Chapter Five

Kitty

"Oh, please tell me how you think Henry can attend the ball, Selina," Kitty said. "I can't imagine what sort of plan you are hatching."

"Nor me," Henry said, "and to be quite frank, I'm getting a bit worried because Selina's schemes have a habit of going disastrously wrong."

"Nonsense!" Selina said. "Name me one time when one of my plans has gone awry."

"Where do I start?" Henry said. "What about the time you thought it was a good idea for us to climb out of one of the servant's bedroom windows and walk around the parapet of the house behind the stone balustrade next to the roof, remember?"

"I certainly remember that," Kitty said. "I was visiting that day, but was too scared to climb out after you both, as I didn't think I'd be able to keep my balance. 'Twas bad enough watching you two outside– even that made me feel quite sick. Terrifying!"

"All right," Selina said, "so that was one of my plans that didn't quite work out– but only because Papa happened to be on the Crescent Fields at the time. He looked up, purely by chance, saw us, then made a great fuss about nothing."

"Or," Henry said, "as he put it, he saved our lives."

"Well, I'm jolly glad he did save your life, Henry, and you too, Selina," Kitty said.

Otherwise, I think I would have pined away from grief...to lose my best friendand my darling H on the same day– unimaginable!

"Where are you going?" Henry said as his sister jumped up and ran to the door.

"To put my plan into action; I have to collect something from the nursery."

"Should I come with you?" Kitty said.

"Oh no," Selina said. "That would spoil the surprise. You don't need to know anything about this until you are at the ball. That way, you can't give the game away– and besides, 'twill be much more fun if you have to search for Henry."

Heavens! Kitty was to be left alone with Henry– of course, it was her dearest wish to be left alone with her H, but as Selina closed the door behind her, Kitty felt suddenly overwhelmed. To say there were butterflies in her stomach would have been an understatement. 'Twas more like a flock of birds– the massed forces one saw racing through the autumn skies when they are getting ready to migrate.

"Are you feeling all right?" Henry asked.

"Fine," Kitty squeaked. "It's just that we're rarely on our own– and haven't seen each other for such a long time."

Henry laughed heartily. "You're surely not worried because it's not proper? Why Kitty, we are the very best of old friends! Propriety doesn't come into it. Besides, I have no doubt there will be a knock at the door soon and the footman will appear to say your maid is waiting in the entrance hall to take you home again."

Please, God, could that not happen too soon, I beseech you... give me some time with my beloved H...

Kitty remembered the scene in her bedroom earlier that day when she had imagined Henry holding her, Henry's lips on hers...

"You're not quite yourself, are you?" Henry said. "Do you feel faint? Is anything wrong?"

"No," Kitty said. "Nothing."

This was the truth– things were in fact more right for Kitty than they had been for a very long time. She had missed H desperately when he first went away, then mourned him, and now, on his return, she had never experienced such happiness in her whole life.

"I missed you," she murmured. "I can scarce believe sometimes that you are here again."

Kitty's arms ached to embrace Henry. Did he feel the same? Worryingly, he was backing away from her slightly on the sofa. They shared a deep friendship, yes, that was obvious, and he had said so on many occasions, but that didn't mean he wanted to take things further, though. Why would he? Was she being a silly na?ve girl, imagining H was in love with her? Perchance her own feelings were all in her imagination as well?

But no! Kitty loved Henry fiercely, passionately. She desired him. Strange ideas crowded into her head, visions she had only imagined before in the silence of the night in her own bed, when she reached for her H... it must be the music that was making her yearn to feel one with him– for when she played the pianoforte with H, she connected with him in a deep way.

"Kitty," Henry said, "I . . ."

"Yes?"

Could it be happening? Was Henry about to declare himself?

"Kitty, I hope I manage to come to the ball tomorrow, for it would be lovely to see you there, but for the life of me I cannot think how Selina is to achieve this miracle."

"No," Kitty said. "It seems beyond reason, does it not? Lord, as you say, it would be a miracle. But Selina is very resourceful."

This was not the only thing that seemed beyond reason– the way Kitty was babbling on, surely, was absurd? Henry's eyes were burning now– and the way he was looking at her! Kitty reached her arm towards him, hesitating as she hovered near his shoulder.

"Is your wound nearly recovered?" she said.

"More or less. A few twinges now and then."

This was the time for Kitty to be brave– for her to take the lead. She must know what he felt. The tension was unbearable!

"So," Kitty continued, "if I were to put my right hand here..."

She gently put her right hand on his left shoulder as he sat beside her.

". . .and my other hand on your right shoulder . . ."

"Kitty . . ."

Henry's voice was low, almost a growl– but bathed in sweetness and honey. He put his arms around Kitty's waist. The time for speech was over, and Kitty trembled as emotion pierced her to the core.

"My Kitty, my love," Henry groaned.

Kitty looked at his lips as he gently turned his face sideways and moved towards her, then brushed his lips fleetingly against hers.

"Oh!" she said. "Oh!"

"Forgive me," Henry said. "I could not help myself."

Kitty's answer was to move even closer and put her hands around Henry's back. His breath was hot against her cheek, and she could feel his heart beating. Henry took her lips with his again– more firmly this time. And Kitty felt as if she were in heaven. It was as she had imagined, but so much more. Every tingling nerve ending shot sensations right through her.

Henry lifted Kitty onto his lap, then kissed her again, probing and pressing with his tongue as Kitty parted her lips in surprise. She felt she had gone through a door into a beautiful sunny meadow where nothing bad would ever happen and where she and Henry would be happy forever. Nothing else mattered, save the sensation of being in his arms, being with him, connecting in this strange new way.

Then she sensed Henry's hesitation.

"Kitty, dear . . . this is not . . ."

This would be it! Surely now he would declare himself? They had kissed!

"You do not need someone like me– I, I am not the man I was before I left. I have done things I can never tell you about..."

There was a knock at the door, and Henry and Kitty sprang to opposite ends of the sofa.

"Begging your pardon, Miss Kitty," the footman said, "but your maid has arrived and is waiting downstairs to walk you home to Russell Street."

"Thank you," Kitty said. "I will be down directly. In fact, I will come straight away with you now."

Was it Kitty's imagination, or had the footman looked shocked to find her and Henry alone together?

*

Henry

A kiss! A kiss sent from heaven– and then Kitty could not get away fast enough. She did not want to hear any details of Henry's experiences abroad. Damn that maid for arriving back at the house when she did, and damn the footman for interrupting them!

Henry had been desperately trying to explain to Kitty that if she was in love with his personality from before he went to war, it was his duty to let her know he had returned a different man– because of what he had seen and what he had done. He pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes. The sufferings of war, the heat of battle, the viciousness of dog eat dog, kill or be killed...

He swallowed hard. For had he not dispatched a few souls from this life to meet their maker? Yes! To his eternal shame, he had killed– and maimed. How cruel! But was that not what he and his fellow soldiers were there for, to fight the enemy, defend Britain, and defeat Napoleon?

The question was, why did that necessitate killing and injuring young men in their prime– bright-eyed, vigorous and vital– merely because they happened to wear a different uniform?

And the terrible sight of an injured horse lying on the ground unable to walk... Henry shuddered. He had known how to deal with that, for sometimes mercy killing was the best way for animals. There were plenty of soldiers lying on the ground in conditions from which he knew they could never recover– and yet he could do nothing but give them water and pass by. Soldiers calling out for their mothers, begging their comrades to deliver a death blow to release them from their suffering...

Henry started to pace angrily around the room. If he had been given but a few minutes more with Kitty, he would have been able to explain to her in what way he felt a changed man. He would have asked her acceptance of him as he was now, warts and all.

He did not want to deceive her, for her to think he was exactly the same as before– because he had changed, he certainly had. His love for her had never wavered– but now he was back, she needed to get to know the new him.

Who was he kidding? Henry didn't even know himself, so why would the sweet and innocent Kitty be interested in getting to know his new persona? He was seriously thinking of resigning his commission, for he never wanted to go to war again. Would this change the way Kitty felt about him? Was it important to her to be married to a soldier? If so, would Henry be able to put his reluctance for bloodshed aside and fight once more for king and country?

But the kiss! Henry would never forget the kiss. And if that was the closest he ever got to Kitty in his life, he would treasure the memory forever– his lips upon hers, their arms entwined, feeling as one with the love of his life.

And there was still a major stumbling block to consider– maybe Kitty would be better off without him? She could never enter his world, after all he had seen. Would she not be happier looking for a marriage partner among the ton of Bath? But not Lord Steyne: he was far too old. Besides, the man's reputation... rumour had it that he had a mistress in London and a mistress in Bath and, what's more, had done so even while his young wife had been alive. No, Lord Steyne was not the sort of man that any young woman deserved, least of all the precious, the incomparable Kitty.

And other candidates for her hand, such as Lord Bragg and Lord Pratt, though rich, were far the inferior of Kitty. As Carter had so aptly put it when they had spotted these gentlemen in Sydney Gardens, the men were idiots. Including Mr. Boyle– though he was already married, so at least that would save Kitty from his attentions– honourable attentions, at least. There were always the other sort of liaisons favoured amongst rich entitled gentlemen– but heaven forfend Kitty should ever fall victim to a rake who did not intend marriage.

No, Boyle, Pratt, and Bragg were off the menu. As were other men of Henry's acquaintance, such as Mr. Vane and Lord Rash. Neither would suit. Mr. Hart was a good chap, though. Henry had been at school with him, and Hart had always been kind. Well, mostly. But he had a rather annoying laugh...

Now, Lord Knightly would be a good catch– for he owned half of Suffolk and was said to be fond of reading, as Kitty was. Henry put a finger to his lips. What was Knightly fond of reading? Ah! The English Stud Book. Perhaps Lord Knightly was not entirely Kitty's cup of tea.

Lord Truelove was a romantic soul who was always writing poems. Might Kitty like him? But he was also a comical figure, wearing flamboyant cravats, high pointy collars he could scarcely see over, and absurdly tight pantaloons. He was even rumoured to polish his boots with champagne, as his idol Beau Brummel did. No! Lord Truelove was already in love with himself and would not suit the generous, warm-hearted Kitty.

Henry made his way over to the pianoforte and started improvising a wistful piece in a minor key. He might have to face the fact that the best thing he could do for Kitty would be to explain to her that she must look elsewhere. But who to suggest? Perhaps Edmund might be suitable?

But no! Henry would not be able to countenance the thought of Edmund with his beloved Kitty, however much he loved both Kitty and his brother. 'Twas far too close to home. Imagine having to spend family time with Edmund and Kitty, to watch their married bliss, the arrival of children... Henry shuddered. If Edmund married Kitty, Henry would stay in the army and ask for a posting far, far away– and be glad if he lost his life on foreign soil.

"Henry!" Selina said as she bustled into the room with a heap of garments slung over her arm. "I've just said goodbye to Kitty on the stairs, and she seemed a little distracted. You haven't been rude to her, have you?"

"Of course not," Henry said.

Had he?

"I am glad to hear it," Selina said. "Maybe she was worried about her mother and wanted to rush home to see her? Anyhow, you'll be very excited when you see what I've got here, for you will be going to the ball– and these are the clothes you will be wearing."

"I cannot go to the ball," Henry said. "Everyone will see me and know who I am."

"Not if you go in disguise," Selina said.

"But whatever I wear, I'll still look like myself, won't I?"

"Wait and see," Selina said. "I brought your violin down from the nursery as well."

"My violin?"

"Yes! Your violin. A possibility has occurred."

"A possibility?"

"Henry! You are beginning to sound like a parrot, repeating everything I say."

"But you are not making any sense."

"Listen, then!" Selina said. "You know I am friends with Mama's abigail and always have been."

"I know you're a terrible gossip and will chat away to anyone."

"Stop interrupting! Mama's abigail is being courted by a young man who plays the violin in the musical trio due to perform at the Upper Rooms tomorrow night."

"Yes, and?"

"He is not well– not well at all," Selina said. "The organizers of the ball are going frantic looking for someone else to play, so naturally enough, I put your name forward."

"You put my name forward?"

"Well, not exactly me," Selina said. "Mama's abigail, through her young man, was able to put your name forward– and of course it is not your real name, but a false one. You are expected tomorrow evening half an hour before the ball begins."

"This sounds mighty suspicious." Henry wrinkled his nose. "And I am not sure I believe you."

"It's true!"

"What part of it?"

Selina sighed. "Most of it."

"Don't tell me," Henry said. "Let me guess; the part that is not true is that the young man who plays the violin is ill. You and Mama's abigail have persuaded him to say he feels ill, and that is why there is a sudden vacancy."

Selina nodded. "Correct."

"And exactly how was he persuaded? Why would he do this for you?"

"Easy!" Selina said. "I spotted him sneaking away from our house at the crack of dawn recently– and he does not wish me to say anything, obviously."

Henry smiled. Selina was rather admirable; with all her subterfuges and scheming, she would have made a good spy– like Carter.

"But l don't fully understand about the clothes," Henry said. "I'll still be recognized, won't I?"

"You'll understand in a minute. Start getting changed– that's it! Hurry, for we don't want Mama or Papa to discover us."

Henry quickly shed his outer garments and began trying on the breeches and jacket that Selina gave him.

"I didn't know we had these in the dressing up box," he said.

"Oh no, these belong to the young man who is courting Mama's abigail. I have borrowed them. Mm. I do believe he is shorter than you are– but the fit is not too awful. Turn round and let me see from the back. You'll do! At a pinch."

Pinch was indeed the operative word. Henry felt constrained in the tight jacket which pulled uncomfortably across the shoulders.

"I hope I can manage to lift the violin bow high enough to draw it across the strings," he said. "This jacket is a poor fit."

"Fuss pot! You are mightily ungrateful," Selina said. "And after all I have done for you! It has taken a great deal of my time in the last few days; indeed, I have been planning for this since first you returned to us."

No one likes being called a fuss pot– so Henry decided not to complain about the breeches being too short and rather strange in design. They were not too tight, though, as Henry had lost much weight on his travels. Henry was grateful for that, for if there was one thing he could not abide, it was skin-tight pantaloons that were impossible to sit down in.

"Now," Selina said, "I need to know more about what transpired between you and Kitty when you were left alone. Please tell me you have not declared your love and she has rejected you."

"No."

"No? You mean no, you won't tell me, or no, that's not what happened?"

"No– that is not what happened."

Selina tapped her foot impatiently. "Oh, Henry! 'Tis almost impossible to get the full story out of you. Tell me everything, from beginning to end."

"Never!" Henry said. "Some things are private."

Selina pursed her lips. "I think I know what happened, then. You kissed each other, then you said something stupid, she misunderstood you because you didn't finish your conversation, and now she's gone home upset."

This was indeed an astute observation; Selina was wise beyond her years, despite the fact that she had limited experience of life outside the home. Her words offered comfort too, for when Selina described the situation in this way, it did not sound quite as bad as Henry had feared– or quite as final.

"And it won't be as bad as you think," Selina said.

Good Lord! His sister was a mind reader now.

"I have a scheme to get you into the ball," Selina said, "and I'm sure all your difficulties with Kitty will be able to be sorted out there. You two were made for each other, and I'm very pleased that something romantic has happened in this very room. I am also sure Mama didn't really need to go downstairs to see the housekeeper or Cook, by the way, nor did Papa need to go to his study with Edmund. Everyone has been trying to give you and Kitty some space, but you've been too noodle-headed to make the most of it, and now you have had a silly misunderstanding. Am I right?"

Henry nodded. What else could he do?

"Now, try your violin," Selina continued. "Can you still play?"

Henry slid the bow over the open strings to tune up. Thank the Lord the jacket did not rip across the shoulders, for he could swear the stitches were groaning and protesting under the strain.

"I might be recognized, you know," Henry said. "I still look like Henry Templeton, despite changing clothes."

"The one thing I have not yet mentioned yet," Selina said, "is that it is a masked ball."

Henry felt rather dubious about this. "A mask does not cover the face that much, does it? Just the eyes. I know people pretend they can't recognize each other when they're wearing masks, but they can."

"Yes, I know," Selina said, rather impatiently, Henry considered. 'Twas quite unfair, if one thought about it, because she was bombarding him with all manner of surprises, and he was doing his very best to be logical and point out the possible pitfalls.

"This is your mask," Selina said, holding up a full-face mask. "You have suffered from smallpox."

"Have not!" Henry said.

"You have suffered from smallpox," Selina insisted, "your name is John Greenwood, and you are a very shy musician only recently come to Bath. What is more, you are exceedingly self-conscious about your premature baldness, and thus you always wear a large hat. This one is from the nursery."

"Ah! Yes, I recognize the hat. Let us hope this is going to work," Henry said as he placed the full-face mask over his head and covered his brown curls with a very wide brim. Then he lifted his bow, played the opening of a lively country dance and started tapping his feet.

"Better!" Selina said. "I knew I'd be able to cheer you up. There's always hope, especially when affairs of the heart are concerned."

And my heart definitely is concerned! I will go to the ball– even if I have to look like a nincompoop who has grown out of his clothes– and I will endeavour to find time to talk to Kitty secretly, for I must clear up our unfortunate misunderstanding without delay.

*

Kitty

Kitty could not get away from the house fast enough. She still burned with the memory of the kisses she had shared with H– but afterwards! How shocking! What was it he had said?

"You do not need someone like me– I am not the man I was before I left..."

What could he have meant by this? He also said he had done things he couldn't tell her about. What, exactly? Did he mean he had met someone else to love when he was abroad?

He would not simply have been referring to fighting, for it was obvious he had been fighting. He was a soldier at war, a captain in the army. Kitty did not want to think about the violence, and she was sure the soldiers did not want to do it either, but everyone knew that soldiers had to fight– kill or be killed. 'Twas the most terrible thing ever, almost beyond imagination, but it was a soldier's duty, and the safety of England depended upon it.

Someone has to stand up to that bully Napoleon– although I think Henry has done enough fighting. He's done his duty, and I for one would be over the moon if he left the army.

"Miss Kitty," Mrs. Honeyfield's abigail said as they reached the end of Brock Street and entered The Circus, "are you all right?"

"I am, of course I am fine," Kitty said, "but I would like us to walk a little faster for I am very keen to get home and see my mother."

"Yes, Miss Kitty," the abigail said, quickening her pace.

Kitty allowed the back of her hand to trail across the iron railings as she hurried round The Circus– sneaking a look down into the basement rooms as she had many times as a child on her way to and from the Templetons' house.

"How do you think my mama is?" Kitty said.

A silence– perhaps Kitty should not have asked? Then the maid asked, "What exactly do you mean, Miss Kitty?"

"You are with my mother a great deal– how do you think she is? Is she sleeping well? Is she making light of her illness? With Christmas round the corner, I long for Mama to take a turn for the better, but do not always know how to help her."

"In my opinion, and this is only my opinion Miss Kitty, Mrs. Honeyfield is a little up and down these days."

"Perhaps because Doctor Jenkins does not visit?"

"'Tis interesting you should mention that, because I was with your mother only an hour ago when Miss Steele mentioned that there was to be a new doctor attending quite soon."

"A new doctor?" Kitty said.

"Yes, and that no one was to worry about the expense, because Lord Steyne was to foot the bill and would hear no argument to the contrary."

Had Kitty misjudged Lord Steyne? For this was a most generous offer. Perhaps Kitty's distress at her mother's condition had led her to think less well of Miss Steele too? Was this what Miss Steele and Lord Steyne had been discussing when Kitty had seen them out of her window but a few hours ago? That was, if it had in truth been them, not some other people chatting on the pavement.

But if it was Miss Steele I saw, I don't think she should have taken my cloak!

Miss Steele was a conundrum. She had become Kitty's governess when Kitty was about twelve, and then as Kitty had grown up, her role had altered to that of companion. Sometimes it seemed as though she still thought she was Kitty's governess– and responsible for more than a companion usually was.

She will be employed by my parents until I marry– or until my father gives up hope of an advantageous match, and that will not be to Lord Steyne. Never! However kind he is being to Mama.

Kitty and the abigail were approaching the bottom of Russell Street, opposite the entrance to the Upper Rooms, when lo and behold, the man who was in her mind doffed his hat from the other side of the road. Lord Steyne!

Kitty nodded and smiled. Then she blushed deeply– for no good reason, for it was not as if the man could see inside her head and inspect her thoughts about not wanting to marry him.

Where was Lord Steyne going? Perchance he had been visiting one of his lady friends– news of Lord Steyne's many lady friends had reached even Kitty's ears– and was now on his way back to his lodgings in The Paragon?

The Paragonseemed such an unsuitable address for a man like Lord Steyne. He was certainly no paragon of virtue– in fact quite the reverse, if the rumours Kitty had picked up were true. Although she had to admit that the man was not an out-and-out villain, for had he not offered to help her poor mama by hiring a doctor?

Once inside her home at the top of Russell Street, Kitty handed her cloak to the maid. She had been very pleased to see that it had been returned after its mysterious disappearance earlier in the day. Had Miss Steele taken it? Kitty would probably never know for certain.

Unless, unless... of course! It could have happened like this. Miss Steele might have noticed Lord Steyne passing by and picked up the first cloak she could find before running out of the house to beg him for help with Mrs. Honeyfield's health. This might have acted as a catalyst and encouraged Lord Steyne to make his generous offer to fund the medical treatment for Mrs. Honeyfield.

Kitty bit her lip; this sounded a trifle far-fetched, even for someone as generally optimistic and positive as she was. Miss Steele wasn't impulsive; she would not suddenly run out of the house to beg for help. Would she?

"Miss Kitty," Miss Steele said, sweeping downstairs to the entrance hall.

Lord! Kitty only had to think of someone these days and they appeared before her! Kitty made a mental note to refrain from thinking about Lord Steyne and Miss Steele as much as possible.

"Miss Kitty," Miss Steele repeated, "do you intend to go to the concert tonight?"

"No. And yes, I do know it will be a very interesting program, but I intend to spend the evening with Mama. She will appreciate my company. I might read to her, and besides, I've had my fill of music for the day. Why, I have been playing pianoforte duets all afternoon at the Templetons."

"How delightful."

Why, oh why did Kitty have to go on burbling like a demented dullard about playing duets– and all afternoon? And wasn't a lot of the afternoon spent with H indulging in a duet of a different sort?

"Pianoforte duets with Miss Selina? I always thought her musical talents were vocal rather than at the keyboard."

Too late, Kitty realized she had dug herself a massive hole. Wait! Everyone knew what a fine pianist Lady Templeton was.

"I played duets with Lady Templeton."

Oh, and now I have lied! How mortifying.

"I see." Miss Steele put her head on one side. "Well, if you do not need me to accompany you to the concert this evening, I think I will go to my room."

"What's this, Kitty?" Mr. Honeyfield said, coming out of the parlour. "I heard the last part of what you said. Do I understand you are not going to meet with Lord Steyne this evening?"

"I'm very fatigued from my day and wish to sit with Mama this evening."

"Admirable," Mr. Honeyfield said. "What exemplary behaviour– well done, my dear."

Thank the Lord Mr. Honeyfield felt such compassion for his wife and put that feeling above his wish to marry Kitty off for financial advantage– at least for this evening.

Kitty loved her father. She knew his weaknesses but also knew that, deep down, he adored his family. His wife's illness affected him greatly– and, of course, added to his financial worries. 'Twas a vicious circle. And one that needed to be broken.

Perhaps Mr. Honeyfield might consider suggesting to Miss Steele that she seek employment elsewhere? It would save some money, though admittedly not much. Kitty had been far too old for a governess for a long time, and she did not consider that she needed a companion, at least not one like Miss Steele. Surely there was someone else who could chaperone Kitty?

For I do not altogether trust Miss Steele, particularly as far as Mama's health is concerned... the strange draught she gave Mama worries me still, and yet all could be in my imagination.

A little later, after dinner, Kitty sat with her mother in her bedchamber reading to her from Sense and Sensibility.

"This is an intriguing tale," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "What a tangled web! I am wondering how all the various threads will work out– but feel confident that love will conquer all."

I want to feel that confidence too, that love will conquer all. Darling H, how I long to be yours.