The Spying Cat (ONC 2023 Shortlister)

Chapter 3

Norfolk, some weeks later.

The parsonage was abuzz with preparations for the Thackery family reunion in honour of Joey's return. The general spared a few servants from Hawkins Hall, to help Mrs Thackery organise the rooms and the food, but had to pass up the invitation to join the celebration himself, citing ill health.

Ben brought the news in person and perched himself awkwardly on the window seat in the parlour. The house was a mess of scattered linen and moving furniture.

"Mr Hawkins." Kitty appeared in the doorway of the parlour, bearing a smile brighter than the fading autumn sun. "What a surprise. I never thought you'd call on us, at a time like this, no less."

He rose to greet her, hat in his hands. "Why shouldn't I?"

She wore a simple, white shirtwaist, with an apron tied over her ankle-length skirt. Her maidenly blush stood out in this most domestic of decors.

"Well, we... surely you are used to grander things than the humble home of a country Reverend." She stepped forward into the room to get out of the way of a maid cluttering about in the hall.

"Miss Thackery, you wound me." Ben brought his hat emphatically to his chest. "We are neighbours and friends. I am not above you and... you are not beneath me."

Her blush deepened. For all the spirited bravado she displayed in Joe's company, Ben realised she was still a girl at heart, unversed in the way of the world. The way of men. Of course a wealthy bachelor ten years her senior intimidated her. He resolved to deliver his message and be out of her hair as soon as possible.

"Nevertheless, I have come on behalf of my father," Ben said, "who expresses his utmost gratitude for your kind invitation, but regrettably, he must decline. In his old age, his health is not what it used to be."

"Oh, no..." Kitty's face softened into sadness, and she came closer, standing right in front of him. "Is he all right?"

"He'll live," Ben said, rather crudely. "But he is definitely not up for a dinner party."

"I see."

Kitty's curt response obstructed the conversation, which Ben felt guilty for... which was unusual. His decried lack of English manners only ever bothered those around him, never himself. The one useful habit he'd picked up in America, besides the gold. Looking for an escape, he chanced a glance at the upright piano behind Kitty and the framed photographs sitting on top of it.

"Is that your mother?" he wondered aloud and walked over.

One of them was a couple's wedding photograph, and the other was a picture of a pregnant woman in what he recognised to be the Hawkins Hall library.

"Yes," Kitty answered. "My parents and... the last photograph my mother ever sat for."

This last Ben studied closely, focused on the noticeable bump the woman cradled.

"I remember now," he murmured. "Your mother."

"You do?"

"She..." He put his hat on and picked up the picture. "She was very kind to me. A little boy, raised in the city. A stranger to these parts." He chuckled to himself. "I do believe she let me touch her belly once. I think I felt you kick."

Kitty leaned into a wistful smile. "Everyone always tells me nice stories about my poor mother. Sometimes I wonder how true they all are."

Her words betrayed a hidden wisdom that piqued Ben's interest. "Why do you say that?"

Kitty hesitated. Ben suggested that she walk him to the front door and out into the garden. She agreed.

"Remember my cousin Rebecca?" Kitty began in a low voice once outside.