘Aye well. You’ve more faith in him than I,’ William said pragmatically.
***
Robert died early in the evening of the following day. Tom stood by the bed with his cousins, dry-eyed while they wept. Kate could do nothing, knowing that Tom’s grief went too deep for tears.
On a mild March day, they laid the small coffin to rest in the cold ground of the little church at Barton where Kate’s own Richard and his parents lay. The faintest breath of wind from the moors Robert had so loved bowed the heads of the daffodils and stirred the women’s skirts as they stood in the churchyard. There being nothing more Kate could do for her sister, she returned home with Tom riding silently beside her.
