by Beth Elliott
‘But it’s not right for you to be coming down ‘ere, miss. The people notice you and I do fear someone could rob you, ’specially today, with you wearing these smart new things. There are some real villains ’ere, you know.’
Kitty nodded. She was weary and would be glad to reach the peace of Grosvenor Square and a quiet evening with her aunt. She stepped carefully round the piles of wood chippings where an old man worked at mending chairs. The usual crowds of ragged children ran at her, hands held out as they shouted for pennies. She dodged through another pile of old rags and slimy rubbish, wrinkling her nose at the awful smell.
At last they reached the tiny passage that led them back into the alley where they had seen Etienne thrown out of a house. Kitty swallowed, she still felt sickened by that display of violence. They were just coming up to the very spot when a beggar stepped out in front of Kitty.
‘Spare a penny fer ol’ George,’ he wheezed. He stank of spirits. Kitty shook her head and tried to walk past him. He moved to block her. She frowned and moved the other way. Still he would not let her through.
‘Make way,’ cried Martha, her shrill tone betraying her fear. ‘Quickly, miss, never take no notice, just push by ’im.’
Kitty did, indeed, push herself forward. Old George laughed in her face as he blocked her again. ‘You ain’t goin’ nowhere, missy.’
At this, Kitty turned back the way she had come and walked briskly down into the passage. Her heart was beating fast, but she thought she was dealing with a drunk and a few minutes later, he would have moved away.
‘Miss!’ She heard Martha’s frantic scream and looked over her shoulder. She nearly froze with horror. The red-haired Irishman who had knocked Etienne down was just a few steps behind. His eyes were intent on her.
‘Sure, there’s no point in runnin’,’ he growled, reaching out his great fist to grab her.
Kitty leapt away and ran as fast as she could, back towards Martha’s home. But the alleys were so crowded with people, animals and rubbish, that she could not go very fast. It was only a moment before she felt the Irishman’s fingers touch her shoulders.
‘No!’ she screamed. She struggled and wrenched herself out of his grip. She ran on again. Behind her there was a heavy thumping and swearing as he followed. Again he grabbed at her shoulders. This time, he held on. Kitty was forced sideways. Still trying to escape, she struggled. She lost her balance and fell. Her head struck a stone. She saw a blinding flash of light, then sank into darkness.
Gradually Kitty became aware that she was lying on some kind of bench. If only it would stop shaking up and down. Her head was very sore and she was cramped. But worse than all of that, she felt terribly sick. Her eyes were too heavy to open. She tried to remember what had happened. The effort of thinking made her headache worse. She swallowed down another wave of nausea. Now she remembered running from the huge Irishman. She had fallen.
But what had happened after that? It was too difficult to understand anything further. She vaguely heard voices and felt herself being lifted then everything slipped away again.
The second time Kitty came round, she could feel she was lying on a more comfortable surface. There was some kind of cushion under her head. Someone had removed her bonnet. Even without opening her eyes she knew it had gone dark. But she was still being shaken up and down. She realized she must be in a coach and from the motion, it was travelling at speed. The constant jerking movement did nothing to help her throbbing head. She cautiously put up a hand to feel the sore place. Her fingers encountered a large lump. Even as she winced at her own touch, she realized her hair was matted with what must be blood.
‘Do not touch it.’
At the sound of that accent, Kitty’s eyes sprang open. With a mighty effort, she managed to say, ‘Etienne! What? Why?’
There was no lantern inside the coach. The moon, darting in and out through the clouds, cast a fitful light, just enough for her to make out his shape on the seat facing her. He leaned forward. She caught the gleam of his eyes, very close to her face.
‘I so deeply regret what they have done to you,’ he said. ‘I did not think that they would hurt you like this.’
‘Do you mean they kidnapped me on your orders?’ A very unwelcome idea was forcing itself into Kitty’s mind. ‘Where are you taking me?’ She quelled a rising fear, remembering the despair on his face when she had rejected his proposal. Surely he was not taking her to Gretna Green.
There was a long silence. Etienne gave a sigh. He shifted, sitting very upright now. Cautiously, Kitty put her feet to the floor and forced herself to sit up. Her head swam unpleasantly but she felt better able to confront him like this.
‘Well?’ she prompted. ‘Where are we going?’
He looked at her. Eventually, he said hoarsely, ‘Believe me, I would not do this if there were any other way. But I must have something to live on, you understand.’
Kitty stared at him. It did not make sense. She heard him heave a sigh.
There was such a long silence that she thought he would not speak again but then he leaned forward. His voice was almost pleading.
‘When I could win at cards, I could survive. But’ – he made an impatient gesture – ‘one night I had a heavy run of bad luck. I kept trying to win my money back – until then, I had always been lucky, parbleu. But this time’ – he grimaced – ‘maybe they had fuzzed the cards, who knows… Anyway, by the end of the game I was in debt over my ears and since then, I am in the power of a man who demands payment through information.’ He choked. ‘I will never be free of him.’
Suddenly, a lot of things became clear. Kitty gave him a cold look. ‘Do you mean you are passing information to the French, then?’
She saw Etienne’s chin go up. ‘So you think I would spy for Napoleon? My family lost everything at the Revolution but we would never – ever – work for that upstart. No, Kitty, it is nothing to do with that.’ He beat his hand against the wooden panel of the door. Kitty thought that he ground his teeth.
The moon was shining more clearly now and by its light she could see how haggard he looked. For a few minutes they faced each other, Kitty struggling between feelings of horror and pity for his plight.
He shot her a glance. ‘Behind the world of balls and concerts there are many battles being fought. Your English politicians cannot agree over their foreign policy. Lord Dalbeagh wants to end Wellington’s campaign in the Peninsula so he may send the troops elsewhere. So, he makes me get information for him in order to force Wellington to return to England.’
Kitty was appalled. ‘You mean – our own government is divided even as our soldiers fight the war? All those wounded men.… One politician working against another – in such a devious way?’ She began to understand the meaning of some of Theo’s remarks.
‘Mr Thatcham’s black eye…?’ she faltered.
He nodded. ‘Oh, yes, that was me. And I had orders to do worse than that if necessary. But I did not succeed in getting what they wanted.’
‘Did they punish you?’ she faltered, remembering Etienne thrown down in the alley by the Irishman. She pressed a hand to her mouth, holding back the urge to scream.
‘Of course!’
‘So, what are you doing now?’
He shrugged. ‘I am trying to decide. It seems to me that I have two choices.’ He hit his fist against the door panel again. He eyed her speculatively. His gaze travelled over her so thoroughly that she grew hot with embarrassment. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. ‘Either I can marry you and pay off my debts with the dowry your aunt will give you – and I would still marry you, beautiful, sweet Kitty, even if you do prefer another to me.’ He leaned forward again, putting out a hand to touch her cheek, ‘I would soon teach you to love me.’
Kitty struck his hand away. Quick as a flash, he seized her chin in a vice-like grip and forced her face up. He brought his own face close. His expression was fierce. ‘I could make you marry me.’
‘You can try,�
� she retorted. She stared at him defiantly. He scanned her face then suddenly let her go. She tried to hide her trembling by smoothing down her skirts. Anything to keep her hands busy. She was horribly aware of his strength. She glanced across at him. He was still watching her intently.
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘So! Then I have no choice. I must obtain the information that my master requires.’
She turned her head away, peering out of the window. She could make out steep-sided fields behind the trees that lined the road. The coach rattled on into the night. Kitty still had no idea where they were going. She thought of great-aunt Picton’s alarm when she did not appear by tea-time.
‘Where is Martha?’ she asked eventually.
‘Martha?’
‘My maid. She was with me when they chased me.’
‘Oh, a maid. How should I know?’ His voice was contemptuous.
Kitty decided that at least Martha had not been taken prisoner. But would she run back to Grosvenor Square and raise the alarm? She felt a flicker of hope. Then she realized that nobody knew where she was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kitty shifted in her corner of the carriage. She was cold, tired and her headache was severe. The nausea had faded but she knew she was very weak. She spotted a light-coloured object on the floor of the carriage. After staring at it for a while, she picked it up. It was her new bonnet, squashed and stained with blood. She held on to it. Her eyes smarted with unshed tears. It was just another symbol of how she had ruined her day and with it, her aunt’s peace of mind.
She closed her eyes again, struggling to think of some way of escaping. Perhaps there would be a chance when they stopped at an inn to change the horses. Meanwhile, if she pretended to be asleep, perhaps Etienne would leave her alone. Kitty could still feel the pressure of his fingers on her chin. He was in a dangerous mood.
At last the horses slowed and they came to a halt. Kitty opened her eyes slightly, hoping to see lights and people around. She was dismayed to find that they were still in darkness. She heard the driver climb down. The door opened and a bulky shape appeared, holding up a lantern. Kitty clutched at her throat as she recognized the red-haired Irishman.
He cast a glance at her but addressed himself to Etienne. ‘This is the best place for the job.’
Etienne nodded. ‘Get me some rope,’ he ordered. While this was being done, he picked up the bundle that had served Kitty as a cushion. She realized it was his greatcoat. He pulled it on. The Irishman reappeared, holding out a piece of cord in his ham-like fist. Etienne took it.
‘Hold her hands.’
‘No! How dare you!’ she panted, but it was useless to struggle. Between them, they soon tied her hands together.
‘I cannot allow you to run off,’ Etienne told her, ‘you are my guarantee.’
She cast him a look of scorn.
Grim as he was, a smile lightened his face for an instant. ‘Oh, those magnificent eyes,’ he murmured.
She struggled but could not loosen the bonds. They lifted her bodily down from the coach. She found herself at the side of a road in the bottom of a valley. There were mighty trees arching up overhead. The road curved away before them. The Irishman led the horses a little further, until they had vanished round the next bend.
‘O’Reilly, do not go too far,’ warned Etienne. The only answer was a growl but the sound of wheels and horses’ hoofs stopped. Etienne put an arm round Kitty’s waist and half pushed, half lifted her into the verge, behind a large tree. Then he turned his back on her and began pulling something out of a small bag he had brought from the coach.
Kitty looked about her for any sign of life. There were no lights nor any houses. Behind the trees bordering the road she could make out thicker patches of woodland. It all seemed dark and deserted. There was nowhere she could run to. She clenched her teeth firmly to stop them chattering.
She turned to see Etienne holding a pistol. In the faint glimmer of starlight, his face was all hard lines and angles. This was a very different creature from the society darling she had known so far. What would her aunt think of him now? At the idea of her aunt, a wave of fear swept over Kitty. Perhaps she would never see Aunt Picton again. What exactly did Etienne plan to do with her?
As if he had read her thoughts, he turned to look at her. ‘You must stay by me and whatever happens, keep silent. If you try to warn anyone, I will shoot to kill. You understand?’
Kitty nodded reluctantly. She was shivering and not just from fear and weariness. Her city clothes were not thick enough for this cold open place. It was difficult to stand up for so long. Her head was heavy and sore. For what seemed an age they stood and waited. Then her ears picked up a faint sound. It came nearer and louder. It was definitely the sound of horses trotting.
Two horses, thought Kitty. She sensed Etienne move slightly. He held up a warning finger to her. He moved out into the centre of the path. The horses came nearer and slowed as they realized there was somebody in front of them.
‘Who goes there?’
Surely, that was Greg’s voice! Kitty felt a glimmer of hope. She opened her mouth to call for help but remembered Etienne’s threat. The riders had slowed to a walking pace now.
‘That is enough. Stop there. I have you covered.’
‘Saint-Aubin? What the devil—?’ That was Theo’s deep voice. Kitty drew in a thankful breath. But would Etienne shoot to kill, as he had threatened? Her heart was pounding. She strugged again with the bonds but they were too tight to shift.
Etienne pointed his pistol at Greg. ‘You are going to give me those letters you are carrying.’
‘The hell I am! You have missed your bet.’
‘I think not,’ replied the Frenchman through clenched teeth. He reached out his free arm and pulled Kitty forward.
The two riders halted.
‘You cur!’ Theo’s voice cut like a knife. He made as if to dismount.
‘One more move and I will shoot her.’
‘You cannot win,’ protested Greg. ‘There are two of us.’
‘But I will shoot off her finger.’
They glanced at each other. ‘What do you want?’ asked Greg.
Etienne gave a bark of laughter. ‘The letters.’
Kitty watched, appalled as, very slowly, Greg unbuckled a leather satchel fastened to the saddle in front of him. If she had not run away from Lady Payne at the art exhibition, if she had not gone again into the Rookery, Greg would not have to lose the result of so much hard work. She shifted slightly.
‘Be still!’ ordered Etienne sharply. He kept his eyes on Greg.
‘Now throw the bag down in front of me,’ ordered Etienne.
Greg flung it towards him. Etienne went down on one knee to pick it up. As he reached for it, Kitty flung herself upon him, knocking him off balance. He rolled sideways and the gun went off. He shouted.
It felt as if a hot wire had gone through her shoulder. Kitty screamed in agony and dropped like a stone.
The last thing she heard was Theo’s voice in a frantic roar: ‘No!’
When Theo made out the figure on the road ahead of them, he was not unduly surprised. The whole business of getting these letters had been highly dangerous from first to last. Undoubtedly, some politicians would try anything up to the last minute to stop Wellington from continuing the campaign in Portugal. That was why he was accompanying Greg on his way down to Portsmouth to board the naval frigate for the return journey to Lisbon. This was also why they were travelling under cover of darkness. They knew the roads well, after all it was in the area of Greg’s family home.
Theo discreetly pulled the pistol out of his belt. He would wait to see what the fellow demanded before shooting the villain. Beside him, Greg was swearing under his breath. They slowed their horses to a walk. At Etienne’s challenge, Theo’s hand moved ready to whip out his gun. Damn it, why had he deloped at the duel last week? Even if he had given the Frenchman a small wound, it would have saved them this unpleasant incident now.
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Then, to Theo’s horror, he saw Etienne drag Kitty forward. She had her hands tied. A black rage rushed through him. ‘You cur!’ he exclaimed, in the act of dismounting to help her.
But the villain was threatening to maim her if they did not obey his order. Theo sat taut as a wire, fists clenched hard, trying to see if Kitty had been harmed. Beside him, Greg slowly unbuckled the dispatch case and flung it down in the road. They watched Etienne pounce on it. At the same moment, Kitty flung herself against the Frenchman. He was caught off balance and fell. At that second his pistol went off.
Theo heard the Frenchman shout. He heard and felt Kitty scream. Even as her cry of agony echoed round the little valley, Theo was leaping from his saddle. ‘No!’ He was not aware he was shouting something. He rushed forward. Three strides brought him to Kitty’s side. Etienne was struggling to his feet. Unthinking, Theo aimed a couple of punches, sending the Frenchman flying into the bushes at the side of the road. Then he spun round to kneel over Kitty.
She was lying in a heap, face down. He gently turned her over. His hand came away soaked with blood.
‘Oh no,’ he groaned, ‘oh God—’ He examined her more carefully, untying her hands as he did so. Then he spotted a growing dark stain on the right shoulder of her dress. Without hesitating, he ripped the bodice of her robe open to lay bare the wound. Gently, he felt the damaged flesh. It seemed too high to have penetrated the lung. Theo pressed his hand over the hole but the blood was still flowing through his fingers. He ripped a piece of her petticoat to make a pad.
‘Greg! Brandy, man. Quick!’
Greg had dismounted. He held out his pocket flask. Theo tipped some brandy on the open wound, then bound it up as best he could. His hands were not quite steady.
‘Oh, Kitty, my darling,’ he whispered, looking at her still face in the moonlight. He wiped his bloodstained hands on the grass of the verge and began to chafe her cold hands.
