An Honorable Thief

by Anne Gracie

  tences again. They must know I am here. They may invite me in, or not. Then I will know how I stand."

  Griffin headed off, and Kit slowly descended from the carriage. She would not allow Hugo to come with her; she made him wait in the carriage. "I must do this by myself." The sweet scent of the roses wafted to her on the evening breeze. She felt sick. Her legs were trembling. She stiffened her knees and waited.

  Sir William came out first. He saw her standing alone in the paved courtyard and stopped still. His wife followed a moment later. There was no sign of Rose.

  Sir William and Lady Marsden stared across at Kit. Kit lifted her chin and waited. Sir William was a magistrate: it was his clear duty to have her arrested. Kit braced herself.

  There was a sudden flurry at Lady Marsden's skirts, and three small heads peered around their mother's body. "Miss Kitty-cat" she heard Sally say. She was quickly hushed.

  "Go back inside, children," said Lady Marsden coolly. "It is chilly out here."

  It certainly was. Kit swallowed. She knew what she faced now; they had made their decision. But now that she had come, she was determined to apologise to them, even if they refused to listen. She opened her mouth to speak.

  "Kit, my dear, whatever are you standing out there for?" called Lady Marsden. "Come in, child, before you catch your death."

  Kit blinked. It didn't sound like the sort of thing a woman would say if her husband intended to hang you.

  Lady Marsden hurried forward. "My dear, I'm so glad you've come back to us. And I am so sorry about that dreadful misunderstanding. Come inside. We have been up in the nursery, making toast, and the children have missed you."

  Kit blinked harder.

  Sir William strode forward and put an arm around her. "You're frozen solid, girl. Let's get you inside and get you in front of a fire. I'm very cross with you, you know."

  Kit braced herself again.

  "We were all so worried when you ran off like that. For Heaven's sake—why did you not explain that you were putting the wretched chess-set back?''

  "Not now, William," said Lady Marsden.

  Kit stopped. "Yes, now, please. I need to explain, and to know."

  "Yes, my dear, and so you shall. But first you must come inside and warm yourself—poor child, you are shivering." Lady Marsden and Sir William escorted her inside. Kit glanced back and saw Hugo descend from the carriage, a faint smug smile hovering about his mouth.

  By the time Hugo entered the house, Kit was ensconced in a comfortable chair with a rug around her and a glass of wine clutched in her hand. Lady Marsden hovered, the little girls were clustered around Kit's feet and Sir William was leaning againsj the mantelpiece, observing the whole with a benevolent eye.

  "Where is Rose?'' asked Kit. She wanted to explain, but it didn't feel right without Rose present.

  Lady Marsden smiled. “She and Mr Cranmore are dining with the vicar tonight. Their wedding will be in three weeks' time."

  "Oh, very well." Kit swallowed and took a deep breath. "I must tell—"

  "Oh, you don't need to worry about all that, Miss Kitty-cat," interrupted Sir William. "Big misunderstanding, eas­ily sorted out."

  "But I—"

  "My dear girl, you were a victim of your father's dis­honesty, as much as any one. Dev here explained what you'd promised to do and I presume that once you found out it was all a pack of lies, you gave back the, er—" he glanced at the little girls "—items you had acquired."

  "Yes," said Kit in amazement. "But how could you know that?" She glanced at Hugo. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

  Hugo shook his head.

  "My dear girl," said Sir William, "you don't think I've been a magistrate for more than ten years without learning something about human nature, do you? You're as true an arrow as ever has flown. There's not a bent fibre in you! Brave and true..." he bent over her and flicked her chin affectionately "...and bonny, too. Now, what's happened to all that toast we were going to make, eh, girls? You take Miss Kitty-cat up to the nursery and give her a toasting fork. I shall fetch the marmalade."

  Dazed, Kit allowed the eager little hands to lead her up the stairs to the nursery.

  To be forgiven so easily—it was beyond her experience, beyond her understanding. To be accepted back into the fold, after such a betrayal. It was a gift greater than any she had ever imagined. She couldn't quite believe it

  She glanced behind her, to where Hugo was mounting the steps, with tiny Molly Marsden energetically riding his shoulders and clinging fiercely to his hair. He saw the stunned bewilderment in her eyes and smiled. "I said have faith, love, did I not? Faith in your friends. And faith in yourself."

  Kit could not speak: her heart was too full.

  Soon she was settled in front of the nursery fire, the children clustered around her and a toasting fork in her hand. Hugo sat beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, touching hers.

  Nell had been watching her solemnly. Suddenly she hugged Kit convulsively. "Papa said you were a good girl—a daughter any man would be proud of, Miss Kitty-

  cat. He said your papa made you promise to do a bad thing. He shouldn't have done that, should he?"

  Kit couldn't answer. She pressed her trembling lips to­gether and shook her head. Hugo put his arm around her.

  Nell said, "Our papa wouldn't do that, would he?"

  Kit shook her head again. "No, darling," she said softly, her voice ragged with emotion. "Your papa would never ask you to do anything that was wrong." She hugged the child to her, blinking hard, keeping the tears at bay.

  Sir William stood in the doorway, a pot of orange mar­malade in his hand, staring at the little tableau in front of the fire. It was obvious he had heard the conversation. He put the pot down and fished out a large white handkerchief. He blew his nose noisily, then sat down. “Now, about this wedding," he said.

  "You mean Rose's," Kit began.

  "Lord, no—that's all organised. No, I meant yours and Hugo's." He glanced at each of them, and frowned sud­denly. "There is going to be a wedding, isn't there? My wife said there was."

  Hugo nodded and took Kit's hand possessively. "Yes, there is most definitely going to be a wedding. Agreed, my love?"

  Kit's eyes misted again. She nodded.

  "Excellent," said Sir William. "Now, what we had thought, if you don't mind, Miss Kitty-cat, is that since Rose and Cranmore are to be married from Gelliford House, you might like to be married from here."

  Kit was startled. "From here?"

  Sir William hurried on. “Yes, the lady wife would be in her element having all the fuss and botheration of a wed­ding, and besides, she'd like to make it up for...you know what." He cleared his throat violently and hurried on, "And I know that old George Singleton is the head of your family, but...just thought...if you needed a volunteer to give away the bride...you know. Happy to oblige. If you wanted me, that is."

  Kit just looked at him, then her face crumpled and the tears spilled over.

  Hugo leaned across and pulled her gently back against bis chest. He thrust a white handkerchief into her hands and smiled over her head at Sir William, who was looking horrified. As were the little girls. "I think you can take that as a "Yes, please, Sir William.'"

  "Oh, I say! I didn't mean to upset—'

  "No, no. She's not upset. Thing is, she expected you to clamp a pair of leg-irons on her, not offer to walk her down the aisle."

  "Clamp a pair of—?"

  "She's been a little emotional lately, that's all. Rather a lot happening in her life. Bound to catch up on her. A temporary state of affairs—I hope."

  In the circle of his arms, Kit stopped on a gulp.

  Hugo winked at Sir William and added, "I'm running out of handkerchiefs. She's turned into a regular watering pot!—oof!"

  Kit had thumped him in the ribs. "I am not a watering pot," she muttered.

  "Ahh," said Hugo, his eyes gleaming with wicked hu­mour. "Reminds me of our very first meeting, love. Very
— oof!—romantic."

  Kit, remembering how the Chinese Burglar had trounced him, blushed. Hugo, having achieved the result he had wanted, grinned unrepentantly.

  "You were saying, Marsden, old fellow? You're going to walk Kit down the aisle and...?"

  "Oh, yes, what was the other thing?" Sir William glanced down at the two elder girls who'd been watching the interplay between Kit and Hugo with great interest, but now were jiggling up and down with suppressed excite-

  ment, and grinned. "Oh, that's it. There are a couple of young ladies here who have been pestering their mother for days about whether Miss Kitty-cat would need any rather short bridesmaids? What do you say?"

  Kit looked at the little girls, and her heart filled again. Sally's small sticky hand stole into hers.

  "Could we, Miss Kitty-cat? Please?"

  There was a huge lump in Kit's throat. She nodded and Nell and Sally squealed with delight. "Mama, Mama! Miss Kitty-cat said yes! We can be her bridesmaids, even though we're little!"

  Lady Marsden, who had just entered the room, hushed them indulgently. "Now, Kit, don't let these young hoy­dens push you into anything you don't want. It is your wedding, my dear. It must be just as you would like it. And if you don't want to have it here, you must say so. We shall not mind in the least, shall we, William?"

  "Says the woman who has spent the last week alterna­tively fretting over Kit's whereabouts and poring over de­signs for wedding gowns," agreed Sir William.

  Lady Marsden blushed. "Oh, hush. It is all up to Kit. What do you say, my dear?"

  Kit swallowed the lump in her throat. "Are you sure of this, Lady Marsden?" She was not asking about a wedding.

  Lady Marsden embraced her. "Quite, quite sure, my dear girl."

  There was a short silence in the room.

  "Papa, Miss Kitty-cat is crying again and now Mama is too!"

  "It is because of the weddings, my dear," explained Sir Wiliiam gently. "Ladies always cry at weddings."

  There was a hush in the ancient chapel which stood in the grounds of Woodsden Lodge. The smooth oaken pews were polished to a shine with age and with beeswax. It was a small wedding by society standards, but as far as Kit was concerned, the cream of society was there.

  There was Maggie, and her proud new husband, Griffin. There was Rose and her equally proud husband, Donald Cranmore. There was the entire Marsden household, even down to the scullery maid. There was the groom's nephew, Lord Norwood, his betrothed, Miss Libby Lutens, and Miss Lutens's mama. There was even Lord Norwood's mother, sitting scowling in a pew at the back of the church, still convinced Hugo had stolen the heiress. Cousin George Singleton oversaw the whole affair from the traditional Sin­gleton family private pew. And Captain Patchett had arrived a short time earlier, looking splendidly nautical in a blue coat with enormous, shiny brass buttons. He was going to sail the married couple to Italy for the honeymoon.

  And to everyone's amazement, three immensely modish old ladies had arrived, unannounced and uninvited: Lady Gosper, Lady Hester Horton and the Honourable Pearl Hamnet. They had loudly announced they were sitting on the bride's side of the church.

  The organ pipes surged with music, filling the church with ageless beauty. The bride stepped into the aisle on the arm of a distinguished-looking gentleman; Sir William giv­ing the bride away.

  The bride began her slow march down the aisle, her eyes fixed on the tall, ruggedly handsome man who awaited her by the altar. Two immensely solemn little girls, their hair braided with the palest pink roses, carried the bride's train, their small sweet faces frowning in fierce concentration. As well as the two diminutive bridesmaids, the bride was ac­companied by three attendants: Maggie, Rose and Lady Marsden. Each lady's eyes were moist with tears.

  Hugo waited, his nephew Thomas and Captain Patchett by his side, watching his love come to him. She smiled as soon as she saw him waiting, her mouth a little tremulous

  but her eyes were incandescent with joy. His heart filled as he never thought possible. He was trembling. He could see by the way she was walking that she was shaking too. He wanted to stride up the aisle, snatch her up and hold her hard against him, to know, to feel it was real, that she was real. The long moments of the bridal march passed and at last he could take her by the hand. The relief of it passed through him like a shock. This was his love, his woman, his own bright, particular star.

  "You'll not run from me now, Kit, will you?" he mur­mured.

  She shook her head, her eyes luminous with love and happiness. "Never," she answered him. "I have everything in the world I've ever dreamed of, and more, right here before me."

  And she was looking only at him.

  She touched the bright phoenix pin which she wore at her throat. "You have brought me out of the ashes of my past, my dearest love. I do not care if the future is golden or not, as long as I am with you."

  He drew her hard against him and oblivious of conven­tion, kissed the bride before the ceremony had begun. "If you and I are together, love, how can it be anything else?"