Later that afternoon Kate helped the old lady climb into her travelling chaise, and stood in the driveway, waving her off. Lady Cahill had promised to “do what I can to help Maria’s gel’, and Kate felt sure that she would find her a position as a children’s nurse in some quiet, pleasant household.
In return, Kate’s job was relatively simple—she had to put Mr Jack Carstairs’s house in order. That was well within her capabilities. She might not enjoy housework very much, but there was no doubt that Sevenoakes was badly in need of attention, and there would be real satisfaction gained from restoring a ramshackle house to a graceful residence. And her old nurse, Martha, was to come and live here. That would be wonderful, thought Kate. Martha was a dear and would keep Kate from feeling too lonely. Martha had also known and loved Jemmy and Ben.
Moreover, Kate thought, mentally ticking off her advantages, she was surrounded by lovely countryside and could go for long rambles whenever she wanted to. In fact, she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to. She was her own mistress and she meant to enjoy that rare freedom while she had it.
And she was needed.
Kate had no doubt whatsoever that Lady Cahill’s grandson needed her skills, and that once he saw how much easier his life would be with Kate as housekeeper he would be grateful. Perhaps she could also use her healing skills—possibly even help him to strengthen his injured leg and reduce that dreadful limp. They might even become friends, she thought optimistically. To be sure, he had proved a trifle autocratic and difficult to get along with at first, but that was largely her own fault for teasing and tricking him.
Kate felt sure that Jack Carstairs would prove to be exactly like Papa and the boys and all the other men she had ever known—as long as his surroundings were clean and comfortable and his stomach was full of good cooking, he wouldn’t care what she did.
Carlos grinned as he heard the sound of his master’s voice raised yet again, this time from the direction of the breakfast-room. He crept closer to peer in at the open window.
“I’ve told you before, Iwon’thave you scrubbing floors!” The deep, angry voice was raised in frustration.
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten your preference for dirt.” Kate’s voice was dry.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Jack.
“Then what would you have me do?” she retorted crossly. “You can see for yourself that these floors need scrubbing. Someone must do it and you know perfectly well that Martha is too old to do such a task. I am young and strong and, no matter what you may say, if something needs scrubbing, then I will scrub.”
“It is not fitting!”
“Now you are being ridiculous!” Kate said, exasperated. “Tell me, what is fitting for a housekeeper? When I take down the curtains to wash them, you roar and forbid me to do it! If I clean the windows, so I can see out of them instead of gazing at a view of dirt, you appear out of nowhere and bellow that it is not for me to be doing that! Your interference is quite insupportable! Please, Mr Carstairs, go away and let me get on with my work!”
“I said, I will not have you scrubbing! Look at you, you’re a mess! You’ve got dirt on your chin, a smudge of something else on your nose and your hair is falling all over the place!”
“Oh, yes, mock me for doing honest work!” Kate scrubbed furiously at her face with one hand, dashing curls from her eyes with the other.
“You missed a spot.” He reached out and flicked her small tip-tilted nose, his lips twitching with reluctant amusement.
Kate made an infuriated noise and returned to her scrubbing, ignoring the man standing in front of her.
“I said Iwon’thave you scrubbing.”
Carlos grinned. He knew that tone. There would be fireworks if Señorita Kate didn’t do as she was bid. He moved closer for a better view, then ducked hastily as a bucket was flung through the window.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Kate. “How very childish!”
Carlos’s eyes widened. To answer back to Major Jack! In that mood! And call him childish! Carlos cautiously raised his head to look in again, then ducked as he noticed his master striding towards the window. Desperate not to be caught eavesdropping, he dived into a nearby bush.
“Carlos!” yelled Jack, thrusting his head out of the window. “Carlos!”
“Er…sí, Major Jack,” mumbled Carlos, sheepishly emerging from the bush.
“What the devil are you doing down there?”
Carlos opened his mouth. “Er…”
“Oh, never mind. There’s a bucket out there somewhere. Fetch it and fill it with hot water. Then get in here and scrub this floor. On the double!”
Carlos’s mouth drooped. “Sí,sí, Major Jack, at once,” he muttered. Scrubbing! Again! Dolefully he fetched the bucket and headed for the scullery. Scrubbing was no job for a man! Señorita Kate wanted to do it, so why did Major Jack not let her do it?
“On the double, I said!” came the bellow from the window.
“Sí,sí, at once, Major Jack.” Carlos scurried away to do his master’s bidding.
Kate got to her feet. She could not scrub without water, and in truth she would be relieved to have Carlos do it—she loathed scrubbing. In any case, she could do nothing while Jack Carstairs stood guard over the scrubbing brush.
