Honour This Day (22 page)

Then she whispered very quietly, “If you come near me, I shall kill you.”

He held out his arms and said, “Kate. Don't be frightened. Come to me.”

She raised her head and brushed the hair from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Still she did not move or appear to recognise him, and for a moment Bolitho imagined that she had been driven mad by these terrible circumstances.

Then she stood and stepped a few paces unsteadily towards him.

“Is it you? Really you?” Then she shook her head and exclaimed, “Don't touch me! I am unclean—”

Bolitho gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him, feeling her protest give way to sobs which were torn from each awful memory. He felt her skin through the back of the gown; she wore nothing else beneath it. Her body was like ice despite the foul, unmoving air. He covered her with his cloak, so that only her face and her bare feet showed in the flickering lanterns.

She saw the governor in the doorway and Bolitho felt her whole body stiffen away from him.

Bolitho said, “Remove your hat in the presence of my lady,
sir!
” He found no pleasure in the man's fear. “Or by God I'll call you out here and now!”

The man shrank away, his hat almost brushing the filthy floor.

Bolitho guided her along the corridor, while some of the inmates watched through their cell doors, their hands gripping the bars like claws. But nobody cried out this time.

“Your shoes, Kate?”

She pressed herself against his side as if the cloak would protect her from everything.

“I sold all I had for food.” She raised her head and studied him. “I have walked barefoot before.” Her sudden courage made her look fragile. “Are we really leaving now?”

They reached the heavy gate and she saw the carriage, with the two stamping horses.

She said, “I will be strong. For you, dear Richard, I—” She saw the shadowy figure inside the coach and asked quickly, “Who is that?”

Bolitho held her until she was calm again.

He said, “Just a friend who knew when he was needed.”

13
C
ONSPIRACY

B
ELINDA
dragged the doors of the drawing room shut behind her and pressed her shoulders against them.

“Lower your voice, Richard!” She watched his shadow striding back and forth across the elegant room, her breasts moving quickly to betray something like fear. “The servants will hear you!”

Bolitho swung round. “God damn them, and you too for what you did!”

“What is the matter, Richard? Are you sick or drunk?”

“It is fortunate for both of us that it is not the latter! Otherwise I fear what I might do!”

He stared at her and saw her pale. Then he said in a more controlled voice, “You knew all the time. You connived with Somervell to have her thrown into a place which is not even fit for pigs!” Once again the pictures flashed across his mind. Catherine sitting in the filthy cell, and later when he had taken her to Browne's house in Arlington Street, when she had tried to prevent him from leaving her.

“Don't go, Richard! It's not worth it! We're together, that's all that matters!”

He had turned by the waiting carriage and had replied, “But those liars intended otherwise!”

He continued, “She is no more a debtor than you, and you knew it when you spoke with Somervell. I pray to God that he is as ready with a blade as he is with a pistol, for when I meet with him—”

She exclaimed, “I have never seen you like this!”

“Nor will you again!”

She said, “I did it for
us,
for what we were and could be again.”

Bolitho stared at her, his heart pounding, knowing how close he had come to striking her. Catherine had told him in jerky sentences as the coach had rolled towards the other house, an unexpected rain pattering across the windows.

She had loaned Somervell most of her own money when they had married. Somervell was in fear of his life because of his many gambling debts. But he had friends at Court, even the King, and a government appointment had saved him.

He had deliberately invested some of her money in her name, then left her to face the consequences when he had caused those same investments to fail. All this Somervell had explained to Belinda. It made Bolitho's head swim to realise just how close to success the plan had been. If he had moved into this house, and then been seen at Admiral Godschale's reception, Catherine would have been told that they were reconciled. A final and brutal rejection.

Somervell had left the country; that was the only known truth. When he returned he might have expected Catherine half-mad or even dead. Like a seabird, Catherine could never be caged.

He said, “You have killed that too. Remember what you threw in my face on more than one occasion after we were married? That because you
looked
like Cheney, it did not mean that you had anything in common. By God, that was the truest thing you ever said.” He stared round the room and realised for the first time that his uniform was soaked with rain.

“Keep this house, by all means, Belinda, but spare a thought sometimes for those who fight and die so that you may enjoy what they can never know.”

She moved away, her eyes on him as he wrenched open the doors. He thought he saw a shadow slip back from the stairway, something for the servants to chew on.

“You will be ruined!” She gasped as he stepped towards her as if she expected a blow.

“That is my risk.” He picked up his hat. “Some day I shall speak with my daughter.” He looked at her for several seconds. “Send for all you need from Falmouth. You rejected even that. So enjoy your new life with your proud friends.” He opened the front door. “And God help you!”

He walked through the dark street, heedless of the rain which soothed his face like a familiar friend. He needed to walk, to marshal his thoughts into order, like forming a line of battle. He would make enemies, but that was nothing new. There had been those who had tried to discredit him because of Hugh, had even tried to hurt him through Adam.

He thought of Catherine, where she should stay. Not at Falmouth, not until he could take her himself. If she would come. Would she see double-meanings in his words because of what had happened? Expect another betrayal?

He dismissed the thought immediately. She was like the blade at his hip, almost unbreakable. Almost.

One thing was certain. Godschale would soon hear what had happened, although no one would speak openly about it without appearing like a conspirator.

He gave a bleak smile. It would be Gibraltar for orders very soon.

His busy mind recorded a shadow and the click of metal. The old sword was in his hand in a second and he called,
“Stand!”

Adam sounded relieved. “I came looking, Uncle.” He watched as Bolitho sheathed his blade.

“It's done then?”

“Aye. 'Tis done.”

Adam fell into step and removed his hat to stare up into the rain. “I heard most of it from Allday. It seems I cannot leave you alone for a moment.”

Bolitho said, “I can still scarce believe it.”

“People change, Uncle.”

“I think not.” Bolitho glanced at two army lieutenants walking unsteadily towards St James's. “Circumstances may, but not people.”

Adam tactfully changed the subject. “I have discovered Captain Keen's whereabouts. He is in Cornwall. They had gone there to settle some matters relating to Miss Carwithen's late father.”

Bolitho nodded. He had been afraid that Keen would be married without his being there to witness it. How strange that such a simple thing could still be so important after all which had happened.

“I sent word by courier, Uncle. He
should
know.”

They fell silent and listened to their shoes on the pavement.

He probably did already. The whole fleet would by now. Offensive to many, but a welcome scandal as far as the overcrowded messdecks were concerned.

They reached the house, where they found Allday sharing a jug of ale with Mrs Robbins, the housekeeper. She was a Londoner born and bred in Bow and despite her genteel surroundings had a voice which sounded like a street trader's. Mrs Robbins got straight down to business.

“She's in bed now, Sir Richard.” She eyed him calmly. “I give 'er a small guest room.”

Bolitho nodded. He had taken her point. There would be no scandal in this house, no matter how it might appear.

She continued, “I stripped 'er naked as a brat and bathed 'er proper. Poor luv, she could do wiv it an' all. I burned 'er clothes They was alive.” She opened her red fist. “I found these sewn in the 'em.”

They were the earrings he had given her. The only other time they had been in London together.

Bolitho felt a lump in his throat. “Thank you, Mrs Robbins.”

Surprisingly, her severe features softened.

“It's nuffink, Sir Richard. Young Lord Oliver 'as told me a few yarns about when you saved 'is rump for 'im!” She went off chuckling to herself.

Allday and Adam entered and Bolitho said, “You heard all that?”

Allday nodded. “Best to leave her. Old Ma Robbins'll call all hands if anything happens in the night.”

Bolitho sat down and stretched his legs. He had not eaten a crumb since breakfast but he could not face it now.

It had been a close thing, he thought. But perhaps the battle had not even begun.

Catherine stood by a tall window and looked down at the street. The sun was shining brightly, although this side of the street was still in shadow. A few people strolled up and down, and very faintly could be heard the voice of a flower-girl calling her wares.

She said quietly, “This cannot last.”

Bolitho sat in a chair, his legs crossed, and watched her, still scarcely able to believe it had ever happened, that she was the same woman he had snatched from squalor and humiliation. Or that he was the man who had risked everything, including a court-martial, by threatening the governor of the Waites jail.

He replied, “We can't stay here. I want to be alone with you. To hold you again, to tell you things.”

She turned her head so that her face too was in shadow. “You are still worried, Richard. You have no need to be, where my love for you is concerned. It never left me, so how can we lose it now?” She walked slowly around his chair and put her hands on his shoulders. She was dressed in a plain green robe, which the redoubtable Mrs Robbins had bought for her the previous day.

Bolitho said, “You are protected now. Anything you need, all that I can give, it is yours.” He hurried on as her fingers tightened their grip on his shoulders, glad that she could not see his face. “It may take months longer even to retrieve what he has stolen from you. You gave him everything, and saved him.”

She said, “In return he offered me security, a place in society where I could live as I pleased. Foolish? Perhaps I was. But it was a bargain between us. There was no love.” She laid her head against his and added quietly, “I have done things I am too often ashamed of. But I have never sold my body to another.”

He reached up and gripped her hand. “That, I know.”

A carriage clattered past, the wheels loud on the cobbles. At night, this household, like others nearby, had servants to spread straw on the road to deaden the sound. London never seemed to sleep. In the past few days Bolitho had lain awake, thinking of Catherine, the code of the house which kept them apart like shy suitors.

She said, “I want to be somewhere I can hear about you, what you are doing. There will be more danger. In my own way I shall share it with you.”

Bolitho stood up and faced her. “I will likely receive orders to return to the squadron very soon. Now that I have declared myself, they will probably want rid of me from London as soon as possible.” He smiled and put his hands on her waist, feeling her supple body beneath the robe, their need for each other. There was colour in her cheeks now, and her hair, hanging loose down her back, had recovered its shine.

She saw his eyes and said, “Mrs Robbins has taken good care of me.”

Bolitho said, “There is my house in Falmouth.” Instantly he saw the reluctance, the unspoken protest, and added, “I
know,
my lovely Catherine. You will wait until—”

She nodded. “Until you carry me there as your kept woman!” She tried to laugh but added huskily, “For that is what they will say.”

They stood holding hands and facing each other for a full minute.

Then she said, “And I'm not lovely. Only in your eyes, dearest of men.”

He said, “I want you.” They walked to the window and Bolitho realised that he had not left the house since that night. “If I cannot marry you—”

She put her fingers on his mouth. “Enough of that. Do you think I care? I will be what you wish me to be. But I shall always love you, be your tiger if others try to harm you.”

A servant tapped on the door and entered with a small silver salver. On it was a sealed envelope with the familiar Admiralty crest. Bolitho took it, felt her eyes on him as he slit it open.

“I have to see Sir Owen Godschale tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Orders then.”

“I expect so.” He caught her in his arms. “It is inevitable.”

“I know it. The thought of losing you—”

Bolitho considered her being alone. He must do something.

She said, “I keep thinking, we have another day, one more night.” She ran her hands up to his shoulders and to his face. “It is all I care for.”

He said, “Before I leave—”

She touched his mouth again. “I know what you are trying to say. And yes, dearest Richard, I want you to love me like you did in Antigua, and all that time ago here in London. I told you once that you needed to be loved. I am the one to give it to you.”

Mrs Robbins looked in at them. “Beg pardon, Sir Richard.” Her eyes seemed to measure the distance between them. “But yer nephew is 'ere.” She relented slightly. “You're lookin' fair an' bright, m'lady!”

Catherine smiled gravely. “Please, Mrs Robbins. Do not use that title.” She looked steadily at Bolitho. “I have no use for it now.”

Mrs Robbins, or ‘Ma' as Allday called her, wandered slowly down the stairway and saw Adam tidying his unruly black hair in front of a looking-glass.

It was a rum do, she thought. God, everyone in the kitchen was talking about it. It had been bad enough for Elsie, the upstairs maid, when her precious drummer-boy had gone off with a blackie in the West Indies. Not what you expected from the quality; although old Lord Browne had been one for the ladies before he passed on. Then she thought of Bolitho's expression when she had given him the earrings she had rescued from the filthy gown. There was a whole lot more to this than people realised.

She nodded to Adam. “'E'll be down in a moment, sir.”