She did not hear from the Peggs again soon. She suspected that Gabrielle would be in a lot of trouble for her part in Catherine's fiancé finding them on his doorstep. She did not have much time to worry about her friend in, however.
Martha had decided, out of the blue, that Catherine needed to learn her trade, and Catherine now spent every waking moment next to her in her parents' room sewing, hemming, and sticking the needle into her fingertips. She assumed that Martha had finally come to some sort of peaceful conclusion regarding both her, the broken arm, and her father, since the older woman seemed more than content sitting next to her step child and patiently showing her how to better make the needle go where she wanted it to go. Catherine was bored out of her mind. Compared to her former duties in the house, this was child's play, but the weeks spent with the Peggs had made grow accustomed to doing little at all. They had not made her participate in any of Gabrielle's chores, and she had spent her time walking around or looking at the work the others were doing.
Sewing was particularly difficult since she could hardly move her arm. Martha helped her thread the needles, and she could use her hand to hold on to the fabric without great trouble, but it forced her to sit in an awkward position that made her back ache.
She very much wanted to get up from her chair and leave the room. She still had not forgiven Martha for the incident, and she did not feel inclined to do so just because Martha was no longer bothered. But her guilt towards her father and Alfred kept her moth closed and her back bent. There was simply no denying that she had played a part in the events that led to the problems in the house since she had been ordered to stay in the barn for a good enough reason and had come back inside to be rude. There was also no denying that Alfred was doing her and her family a big favour by taking her in without insisting on marriage right away and by giving her father so much money that he was now planning how to get his business back to its former glory.
Catherine might not like Alfred’s cool friendliness or his money that were given out of pity, or even his old, rotten house and the woman living there, but she had no choice. She should not have accepted the terms if she had wanted to run away. She could not destroy the family's reputation or Alfred's name.
She woke earlier every morning, the pain in her back causing her movements around dawn to hurt her and wake her up. Her father still seemed very angry with her and her tired, drawn face only made it worse. She wanted to tell him that she was not being difficult and that she did not wear herself out on purpose, but she felt that no good would come out of her protests.
Her siblings stayed away from her most of the time. They both went to school in the morning and when they came home, they seemed to want to keep a low profile. Lillian must still be worried that her father scold her for getting Catherine into trouble, at least she was all smiles and politeness around both of them. Jasper was still relatively friendly when she ran into him, but he seemed to have adapted their father's cool distance.
Catherine felt lonely and defeated, torn between the shame and guilt that came from her stupid attempt to run, and the anger and spite her distant family members caused her to feel. The shame won out all the time, her cheeks burning whenever she remembered Alfred's astonished face and her own sobs. The desire to be angry just made her feel more ashamed of herself.
Two weeks had passed and Catherine had received a small note of apology from Gabrielle that assured her that she still had her friendship if she still wanted it. It had been short enough for her to read on her own, but Martha had been with her when she received it and had, in a surprisingly friendly tone, reminded her that she was not allowed to see Gabrielle any more. Catherine had nodded and let the small boy who had brought her the letter go with no reply. Another thing to feel guilty about.
It was early in the afternoon on a bleak, rainy day when a large, polished black carriage pulled up the street by four beautiful, black horses stopped in front of their house. Jan ran outside to find out what was going out, and his family observed him through the windows as he spoke to the driver.
He nodded a lot and jumped aside when the door sprung open and a man climbed out. Jan looked confused, but then seemed to accept something the driver said and ran back inside.
“There's some nobleman here to see us,” he said in a flat voice. Martha left her chair so quickly that it fell to the ground while the twins' questions immediately filled the air. Catherine was quiet, observing how the driver helped the man brush off his clothes and then led him towards the door with large gestures.
A growing suspicion caused her stomach to twist and turn. If she had had a place to run to, she would have. But it would not help her to run.
Martha came back into the kitchen, wearing her nicest hat and dabbing a perfumed lace handkerchief against her cheeks. She was staring at the door, then at Jan.
“What do they want,” she whispered urgently.
“They didn't say,” Jan answered. His voice must have carried through the door that opened up in that same moment. The driver holding it sent him a pointed look and turned towards someone they could not see.
“This way, my Lord.”
The man from the carriage, the man Catherine had run into at the castle, stepped inside, filling the room with a scent of perfume, leather, horses and sweat. He looked around at them, fierce black eyes studying each face without a greeting or even a smile. His damp, black hair hung down across his brow, making him look angry.
“Good day, Catherine,” he said, in a slow, deep voice, when he finally let his eyes rest on her.
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