Chapter Three

Kitty

Walking round Sydney Gardens with Miss Steele and Lord Steyne, Kitty had the strangest sensation she was being observed. She even turned round at one point to check what was going on, but despite screwing up her eyes, couldn't see anyone except two rather rough-looking fellows standing under a tree in the distance. Her short sight was a real nuisance.

On her return to Russell Street, Kitty was only too happy to say goodbye to Lord Steyne, although she wished he could have bid her farewell from more of a distance, for when he kissed her hand, she felt nauseous. Lord, the man was unattractive! If only she could tell him what she thought of him…but that would anger Papa. Ah, would it not be wonderful if Henry were here right now, kissing her hand? Life was very unfair.

Kitty's father was sitting in the parlour reading the newspaper, and she sat down to join him.

"You can go up to your room now if you want, Kitty," Mr. Honeyfield said. "The men have finished the bulk of the rough work with your window, but will be back in due course to tidy up and make a start on improving the appearance from the inside, plastering and so forth. I am sorry that it has been necessary to take this rather drastic course of action."

Kitty wondered why her room had the one chosen to deprive of light. She supposed it would not do that one of the rooms where they greeted guests would have a blocked-up window, as this would be distressing evidence of the lack of family money– although of course her bedroom window could be seen from the street, so everyone would know what was going on regardless. And none of the servants' rooms could have reasonably suffered the loss of a window, as they either already had only one single window or were attic rooms with roof lights.

"Maybe one day," Mr. Honeyfield said, "we will be able to open the window up again, when the family fortune improves– if you catch my drift, Kitty."

"I do," Kitty said. "I know you wish me to make an advantageous match."

But if Kitty made an advantageous match, she would not live with her parents in Russell Street anymore, so of what consequence would the loss of a window in her old bedroom be to her?

"Time is of the essence," her father said. "You are already nineteen, and I have spent much blunt on your clothes and subscriptions for balls, not to mention your education and countless other drains on my wealth; I consider this expenditure in the way of an investment– and I expect to see a return."

Kitty would not– could not– challenge her father. But how dare he! Who was he to talk of investments and his daughter in the same breath? She knew from his constant worried expression and his nightly absences how much he must be losing at cards– and had been losing for some time.

Mrs. Honeyfield's health, never robust, had started to deteriorate noticeably around the time Mr. Honeyfield had begun behaving in this unaccountably disappointing and irresponsible way. Could he not see what he was doing to the family's happiness?

When Kitty's parents had first married, they had been well provided for. Not rich, but certainly comfortable, with enough to see out their days. However, more recently Mr. Honeyfield had become acquainted with certain gentlemen of the ton when playing at cards in the Upper Rooms. They had encouraged him to play for bigger and bigger stakes both there and at private gatherings. One thing led to another, until Mr. Honeyfield was wriggling and dangling like a fish on a hook, entirely at the mercy of those who held the rod. In vain had Mrs. Honeyfield and Kitty tried to convince Mr. Honeyfield to quit his gambling and cut his losses. He was addicted.

Kitty sighed. She must do what she could do to help her parents. But not if that meant marrying Lord Steyne.

"I, I . . ." Kitty stuttered.

"Yes, my dear?" her father said.

"I– I do not wish to marry Lord Steyne."

"Has he offered for you?" Mr. Honeyfield asked.

That smile again– the bared teeth. The cat that was about to get the cream!

"If he has," Mr. Honeyfield said, "it is exceedingly good news!" Kitty's papa clasped his hands together. The joy on his face was hard to behold.

"No," Kitty said, "although I think he is interested– but I am telling you that were he to offer, I would not wish to accept."

"What arrant nonsense, Kitty! Have you not been listening to me? Lord Steyne is your best chance in life– and the best chance for our family. You should be grateful for his attention. Lord Steyne has enormous wealth– why, his estate in Somerset is second to none. Imagine living there and being mistress of such a place, eh? Do not forget you are an only child, Kitty, and the future of the family rests on your shoulders. Think about it!"

"But Papa!" Kitty cried. "What if there was someone else?"

"Someone else? There is no one else in your life– I would know if there was."

Then Mr. Honeyfield's mouth twisted. "Tell me you have not fallen in love with some penniless oaf or young wastrel."

Kitty needed to pacify her papa, for the veins in his neck were standing out in a most unhealthy-looking way– poor man. She must remember the pressure his many debts were placing upon him.

"Papa! Of course I have not fallen for an oaf or wastrel! I do not know any such persons– and even if I did, I would certainly not want to marry them. But what makes you think Lord Steyne would make me happy? Do you think he loves me?"

"I am not sure I understand you. Marriage is a contract."

"No, 'tis much more," Kitty said. "Marriage is the union of two loving souls, minds, and bodies. I will not marry a man I do not love."

Mr. Honeyfield gave a bitter laugh. "Love is for those who can afford it, my dear. It seems to me you have spent overlong reading those melodramatic novels of yours."

How dare Kitty's papa criticize her reading matter!

"Yes," Mr. Honeyfield continued, "I picked up one of your novels the other day and dipped into the ludicrously lurid tale. 'Twas very poorly written, with plenty of cliffs and castles, rogues and redemption– and positively bursting with sugary sentiment. My goodness, what sort of drivel and balderdash are you filling your head with? Perhaps you should not visit the library anymore."

"Oh, please Papa, I do adore the library. Look at the book I chose today– not at all like the ones you're describing."

Mr. Honeyfield picked Kitty's library book up from the table.

"Sense and Sensibility ...more likely, Slush and Silliness ... by ‘A Lady'. Ha! Too ashamed to put her name to it. And as if a lady would know the difference between sense and sensibility! You, Kitty dear, have too much sensibility and not enough sense."

"Well," Kitty said, "if you have to possess too much of one, and not enough of the other, I think I'd rather have more sensibility."

"You'll learn," her father said, "when you're married."

Did he perchance look a little regretful when he said this?

"Take your book upstairs, my dear– make sure you concentrate on the sense part of the story. And you can have a look at the alteration to your room."

Kitty was in no hurry to see how her room had been vandalized– she still considered it the most unfair thing possible.

"And I am sure Mama did not have a hand in this," she muttered as she tarried in the entrance hall.

"What's that?" her father called after her.

"Nothing," Kitty murmured.

She fled upstairs to her chamber only to find that the loss of one entire window had both spoilt the symmetry of the room and increased its gloom.

"No! No!" she cried. "This is worse by far than anything I could have imagined. Why, it is positively cave-like!"

Kitty's bedchamber did not receive much light at the best of times, with the Honeyfields' house in Russell Street being situated opposite another tall terrace, but she had at least hoped there might still be light enough to read by. She tried to read as much as she could in the daylight, as Papa frequently reminded her of the price of candles.

Standing by the remaining window, Kitty flipped open her library book, coughing as dust from the building work found its way into her lungs.

Within seconds, she was absorbed in the tale– and read several chapters with her back to the window to try and get as much light as possible on the page.

After a while, Kitty reluctantly closed Sense and Sensibility, as her eyes were very tired. It was a wonderful book; who could the author be, the mysterious lady? Fancy! She might even live in Bath. Perhaps Kitty might see her passing by one day? She stared out of the window, then narrowed her eyes to try to focus, as everything looked a bit blurry.

She could probably do with a pair of spectacles, but there was no point in asking her parents, for her papa would say they were a needless expense, and her mama would say they would spoil her beauty. As if Kitty cared more about her looks than being able to see what was going on in the world.

She put the book down on her bed. Perhaps she would have less need to escape into a book now Henry had returned from the dead, for her own thoughts and imaginings were more vivid than anything she was likely to read between the covers of a book.

Kitty sighed and leant backwards, imagining Henry holding her, nuzzling her neck, kissing her gently, his lips upon hers...

"Are you quite well, Miss Kitty?" Miss Steele was standing in the doorway of Kitty's chamber with her head tilted to one side. "Should we cancel your embroidery lesson?"

*

Henry

On the way back from Sydney Gardens to the Royal Crescent, Henry simply could not resist going past the Honeyfields' house in Russell Street.

"Sheer madness," Carter said, "if you don't mind me saying."

"You can say what you like," Henry said. "I love Kitty, and if I want to go and stare up at her bedroom, I will. Besides, it's on the way home– well, almost– and that means we won't have to go past the Upper Rooms on our way to the Crescent. We can go along Rivers Street, and I can take the chance to look up at Kitty's bedroom as we go past the junction with Russell Street. What do you think? You know if we take the route right past the Upper Rooms, we'll see all manner of the ton strutting about."

Carter gave a great bark of laughter. "You might have a point– although the ton will mostly be thinking about the effect they are having on other people, rather than staring at a scruffy young gentleman and a grizzled servant."

"But they might be looking for gossip," Henry said, "or recognize me. No, better to go past the far end of Russell Street."

"Why didn't you ask Kitty to marry you before you went to war?" Carter asked. "You could be coming back to a wife and child now. You two are a perfect match– what held you back?"

Henry blushed to the roots of his hair. How could he explain to Carter what had held him back from declaring his overwhelming, all-consuming love?

Kitty had been a friend forever, and Henry valued her friendship more than diamonds. If he had proposed and she had refused him, he would have lost twice over– lost his friend and lost his chance of marrying her.

As long as Henry hadn't declared himself, he could comfort himself with the thought that he would tell her how much he loved her one day– when the time was right.

"Don't miss your chance of happiness, lad, will you?" Carter said. "Regret makes a cold bedfellow."

Trust Carter to hit the nail on the head!

"I have no idea what you think gives you the right to talk to me like this," Henry said, thumping Carter on his back in an awkward attempt at camaraderie, "but I'm jolly glad you do, my friend. Not even my father or brother voice the things you dare– you are always on my side."

And yet I cannot fully tell you how I feel. 'Tis too personal a subject– too difficult to articulate.

There was a mystery to Carter Henry had yet to fathom. In some ways, he was the most straightforward, almost rude man he had ever met in his life– but he was the kindest of people too, treating Henry with compassion and thoughtfulness during his many trials. His devotion knew no bounds.

"Are you coming with me, then?" Henry said. "For I am still determined to go past Kitty's house and gaze up at her window."

Carter crossed his arms. "We will go past the Honeyfields' house, but you must promise to be discreet. After all the trouble I've taken to get you back in one piece, I don't want to lose you to a knife in the back."

"In Bath? A knife in the back? Are you joking?"

"Don't underestimate your enemy," Carter said, "especially when you don't know who he is. There are a lot of folk down from London at the moment– and we all know what London is like."

Henry regarded Carter curiously. "What was your job in London, before you became my manservant?"

"'Twas nothing very exciting– I worked for the government. You already know that."

Henry gave a sharp intake of breath. "You were a spy, weren't you! And I know you can't admit it."

Carter stepped to the side quickly. "Don't you dare slap me on the back again! If I was a spy, I would deny it, obviously– and if I wasn't a spy, I would also say no. So basically..."

"Basically," Henry said with a laugh, "you are not going to tell me one way or the other! I'm fairly sure that tells me all I need to know."

So had Carter definitely been a spy in his younger days? Henry had suspected as much before, after seeing the way Carter managed to deal with the many problems they had faced abroad. He seemed a master of disguise and had skills that enabled him to deal with almost any problem that arose, sometimes in the most unexpected way. No lock was too secure for Carter, he could defend himself in any fight, and he had the strength and endurance of a much younger man.

Henry knew enough to realize that Carter was a man to be respected, no matter his lowly birth or lack of fortune. But was Carter who he said he was? Was working for the Honeyfield family all these years as Henry's manservant yet another disguise? For the life of him, Henry could not comprehend why a man such as Carter would want to seek employment as a servant unless he was combining the post with active service of a different kind.

Henry shook his head. This was farcical! The possibility of danger all around him was making him harbour strange suspicions. Carter was an unusual man, but he was merely a servant– wasn't he?

Very soon, the pair were standing in the shadows on one side of Russell Street, gazing up at Kitty's bedroom.

"Devil it!" Henry said. "One of her windows has been blocked up."

"'Twill be for financial reasons, not aesthetic," Carter said.

"I know that," Henry said, "but did not think the Honeyfields would have to resort to these measures. I knew their coffers were not overflowing, but I am staggered they felt desperate enough to brick up a window. A lot must have changed since I left for war. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Honeyfield– and poor Kitty."

"Never mind that– you've got five minutes here, not a second longer."

"Kitty's reading," Henry said. "I can see the back of her beautiful head. She's holding the book up to the light. I wonder if 'tis the volume she borrowed from the library this morning. She truly adores reading and once told me her idea of heaven would be a room of her own filled with books."

When they were married, if they were married, Henry would buy Kitty a new book every day. Although, that might mean she wouldn't have time for him because she'd be too busy reading– every week, then– he would buy his darling Kitty a new book every week.

"Time to go," Carter said. "There are some people walking up Russell Street from Bennett Street. We need to be on our way."

"A minute longer," Henry said. "Look! She's turning round– she must be able to see me. She is rubbing her eyes– should I wave?"

"Of course not, sir," Carter said, pulling at Henry's cloak. "Time to leave."

"I don't think she's noticed me. Oh, now she's moving away from the window. Maybe someone has come into the room. Time to scarper."

*

Kitty

Miss Steele waited in front of Kitty. "Well?" she said. "Shall we cancel the embroidery lesson? You do not seem quite yourself."

Miss Steele had a rather obnoxious stare on her face, the sort of expression that suggested she knew full well what Kitty had been thinking about, and also that she thought she was a complete simpleton– a birdbrain.

"If you don't mind," Kitty said, the blood draining from her face, "I think I might take a rest. I am sure I will be fine to go to tea with the Templetons though, later."

"Have a lie-down," Miss Steele suggested. "You look washed out. Young women should try to look their best at all times. What would Lord Steyne think if he saw you looking sickly and tired?"

I do not exist merely for Lord Steyne– or any other man– to take delight in my appearance. There is more to my life than this! Or should be...

Miss Steele cleared her throat. "I will retire to my room for a while if you do not need me."

"Of course! Thank you, Miss Steele."

Kitty stood for a few moments longer at her window, looking up and down the street. Her eyesight was definitely getting worse. She used to be able to recognize people as they passed by, but her vision was becoming increasingly blurry.

She saw a group of young girls with their governesses hastening past, perhaps on their way back from the Crescent Fields; she could make out their colorful cloaks and bonnets, but the faces were indistinct.

There was a gentle tap on her door.

"Only me!"

"Mama! Come in! How lovely to see you out of bed. Are you sure you are warm enough?"

Mrs. Lydia Honeyfield stood in the doorway, her wrapper pulled tightly around her.

"I had to come and see you, my dear. Heavens! Your room is very dusty from the building work and not yet properly put right– I do hope there will be enough money to make good the alterations, for I can see bare brick, and that is not acceptable."

"Do not worry, Mama– 'tis fine. I can live with it a while longer."

"You are a good girl, Kitty. Now, Miss Steele tells me that you feel a little unwell. Are you suffering with your monthly courses?"

"No, Mama."

"Are you sure, my dear? You do look very drawn and pale. Perhaps they are on their way? I myself suffered greatly when I was your age, as you know, and spent much time abed in agony. Perhaps you do not wish to talk to me about it– would you prefer to confide in Miss Steele?"

"No! There is no need."

Kitty couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than talking to anyone save her mama or one of her close friends such as Selina about the private workings of her own body. As for Miss Steele! The thought appalled her.

There was something about Miss Steele she could not warm to– although she must remember to be grateful that Miss Steele was taking an interest in her mother's health and had given her some medicine, possibly a herbal concoction of her own preparation– especially now that Mr. Honeyfield no longer seemed to be able to afford visits from Doctor Jenkins for his wife.

Kitty longed to tell her mama that Henry was back from the dead, but she could not betray a confidence, and Henry had emphasized the danger of telling anyone about his survival. She also wanted to tell her mother all about her feelings for Henry– but, in a contradictory twist, Kitty also had a fierce desire not to tell anyone in the world about her intensely private imaginings, which she scarcely understood herself. Maybe she might confide in Selina when she went for tea? But it would be hard to find the opportunity, with the whole Templeton family in the same room.

"I'm fine, Mama," Kitty said firmly, "but what about you? We've all been worried."

"I am feeling a lot better after the sleeping draught Miss Steele gave me. Truly, I feel much restored."

"What good news! I am very pleased. Please, Mama, do sit down on the bed. You mustn't overexert yourself."

"Thank you, my dear," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "I believe I would be better sitting down... ah, yes, that's better. Come and sit beside me, child. And tell me what you have planned for the rest of the day."

"I'm going to tea with the Templetons soon," Kitty said.

"Are you sure you will be well enough? For Miss Steele seems to think you should not go out this afternoon– should you not stay at home, my dear?"

"I am keen to go and see Selina. And it is always pleasant to see– all the Templetons."

"Poor, dear Selina." Mrs. Honeyfield shook her head. "Such a tragedy for that whole family, losing Henry like that. And of course, Lady Templeton has had her share of difficulty in the past, what with her father and the child..."

"What do you mean, Mama? You have never mentioned anything before."

Mrs. Honeyfield put her hand to her head. "Oh, I don't know why I'm prattling on! Please, ignore me. Forget what I said. There's nothing wrong with Lady Templeton, and there has never been anything in her family to be ashamed of, no, nothing..."

Kitty looked at her mother curiously. Mrs. Honeyfield had a flushed, feverish look and was not acting with the same propriety as she usually did. It simply was not in her nature to gossip or be indiscreet– nor to be so loquacious. Perhaps the medicine from Miss Steele was reacting within her and causing her to lose her normal inhibitions?

"It happened before Lady Templeton was born," Mrs. Honeyfield said, her eyes glittering in the oddest way.

Should Kitty help her mama to lie down? Try to change the subject? But Mrs. Honeyfield seemed determined to tell her tale.

"I daresay I should not be talking to you of these things, for you are young and unmarried– yet perhaps you should know more of the ways of the world..."

It sounded as if this would be interesting– and informative. If Kitty's mother wished to share, what would be the harm in listening?

"Well, my dear," Mrs. Honeyfield continued, "you have probably heard of natural children?"

Kitty blushed. "I believe I have. It is when someone has a child but they are not married."

Her mother nodded. "For a baby to come into this world..."

What? Was Kitty's mama about to tell her something she had wondered much about?

"...it is often said God sends a child to those couples who are married as a blessing, but it happens that sometimes... mmm, this is a little difficult to explain."

Kitty felt she should help her mama out– she did have some knowledge of the world, after all.

"I know that sometimes a baby's arrival is a surprise," Kitty said, "and perhaps the child is not born in the best circumstances, even when parents are not married– particularly among the servant classes and poorer people."

"It happens in all levels of society," Mrs. Honeyfield said.

"Are you saying it happened to Lady Templeton?" Kitty felt shocked.

"Of course not," her mother said, "for then Lady Templeton would not have been able to marry Lord Templeton."

"No, I suppose not," Kitty said. "For the sin is always the woman's."

"Indeed it is, at least according to the world," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "But no, this is not directly concerned with Lady Templeton– it is to do with her parents– more specifically, her father. He had a natural child before he was married, the result of an unfortunate liaison with one of the maids when he was but seventeen."

"And the fact that he was a parent at that age did not stop him from making an advantageous marriage later," Kitty said.

Mrs. Honeyfield bit her lip. "You know there is one rule for men and one for women in this life, more's the pity."

"And what happened to the poor maid?" Kitty said.

The maid would doubtless have been blamed for the whole incident, even though she was probably seduced.

"Well, this is where the story gets interesting. Lady Templeton's grandparents were very generous towards the maid. They provided her with a home in the countryside, gave her an allowance large enough for her to be able to live decently and allowed her to keep her baby. They even gave some money for the child to have an education."

"Surely that was the least they could do?" Kitty said. "The maid could not make a marriage after that and would have found it nigh on impossible to provide for her child without support."

"It was more than is usual to give a young woman who has been..."

"Taken advantage of?" Kitty finished for her mother. "I see... and what happened to the child?"

"No idea," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "When I first met Lady Templeton, many years ago, she told me this sorry tale, perhaps because she was expecting her first baby at the time and her mind was drawn to contemplate the past and her family. She said then she knew she had a half-sibling somewhere, a natural child of her father's, but she doubted she would ever meet them. But she wished to, that was certain. She wanted to draw them back into the family."

"Was it a boy or a girl?" Kitty asked.

"I know not," her mother said. "Does it matter?"

"No," Kitty said. "I was merely wondering. But what a very sad and strange story. I do hope everything worked out all right for the maid and for her baby. It certainly turned out well for Lady Templeton's father, didn't it, because he married her mother and they led a life of distinction and high regard."

"I know it seems unfair," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "And please, I beg of you, share this with no one. I have said far too much– my mind is dancing about now, and I need to go back to bed."

"Let me help you, Mama."

As Kitty helped her mother to her feet, she happened to glance out of the one remaining window onto the street below. Her eye was caught by a figure wearing a red cloak crossing the road and hastening away from the house towards Rivers Street. There was something familiar about the figure– why, could it possibly be Miss Steele? But Miss Steele had said she was going to retire to her room for a while– she said nothing about going out. Wait! There was another figure. The woman was talking to someone on the corner of the street– a stout gentleman who looked suspiciously like Lord Steyne.

Kitty rubbed her eyes. How aggravating 'twas that she could not focus clearly! She determined not to ask her mama to study the figures in the street below, as that could have led to anxiety and agitation. Besides, Kitty had a shrewd suspicion that her mother's eyesight was even worse than her own.

"Lean on me," Kitty said, helping her mother as they walked along the corridor to Mrs. Honeyfield's chamber.

How ridiculous Kitty was, imagining that the couple outside in the road were Miss Steele and Lord Steyne. Why on earth would they be there? Besides, Miss Steele did not possess a red cloak.

Kitty settled her mother back in her bed and then returned to her own chamber, determined to read another chapter of Sense and Sensibility before it was time to get ready to go to the Templetons.

But a small nagging voice inside Kitty's head reminded her that the woman in the street had looked more than a little like Miss Steele; there was something about her gait as she had crossed the road. The red cloak was a problem– unless...

Kitty ran downstairs and looked at the coat hooks in the entrance hall– only to find that her red cloak was missing.

If Miss Steele is capable of taking my cloak, what else might she be planning to take from my family?