Dangerous Escapade (17 page)

Brabington nodded
fervently and made for the door. He was halted by his cousin, who bethought herself
to ask, “Have you any writing paper and a pen?”

Brabington was
taken aback by this homely request but answered that the desired articles were
to be found in the library. He then scuttled away down the stairs, leaving Kitty
devoutly hoping that she need never set eyes upon him again.

As she made her
way down to the library, she became aware that she was rapidly approaching
exhaustion. The nervous energy that had supported her throughout her ordeal drained
away, leaving her limp and weary. Nevertheless, she forced herself onward, for
there was a great deal at stake. The hazy plans that had been forming in her
tired brain suddenly crystallized. With a decided little nod, she entered the
library and sat down to compose the first letter she had ever written to the
Earl. It was fortunate that there was a good stock of paper before her, for the
letter proved unexpectedly difficult to write. However, it was finished
eventually, sealed with a wafer, and slipped noiselessly under the door of the
drawing room where the Earl still slept.

Then, fighting
back the tears that threatened to choke her, Kitty followed her cousin from the
house. The stables were by no means as decayed as the rest of the property and,
as it was by now early morning, Kitty was able to see to saddle one of the
sturdy carriage horses without any trouble. She toyed with the idea of taking Wellbeloved's
splendid mount, but some superstitious fear prevented her. The carriage horse would
carry her very well. Docilely, he allowed himself to be led to the mounting block,
and Mistress Brabington mounted, an incongruous but dazzling figure in her
domino, her crystal gown shimmering in the weak morning sunshine.

Some hours
later, the sun was strong enough to penetrate even into the shuttered chamber
where Debenham slumbered. As the light fell upon his face, he stirred uncomfortably
and then sat up with a jerk as memory returned to him. A swift glance around
the room showed him that his ward was missing, but he was unconcerned until his
eye fell upon the letter that lay just in front of the door. He rose and almost
immediately stumbled over Wellbeloved’s body, which lay as he had fallen, his face
against the floor, his arms outstretched. With an exclamation of disgust, Debenham
flung his cloak over the body and, stepping over it, picked up the letter, some
instinct warning him what it contained.

She had
written:
“My dearest, I have thought very
hard, and it seems to me that the best thing will be if I go away. I hope you
will not try to find me, but remember I shall think of you always. If the time
ever comes that you are free to wed me, I shall know, and I shall come to you,
I promise. But do not, for my sake, compromise your honour; indeed, dear Anthony,
I could not bear that. Please do not worry about me. I shall go to someone who
will care for me. I love you very much.

If the first reaction
of the Earl was one of shock, his second was one of acute exasperation. Much as
he loved his ward, he could not help feeling that she was a little idiot. Did
she really imagine that she, an acknowledged beauty and great heiress, could
simply vanish without a good many people wanting to know the reason why? She
had, he noted, made no mention of her fortune. What did she imagine he was going
to do with it?

How like Kitty
to go off so dramatically
—
as though she had
only to leave him and he would be able to pick up the threads of his life again
as though she had never entered it.

It could not
be done, of course. He must find her! She must be convinced that there was no
need for her flight. He would marry Amelia, and in time Kitty would find some
young man worthy of her and forget that she had ever been so foolish as to fall
in love with him.

It was with a desolate
heart that Lord Debenham took the road back to London, leaving behind him in
the dilapidated Court the still body of the Black Dog and the ruins of all his
dearest hopes for the future.

Thirteen

The two ladies,
left to themselves for an entire night and most of the morning, had passed
almost as uncomfortable a time as Kitty and Debenham. Neither lady had found it
possible to close her eyes in sleep, and both arose betimes the next morning as
anxious and heavy-eyed as when they retired. Madame de Longueville wore a
strained expression and tended to jump up every time a carriage was heard, much
to the annoyance of Lady Horatia, whose nerves had induced in her a blinding
migraine, which reduced her usual good temper to a certain asperity.

“My dearest
Marguerite, I beg of you!” she exclaimed in exasperation as the Comtesse ran to
the window for the dozenth time that morning.

“Forgive me,
Horatia!” cried Marguerite impetuously, “I think this waiting will drive me
mad. Oh! Will he never come?”

Lady Horatia shook
her head gloomily. “It has been so long, I fear...I fear greatly for the dear
child. That evil, evil man, what can he want with her?”

“We have been
over this a hundred times. I do not know what he wants, Horatia, any more than
you do,” returned the Comtesse tartly.

It was well
for the friendship of the two ladies that Lord Debenham now entered the room,
tired, dishevelled, and inclined to be monosyllabic. He was greeted by a volley
of questions and exclamations, which he ignored, merely striding to the
breakfast table and helping himself to a cup of lukewarm coffee.

Lady Horatia watched
him with disfavour, exclaiming, “Anthony, how dare you keep us in suspense like
this? Where is Kitty? What in God's name has happened?”

“I beg your
pardon, Aunt,” he bowed, “but I very much fear that I cannot answer your
question. I do not know where my ward may be.”

“Ah,
mon Dieu
!” almost shrieked the Comtesse.
“What is this you tell us? You did not find
la
petite
?”

“Oh yes, I
found her, Ma'am, attacking her kidnapper with a poker. She appeared to stand in
little need of my services.”

“With a poker?”
echoed Marguerite. “Ah, she has spirit, the little one.”

The Earl
smiled. “I agree with you, Ma'am, a great deal of spirit. However, as I had
arrived, I saved her the trouble of disposing of the man by doing so myself. We
are rid of Mr Wellbeloved for good.”

Lady Horatia was
watching him keenly. “Why then is Kitty not with you? You must tell us where
she is, you know.”

“My good Aunt,
I wish I could,” he replied wearily. “Kitty has removed herself from my protection.
I do not know where she is, although I can make an informed conjecture.” He saw
the distress in his aunt’s face and continued. “She has not gone empty handed.
I have discovered that she returned to Debenham to pack a valise. She then
induced John to provide her a considerable sum from rent monies collected last
quarter-day. From what I know of my ward, she will contrive.”

“But why did
she have to leave?” exclaimed Lady Horatia in exasperation.

“I will say
this just once, Aunt, and then I do not wish to hear any more about it. As you
two ladies have no doubt realized, I have fallen deep in love with my ward. She
also loves me. Honour has compelled me to keep faith with my betrothed until
now. Amelia has my sworn oath that I will not repudiate her. Last night, I
offered to break that oath. Kitty would not let me. She has run away from me to
save me from dishonour!”

“My poor boy,”
said his aunt. “We must find her, Anthony.”

“Of course, we
will find her, but not for me. Put that out of your head once and for all.
Kitty will return to be the toast of London, and I shall marry Amelia. Is that
clear?”

With that, he
stalked from the room, leaving his aunt weeping upon the shoulder of her friend,
who murmured, “These things can be arranged,
Cherie
, do not despair.”

Before Lady
Horatia had inquired the meaning of this strange remark, Madame de Longueville
had swept from the room, leaving a thoroughly bewildered and overset lady
behind her.

Lady Amelia
Henshawe was not expecting a visitor that morning. She was seated with her mama
in the morning room, neat and precise as always, occupied with the delicate
embroidery that was her one talent. Neither lady was acquainted with the
Comtesse de Longueville, but the announcement of her arrival threw them both
into a flutter. Lady Amelia recovered herself in time to rustle forward
importantly to greet her visitor, who had chosen to do justice to the occasion
in a gown of crimson silk worn with a charming hat, which sported several
nodding plumes. Lady Amelia was made to feel a little countrified in her chintz
saque and thus at a disadvantage.

The Comtesse greeted
both ladies with her usual charm, and it said much for her finesse that she was
able to persuade her hostess to leave her alone with Lady Amelia without that lady
feeling in any way neglected. However, once the good lady had departed, the Comtesse’
affability fell from her, and she became alarmingly business-like.

“Well, my
dear, let us not beat about the bush,” she commenced briskly. “I have a
proposition to put to you.”

“I do not
understand you, Ma'am. What proposition?” answered Amelia, frowning a little.

“A very simple
one. Your reputation in exchange for Debenham’s freedom.”

Lady Amelia
sat down abruptly. She shot a quick look at her visitor. “Do you come from him?”
she demanded.

“No, Debenham
does not know that I am here.”

“Then how do
you know that he wishes to be released? Indeed, what has it to do with you,
Comtesse? I find your interference strange.”

“My dear, do
not let us play games. I wish you no harm, but you know as well as I that Debenham
cares for his ward, not for you.”

“He offered
for me!” interrupted Amelia swiftly.

The Comtesse
nodded. “True, my dear, and if that were all, I would say that he must stand by
you. But that is not all, is it, Amelia? There is the matter of a certain
Captain Markham, I believe, who has some hold upon your affections?”

Amelia
started, “He told you that? He swore he would never speak of it...he swore!”

“And he kept his
word; it was not from him that I learned this. You have not been very discreet,”
answered the Comtesse, smiling coolly. “Believe me, I do not blame you. Who of
us has not been indiscreet at some time? It would pain me to harm you, but if
you persist in holding a man, for whom you care nothing, to his promise, you
will force me to it. Why do you not marry your dashing captain, instead? There
are compensations to a love match.”

Lady Amelia regarded
her visitor contemptuously. “Markham is amusing, but he has nothing. There are no
compensations to poverty.”

“But, you are so
very beautiful, you know. I am sure something could be arranged. Perhaps a
sojourn in Paris? I would be delighted to use my influence on your behalf.
Indeed, I have a certain Marquis in my mind….”

Lady Amelia
looked up, her face alight with interest. “Well, Debenham is a dull fellow,
after all. Perhaps I could be persuaded to give him up.”

'The Comtesse
laughed warmly. “My dear, I am sure you will make the right choice. You would
very much enjoy Paris and, I think, make a delightful Marquise.”

The two women looked
at each other for a few moments; then Amelia nodded. “Very well, Comtesse, you
may tell my gallant betrothed that he is free of me and I wish him joy!”

“You will send
a notice to the appropriate journal?”

“Of course.”

Madame de Longueville
rose briskly, pulling on her gloves with a satisfied air. “I am pleased to find
you so reasonable, my dear. Your Mama will receive my invitation this afternoon.”

“She will be
delighted,” responded Lady Amelia coolly.” As she spoke, she tugged at the bell
rope and, upon the arrival of a footman, she swept a curtsy to her guest, who departed,
very well satisfied with her morning's work.

It was nearly
a week later that the Earl of Debenham arrived once more upon the steps of the
Maison Beauclare
, strain and anxiety apparent
upon his handsome countenance. He was admitted into the well-remembered hall by
the same footman and almost immediately was hailed by a melodious voice from
the gallery above.

“So,
Milor
Debenham, you have returned. How
can I help you?” Hélène was descending the stairs towards him, an amused smile
hovering upon her full lips. He felt again at a disadvantage before this
exquisite creature, but he bowed courteously and kissed her hand.

“Madam, I hope
very sincerely that you can help me, for if you cannot, I shall be lost. I am
looking for my ward, Ma'am. Can you tell me where she may be?”

“And if I do,
what comes to her? Are you free to claim her in all honour?”

Lord Debenham's
severe countenance relaxed. “Then she is here? You relieve my mind, Ma'am. She is
safe?”

Hélène nodded,
smiling, “Safe she is, Milor, but unhappy. Ah,
la pauvre petite
! So unhappy, she loves you, you understand?”

“May I see
her?” he asked quickly.

“What of the
other woman?” questioned Hélène. “I will not have her further distressed
without reason. Are you free indeed?”

“I am!” he
assured her smiling. “Now take me to her; I grow impatient, Ma'am!”

She laughed,
taking his hand. “Come then. Surprise her. I dare swear she will welcome you.”

Once more, the
Earl followed Hélène up the wide stairway, her perfume heavy in his nostrils,
but this time he had no eyes for her beauty. At the top of the stairs, she left
him, having pointed to a door, which hung invitingly ajar. In two strides, he
was across the landing and had flung the door wide. Kitty turned hurriedly and,
at the sight of her guardian, her eyes widened. Then she sprang up and, holding
out her arms, she stumbled towards him to land breathless and laughing in his
embrace.