Chapter Nine

Kitty

Kitty looked for Henry at supper but was not surprised he was not there. 'Twas far too risky now, with Lord Steyne on the premises. And hopefully Henry was on his way to Beechen Cliff and to safety.

And he said if I were ever in danger, I must make my way to join him there.

"Another lemonade?" Edmund asked Kitty. "'Tis very refreshing."

"So why are you not drinking lemonade, brother dear?" Selina teased. "I see you are still on the wine."

"Wine is for gentlemen and lemonade for young ladies," Edmund said. "And you can stop laughing, Selina!"

"No wonder you gentlemen behave badly sometimes, if all you drink is wine," Selina said.

"And no wonder we young ladies stick to our lemonade," Kitty added, "for we must deal with the bad behavior of the gentlemen."

"Perchance 'tis time for me to go and fetch us all more drinks before you mock me further," Edmund said with a grin. "I will see you at our table over there in the corner– Mama and Papa are sitting nearby with some of their friends. And by the way, I saw your Miss Steele when I was first at the buffet. She said she had a megrim and was going home, but promised faithfully to be back at the end of the ball to escort you home– until then, I am apparently to be trusted as your chaperone."

"She will not be missed too excessively," Selina said, "and has been absent most of the evening, anyway. Do you remember I thought I saw her going to the Octagon? Would she have been playing cards? Are companions allowed in there? Who knows. She is an odd woman. Now, Kitty and I will go to the buffet for desserts. And we might even pick up something for you too, Edmund– a portion of trifle, perhaps. But only if we think you deserve it! Or have room for it– you think I did not notice how you stuffed yourself with cold ham and turkey but five minutes ago? Slices of pie and chutneys, salads and potatoes– is there no end to your gluttony?"

"Most unjust," Edmund said. "A man must eat."

Once Edmund had disappeared in search of wine and lemonade, Kitty and Selina could talk more freely.

"Lord Steyne behaved shockingly after Waterloo," Selina whispered.

"Yes, indeed," Kitty murmured. "The man is pure evil. Why, he could have helped Henry, tended his wounds, given him some water and called for help– then dear Henry would not have been lying outside in the rain and cold."

"But 'tis one thing not helping," Selina said. "That is bad enough. Passing by on the other side, like the story in the Bible. But Lord Steyne actively made things worse for Henry by dragging him into a ditch and covering him with mud and branches..."

"...hoping that by his wicked actions, no one would ever find Henry until it was too late and he was dead," Kitty said.

And for that, I will never forgive him.

"He had better not come anywhere near us," Selina hissed, "or I will spit at him."

There should be some authoritative figure they could consult about Lord Steyne, a magistrate or suchlike– but how did one go about this? And would it be wise? Besides, Kitty could not tell any outsider the full truth– that she knew Henry was at that very moment making his way back to his father's house on Beechen Cliff. The fewer people who knew that, the better.

"The situation is more fraught with danger than we had realized," Kitty said.

"Yes," Selina said. "Now we know that Lord Steyne has discovered Henry is alive, we must be very cautious."

And Lord Steyne knows that we all know Henry is alive too... how complicated!

"We should not be talking about this here in public," Selina said.

"And we should endeavour not to look worried," Kitty said, "but instead, we must pretend we have not a care in the world."

Selina threw her head back and laughed. Kitty tried to do the same but started coughing, sudden tears flooding her eyes.

"Here," Selina said, handing Kitty two plates, laden with biscuits, cake, and fruit. "Take this to our table. I will follow with ice cream and trifle. This has been hard on you, Kitty."

"Please do not make more of my suffering than yours," Kitty said, "for Henry is your brother and, and..."

It was no use– her eyelids were bulging now, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

Selina grabbed at more desserts, her impeccable society manners for once forgotten. Then, laden with trifle and ice cream, she steered Kitty away from the buffet. "You need to sit down! Try to smile as we walk. And dry those tears!"

"I cannot reach my handkerchief, not while I am carrying the plates. Oh! A piece of cake's slipping."

"Miss Honeyfield," a voice said. "How delightful you look this evening."

"Thank you, Lord Steyne." Kitty held her head up and gulped the tears away. The cake, miraculously, stayed on the plate. She would stand up to this brute– and never reveal where Henry was.

"I have a request, Miss Honeyfield," Lord Steyne said.

"Pray, what is it?"

"Might I ask that you stay at home tomorrow morning, so that I might visit? I have a particular question to put to you– and I anticipate a favorable answer."

If I was near the buffet again, I would seize one of the jellies and hurl it at you!

Kitty took another gulp. "I believe I am at home tomorrow morning, and you would be most welcome."

Her nails dug into the underneath of the china plates she was carrying until she thought her fingers might burst through and appear sticking out of the piece of dry cake– or perhaps one of the biscuits or some grapes.

What was more, Kitty immediately resolved that she would not be seeing Lord Steyne the following morning. She would be far too busy attending to her mother in her bedchamber to be able to go down. One of the servants would have to give him her apologies at the front door.

Selina moved closer to her– for reassurance? Of course, Kitty could always make her way to the Templetons tomorrow morning and throw herself on the mercy of Lord and Lady Templeton. Lord Steyne would never dare go there and demand to see her.

But for now, Kitty was safe, for was not Edmund already seated at the table, waving and raising a glass of wine?

"Please excuse us," Selina said. "I believe my brother is waiting for his dessert."

Lord Steyne bowed. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Horrid man!" Selina said as they settled down at the table with myriad desserts. "You are not to worry about a thing, Kitty."

"Man trouble?" Edmund said. "You will let me know if anyone has disrespected you. I fancy challenging someone to a duel tonight."

"Edmund!" Selina said. "As if that would ever happen! You have never fought a duel in your life– and never would. You are far too much of a coward."

Edward snorted. "That is a touch harsh, Selina, even from you."

"I wish I had a brother to protect me," Kitty said.

"You will have a husband soon, I wager," Edmund said, "and I can guess who he will be."

Kitty took a sharp intake of breath. "Surely you do not mean Lord Steyne?"

"Lord Steyne? Credit me with some judgement, Kitty," Edmund said, "as I credit you with sense. I know you would never marry that man, no matter his position and rank– we have been friends since you were virtually an infant, and I– and my whole family– know whom you should marry. There is one man alive that is perfect for you. Henry!"

This was a bold way to talk! Granted, Edmund had been a friend since childhood, but this was too much.

"Selina! Do you not discuss such matters with Kitty?" Edmund continued. "And Kitty, has that brother of mine declared himself yet? If not, why do you not declare yourself to Henry?"

"Edmund, you take your teasing too far," Selina said. "Poor Kitty is embarrassed now. And you would do better to talk to Henry– for as you know, it is the man who declares, not the lady. We are bound fast by the rules of society– more's the pity."

Kitty put a large piece of shortbread into her mouth to cover her embarrassment. This would obliterate the need for her to answer Edmund's questions– for etiquette forbade her to speak with her mouth full.

If Henry declared his love and proposed, I would be elated.

*

Henry

Henry kept to the shadows and the smaller streets and alleyways as he made his way through the city and across the river, on his way to Beechen Cliff. Would Carter be sitting up in front of the fire, waiting for him to return, ruminating in that middle-aged way of his? It was late, so perhaps he had gone to bed. Henry patted his pockets. He had managed to acquire some cuts of meat, fancy biscuits, and some fruit from one of the maids on her way into the tea room with trays for supper. Carter should be pleased! He probably would have liked Henry to have picked up a bottle of wine too, but that could have excited attention and been too risky.

Halfway through climbing Jacob's Ladder to the summit of the hill, Henry turned and looked at the city spread out before him in the valley. Soft lights from houses were visible, and a full moon illuminated the beauty of the Abbey standing proud amidst the fine buildings surrounding it.

Henry could hear horses' hooves and the rattle of wheels on Holloway, the road below him.

He had heard horses' hooves and the rattle of cannon wheels on the battlefield... and other sounds too, that now he could not bear to think of... and then afterwards, afterwards...

And now I know it was thanks to Lord Steyne that I ended up in that ditch.

Henry turned and trudged up the remaining steps, left right, left right, like a soldier marching to the beat of a military drum.

He must tell Carter how the sight of Lord Steyne's ring and the smell of lemons had brought back the memory of Lord Steyne standing over him as he'd lain wounded on the battlefield– and all that followed. Moreover, there was the disturbing news that Lord Steyne knew Henry was alive.

Carter would be able to decide what to do– now that the danger was heightened.

Henry paused at the top of the steps to gaze once more at the cityscape. What camaraderie he had enjoyed with the musicians that evening! And it had been mighty kind of the flautist to share his liquor before the ball. Henry closed his eyes as the curious recollection struggled to surface again. When had someone else given him brandy? Ah, he had been lying on the battlefield, not long after being injured. A French officer had appeared and offered him brandy for the pain; he had left him his flask and a few dry biscuits. The gifts had been a real comfort– and had probably helped to save Henry's life.

Was that French officer still alive? How cruel it was that soldiers were forced to fight each other– people who in different circumstances could have been friends– and all because the men at the top could not reconcile their differences and thus resorted to bloodshed. The deaths of soldiers were merely collateral damage.

But 'twas no use dwelling on the past and trying to relive the complicated events of the last six months. Although Henry was still in danger, he was back in England– he had his family, Carter, and Kitty.

Sweet memories of the kiss he had shared with Kitty earlier that evening outside the Upper Rooms floated into Henry's mind. He put the back of his hand against his lips. How soft her mouth had felt. How tender.

This would not do! 'Twas time to talk to Carter.

"Hello!" Henry shouted as he entered the house through the back.

"What sort of time do you call this?" Carter said. "Did you enjoy the ball?"

"I did, and even saved you a few treats from the supper table. Here we are."

"Thanks," Carter said, "and since you're always hungry, would you like to share them with me? I'll pour some ale."

"Good idea. And you must listen to what I have to say– I am afraid 'tis not good news."

Henry revealed all that had passed– the ring, the lemons, the conversation that Kitty had overheard.

"I knew we should have been more careful!" Carter thumped the table.

"I am truly sorry. You were right all along. I should not have lingered near the library... it's just that..."

"You were keen to see Kitty," Carter said. "I know– and cannot blame you."

"The question is, what do we do next?"

"Nothing," Carter said, "for we do not want to draw attention to ourselves in any way whatsoever. I think we are pretty safe up here."

"This is not what you said the other night when you went chasing off after some owls."

"I was probably mistaken. I am suspicious of everything and everyone, as you know."

"I do know!" Henry said. "'Tis possibly what has kept me alive this long. No doubt you developed your suspicious nature during your previous work as a spy."

"No doubt!" Carter took another gulp of ale.

"There is a mystery you can clear up for me," Henry said.

"What?"

"I am not saying I don't appreciate what you did for me, Carter, rescuing me, nursing me back to health, shielding me from danger– but why did you do it?"

"Why did I do it? What sort of a question is that?"

"Yes," Henry said. "Why did you do it? I know how you did it– you've already told me you decided to follow me when I went to war. You joined the camp followers– in disguise, of course, not as my manservant. 'Tis one of your favourite occupations, pretending to be something you are not! But it cannot have been easy for you, camping out in all weathers just so that you could be near me. And all the time I had no idea."

"'Twas not the most civilized time I've ever had," Carter admitted.

"If I had known you were around, perchance I could have gotten you an invitation to the Duchess of Richmond's ball."

"What makes you think I wasn't at the Duchess of Richmond's ball?"

"No!" Henry said. "Were you there? Surely not! In the ballroom?"

"Not exactly in the ballroom– or among the musicians, as you have just been. No, I spent some time in the kitchen at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, chatting, gathering information, the usual sort of thing. I managed to taste some of the dishes before they went in– and sampled a few of the wines."

"I've heard it all now!" Henry slapped his thighs. "I am surprised you didn't dress up as a soldier and fight alongside me."

"I did not want to fight– but when I finally found you after the battle and realized you had been hidden away to die a slow death alone, I swore I would find your mortal enemy, and so…"

"Carter, I repeat, I want to know why you looked for me, not how. Why did you take such great pains to find me? Why undertake a dangerous and possibly futile search?"

"Don't rightly know," Carter said. "Must have had nothing better to do."

"A typical evasion of an answer from you! You are an expert at keeping secrets. Look at how you managed to conceal the fact of my survival from everyone while we were still abroad– and once we got back to England."

"But I did agree to confide in some trusted army officers in London," Carter said. "I knew they could be relied on to keep things quiet– they'd never have been indiscreet enough to blab about you."

"I suppose not. And though it irks me to admit it, they totally agreed with you and said I should remain incognito until the whole mystery was cleared up."

"Which it has been," Carter said. "We know it was Lord Steyne. But we have to be even more careful now– so that he does not find you."

Henry balled his fists. "If he ever hurts my Kitty!"

"But she's not your Kitty yet– because you haven't declared yourself. More's the pity."

"I believe you have mentioned that before," Henry said. "I also believe you're trying to deflect me from probing as to why you have done so much for me. Admit it, man! You're trying to change the subject, aren't you!"

Carter stared into the fire, his fingers raking the legs of his breeches. "I will tell you one day. Promise."

"Tell me now! My curiosity is overwhelming. You have behaved towards me as if I am precious to you, not merely your master. After all, not content with looking after me abroad, you then found us discreet lodgings in London where we lived for a long time, you helped me talk to my superiors in the army– and what am I going to do about that, by the way? They said I was not ready for active service, but would be happy to find me a desk job once I was feeling up to it– and if I wanted it."

"You can do whatever you want– 'tis up to you. You're a man. Make your own decisions– do what you want to do."

"I do not know what I want to do," Henry said, "but am damned sure I don't want to go back to war. I am thinking of resigning my commission, for I am not keen on the desk job idea, to be honest. Maybe I could get a job with the musicians who play in the Upper Rooms? Would they employ me on a more permanent basis, d'you think?"

"I am not sure your parents will think that's such a good idea. You need a profession." Carter held his glass out. "Cheers to whatever you do!"

"Cheers! And you have done it again! Deflected my question. God damn and blast you, Carter, why have you been so good to me? You've acted almost like a father."

Carter gave Henry a curious look.

"No, no . . ." Henry said. "That's simply not possible . . ."

"Absolutely not," Carter said. "I worship your mother– she would never do anything immoral, and I would never disrespect either her or your father. Besides, it would be unthinkable! Look, this is hard, but I'm going to have to tell you, to avoid any more unsuitable speculation– and so that you can understand the deep affection and feeling I have for you. Truth is, I'm..."

Carter's revelation was interrupted by an unwelcome sound.

"Owl!" Carter leapt to his feet. "We had better check– cannot be too careful."

*

Kitty

Kitty heard an owl as she stepped into the Templetons' carriage after the ball. Edmund had offered to walk home to the Royal Crescent to make room for Miss Steele in the carriage this time. Kitty sat opposite her and stared in fascination as Miss Steele's new brooch sparkled with odd flashes when a moonbeam happened to shine in the window of the carriage.

Selina took off her eye mask and yawned deeply, bunching her fists and raising her arms over her head.

"My dear!" Lady Templeton said. "Remember your manners– at all times. Just because we are no longer in society but en famille does not mean..."

"I sympathize with you, Selina," Lord Templeton said. "Certainly has been a long night. I hope you young ladies had fun."

Lady Templeton delicately stifled a yawn. Ah! Yawns were terribly catching! Kitty felt one creeping up on her.

Once the short journey to the top of Russell Street had been completed, Selina and Kitty left one another with many promises to catch up soon to discuss every detail of the ball.

"But not this morning," Selina said. "I am going to have a good lie-in."

"Me too," Kitty said.

And I will dream of Henry's kisses– and try to forget Lord Steyne and the danger we are in.

Miss Steele coughed. "I think, on this occasion, it would not be improper to miss your pianoforte practice before breakfast."

Lady Templeton raised an eyebrow. "Do you still supervise Kitty's daily timetable? She is nineteen years old and an excellent musician– I cannot imagine she needs to be reminded to practice or otherwise, surely?"

"A young lady's life cannot be too regulated," Miss Steele said.

Oh, yes it could! Kitty was getting far too old for the stranglehold Miss Steele placed on her activities– and more so recently, since Lord Steyne had taken an interest in her.

"Lord Steyne will be calling to see you later this morning," Miss Steele reminded Kitty. "He never tires of hearing you play the pianoforte."

Kitty rolled her eyes, then jumped out of the carriage and gave a wave as she stood on the pavement. It would not do to display any emotion or fear when Lord Steyne's name was mentioned– but she would not be receiving him later this morning, or any other day. Ever.

For I hate the man for what he has done to my darling Henry...

How Kitty wished she could stand up to Miss Steele– why was she allowed to dictate what Kitty should be doing with her time? But 'twas important not to raise suspicion at a tense time like this.

Mr. Honeyfield's hat was not in the hall when Kitty went into the house.

"Your father is still out," Miss Steele said, "in case you're wondering. No doubt he's throwing the last of his fortune away at cards as I speak."

This was impertinent! How dare Miss Steele?

"'Tis time for bed, Miss Kitty," Miss Steele continued. "Straight to your chamber– if you please."

"I am going upstairs to see Mama first," Kitty said. "I have been out for hours and need to make sure she is sleeping well."

"No need. Do not waste your time going up to her bedroom."

What on earth could Miss Steele mean? There was a new strange attitude from her that Kitty did not find appealing– in any way. It was never a waste of time for Kitty to go to her mama, for even if Mrs. Honeyfield were asleep, Kitty could stand beside her bed, stroking her cheek and listening to her soft, gentle breathing.

No time with a sick person was to be regretted. Even if they did not seem to know their visitor was there, they might perchance sense their comforting presence. And if Mrs. Honeyfield were awake, then Kitty would be able to talk to her. There was a lot to discuss– and much that Mrs. Honeyfield could advise on.

Mama! Never have I felt more in need of your warm embrace and good counsel.

Kitty opened the door to her mother's bedchamber. Oh, no! What was going on? The covers were pulled back, the bed was empty, and the wardrobe doors were open. Had someone been rifling through Mrs. Honeyfield's clothes? The drawers of the dresser were not completely closed, and various trinkets and jewelry lay on the floor.

"I told you there was no point in visiting your mama." Miss Steele was at the door. "She is no longer here, but has been taken away by Doctor Voss for treatment. Did I not warn you her nerves were getting the better of her? Now you do not have to worry, for she is in a comfortable place, getting the very latest medical treatment."

"This cannot suddenly happen with no warning," Kitty said. "Why was I not told? I need to find Papa to tell him what has happened."

"I am here, my dear, lately returned from cards." Mr. Honeyfield swayed slightly on his feet as he entered the chamber.

"Did you know about this, Papa?"

"Did I know that your mama was going to receive the finest of care, paid for very generously by Lord Steyne? Of course I did."

Tears sprang to Kitty's eyes.

"Hush child, do not alarm yourself," Mr. Honeyfield said, placing a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "I know how much you love your mama and how you will miss her– but it has become necessary for her to go away for a while for treatment. Lord Steyne has recommended an excellent place in the country."

Miss Steele's triumphant smirk in the background was highly vexing. Told you so, it seemed to say. You didn't believe me– but you were wrong, as you are about everything.

"Mama mentioned possible treatment," Kitty said, "but I did not think she meant she was going today."

"You mean yesterday," Miss Steele said, "for we have passed midnight. I received an urgent request from Doctor Voss to come back to the house while you were at the ball– I was needed to help pack a few belongings for Mrs. Honeyfield's hospital stay."

Miss Steele came back to the house because she had an urgent message that she must pack for Kitty's mama? She told Edmund she left the ball because she had a megrim. Both tales could not be true. What a liar! And she had disappeared earlier at the ball too– perhaps to meet with Lord Steyne? Carry out some tasks for him? Deliver messages? Kitty shivered. There was more going on than she knew about, that much was certain. She could smell danger in the air.

And why were Mrs. Honeyfield's trinkets and jewels all over the floor of her bedchamber? Someone must have been going through her valuables after she had left.

As if we do not all know who that person is!

"I confess I am surprised that Doctor Voss managed to find a place for her so quickly," Mr. Honeyfield said, "but 'tis all to the good, for the sooner your mama is treated, the sooner she will be back amongst us– hopefully in time for Christmas, or if not that, the New Year."

"But I would have liked to have said goodbye," Kitty said.

"Yes, my dear," Mr. Honeyfield said, "I would too. There, there. Perhaps Miss Steele thought it would be for the best, for partings can be difficult."

"That is true," Miss Steele said. "I am pleased to have been able to spare you both the pain of saying goodbye to Mrs. Honeyfield."

This was preposterous– what about the pain of coming home and finding that her mama had disappeared?

Mr. Honeyfield was incapable of feeling pain at the moment, as he was deep in his cups, but when he recovered, Kitty had no doubt that he too would regret not saying farewell to his wife and wishing her well for her treatment.

"Doctor Voss took every pain to make sure Mrs. Honeyfield was fit to travel," Miss Steele said, "and he gave her a sleeping draught to make the journey more comfortable. With God's help she will make a full recovery and return to us ere long."

A sleeping draught? Was Kitty's mama drugged, unconscious even, when she left the house? That would have been the easiest way to affect a swift, silent removal, without fear of the servants rising from their beds and posing awkward questions.

"Perhaps your mama will be back with us for Christmas," Mr. Honeyfield said. "Would that not be an occasion for joy, to think she might be restored to health by the time the festivities start? I think I will go to my room now, for I need to lie down."

The way had been cleared, then. Kitty saw now that the whole business of sending Doctor Voss to tend to her mama had actually been part of an elaborate plan. Kitty's mama would never have forced Kitty to marry Lord Steyne against her will– therefore she had to go.

Kitty must be very cautious now. She must not betray from her demeanour her revulsion at the wickedness of Lord Steyne. And what was Miss Steele thinking of, to be supportive of him in his evil aims?

No, Kitty would go to her room meekly and quietly, without further argument.

But I know what I must do next!

Once she had reached the safety of her own chamber, Kitty turned the key in the lock and ran to her wardrobe. Her best dress was missing! And a pair of satin shoes. Could Miss Steele have taken them? But why?

Pushing her hands through the remaining muslins and silks, Kitty reached for a long-neglected pile of oddments, clothes that she, Selina, Henry, and Edmund used to don when dressing up for amateur theatricals in years gone past.

Within ten minutes, she slipped out of the house dressed in an old pair of breeches and a shirt, her hair hidden under a cap and a long jacket covering the motley ensemble. The quizzing glass from Lady Templeton was in Kitty's pocket, in case she needed to look closely at anything in particular.

An owl hooted as she hared down Russell Street– the feathered creature must have been amused at the comical sight of Kitty dressed as a boy. Then she turned right to run across the Circus, down Gay Street and through Queen Square, on and on through the city until she reached the river, feeling thoroughly out of breath– both exhilarated and terrified, all at the same time.

The climb to Beechen Cliff was steep, but Kitty ran up the steps of Jacob's Ladder as if possessed. Henry was but minutes away– he would know what was to be done, surely?

Then the rain started, great fat drops lashing down, the water seeping through Kitty's clothes until she was wet through. The trees around her whispered and moved, some stretching out ghostly fingers to pull at her jacket.

Henry! I long for the comfort of your arms.