Den of Thieves (12 page)

I scowled, speechless at the horrendous apparition in the mirror.

‘Enough fun,' continued Madame Beaufort, tossing one of my locks playfully . . .

Fun!

‘Now we dance!'

The next hour was agony. She took me through the basic steps like a sergeant major drilling a new recruit. Never again will I mock a ballerina. I'd been fooled by the fluffy skirts: underneath they must be made of sprung steel. Madame's favourite method of correcting an erroneous posture was to
rap the offending limb with a thin birch rod. As most of my limbs were more often in the wrong than the right, I felt as if I'd spent the afternoon being lashed by a tree in a gale.

Every muscle aching, I staggered out at four to find Frank waiting to escort me home. His jaw dropped when he saw me then, most ungallantly, he howled with laughter. Doubled over on the pavement, he roared until he had tears streaming down his face.

‘What's the matter with you?' I asked tersely – though I had a fair idea.

‘You look – you look –'

‘Lovely? Elegant? Feminine?' I asked sourly.

‘Ridiculous.'

I heaved a sigh. ‘And don't I know it. Stop it, Frank, you know why I'm doing this. You're not making it any easier acting like you've never seen a girl dressed up before.'

‘But you!'

‘Thank you, Frank, that's quite enough humiliation. I had a basinful yesterday; I don't need a second helping today.'

He took command of himself, gasping for air. ‘Sorry, Cat. That was quite out of order. You look . . . you look very nice.' The last word turned into a snort and he gave up trying to speak as he conducted me back to Mr Sheridan's.

Madame Beaufort's company of nine ballerinas left London early on Saturday morning, escorted by Frank in his own carriage. He had handpicked the servants so it was no surprise to me to find Joseph, my special friend among the footmen, included in the party.

I hung out of the window as we trotted out of London on the Dover road. Only days ago I had sat on the milestone and lamented being left behind; now I too was on my way. What was the world beyond the city like? I couldn't wait to see. The familiar landmarks fell away surprisingly quickly as we crossed the Thames and travelled on into Kent. Except for one short stay in the village of Clapham, I had never spent so much time in the countryside. All that open space made me feel nervous.

Frank was watching me with an amused expression. We were alone in the carriage, as Madame Beaufort had elected to travel with her girls to seed in the story of my trial with the troupe. She hoped the tale would be in full flower by the time we reached Paris before any awkward questions were raised as to why a protégée of Mr Sheridan should take it into her head to travel at his expense. She was representing it as the pay-off for making me homeless – which in a way it was.

‘Beautiful, isn't it, Cat?' Frank said teasingly as we passed through a field where the hay was entwined with splashes of red and blue wild flowers like paint spilled by a overenthusiastic set decorator. Butterflies danced above, tiny winged ballerinas in multicoloured gowns.

‘It's . . . er . . . it's . . .' I couldn't find the words. I wanted to say that it was ‘empty', ‘strange', ‘frightening', but I knew from my reading of poetry that I should be saying things like ‘arcadian', ‘pastoral' and ‘peaceful'. For me, the silence was deafening.

‘You don't like it, do you?'

I didn't want him to find me so unrefined as not to be able to appreciate nature. ‘It's very . . . green.'

‘True . . . honest and true, just like you,' he laughed. ‘I'm so pleased you didn't come out with any of that tired old poetic stuff. Yes, the countryside is green, undeniably green.' He offered me a chicken leg from the hamper stowed under his seat. ‘You must let me show you Boxton one day. It's very green too, but there's loads to do – riding, hunting, fishing, walking.'

‘Frank, can you really see me on a horse?' I asked, wrinkling my nose.

‘I can see you excelling at anything you turn your hand to, Cat, horse riding included,' he replied loyally.

‘I didn't excel at looking after myself, did I?' The bleak mood settled on me again as I remembered the humiliation of my time at Mr Tweadle's.

Frank rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Why didn't you tell us, Cat? I thought you knew you could ask us to do anything for you. Any of us would.'

‘I thought I had to make my own way.' I stared
at my hands, still coarse after weeks of scrubbing and peeling.

‘But why? None of us do. Lizzie and I – we have our parents. Syd's got his family, his manager, and his boys around him. Pedro has Signor Angelini looking out for him. Why should you be on your own?'

How could he understand what it was like to be me?

‘I always have been, Frank. On my own, I mean. Ever since I can remember, my place in the world has been precarious, bound up with Drury Lane. When that went, I felt as if I too no longer existed.'

‘But you're far more than a theatre, Cat. Don't you see that?'

‘Thank you, Frank. I'm trying to.'

‘We all think highly of you – and not just your friends. Lord, Cat, even Billy Shepherd compliments you by thinking you worth his attention.'

His comment took me back to Billy's collection and the empty cushion. I wondered if I should tell Frank about the deal I had made. It would be good
to share the burden with someone – and he was as good as inviting me to rely on him.

‘There's something you should know about me and Billy Shepherd, Frank,' I began awkwardly.

Frank threw his chicken bone out of the window. ‘Oh, yes? Don't tell me you're engaged?' he joked.

‘Not exactly . . .' I then told him about the promise I had given and how Billy wished me to repay him. When he heard that Billy had asked for the Crown jewels, Frank gave a bark of laughter which turned abruptly into a growl when he learned of the alternative I had been offered.

‘You don't think you have to do anything that that cockroach asks, do you?'

I should have realized that he wouldn't understand. If I'd told the same story to Syd, Jo or Nick they would have got it at once. ‘It's street honour, Frank.'

‘Street honour!'

His aristocratic assumption that the people of the lower classes were less men and women of their word than the nobility rankled with me.

‘If you gave your solemn promise to someone you'd keep, it wouldn't you, Frank, or expect to be shamed in your circle?'

‘Of course, but . . .'

‘If I don't keep my word, I can't go back. You wouldn't want me to take the second choice Billy gave me, would you?'

‘Heavens no, Cat.' He looked shocked at the idea.

‘Don't worry, Frank. I may have made a mess of the last few weeks but I can handle Billy Shepherd. I'll come up with something – or I'll hitch a lift to America with Lizzie and Johnny. Exile is better than putting myself under Billy's tender loving care.'

Frank shook his head and looked out at a windmill revolving slowly on the horizon. ‘I'm pleased Lizzie never gives me any cause for concern, Cat, for with you as my honorary sister, I have more than enough worries.'

I felt a lump in my throat. That he looked on me like a sister was the most wonderful thing I had ever heard. I had an adopted family of the very
best. How could I have ever thought I was abandoned and let myself get into such a fix?

‘Thank you, Frank. I'll try not to disgrace you.'

‘Though I advise you to take some fashion tips from Lizzie,' he added with a significant look at my frills, ‘I don't think I can cope with a younger sister who looks like she's wearing the entire contents of my maiden aunt's workbasket.'

My chicken bone sailed through the air and struck Frank on the forehead.

‘Now I know the old Cat's back!' he said, rubbing the spot with a rueful smile.

Reader, if you have not yet had to endure a sea crossing, take advice from me and keep your feet firmly on dry ground. I have discovered that I am not what one would call a natural sailor.

The wind began to pick up as we descended into Dover at nightfall. Frank made light of it, telling me it was only a summer squall, and I, not yet knowing my own weakness, followed him innocently on board the little vessel that was to transport us across the water.

‘Quickly, quickly, girls,' Madame Beaufort trilled to her troupe. ‘Get below.' She cast a disapproving look at the sailors who were leering at her charges.

‘Show us a bit of ankle, love,' shouted one tar to the prettiest of the chorus. ‘Give us a twirl, will you?'

The ballerinas twittered with pleased outrage
at this impertinence and scurried off to their cabins. I suddenly remembered that I should think of myself as one of them. With a sigh, wondering what I had let myself in for embarking on this adventure for Mr Sheridan so far from my natural habitat, I took one last look at the twinkling lights of Dover at the foot of the great white cliffs and dutifully followed Madame Beaufort.

It was then that my torment began. Leaving Frank with his footman, Joseph, up in the bracing fresh air of the deck, I found myself closeted with three dancers called Mimi, Colette and Belle. I'd never much liked them at Drury Lane and closer acquaintance did little to improve on this impression. They greeted my arrival in their cabin as an unwanted intrusion on their gang. The spare bunk had already been covered in clothes and they made no effort to move them.

‘Why, girls, it's the little cat,' simpered Mimi, preening her blonde curls in a tiny hand-mirror. ‘Mr Sheridan's
old
favourite.'

‘Thought you were too good for us, did you, travelling with that young lord of yours?' asked
Colette with a bitter twist to her lips.

‘Pleased to meet you too, ladies,' I said, ignoring these slights. It was useless to explain to these creatures the idea of a friendship with someone so far above my social status. You can't live behind stage as long as I have without experiencing the petty jealousies and spite of some performers.

‘I can't understand what that young gentleman sees in her, can you, girls?' asked Belle, as if I wasn't there. ‘She's such a queer little thing and he so handsome. And as for thinking that she'll make it as a dancer! Madame Beaufort has gone quite mad.'

‘No, it's not madness,' replied Mimi. ‘Old Sheridan must have paid her to take his discarded pet out of the way. And who can blame him now she's made herself notorious with those stories she wrote? She's become an embarrassment.' Mimi pulled out a little magazine from her trunk. ‘Queen of the London Underworld – I mean, who does she think she's fooling?'

‘Queen of the chamberpots more like,' added Colette.

So I was to be punished for making myself famous, was I? I suppose I could look on it as the penalty for falling for Mr Tweadle's cheat. I only wished that I had as many piquant French words to hand as I had English so I could answer back in style. Perhaps if I hadn't been feeling so green, I would have tried. But as it was, I saved my breath and attempted to quell my growing nausea.

There was a creaking overhead and the sound of feet running across the ceiling: we were getting under way. I contemplated returning to the deck for some fresh air and the diversion of watching the sailors hoist sail, but my assigned role required me to act as if I were part of the troupe. Instead I took revenge on my three companions by climbing into the bunk and spreading out regardless of the clothes.

‘That's my best pelisse!' protested Mimi, pulling a violet cloak from under me.

The ship gave a lurch as she left the protection of the harbour and was hit broadside by the wind. The pelisse gave an ugly ripping sound.

‘Look what you've done!' Mimi held up the
torn sleeve, for all the world acting as if it were my fault that a storm was blowing.

I was about to reply but was prevented by a strange feeling in my stomach. Opening my mouth, it wasn't insults that poured out, but something far more offensive. Mimi screamed and jumped back. Belle and Colette fled to the other side of the tiny cabin.

‘Clean it up, you disgusting thing!' screeched Mimi.

As if I could in my current state! I rolled over, not to repair the damage but to add to it.

‘I want another cabin! I'm not staying in here with her!' Mimi stormed out, crying for Madame Beaufort, closely followed by her two friends.

I didn't care. They could call me all the names under the sun, shout and scream at me. I just wanted to die as the ship bucked and reared like an unbroken horse. Why, oh why, had I thought Mr Sheridan's idea of sending me to France a good one? It was the stupidest thing ever! I was going to be useless! I couldn't even travel without collapsing in a helpless smelly heap! My dejection was so
complete that I didn't notice Joseph enter ten minutes later, armed with bucket and mop to cleanse the cabin, nor Frank place a cool cloth on my head. He told me later he'd given up his berth to the fugitives from mine, though they were soon retching with the rest of the troupe as the storm worsened. They should have stayed with me for I had the best nurses in Frank and Joseph, neither of whom – curse their iron constitutions – showed the least discomfort in the heavy seas.