She roamed the house and grounds for weeks after his passing. She grieved his loss and missed his company, but she understood why he had wanted to go.
She had ridden through her beloved New Forest in an unhappy daze during those early days. Nothing at that moment in time had made any sense. Now, she had come to terms. Now that weeks had turned into months, she had accepted his passing.
Dismounting, she tethered her horse and plopped down at her favorite spot, deep in the woods. Her chestnut mare grazed contentedly within the confines of her lead line.
Kitty bent her head and rubbed her dirt-smudged face against her arm as she hugged her knees. Today, for the first time, she had struggled to recall his voice.
She finally recalled the first day she met him, the first time he had jovially called out her name, “Kitty!”
She had been so small and he had been so large, so robust. He had taken her hand in his and said, “Kitty! My own Kitty … you needn’t be afraid. I shall look after you.” And after that, he had become her hero.
He had told her once, “Kitty, you have the look of your father, and you know he was my dearest friend.” She had liked that, and he often told her stories about her parents, brought them to life for her as she got older.
Another time, when she was missing her parents and sitting by herself, he had picked her up and spun her around until she giggled. He told her, “My own little Kitty … my daughter of the heart.”
So it had been, but now, he was gone. She hugged herself and fell onto her back and stared up at the blue sky. Thank goodness for Nanny, although her dear Nanny had never approved of the way her Uncle Edwin had spoiled her. Odd really, for he had been a frugal man in all things except in the lavish way he had treated her, both with affection and his easy way about her breaking rules.
She smiled as she remembered how her dear guardian, whom the servants would call tight-fisted, had never been so with her. He had taught her to ride, hunt, and enjoy a great deal of what he enjoyed. He had taken her with him on estate business, keeping her abreast of things most men would only teach their sons.
He took her fishing and sailing and allowed her every freedom—including the use of breeches when she rode. They were the best of friends.
She had asked him once why he wasn’t married, and he had sighed. “Long story, pet.”
“Tell me,” she asked curiously.
He flicked her nose and said, “It was for the best, and now I have you.”
When the time came for her to attend school, Nanny nearly went down on her knees to beg him to send her to a select ladies seminary. He had adamantly refused, bringing in tutor after tutor instead.
When she became of age, he had planned to take residence in London for the season and introduce her to the beau monde, but his illness prevented this, and so it was Kitty had never had a London season.
Nanny had clucked her tongue and said, more often than not, that it was a shame that such a beauty, such a dear, sweet young lady, was buried in the country.
“But I can ride to hounds as well as any man and I can—”
“Never mind.” Nanny had cut her off. “I wanted more for you, my darling.”
“I know, Nanny, and I love you, but … I am happy,” she’d said, but at that moment in time she hadn’t been sure she was completely happy. At that moment in time she’d thought she might like to go to London and see what she could see, share a season while her dear friend, Henrietta, was being brought out. Fate, however, had other plans for her.
Now, all she wanted was for time to go backwards so she could have Uncle Edwin once again in her life.
She sat up and looked at the sun, attempting to judge the time. “Blast, no doubt I am late,” she said to herself as she got to her feet and brushed off the leaves and twigs clinging to her high boots and breeches.
With a quiet lament she remounted and rode the distance to the stables, where she found Nanny with her arms folded across her middle and clucking her tongue.
“Look at you. A veritable hoyden, and at your age. You are twenty years old, my dear. You can’t go about in breeches and dirt.”
“Uncle did not mind,” Kitty said, flinging her long hair out of her face.
Nanny took a clump of her hair in her hands and said, “Look at this. Most young ladies would simply die to have these yellow locks, this silky, thick hair, and you allow it to become a tangled mess around your head.”
Kitty laughed. “I will brush it when I go in and wash, Nanny.”
“Your Uncle Edwin didn’t want this for you … he wanted—”
Kitty’s brows rose and she interrupted. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Kitty, dear, he knew he didn’t have long, and it dawned on him that he hadn’t done the right thing by you because of his illness. He began making arrangements. In fact, he was obsessed with making those arrangements.”