The Wild Card

by Beth Elliott

  ‘Do you really mean what you said last night?’ asked Amelia, tucking her hands into her muff.

  ‘About what?’ asked Kitty wearily. The two young ladies were in Bond Street, where they had just been choosing new ribbon trimming to refresh their evening dresses. Kitty had spent another sleepless night and was hoping that some exercise in the fresh air would help to reduce her headache.

  ‘About not coming to London.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kitty with feeling. She walked a little way, her brow furrowed, then added, ‘I am to blame. I have been carried away by our new life. I was too quick to make judgements without proper knowledge of the facts – and I can see no happy solution to the problem I have created.’ She sighed. ‘What about you, Millie? Are you ready to go home?’

  She waited but Amelia did not reply.

  ‘Have you met anyone you would want to spend the rest of your life with?’ persisted Kitty.

  The silence continued as they approached the corner of the street. Finally Kitty looked full at Amelia and saw tears in her eyes. ‘Why, Millie, what did I say?’ she asked in dismay. ‘Please do not cry or, the way I feel at present, I shall start as well.’

  ‘Let us look into this shop window while we compose ourselves,’ whispered Amelia. After a few moments, she added in a firmer voice, ‘Yes, I am aware of Mr Thatcham’s infatuation. He is most truly a gentleman but I cannot feel any special attachment to him.…’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘It makes my life so much more difficult.’

  They looked at each other mournfully. ‘We were happier at home,’ said Kitty. She stared unseeing at a chipstraw bonnet with long pink ribbons. The next moment both girls jumped as a familiar voice spoke from just behind them.

  ‘Mesdemoiselles, are you choosing new bonnets ready for the Spring?’ They turned to see Etienne sweeping his hat off and bowing to them.

  Mindful of Caroline’s scold, Kitty felt her cheeks going pink. If she was the subject of gossip, the people passing by must be watching out for any sign of indiscretion. A quick glance at Amelia reassured her that Millie was showing a more cheerful face than the moment before.

  Etienne was politeness itself. He insisted on carrying their parcels for them and on accompanying them home. He kept up a lively conversation, telling them about a wonderful new opera singer he had heard at a concert the previous night. He was in the middle of this story when Kitty’s eyes were drawn to a tall figure coming out of a shop just ahead of them. She had come to know Theo’s height and broad shoulders now.

  He looked in their direction. His eyes bored into hers, then narrowed as he glanced at her companions. He bowed slightly and turned away. It felt like an icy hand on her heart. To add to the chill sweeping over her, Kitty saw Miss Harling and her lady companion approaching from the other side of Theo. Miss Harling’s eyes darted from Kitty’s face to Theo’s. She took on a smug look. Without even bothering to acknowledge Kitty, she greeted him loudly and affectionately.

  Etienne had led Kitty and Amelia past by this time, so Kitty could not see how Theo responded to this. Her feelings were in turmoil. She could not bear to think she had lost his good opinion. He was the person whose views she respected the most and there would be no pleasure in going to parties and events if she could not share her ideas with him.

  In her misery, she found it hard to listen to Etienne’s amusing chatter. He made no comment about their meeting with Theo until they had left Amelia at her front door. But as they walked back from Green Street towards Grosvenor Square, he suddenly said, ‘When we met Mr Weston in Bond Street, he did not behave as a friend. He was very cold.’

  ‘He is known to be moody,’ responded Kitty in a neutral tone. She had no wish to discuss Theo with Etienne.

  ‘Or else he is conscious of something bad and wanted to avoid any questions.’ Etienne gave her a searching look. ‘Miss Towers, again you are very pale. Are you quite well?’

  ‘It is just these city streets,’ she assured him, ‘You know I am used to life in a small town – and we frequently ride or drive in the countryside.’

  He beamed at her. ‘So.… Now I know what will please you. I will take you for a drive to Richmond Park.’

  ‘If my aunt permits,’ stammered Kitty, dismayed. What would Caroline say?

  He laughed. ‘But of course she will permit it.’

  And so it turned out. Lady Picton was delighted to learn that the friendship between her great-niece and the grandson of her dear schoolfriend was progressing so well.

  ‘You make a very handsome pair, my love,’ she assured Kitty. ‘If only that young man had sufficient wealth, I do declare I would consider him a perfect match for you. Of course, he is French but from a very old family.’

  ‘Caroline says he is a dangerous flirt, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, pooh! What does she know? When I was young, we were not so namby-pamby in our notions, I can tell you. Next she will be saying that driving out in an open carriage is not the thing to do.’ Seeing that Kitty was still doubtful, the old lady tapped her cane on the floor and added in a sharp tone, ‘Before she passes judgement on Etienne, Lady Caroline would do well to consider some of her other friends. One or two of those young men have reputations that do not bear scrutiny. Take Julius Hethermere’s son – what’s his name, now—?’

  ‘Theodore Weston, ma’am.’

  Lady Picton gave her a shrewd glance. ‘I see he has wasted no time in making your acquaintance! Well, he’s been raking around town for years. He was a dangerous flirt, if ever there was one. Then he went to be a cavalryman and became a hero.’

  ‘It is plain he misses his military career,’ agreed Kitty, laying out her new ribbons on the little work table and opening her sewing-box, ‘he must have looked splendid in his uniform.’

  ‘Maybe so, but keep a proper distance, if you please. He has broken enough hearts – a handsome boy of course, takes after his mother.’

  ‘I notice he has a very changeable temperament,’ Kitty said, looking down at the tangle of threads in her sewing-basket. She added thoughtfully, ’I wonder if it is because of his wounded leg that he is so moody.’ She pulled gently at a length of green silk and began winding it round a paper. She glanced up to see her great-aunt watching her with her head on one side. Kitty continued to sort and wind the silks. She knew her cheeks were red.

  ‘Since it interests you so much,’ snapped Lady Picton at last, ‘it is common knowledge that his father prefers the younger son – this young man’s half-brother. His own mother died when he was small.’

  Kitty looked up at this. ‘How sad, ma’am. It is as if he lost both parents.’

  Her aunt made a sound between a grunt and a snort. She seemed ready to give Kitty a lecture on avoiding rakes when there was a welcome interruption. Broome came in with the sherry. There was silence while he set out the decanter and glasses. Kitty laid aside her work to go and pour out a glass for Lady Picton. She met her aunt’s eyes as she put the glass down. Lady Picton nodded. ‘So when will you go for this drive with Etienne?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow, ma’am.’

  ‘Very well. Now, if you will be so kind as to write a note for me to my friend, Jane Clemence, you can take it round as you go for your walk this afternoon. I must thank her for this new novel she has sent me, The Necromancer’s Revenge. It is most entertaining and passes the time wonderfully. You should try it as well, my love.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kitty handed the note from her aunt to Mrs Clemence’s butler and made her way down the steps of the elegant town house. At the end of Half Moon Street she hesitated. Her thoughts were in turmoil and she dreaded returning to the quiet of the house in Grosvenor Square to be shut up there for the rest of the day. How she craved the chance to walk energetically in the open air.

  She really needed time to sort out her feelings about Theo. In addition to reproaching herself for her stupid accusations of the previous night, she was conscious of another new emotion burning in her breast. Miss Harlin
g had made her feel jealous. If she had time to be alone in the fresh air she could convince herself that she still wished to return to Cheshire and continue helping Papa with his good works.

  That was the best attitude to adopt now that Theo had shown he was no longer interested in her. And she was no Miss Harling, to keep pushing herself at a man. Kitty sighed. She cast a longing look in the direction of Hyde Park then reluctantly turned her steps towards Grosvenor Square. She heard a man’s tread coming up behind her. In a very few minutes a gentleman drew level with her, looked her way and raised his hat. In consternation, Kitty stared at Greg Thatcham.

  ‘Oh,’ she stammered, drawing a shaky breath, ‘y-you are in town.’ She took his outstretched hand, noticing the faint shadow of the bruise around his eye.

  ‘Indeed. Got back last night.’ He gave her his usual friendly smile. ‘You are on your way home? May I escort you?’

  ‘You have been sadly missing from our circle, Mr Thatcham,’ said Kitty, putting a hand on his proffered arm. ‘Indeed, we feared you were indisposed.’

  ‘Oh, you are looking at my eye. Well, Miss Towers, as to that, I have been wanting an opportunity to thank you for the great service you rendered me in accepting that letter. It was very bad of me to ask you – but as you see, I was right to fear it might be stolen from me.’

  ‘I assume I have been dealing in secrets of State?’ Kitty said jokingly. She cast a glance up at him. His frank expression changed to one of shame.

  ‘Theo was ready to murder me for involving you in the business. He did not approve at all. I am sorry for it, but indeed, at the time I was desperate.’

  ‘Did he think I would betray you?’ Kitty tried to keep the indignation out of her voice. Her eyes flashed. How dare Theo suspect her? No wonder he had been so persistent about getting the letter back from her in Hookham’s Library. Then she remembered her accusation to him the previous night and bit her lip. A huge sigh escaped her.

  Greg looked down in concern. ‘You are unwell? By Jove, Miss Towers, now I come to notice it, you are very pale.’

  ‘I am just a little tired,’ admitted Kitty, ‘this lifestyle is so different from the way we live in Cheshire. We are used to spending time riding or driving in the fresh country air, not to living in city streets. So you see, both of us are longing to go h-home.’ Her voice shook.

  Greg stared at her in alarm. ‘I say, please don’t be in a hurry to leave town. If you wish to drive, I would gladly take you out in my curricle. And I am so looking forward to dancing with you – and Miss Warrington – at Caroline’s next ball.’

  Kitty’s head was by now pounding so badly that it was an effort to speak. However, she remembered Theo’s words. All too obviously, Greg was cherishing fond dreams of Amelia. It was only kind to warn him away. She forced a smile. ‘You are very kind, sir. We shall certainly be at Caroline’s ball, but I must tell you that Amelia is also eager to return to Cheshire. You see, she has such a gentle nature and is very attached to her home and friends. I fear she will never settle very far from them.’ She held out her hand. ‘Good afternoon – thank you for your escort.’

  Greg looked at her dumbly. His face had lost all its colour. Mechanically he raised his hat as Kitty fled up the steps of her aunt’s house and through the open door. She was sorry for the pain she had inflicted on him but now she needed time to sort out her own thoughts.

  Did Theo really consider her to be untrustworthy, or was she misinterpreting Greg’s words? In any case, Theo had made it clear that he was no longer willing to speak to her. The cold look he had given her this morning showed how angry he was. And if she had understood Greg correctly, Theo was a little suspicious of her.

  As reasonable as her being suspicious of him! thought Kitty ruefully, remembering her remarks to him about betraying his friendship to Greg, but it just showed that dealing in secret documents meant a loss of trust even in friends.

  Mechanically she removed her bonnet and smoothed out the ribbons. She hung up her coat with shaking hands and sat down on the window seat to stare out unseeing at the bare trees in the square. How had she allowed herself to get into such a terrible mess? She had lost sight of her true aims in life. Living in this constant whirl of social events and the constant obsession with high fashion, she had fallen victim to the habit of gossip.

  Etienne’s suspicions seemed ridiculous now. Wherever Greg had been, he was plainly well and on good terms with Theo. She felt wretched at her own folly in assuming Theo was guilty of some sinister act. This secret letter had made her lose her common sense. And now she had lost more than that. She realized sadly that just when she seemed to be developing a deeper understanding with Theo, she had destroyed his trust in her. She rubbed a finger along her lips as she remembered his kiss. There would never be another one.

  She stood up and paced restlessly round the room. The sooner she left London and returned to her former way of life, the better. Only now, she was not so sure she would be happy ever again.

  Late that same afternoon, Theo emerged grim-faced from Jackson’s Boxing Parlour to see Greg standing outside Angelo’s Fencing Academy next door. They looked at each other.

  ‘You too?’ enquired Theo at last.

  Greg nodded. ‘Does it show?’

  Theo took him firmly by the arm. ‘If you haven’t worked your feelings off after all that exercise, there’s only one other remedy.’

  They set off in the direction of Piccadilly, moodily contemplating the havoc caused in their lives by females. Neither spoke until they reached the narrow streets near Covent Garden. At the first congenial tavern, Theo guided Greg to an empty table. He called for gin and the two settled down to try and drown their sorrows.

  Night had fallen when they emerged, in somewhat better spirits but not totally steady on their feet.

  ‘W-what we need, ol’ fellow, is a good dinner.’ Greg slapped his friend hard on the back, causing Theo to stagger and fall as his weak leg gave way.

  ‘Didn’t mean to do that,’ mumbled Greg. Carefully, he leaned over and pulled Theo up again.

  Theo swore furiously, dusted his breeches and announced, ‘Dinner be damned – this calls for brandy.’ He waited for his friend to agree. ‘Brandy!’ he repeated, to be sure Greg had understood.

  Greg nodded solemnly. They linked arms to keep upright and set off on an unsteady course down a very uneven street.

  Theo heaved a deep sigh. ‘Never been like this before. We are properly dished this time.’

  They sought around for another inn. In the dark alleys their progress was slow. Finally, they spotted a lighted building at the end of the street. Before they reached it, however, a pair of ladies appeared from a doorway and barred their way.

  ‘We got lucky ternight,’ purred the first one, making for Theo, ‘an’ you’ll be ’appy, I can promise yer that.’ She reached up to slip her arms round his neck.

  Theo peered at her painted face and muttered something under his breath. Her cheap scent assailed his nostrils. Suddenly he sobered up. ‘No,’ he growled, drawing himself up to his full height. His black brows snapped down in a deep frown.

  ‘Jus’ a quick drink wiv yer then,’ coaxed the woman. ‘Wot yer doin’ ’ere if yer not come ter see us?’

  Greg was holding the other woman off by the simple means of grasping her arms.

  ‘Oi, lemme go!’ she shrieked at him, ‘I ain’t gonna prig yer, no’ow.’

  ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Theo found a coin in his pocket. He handed it to the first woman and pulled Greg away. With the women’s coarse shouts ringing out behind them, they found their way to a larger street. After examining the place carefully, they decided on their direction and set off westwards. It took them a long time but at length they were in Pall Mall. Here, their pace slowed again.

  ‘Dinner …’ said Greg thickly, ‘we need dinner.’

  ‘You are drunk, man,’ replied Theo. ‘I know you: always stick to one idea when you are drunk.’

  ‘You not drunk
, ol’ fellow?’

  ‘Not as bad as you.’

  ‘She’d never make a soldier’s wife’ Greg exclaimed suddenly, in a tone of deep sorrow. He stopped and prodded Theo’s chest with his forefinger. ‘She’s a-a – an angel … but she’ll never b-be mine.’ He shook his head slowly and pressed his lips together grimly.

  Theo put a hand on his shoulder. ‘She really bowled you over, but she is not the girl for you.’

  They stood there, a little hazy. Greg raised his head and took a deep breath. ‘What about you, ol’ fellow?’

  Theo’s only answer was a harsh crack of laughter. He turned away, shaking his head. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself. The air was cold now and eventually they moved off again. Greg had relapsed into a gloomy silence and Theo was busy with his own thoughts. His face was bleak.

  As they rounded a corner into the now deserted St James’s Street, a door across the road opened. Light shone out. Theo blinked, shook his head to clear it and looked more closely. He pulled Greg to a halt behind a clump of bushes.

  They both watched Etienne de Saint-Aubin descend the steps, glance around and slip away into the darkness. Theo frowned and looked again at the house where the young Frenchman had been visiting. Greg was blinking at him owlishly. Theo raised a finger to his lips. It was a long time before he signed to his friend to move on again. They walked the rest of the way to Stratton Street in silence.

  ‘This ain’t my bed,’ complained Greg, as he lay down on the sofa. Theo pulled his boots off and found a blanket to cover him.

  ‘No, but better than another black eye,’ he muttered. Greg was already snoring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Kitty stood in front of her aunt for that lady to inspect her clothes. Lady Picton examined her from head to toe and nodded. ‘Very well,’ she commented, ‘you look very well indeed. That yellow dress sets off your pelisse better than I would have thought. Put your bonnet on, child. Etienne will be here any minute.’