My Gentleman Spy

by Sasha Cottman

  Hattie's father had truly terrible taste when it came to the so called finer things in life. The vase in question was the work of someone who had little idea how to wield a fine paintbrush.

  While Aldred Wright lacked good taste, he had clearly passed on intelligence to his daughter. Will had to admit to being impressed at Hattie's ability to remain undetected. For four days she had lived like a ghost downstairs in the servants' quarters. The only evidence of her presence in the house was the disappearance of her possessions from her room. Even his greatcoat had gone, which Will found a source of annoyance. His missed that coat.

  Hattie would have been able to keep up her secret existence for a little while longer if it had not been for her cat. Brutus was her one true weakness. Brutus. True to her name she was about to become the cause of another’s downfall.

  Slipping into the hallway, Will closed the sitting room door quietly behind him. After waiting momentarily for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he began to make his way toward the staircase. Stopping just short of the top of the stairs, he leaned back against the wall and listened.

  “Brutus, please come with me. I have to get this mess cleaned up,” Hattie implored.

  “Good luck with that,” muttered Will.

  His attempts to keep the feline menace from scratching up the cushions of his priceless chairs had proved fruitless. It was of some comfort to know that the actual owner of the cat fared little better when it came to controlling its behavior.

  A loud cry from Hattie confirmed her lack of success.

  “I can't believe you bit me!” she exclaimed.

  Hidden from view at the top of the landing, Will bit down on his lip to stifle a chuckle. More than once he had tried to put the dratted animal outside only to have her sink her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand.

  The clock at the bottom of the stairs chimed the hour of ten. It was late.

  Deciding it was time to end the farce, Will pushed away from the wall and made his move. He began a silent, stealthy descent of the staircase.

  In the front entrance of the house, Hattie was on her knees, her back to him. In her hand she held out what he surmised was a juicy piece of the leftover chicken from his supper.

  “Come Brutus,” she whispered. The cat merely sniffed its disapproval at the tasty offering.

  The rising panic in her voice drew a fleeting moment of pity from Will. He did not envy her tenuous domestic situation.

  As he drew close, he stopped. While she had not noticed his presence, Brutus most certainly had. The cat hissed and leapt out of Hattie’s reach.

  She whirled round. Upon seeing Will her eyes grew wide with shock.

  He didn't have time to grab her, she made a surprisingly fast dash for a small door under the stairs. By the time Will reached it, she had it closed and locked behind her.

  He shook the door handle roughly several times before finally kicking the door in frustration.

  “Blast!”

  For a moment he considered the door. It looked like the opening to a small broom cupboard, barely able to fit a body within.

  After making a thorough reconnaissance of the area under the stairs, Will satisfied himself that there was no other way out for Hattie to escape. Pulling up a nearby chair, he placed it in front of the door and took a seat.

  Brutus took up a post under the chair. Duplicitous creature that she was, for the moment she had obviously decided to stay loyal to her mistress.

  “I can wait here all night,” he said to the closed door.

  Roused by the ruckus, Mr. and Mrs. Little appeared in their dressing gowns at the top of the servants' stair case.

  “We have an intruder,” announced Will.

  They exchanged a look which Will made sure they thought he had not seen. A familiar game of cat and mouse was now under way.

  “Mr. Little would you please go upstairs to the master bedroom and retrieve my pistol. It is in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet,” he said.

  “Sir?” replied Mr. Little.

  Brutus appeared from under the chair and leapt into Will's lap. She began to purr and Will imagined that she was enjoying the spectacle which was unfolding.

  “Didn't you hear me? We have an intruder. I have the blackguard hold up in the cupboard. Fetch my pistol.”

  When Mr. Little hesitated, Will urged him on.

  “Oh, and do be careful handling the pistol. It's loaded.”

  The last words he said loud enough so that Hattie could hear. As Mr. Little reluctantly headed upstairs, Mrs. Little shifted uneasily on her slipper shod feet. Her hands were held together tightly in a twisted prayer. Desperation etched deep lines in her soft craggy face.

  Will stroked Brutus while the cat appreciatively worked her claws into his leg. He gritted his teeth, determined to maintain his veneer of an outraged house holder.

  “Do we have any rope? I should like to restrain the villain before I call for the Bow Street runners,” he said.

  “Why would you do that?” Mrs. Little stammered.

  He knew full well it was wrong of him to use the loyal housekeeper in such a devious way, but Will was determined that Hattie understood the repercussions of what she had done. Under any other circumstances the Littles would likely be out on the street with no references the moment their employer discovered their role in Hattie's deception.

  Will admired them for what they had done. They were no longer in the employ of the Wright family, and would have been well within the law to have refused to help Hattie. Not aware of Will's true identity, they had taken a huge gamble on hoping he would understand when their secret house guest was inevitably discovered.

  It was now time for Hattie to repay their loyalty.

  “Well the authorities will soon have the villain under lock and key. I dare say before a magistrate first thing tomorrow morning and on board a ship to the penal colony of New South Wales before the month is out. He won’t be stealing from kangaroos while he is there,” he smugly replied.

  He banged his fist hard against the door behind him.

  “You'd like a long sea voyage, now wouldn't you?” he bellowed.

  Hattie to her credit remained silent, giving nothing away.

  Mr. Little reappeared, pistol held limply in his hand. He handed it to Will.

  “Is it really necessary, I mean couldn't we just talk her out of the cupboard?” he asked.

  Will pushed Brutus off his lap and rose from the chair. He picked it up and made a great show of moving it to one side of the door. Then turning to Mr. Little, he fixed him with an enquiring stare.

  “Her? Who said anything about our intruder being a woman?”

  Mrs. Little put a hand to her mouth and then burst into tears.

  “Oh, please don't hurt her Mr. Smith. She had nowhere else to go. Miss Hattie is a kind soul, always doing the lord's work. She has been through so much. I beg of you show her mercy.”

  With perfect timing, the door to the cupboard opened and Hattie stepped out into the foyer.

  “Mr. Saunders has already shown me more mercy than I deserve Mrs. Little. It was he who rescued me in Gibraltar and brought me back to England. I have no right to impose on his good graces any further,” she said.

  Will nodded. Saunders not Smith.

  Hattie started for the front door. Will was still angry enough with her to be tempted into letting her make it to the front gate. A look at the tearful Mrs. Little promptly changed his mind.

  “It's cold and it's late. I suggest you won't last too long outside wearing only a thin gown,” he said.

  Hattie turned.

  “I shall gather up my things if you are agreeable and find some other suitable lodgings,” she replied.

  He was unsure as to how he should read her at this point. Will had seen Hattie turn on an acting display worthy of the stage when it suited her, but something in the way she held herself told him this was no act.

  He puffed out his cheeks. He had achieved what he wanted, Hattie was out of t
he cupboard and her presence in the house was no longer a secret.

  “No one is going anywhere,” he firmly replied.

  He gave Brutus a gentle nudge sideways with his foot. The cat who was nibbling on the edge of Will's house slipper give him a filthy look as it skulked away.

  “Don't look at me like that you furry beast. If I do toss anyone out into the night, you are currently top of my list.”

  Mrs. Little whimpered. Hattie gasped. Mr. Little raised an approving eyebrow. Will saw a kindred spirit in the butler. It was comforting to know he was not the only one who viewed the cat in a less than favorable light.

  People were the oddest of creatures when it came to pets. Brutus ruled the house like a medieval tyrant, but the thought of attempting to overthrow her evil reign had them all holding their collective breathes.

  It was time to get to the issue at hand.

  “Miss Wright, we have matters to discuss in private. Would you please retire to the sitting room upstairs?” he said.

  “Which one?” replied Hattie.

  The house, though not large by ton standards still had two separate sitting rooms on the upper levels, not to mention two formal drawing rooms.

  “The one at the top of the stairs on the left. The one which used to have that horrid burnt orange and black striped rug. I shall be with you shortly, after I have had a quiet word with my employees.”

  Mrs. Little shot him a look of dismay at this clear breach of social protocol. An unmarried woman did not go anywhere with a gentleman not of her family. When Will held her gaze, she quickly joined her husband in staring down at the floor.

  Good. About time someone acknowledged who it is that pays the bills in this house.

  “It's not their fault I stayed hidden from you in the house. If anyone is to be punished, please let it be me,” said Hattie.

  Will pointed toward the staircase and watched as Hattie slowly made her way across the floor and up the stairs. Once or twice she stopped and looked forlornly back at the Littles.

  She was so much like his sister Caroline, it was uncanny. In Hattie's defense, she went quietly. Caroline Saunders would have stopped at every step and insisted on pleading her case. Hattie finally disappeared around the corner at the top of the stairs.

  “If you are listening at the top of the landing I shall know,” he called after her.

  A huff followed by the swish of skirts signaled Hattie's departure. He turned back to face Mr. and Mrs. Little.

  “Now I understand why you did it, but that is not to say concealing Miss Wright in my house was the right thing to do.”

  Mrs. Little dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

  “We are sorry for having deceived you Mr. Smith. I mean Mr. Saunders. We had hoped to find a solution to Miss Hattie's dilemma without you ever becoming aware of her presence. That said it was still wrong of us to have done so,” said Mr. Little.

  “But she is all alone without a friend in the world. We had to help,” pleaded Mrs. Little.

  They looked at one another, then reached out and held hands in a touching display of unity.

  “If you wish us gone sir, we shall have our things out of the house at first light. Though where we will go after twenty years of service to the Wright family I surely do not know,” said Mr. Little.

  A lump welled up in Will's throat. The couple were the kind of faithful family servants who polite society would expect to be looked after by their employers in their old age. Only a heartless monster would throw them out on the street with no references.

  “What? Oh, for heaven's sake! No one and I say this for the last time. No one is being thrown out of this house. Now if we can agree that you will never deceive me again, then we may all get some sleep tonight.”

  Before her husband had a chance to stop her, Mrs. Little had thrown her arms around Will. Her tears stained the front of his silk waistcoat.

  “Thank you, sir, I knew you were made of fine mettle. You will take care of her,” she sobbed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hattie opened the door to her father's sitting room. It was full of many familiar things, yet it felt like it was no longer her father's space. He had taken only a few small precious personal items with him to Sierra Leone, but the loss of even those had changed the soul of the room.

  She looked at the new gold, black, and tan Abyssinian rug which had taken the place of her father's orange and black striped one. She had to hand it to Will, he had excellent taste. The colors in the rug matched those of the six fine china plates which now hung on the wall.

  She crossed to the plates. Expertly painted scenes of the ancient world adorned each plate. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch them.

  “Absolutely beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Yes, and they cost me a pretty penny,” said Will.

  She turned to see him leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. How long he had been there, she had no idea. He could move like a silent wraith when the mood so took him.

  “Am I permitted to ask what happened to the Littles?”

  If Will had terminated their services she would never forgive herself.

  “Mr. Little is in your old bedroom making up the fire and checking that the room is ready for you. Mrs. Little is downstairs in the kitchen boiling water so we can all have some of the hot chocolate I purchased earlier this morning at Fortnum and Mason. There is nothing better than a cup of cinnamon spiced Spanish chocolate after a trying evening,” he replied.

  Hattie began to shake uncontrollably. Tension and nerves, she had denied over the past days finally surfaced.

  “I'm sorry, so sorry for everything I have done,” she cried.

  Will closed the door behind him and came to her side.

  He put a hand to her cheek and lifted her head. Their gazes met. To her surprise she saw pain and anguish in his eyes.

  “Oh Hattie,” he murmured. She heard the rough desire in his voice.

  He drew her into his embrace. His lips descended upon hers in a fiery caress. He was not tender or kind, but it was exactly the passionate kiss she knew he needed to give at this moment. She yielded her mouth to his, releasing her pent-up guilt into the encounter. He pulled her hard against him, and she felt the familiar hardness of his manhood. Her body screamed for sexual release with this man.

  As their tongues tangled in a passionate embrace. Hattie submitted to Will’s demands. Her hands gripped tightly to the sides of his waistcoat.

  Finally, his lips softened in their touch. His anger was spent. Her lover from the sea returned slowly to her. His fingers slipped into her hair and gently held her.

  When he withdrew his lips, he continued to hold her for a moment, placing a soft kiss on her hair. Then he released her from his embrace.

  “Do you have any idea what you have put me through?” he asked.

  She cast her eyes downward. The fingers of her right hand began to crack the knuckles on her left hand.

  Will took hold of her hand. He knew enough of her to know her nervous tell when it surfaced. She looked up at him. He was still mad at her and she knew he had every right to be so. Yet she knew he would never do anything to hurt her. Protecting others was a fundamental part of Will Saunders.

  “Why did you lie to me Hattie? Even after I had discovered your real name and we had become lovers, you still chose to lie to me. Why?” he said.

  He was right in demanding the truth from her. Guilt was her constant and unwelcome companion. She had created enough of a web of lies to keep her tangled up forever.

  “I didn't tell you the truth of my circumstances because I didn't trust you,” she said.

  Will's growl of frustration echoed in the room. Hattie winced. While she had learned to somewhat trust him, he did have a habit of making her feel small when she tried to confide in him.

  “Do you realize that getting angry when I do try to tell you the truth is not the way to go about things? I would had told you a lot more about myself if you didn't behave like
a wounded beast when I try to open up to you,” she said.

  Will shook his head. “How is it that you are able to turn this around to make it somehow my fault? You were the one who lied to the crew. You were the one who made sure I was drugged on board the boat. And you were the one who disappeared over the side of the ship the night before we docked in London, leaving me only a brief farewell note. Do you have any idea how I felt when I thought you were dead?”

  Dead.

  “I didn't know...”

  “No and that is the problem. You don't think through these things enough Hattie before you undertake them. I spent a whole day with the Thames River police searching for your body. All the while I was trying to think of what to say to your uncle. How to explain to him how I had failed to bring you safely home.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. When he took them away, she saw the lines of fatigue etched on his features.

  The lightness she had felt only a moment or two ago disappeared under the weight of Will's revelations. After searching in vain for her, he had thought her dead. She had been the cause of his pain.

  “Then I discover that your uncle left for the United States of America over four years ago. I tell you it took all my strength not to march up to you and wring your bloody neck when I finally saw you at St. Paul’s.”

  “Oh,” was all she could manage in reply.

  “Yes oh. You have no idea what your lies have done. Do you?”

  Fear began to burn in the pit of her stomach. If Will had seen her at St. Paul’s cathedral what else had he seen? She silently berated herself for having made such an open appearance in public so soon after returning to London.

  “One of the things which we will need to discuss is the matter of your brother Edgar. I spoke to him after the service.”

  “What did you say?” she stammered.

  “Not a lot. I did not know who he was at first. I just noticed that you appeared more than a little interested in him and his wife. To be honest I suspected he might be a secret paramour. Someone who had been the real reason why you jumped ship. After all the lies you had told me, how was I to know that he was not another of your lovers. For all I knew you could have fled England, only to have changed your mind and tried to return to him.”