Araminta was surprised and buoyed up by her father’s reaction. She’d not expected he’d be so sympathetic to her cause; in fact, he was looking virtually apoplectic on her account.
“Kitty La Bijou?”
“That’s right. I saw her in Romeo and Juliet. She’s like a lovely piece of Dresden china with that golden hair, but she’ll be raddled and washed-up by the time she’s twenty-five.”
Lady Partington sent a worried look at her husband, dropping her wooden frame in her lap after grazing her finger with her embroidery needle.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
“Kitty La Bijou is...an actress?”
Araminta tilted her head. “I’m surprised you’ve not heard of her since she’s so frequently lauded in the gossip sheets. She’s very popular.” Araminta sniffed. “But you don’t read the gossip sheets, do you, Papa? And you rarely come to London. But this Kitty La Bijou has come into possession of my necklace, and no doubt she intends to wear it when she weds Lord Nash on Saturday.”
“Kitty La Bijou is marrying Lord Nash on Saturday? My old friend, Monty’s son?”
“Oh, so you know his family, do you? But, of course you do. So, how Lord Nash can be allowed to marry so unsuitably is quite beyond me. Really, I don’t care who marries whom, but I do think it unconscionable that a guttersnipe should be allowed to get away with possessing the necklace that was given to me, and something is going to be done about it; I promise you.” Araminta raised the lid of the piano and played a few crashing chords for emphasis. “Debenham has not treated me well, I’m afraid, Papa, but I earned that necklace, and I’m going to get it back.”
Her father had risen but seemed unable to move. He stared at Araminta with an odd look in his eye. “You say that your ruby necklace, a Debenham family heirloom, has been stolen, and you accuse this...actress...Kitty La Bijou...of stealing it?”
“I’m not saying she stole it, necessarily,” Araminta said, but with less conviction than before for she had the strangest sense that her father knew something she didn’t.
“I had heard the necklace had gone missing. Had been stolen, in fact,” her father said, almost thoughtfully. “Debenham belongs to my club, as you know. I heard he’d shown a few members the sketch. Enraged by the act, he was, and calling for blood and anyone to speak up if they knew details. I hadn’t mentioned this...actress was involved.”
Araminta tried to control her trembling. She’d wanted only to defend herself to her parents in case whispers got about. But it seemed the word was all over town already. And Debenham was furious, determined to get to the bottom of the matter. Araminta regretted her loose mouth. She should have been more circumspect. What would he find if he dug just a little deeper?
She looked at her shoes; her toes curled into the ends as she fought to control her nerves, though, of course, her parents couldn’t see that. She took a shaky breath. “Then why doesn’t Debenham go straight to Miss La Bijou and demand that she return it?” She had to ask, outright, the question most troubling her. Had Miss La Bijou learned anything of the truth the night she’d helped Araminta? Had she not believed the lie that the baby had been prevented from making its arrival too early? Was she somehow involved in a grand plan to blackmail Araminta, through Mrs. Mobbs, her landlady at one time and the woman to whom Araminta had given the necklace?
The more she plumbed the possibilities, the more terrified she became.
She’d not received any blackmail threat or demands. But why was the necklace gracing Miss La Bijou’s neck, when the proceeds were for the upbringing of her child, and to hide the truth?
Her father was rocking on his heels, looking down at her, while her mother was looking, confused, at both of them.
“Why does Debenham not confront Miss La Bijou direct?” Her father repeated. “Because he does not know the woman in the sketch is Kitty...er...Miss La Bijou. No one does.” He sent Araminta a piercing look. “The part of the sketch which identifies her was torn away.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Kitty held up her arms so Dorcas could slip the beautiful confection of cream net and silk over her head. It slithered sensuously over her curves, and she stared, smiling, at her reflection.
This was the happiest day of her life.
Dorcas sighed, and Kitty clasped her hands and whispered, “I’m going to be married today, Dorcas. Can you believe it? Today, I shall become the wife of a future viscount.”
Dorcas tweaked the folds of her gown, then adjusted one of the curls which clustered from Kitty’s high crown. “Yer mama should be ’ere. Why do yer ‘ave no family when Lord Nash ‘as brought ‘is sister an’ ‘is cousin?” She shook her head. “If I were getting’ married I’d want all me loved ones ter see me joy.” Immediately her expression clouded. “That ain’t neva goin’ ter ’appen, though.”
“It will!” Kitty gripped her friend’s shoulders and looked into her face. “You will find some lovely man who truly appreciates your goodness and kind spirit. Have faith and it will happen.” She dropped her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I had faith, even when in my heart I was deeply unsure about Nash, but see how it’s all turned out?”
Dorcas fixed Kitty with a troubled look. “What do yer mean, miss?”
Kitty, now pulling on her gloves in preparation, as Minnie had just put her head around the door to say that carriage was ready to take them to the church, looked up with a smile. “What did you ask me, Dorcas?”
“What do yer mean yer still ‘ad faith when yer ‘eart weren’t engaged wiv Lord Nash? Were it more important ter be married, or more important that it were ter Lord Nash?”
“Why, of course I had to love Lord Nash to want to consider marrying him.” Kitty paused as she fiddled with the tiny buttons of her left glove, her words halting. She didn’t like the line Dorcas had taken. “Come now, Dorcas, you look lovely too. What a pity Lissa won’t be there to do a lightning sketch for posterity. Of anyone in my family, I wish I could have invited her.”
“’Cept Lord Nash said yer wasn’t ter invite any of ‘em, didn’t ’e?”
“No need to say it in such an accusing way, Dorcas. I’m not cross that he’s invited his sister and cousin, while I couldn’t do the same. I understand the reasons. He can’t afford to anger his grandfather when the old man is so ill, even if Nash is quite within his rights to wed. Remember, he’s twenty-four. He attained his majority three years ago, and in fact, was nearly married when he was twenty-one except that he had what he now calls a lucky escape, which made him realize how important it was to choose a bride compatible and pleasing in every way.” She smiled. “Like me.”
She had to keep reminding herself just how lucky she was, for her heart beat nervously, and her hands felt clammy and shaking. She hadn’t spent the night with Nash and had tossed and turned, slipping into a short and feverish sleep at dawn.
“Lord Nash is a very lucky man,” Dorcas said softly as they sat together in the carriage, rocking gently over the cobblestones. “I ‘ope ‘e realizes that.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Kitty objected. “How many men of his station marry so low if they choose to marry for love?”
She didn’t like the woebegone looks Dorcas kept sending her as they progressed in a deepening silence. It was hard not to snap at her, but Kitty wasn’t going to sour the mood any further.
Organ music struck up on cue as she and Dorcas arrived at the doorway of St Margaret’s, and at last Kitty felt as if this was not just a pipedream, but rather her dream come true. This was the sound her own mother had heard, perhaps, more than twenty years ago when she progressed down the aisle on her father’s arm, to marry her father, Lord Partington. But there had been no bridegroom waiting for her.
Anxiously, Kitty peered into the dim recesses of the church, and her heart lurched to see Nash, in company with another gentleman, staring at the priest. So it was true. She would be married. Legally. Finally, a Miss Hazlett was going to get a ring on her finger, and not onl
y enjoy the love of a good man, but respectability for herself and her children.
Nash turned when she was a few yards away, his expression full of love. He looked so handsome, his fine-featured face with its small scar below the eye relaxing into a smile of hope and adoration that made Kitty’s belly cleave. She smiled back at him warmly, as she made her approach, turning slightly when she heard footsteps behind her. Another guest.
She swallowed, and her heart hitched a little. Silverton had come to honor their union. But she was able to put aside anything she might have felt for him as she concentrated on the fact that Nash loved her. And he loved her enough to marry her.
Silverton slipped into a pew on the right-hand side while Kitty continued her progress down the aisle.
Nash gripped the tips of her fingers in a light reassurance as she joined his side.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered as the vicar began to intone the service, his strong voice filling the holy space with his solemn words.
And then Nash was saying his vows, Kitty glancing over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps, which muffled the words.
Shocked, she saw her father advancing, and looked nervously at Nash, still murmuring “...take thee, Catherine Jane Hazlett, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer...”
So her father had come to see her in her finest hour. He should be pleased that she was marrying as her mother ought to have married him, though what he had heard about the celebrated actress, Kitty La Bijou, she feared to know.
Nash was still speaking, binding himself to her for eternity“...in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
She realized her father hadn’t slipped into a pew, and now his footsteps were joined by another pair. Not her mother’s for these, too, belonged to a male the way they clattered with loud purpose into the church, interrupting proceedings, and a voice rose above the vicar’s, “That boy has no authority to wed before he’s twenty-five, and is no gentleman if he’s told the lady otherwise!”
The vicar stopped speaking; Nash swung his head around, crying out, “Father! How dare you?” and Kitty stared with horror at the young man next to her who now defended himself.
“Not true, Father!” Angrily, he faced his father while Kitty’s own barked, “I will not see my daughter tricked into a farce of a marriage, but nor would I see her marry above her station.”
“Father!” Kitty cried as devastation threatened to undo her a second time.
Lord Partington had risen, and now he clapped his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t take it amiss, my girl. It ain’t that I don’t love you any less than the others, and I’m aware that the wrong I did your mother has blighted your prospects.”
It was a double blow. The two men who should have given her the greatest support had pulled any foundation for future happiness from beneath her feet.
With a gasp, Kitty spun around, avoiding Nash’s outstretched arm and his plea to believe him. Gathering up her train in a bundle, she pushed past her father who tried to grip her hand in passing, but she tugged herself free, picking up her skirts, running only faster as she heard the cries behind her to stop.
Stop? For what? For whom? Her father who had given her nothing except a lineage to be ashamed of? For Nash who claimed to love her but who had deceived her?
“Kitty, come back! Believe me—”
Believe him? She could never believe anyone again. Vaguely, she glimpsed Lord Silverton’s shocked expression as he, too, rose from the pew.
Kitty didn’t stop. She fled into the street, nearly slipping on the slick cobbles, righting herself and plunging beneath the hooves of a passing hackney. Regaining her footing, she hastily snatched up the part of her train that had fallen in the mud, and continued her mad dash along the pavement, coming alongside the carriage which she saw had slowed.
The door opened, and a face peered out. “Miss, do yer need ‘elp? Why, if it ain’t Kitty La Bijou. Lawks, get in, girlie! Yer look like yers fleein’ from the divil, yer do!”
Kitty could hear running footsteps behind her, gaining, and with a surge of effort, she gripped the woman’s outstretched hand as the carriage continued its progress. For a few seconds, she sailed through the air as her feet left the ground.
Then she was dragged into the carriage, the door was slammed shut, and she was half lying across the seat, her eyes closed as she drew breath at last.
“Mrs. Mobbs!” she exclaimed when she blinked. “Good heavens! What are you doing here?”
“More to the point, what are yer doin’ runnin’ through the streets o’ London in a weddin’ dress, if me eyes don’t deceive me, an’ wearin’ the finest ruby necklace I ever did see.”
“Lord Nash gave it to me...the day he asked me to marry him.” Her voice caught, and miserably she dropped her head to look at her hands, unadorned by his wedding ring and not likely to receive one, ever again.
“I know that, me dear.”
Kitty jerked her head up. “You know it?”
Mrs. Mobbs nodded. “Yer’ve jest run away from the church, ‘aven’t yer? Found out that ‘e bought it from Maggie Montgomery fer a very reasonable sum, eh, an’ didn’t like the fact ‘e still enjoys visitin’ some o’ the girls?” She shrugged. “Not that ‘e’s done it fer a very long time. Not since the night ‘e bought the ruby necklace, in fact. Said ‘e were givin’ up other women forever, now he’d found yer.”
Mrs. Mobbs leaned across to pat Kitty’s shoulder in a motherly fashion. “There, told yer the truth ‘bout how ‘e feels, so now yer can go back if yer wants. Always did ‘ave a soft spot for yer, girlie.”
Kitty stared, feeling even worse after her supposedly bolstering speech. “He bought it from a...brothel?”
“Don’t reckon Maggie likes her ‘stablishment referred to in such terms,” Mrs. Mobbs said, warningly. “Now, if yer don’t want ter go back ter the church, yer can come wiv me, for yer can’t say I didn’t get yer a chance ter get yer way wiv ‘is Lordship after all.”
The carriage had drawn to a halt down a side street, and Mrs. Mobbs was reaching down on the floor for what Kitty now saw was a tiny baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and sleeping soundly.
“’Ere, yer take it,” the woman said, cupping Kitty’s elbow and leading her through a door. “It’s a good little ‘un, this ‘un is. Borned of a poor scullery maid, she were, so Maggie Montgomery’s goin’ to find the bonny lad a nice spot in the country. I jest bin to pick ‘im up. That’s right, warm yerself by the fire.”
It was only then, and the recognition of the wide-eyed scullery maid who was passing with a pail of water, that Kitty realized she was in Maggie Montomery’s establishment. Horrified, she looked about her, still clutching the baby, which she thrust into Mrs. Mobbs’ arms.
“Why have you taken me here? I must go!”
“I ain’t taken yer anywhere. I jest gave yer a carriage ride to save yer from certain individuals yer were fleein’ from. No need ter accuse me o’ sommat I ain’t done,” Mrs. Mobbs defended herself. “Ah, Maggie, look who I picked up. And it were more than jest the babe.”
With her heart in her mouth, Kitty stared between the two women: Mrs. Mobbs, slatternly as ever with her greasy hair spilling out from her filthy mob cab, and her enormous breasts spilling out of the top of her print gown; and Mrs. Montgomery, magnificently upholstered, her icy gaze lit up with unusual warmth as she purred, “Kitty La Bijou. We meet at last. Your exploits are legendary, and you have caused me more than a little trouble lately with regard to a certain ruby necklace which I see you happily still have in your possession.” She looked at Kitty’s muddy slippers, the torn netting of her embroidered train, and her grubby gloves and made a sympathetic tutting noise.
“It’s clear you need to rest, my poor girl. Follow me, and I shall find you a room ...while we decide what to do with you.”
Chapter Twenty-five
It was thanks to Dorcas that Silverton had any idea of where to set his footsteps. She was the fleetest of foot, initially, but then she’d been carrying her mistress’s train, and her heart was no doubt in accord with Kitty’s.
Nevertheless, when Silverton reached the corner where Dorcas was staring into the distance, and they had long since left Lord Nash and his father and Kitty’s father behind, the young maid turned to him with real fear in her eyes.
“That were Maggie Montgomery’s carriage,” she whispered. “I recognized the faded insignia. She got it cheap from one o’ ‘er clients. When the door opened I saw the blue velvet upholstery, too. Miss Kitty’s gone and bin took by Maggie Montgomery.”
Silverton was shocked, but by no means as downcast as Dorcas.
“They can hardly keep her a prisoner against her will, Dorcas.” But then he understood the girl’s fear. That’s exactly what they’d done to her.
“You got ter save ’er, m’lord. You can’t let ‘ make her sign a contract.”
Silverton smiled kindly at the girl. “I’ll save her, Dorcas. They can’t do anything to Kitty she doesn’t want. Believe me, once we march right up to Maggie’s and demand that they let her go, Kitty will be allowed free, and then she’ll come with me, and everything will be all right.”
Beyond Rubies (Daughters of Sin Book 4) Page 25
