Dangerous Escapade (6 page)

About an hour
later, she judged by the position of the sun overhead that it was time to turn
back. The mare wheeled round willingly enough, and they began to trot back
towards the house whose chimneys could just be seen above the trees before
them. As they came abreast of the trees, Kitty suddenly became aware that she
was not unobserved. A dark figure, splendidly mounted, detached itself from the
shadows and placed itself squarely in Kitty's way.

Kitty was a
courageous girl and, as she carried no money and other reasons for this molestation
were clearly ineligible, it was with more curiosity than fright that she faced
the stranger.

“Good day, Sir,”
she addressed him coolly enough. “I think perhaps you wish to speak to me,”

The stranger smiled,
unpleasantly, she thought. “You are very right, my sweet,” he replied.

She flung up a
hand as though to ward off a blow. “Why do you call me so, Sir, is it thus that
one gentleman addresses another in England?”

“No, nor in
any country, but then I make no claim to be a gentleman
—
and
neither, despite those very fetching breeches, can you.”

“How do you
know!” she cried incautiously.

The stranger changed
his tactics abruptly. “Forgive my seeming insolence, my dear,” he said,
attempting to take her hand. “Alas, my levity is merely a mask circumstance has
forced upon me. A man who must watch his greatest friend die and be unable to
show his feelings, to appear unmoved by that friend's great suffering, cannot
at will show his true self, even to the daughter of his friend.”

“You knew my
father!”

“Indeed, and
was with him when he died. His last words were a message, which, with his dying
breath, he begged me to carry to you.”

“Oh what did he
say!” she whispered, her lovely face drained of colour.

“He wanted you
to know that he was right in his suspicions. He was betrayed, and by the man in
whom he believed he could trust the most, the man indeed to whom he had entrusted
his most precious possession
—
yourself. Your
father, Mistress Clareville, was betrayed by the Earl of Debenham.”

“No, no, I
will not believe you! It must be a mistake! It cannot be true!” Tears started
to her eyes as, once again, her world came tumbling about her ears.

“You do not
believe me. How could I expect you to? I see I must explain.” He paused, seeming
to gather his thoughts. “It is a long story, my dear. Your father and Debenham
served together, as you know. But there was already a connection between them.
One of which Debenham was initially unaware.''

“I do not
understand you, Sir,” Kit frowned. “How could this be?”

For an answer,
he pointed to a large extent of woodland some two miles distant from which rose
the towers of what appeared to be an ancient and imposing mansion.

“Do you know
the name of that house?” he demanded.

 
“How could I, Sir when you must be aware that
I have not yet spent three days in this country,” replied Kit with some
asperity.

He bowed. “I
will enlighten you. That is Brabington Court, home of the Brabington family for
generations. As you can see, the estates share a common boundary. There was a
fair amount of intercourse between the two families, but it would be too much
to expect that my Lord Debenham would recognize a man whom he last saw when he
was himself but a child.”

“My father was
part of that family?”

“Exactly. The Brabingtons
were a wild lot, but none wilder than the younger son, at that time a lad of
twenty. They did not object to his wildness so much as to his extravagance.
There were a series of scandals, culminating in the young man being cut off
without a penny and betaking himself to Europe, where he assumed the name of Clareville.”

“My father!”

He smiled, “Just
so, my dear,” he assured her.

She was
silent, considering the revelation he had made. What it meant to this homeless
waif to hear that she was, in fact, a member of an old and distinguished
family, this man could not begin to know. She raised shining eyes to his face. “Oh,
Sir, how can I thank you for telling me this, it means so much. So often I have
longed to know the truth about myself!”

He took her
hand in a fatherly manner and pressed it gently. “There is more, child, will
you hear it?”

She bowed her
head, the light dying from her eyes as she remembered his accusation against
Debenham.

“I have no
doubt that Debenham is as fervent a rebel as your father ever was; therefore,
it was not for political reasons that he betrayed your father. No, the reason
was greed, greed so overwhelming that the honour of a lifetime was not
sufficient to stand against it. Debenham discovered the truth.
 
Clareville was no fool. He knew there might
come a time when he wished to return to England and prove his identity. When he
left, he took with him the frontispiece of the family Bible. On this page, as
is customary, there were the names of many generations of Brabingtons, and when
you were born he added your own, Katherine Brabington. Debenham has that
frontispiece, has known all along that you were hiding your true sex.”

“But why,” she
cried in agony, “I do not understand.”

“What an
innocent you are. You are the last Brabington save for a distant cousin, who has
inherited the title and the crumbling Court. The Brabington fortune was based
on their West Indian properties and was not entailed; you are, in fact, an
heiress of extraordinary wealth. Debenham’s plan was simple. He persuaded your
father to leave you in his care. He made sure of that before he betrayed him.
Now you are in his power. I daresay he expects to charm you into marriage. If
not, well, it would not be the first time a maiden has been forced to accept
marriage as the only alternative to ruin!”

Kitty thought
this over. “If that were his Lordship's intention, it seems strange that he
should have become betrothed to another woman.”

The stranger
looked rather foolish for a moment. He recovered quickly, however. “My dear, that
poor lady serves merely to lend the man respectability. Do not imagine that he
that is capable of planning such an infamous course would hesitate to jilt an
unfortunate gentlewoman.”

Kitty was bewildered
by his arguments, but half-convinced by his frank and open manner, far different
from the cool and mocking Earl. Her heart cried out against believing ill of
her guardian, but her understanding could not but admit it to be a plausible
tale. She decided that she must have proof one way or the other. She told him
so.

“I expected nothing
less. However, the only proof we need is the assurance that Debenham knows
exactly who you are, for he can have no honest reason for keeping the truth from
you. Do you agree?”

“I suppose so,”
she said, doubtfully.

“Well then, go
to him, search the house, enter into his room somehow. You will find the paper
I spoke of. Bring it to me, and I shall protect you, never fear.”

Kitty heaved a
deep sigh. “I suppose it is the only way,” she agreed sadly. She could never be
comfortable again in Debenham House without learning the truth one way or the
other. She supposed that the Earl would be spending most of his time at the
home of his betrothed; therefore, she determined to ride to London that same night
and, using the many skills she had acquired in the course of her adventuring, to
enter the Earl's town house undetected.

He applauded
her decision. “You are a courageous woman, Mistress Brabington, and truly your
father's daughter.” He kissed her hand, pressing his lips against her palm in a
manner that sent a shiver of repulsion through her.

She rode back
to Debenham House in a very thoughtful mood. Long as she had been absent, Kitty
had not been missed. In all that huge household, there was no one whose
business it was to take care of their master's ward, and she could not help
feeling that it would matter to no one if she accepted the stranger’s offer and
placed herself under his protection.

She spent the
rest of the day in her chamber, for there was much to consider. She dwelt
happily on the thought that she was after all a well-born lady with a place in
society if she chose to accept it, yet when she considered the accusations made
against the man who had done so much for her, she was miserable and felt that
she would willingly exchange all her newfound wealth if he could only be proved
to be innocent. Remembering that warm kiss the stranger had pressed into her
hand, she could not help speculating upon how it would be to feel Debenham’s
warm lips against her palm. Did the Lady Amelia receive such tokens of my
Lord's devotion? She was shocked to find that the thought was inexpressibly
painful, and for the first time, she questioned her own feelings about Debenham.
She reached no conclusion other than that she intended to renounce her breeches
as soon as possible as half-remembered visions of gowns trimmed with lace and
ribbons rose before her.

The household
retired early for, despite the lengthening spring days, it was still dusk by
dinner time, and Mrs Goulding had strong views concerning the use of candles by
under-servants. As soon as she was sure that the servants were all abed, Kit
stole down the stairs and found her way to the nether regions of the house,
where a side door was habitually left open for the convenience of the staff.
Moving with stealth almost as skilful as that displayed by Wellbeloved in the
pursuit of his profession, she reached the stables unchallenged and there
saddled her mare with the ease of long practice. She could not help wondering
at the apparent laxity of the Earl's grooms, for the mare had not allowed
herself to be saddled in silence, and yet still no one had appeared to
investigate. The truth was that none of the servants was inclined to ask the
foreign young gentleman where he might be off to in the middle of the night, and
having heard from John of his prowess with the small sword, they declined to
interfere. So, although Kitty was not undetected, she was at least unmolested.

At any other time,
that ride into London through the moonlit night would have delighted Kitty, for
the countryside, always lovely, had taken on a strange fairylike quality in
the moonlight. The road lay before her
—
a
winding shimmering ribbon
—
down the hill and
away towards the red glow in the sky, which was London.

She reached it
one hour later, trotting through the deserted streets on her tired mare,
unconscious of her own fatigue, only concentrating with painful eagerness on the
task before her.

As she was a
stranger to London, she was obliged to ask the direction several times and,
more than once, was compelled to draw her sword as some passer-by sought to
relieve her of her purse. Not for nothing had Kit roamed the cities of Europe
with her father. She was more than a match for her assailants and was, indeed,
rather invigorated by the encounters.

Eventually, she
reached St James, where Lord Debenham's town residence was situated. She knew
the house she sought, for Debenham had thoughtfully left his direction lest she
should desire to communicate with him, and to a resourceful housebreaker it
presented little difficulty. Someone had left open a window on the second floor,
conveniently adjacent to a drainpipe. Within two minutes, she was inside the
house.

The room in
which she found herself appeared to be a dressing room, from which she deduced
that the chamber next to it was probably Debenham's. Kit gently pushed open the
communicating door, praying as she did so that his Lordship had not chosen to
retire early, and slipped into the room. It was empty. With a sigh of relief,
Kit set to work following very much the pattern of her predecessor, starting
with Debenham's clothes and, from thence, to his drawers and valises.

It was not to
be found, As she drew blank after blank, Kit became convinced that Debenham did
not, in fact, have the paper at all, that he was innocent. She became more and more
confident that Wellbeloved had deceived her, so that when she idly picked up a
piece of paper lying conspicuously on a small table and found it to be the very
paper Wellbeloved had described, the shock and distress she felt were
intensified. She burnt with rage and, cursing under her breath in several
languages, she turned to leave the room. As she did so, the door opened, and Debenham
walked into the room. He halted on the threshold, pardonably startled.

“Good God,
Kit, what the ...” he began, the words dying on his lip's as he found himself
staring into the blazing eyes facing him across the point of a sword.

“On guard, Sir,”
said Kit with deadly calm.

The Earl was
bewildered, “If this is some kind of jest, I think it a poor one.”

“It is no jest,
my Lord Earl,” she flung at him, “I told you, did I not, that my father was
betrayed. You laughed at me. You shall see now if my vengeance is to be laughed
at.”

“Kit, stop being
so melodramatic,” answered Debenham acidly, “and put down that damned sword. I
am not going to fight you.”

“Coward!” she
cried furiously, “If you will not fight, I shall make you.” And with that, she
lunged wildly at Debenham, who side-stepped swiftly and, seeing that she was
beyond reason, drew his own pretty, jewelled dress sword and swiftly went to
work to disarm her. If Kit had not been so hurt and angry, she would never have
attempted to cross swords with a swordsman of his quality, and it was purely
because she was not thinking that Debenham was unable to disarm her without hurting
her. He was parrying each lunge with infuriating ease, but Kit had recovered
from her first wild frenzy and was fencing with a technique that made it
necessary for the Earl to look to his own protection. He began fighting with a certain
nicety, enjoying the unusual sensation. Kitty feinted; he gave her credit for
the attempt but made the obvious riposte. She, not knowing that particular trick,
failed to make the response that any other duellist would have made
automatically, and Debenham, quite unintentionally, found that the point of his
sword had connected with his opponent's shoulder. There was the usual sickening
sliding feeling as the point entered the flesh, and then, flinging the sword
aside, he caught the unconscious form of his ward in his arms.