***
Catherine would have been surprised by how much Xander did notice. He also spent a restless night, his own mind in turmoil about what had happened in the garden. He had behaved outrageously with an innocent young girl, and what’s more to one that he loved beyond measure. He vowed to put things right. He would beg her forgiveness and ask her to marry him. She might refuse, and he could hardly blame her if she did, but he hoped that once he’d told her the depth of his feelings, she might feel kinder towards him. Not that he deserved her kindness. But if she let him, he would spend a lifetime making it up to her.
He awoke early in the morning, full of self-loathing, and it took him a moment or two to work out what had disturbed him at such an hour. He realized he’d heard the front door close.
He got out of bed and went to the window, which overlooked the square, and saw Catherine at the end of the road, dressed in her blue travelling coat, and carrying a small bag.
“No!” he exclaimed, guessing at once that she was running away. He called to his valet, barking orders for a horse to be ready on the double, and quickly dressed in his jodhpurs and riding jacket. “Let me know the moment the horse is ready,” he said. “Don’t waste a moment!” He also guessed Catherine would not go without leaving a note for Alyssa, and it would give him some indication of where she was going.
In his desperate state, he burst into Catherine’s bedroom, and, as he’d thought, found the note on the dressing table. He had no compunction about reading it and hoped that Miss Alyssa would understand his urgency.
“My dearest Alyssa,” he read. ”For reasons I cannot say, I have to go away. I am going to remind Cousin George of his responsibilities, and hope that he will allow me to return to Willoughby Manor. I know that you and Mr. Harrington will be very happy, and I wish you both all the love in the world. Please help Kitty to find another position as I am unable to take her with me. I am sorry to leave in such a way, darling, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Tell Mr. Oakley, I’m sorry. He will know why. Your devoted sister, Catherine.”
“Sorry?” he whispered. “Catherine … darling …” She had nothing to be sorry for. He was the fool who’d frightened her away!
Even though he knew where she was going, he still found himself searching her room for more clues, whilst he waited for his horse to be ready. Under the bed he found her sketch pad, and idly flicked through it. “Oh my love…” he murmured, as he found page after page of his own face staring back at him.
“What’s happening?” Alyssa had heard the commotion and came dashing into Catherine’s room.
“Catherine has run away.”
“What?”
Xander handed her the note. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have read it. But it’s essential I know where she’s going.”
“But she’s all alone,” said Alyssa, tears filling her pretty eyes. “Who will take care of her? Cousin George won’t. He doesn’t care about us at all. What if he throws her out onto the street?”
“I’ll bring her back, Miss Alyssa, I promise,” said Xander. “Then we’ll both take care of her.”
Chapter Eight
As Xander was mounting his horse, Andrew arrived in a carriage. “Xander!”
“I can’t stop, Andrew. Miss Willoughby has run away. I’m going to bring her back.”
“You need to hear this. The two names Miss Willoughby gave you from the forged army documents?”
“What about them?”
“They were sisters, both dressmakers, but were accused of being enemies of the Revolution, because they’d made gowns for Marie Antoinette and other ladies at the French court. They were guillotined in the first year of The Terror, Xander.”
“But who would know that unless they had a list of all those executed?” Xander pondered.
“Exactly. It’s enough to make them seem trustworthy, if they opposed the Revolution.”
“But why are they leaving for America?” said Xander. “Unless they’re planning to assassinate the king, then leave the country immediately.”
“But at least now we know who to look out for at all the ports.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Xander. “In the past few days I’ve felt there’s been someone watching the house. It may be my imagination, but my hunches are usually correct. I think we need to talk to His Majesty about cancelling the parade. It’s too dangerous. I’ll see to it when I return. At the moment I’m more concerned about Miss Willoughby.”
“Try not to worry too much, Xander. Miss Willoughby has a bit more about her than most young women we know.”
It was not what Xander wanted to hear. He wanted to believe that she desperately needed his care and protection even if it was only to prevent her having to rely on Cousin George.
He galloped off in the general direction that Catherine had taken, hoping that he would easily catch up with her before she got to the coach company, but there was no sign of her. She must have walked much faster than he imagined. When he reached the coach company he made enquiries, but was assured that no young lady of her description had been there that morning.
It didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t use the nearest coach company, unless she feared being followed. He began to wonder just how upset she was, and felt his heart grow heavy. He hated to think of her wandering the streets of London in such a state. Anyone might take
advantage of her.
With no real clue of where he was going, he rode through the streets near to the coach company, hoping that perhaps she had just become lost and was approaching it by a different route. Each time he traced his path back to the coach company, but they still insisted they had not seen her. As time went on, he became more and more concerned for her welfare. He was on the approach to Blackfriars Bridge, and was about to pass a man and a street urchin involved in a loud argument, when he noticed what they were fighting over. It was a blue bonnet and the one he had seen Catherine wearing that very morning.
“You’re a little thief, that’s what you are,” said the man, striking out at the child.
“No, I’m not. I’ve got to help the lady,” said the boy.
Xander jumped down from his horse, and stopped the man just as he was about to clip the boy around the ear. “If you strike the child again, I shall strike you. Be on your way, Sir.” As the disgruntled man walked away, Xander crouched down so that he was near to the boy’s height. The child was very undernourished, and small, but Xander guessed him to be about ten years old. “Now tell me about the lady who owns this hat. And I shall know if you lie.”
“I’m not lying, Sir, honestly I’m not. They took her in a carriage, and went across the bridge with her.”
“Slow down. Where did this happen? I want to know everything.” Xander’s heart pounded in his chest. His instinct was to get on his horse and chase off over the bridge in hot pursuit, but he knew he had to get as much information as possible, to know what he was dealing with. “First of all, what’s your name?”
“I’m Edward, Sir, but everyone calls me Ned. She was walking, Sir.” He named the street on which he had last seen her. “And this black carriage stops by her and a lady – an older lady with bright red hair - sticks her head out the window. They was talking nice to begin with, though I don’t think the young lady liked the other one. She was all stiff, like and not wanting to talk. Then the two men jumped off the carriage and put a sack over the young lady’s head. They knocked off her bonnet, Sir, and then puts her into the coach. I followed them, Sir, as fast as I could, and they come this way, towards Blackfriars Bridge. I thought if I seen where they went, I could tell someone about the young lady being ab … ab … stolen like, and where they took her. But this man thought I’d stolen the hat, and I didn’t, Sir, honestly I didn’t. I was just trying to help the pretty young lady. There’s men that steal pretty ladies and make them do horrible things, Sir. They took my sister, Mary and we’ve never seen her since, but every night, mother says a prayer for her soul, saying
that she will have been forced into wickedness but that she hopes God will forgive her.”
Xander could have done without the last bit of information. It only increased his fear for Catherine’s safety. But his instinct told him otherwise. Catherine hadn’t been taken for that reason.
“The lady with red hair, did you happen to hear her name?”
“I think the young lady said it, Sir. It was Sum … Sum … Summat …”
“Somerson?”
“Yes, that’s it, Sir. There was another lady in the carriage as well, Sir. I only saw her quickly. She was dressed like a maid but she was bossing everyone about like she was in charge.”
“The French maid…” Xander had heard the gossip about Phoebe’s maid, but had dismissed it as xenophobia. There were a lot of French people living in England, having escaped The Terror, and not all of them were enemies. Now he began to wonder. It could be that Phoebe was just paying him back for dropping her, but that didn’t make sense. Kidnapping Catherine was too extreme for what was merely the end of a love affair.
A different picture was beginning to form, albeit hazily. The people he believed were watching the house, the rumours that Phoebe’s maid liked to listen at doors. Was it all linked? Catherine’s abduction, Phoebe’s French maid and the attempt on the king’s life? Whatever the reason for her abduction, he had to find her and quickly.
“You’re a good, brave boy,” Xander said to Ned. “You’re also clever. You remember important things, and not many people do. I happen to know the Captain, and he could use lads like you.” The little boy seemed to grow several inches taller. “Now I want you to do something for me. Go to my house.” Xander gave him the address. “Ask for Mr. Harrington. Can you remember that name?”
“Yes, Sir. Mr. Harrington.”
“Take this bonnet with you and tell Mr. Harrington that it’s Miss Willoughby’s.”
“Is that the pretty lady, Sir?”
“That’s her. Tell Mr. Harrington everything you’ve told me, and that he’s to come to Mrs. Somerson’s house in Surrey and bring help. I’ll be waiting there for him. Are you sure you can remember all that?”
“Yes, I can, Sir. I hope the young lady will be alright, Sir.”
“So do I, Ned. If you do all this, you can ask Mr. Harrington to give you a half a crown. Mind you don’t ask for anymore or the Captain will be really angry with you when I tell him.”
“I won’t ask for anything, Sir. I just want to help the lady.”
“Yes, you must be paid for your services. Or I’ll be angry with you. After you’ve spoken to Mr. Harrington, I want you to ask for Miss Alyssa, and tell her I said she’s to give you some breakfast. Then tell her where you and your mother live. She’s Miss Willoughby’s sister, and I know they will want to call on you when Miss Willoughby is safe. Now tell me everything I’ve asked you to do.”
Ned stumbled on a few things, but he remembered the most important points. “Good lad,” said Oakley. “Now go. Hurry.”
Xander galloped across Blackfriars Bridge, hoping that he’d made the right guess about where Phoebe and her maid would take Catherine. If he was wrong, it didn’t bear thinking about.
***
Even without the sack covering her, Catherine had no idea where they were going. She guessed from the position of the sun that they were going south, but as she had never travelled south of London before, she had no idea what county they were in.
They travelled for about an hour and a half, before reaching an old manor house that was practically falling apart. The carriage didn’t go up the approach to the manor house. Instead it stopped near to the gatehouse, which was just as dirty and run down.
“Get out,” said Celine. “And don’t even think of running away. We’re miles from the nearest town.”
Catherine got out of the carriage, closely followed by Mrs. Somerson. She’d hardly spoken throughout the trip. Celine was most definitely in charge of events. She led Catherine into the gatehouse and up a rickety staircase. There were two doors at the top. The maid opened one and pushed Catherine into it.
“Everything you need is in there. You’ve got until midnight tonight to give us the documents we require.”
“That’s impossible,” said Catherine, even though she knew it wouldn’t be that difficult. “I have no idea what to do.”
“If you’re trying to stall for time, forget it. My sister may have the brains of a sparrow, but I don’t.”
“Mrs. Somerson is your sister?”
“Yes. She has her uses, being the one born with looks.”
Catherine felt the anger rising in her as she thought how Phoebe had misled Xander. Did they suspect even for a moment he was the Captain? “Why are you doing this?”
“If you think you can stall by asking me too many questions, you’re wrong.”
“No, really, I’m interested. My brother Jimmy said you had a noble cause, and I just wondered if that was true.”
“As far as we’re concerned it is. Not that we gave Mr. Willoughby the details. Phoebe told him we were helping some friends in France. He’d never have agreed if he’d known the truth. You’ve never seen the real London. The people who starve on the street whilst that coxcomb of a Prince spends fortunes on parties and women, and the king is mad, everyone knows that. It’s time this government was shaken up.”
“You’re going to kill the king? That’s what this is about…”
“It will show strike a blow at the heart of your government and let the paupers know that others care about them.”
“I’d agree with you,” said Catherine, “about the inequality. I’m not as blind to others suffering as you think. But I think you’re lying. I don’t think you care what happens to the poor. Not after the way I saw your sister treat Kitty. Your sister has no regard for the lower classes at all. I think you’re doing this for money, because your sister’s house is falling apart to such an extent she dare not live in it, and because she wants to be part of the society you say she despises. That’s her reason, anyway. I’m not quite sure about yours, though I do wonder if you really are half-French.”
Celine smiled and bowed slightly. “I am indeed. Phoebe is my half-sister. We have the same father, but my mother was French. He dropped her the moment he found himself a rich English wife. “
“And so you hate the English?”
“Yes.”
“As reasons go it’s pathetic,” said Catherine. “I’d suggest you get over it. The English as a whole are not responsible for what your father did. But I fear you enjoy the bitterness too much. Or maybe it’s just the money your French masters pay you.” Even as she spoke, Catherine wondered if she was being entirely fair. Society did set certain expectations on people in regard to whom they married. But was French society any different? She doubted it. Those in power, as far a she knew, behaved the same the world over.
“That’s easy for you to say, the daughter of a gentleman farmer, with a foot in society no matter how poor you are, as long as you have a rich benefactor like Mr. Oakley. It’s a pity, Miss Willoughby,” Celine said, changing her tack slightly. “I think I could quite like you in different circumstances. You’re a very astute young lady. I also know you’ve no money either, which is why you forged that note about Mr. Oakley’s guardianship. Yes, I was listening at the door. Join us, and you can have all the money you want. We may have different reasons for disliking this society, but there’s no reason why we can’t work together to bring it to its knees. ”
“Whatever my personal feelings about excesses of the rich, I would never become involved in a plot to kill him. Particularly as it means working for our enemies. Do you really believe your revolutionary council cares anymore about the poor in France than our royalty do about the poor in Britain? The French working people are just as hungry now as they were before the Revolution began. Only the names of those in charge have changed. Their excesses still go on. And if you think you could destabilize the British monarchy by killing the king, you�
��re very much mistaken. You forget that we’ve already lost one monarch to revolution, and England survived it, and brought the monarchy back.”
“Not quite as clever as I thought then. Otherwise you would have at least pretended in order to save your life. If you’re good, we’ll bring you food and drink later. Now get to work.” Celine left the room, slamming the door shut. Catherine heard the key turning in the lock.
Looking around properly for the first time, Catherine found herself in a tiny room with a grimy looking truckle bed, and a chair and table. On the table was a pile of paper, the same letter from the nobleman with an example of his handwriting, a sheet of paper bearing two more women’s names, writing implements and a candle. They’d thought of everything.
Imitation of Love Page 8
