But it was already too late. She had had her first taste of bestiality and man’s inhumanity to man, and he did not suppose it would be her last. He bent to put his lips to her forehead as he heard a step on the stair which was followed by a light tap at the door. He got up to open it.
‘Lucie, thank you for coming. Ma’amselle needs your help. She has had an unfortunate accident.’ He stood aside and the girl hurried to the bed, gasping when she realised what had happened to Kitty.
‘She will live?’
‘Praise God, she will live, but she must stay here until she mends. Will you look after her?’
‘Of course, monsieur.’ She stopped to correct herself. ‘Citoyen. But where is her maman?’
‘Dead.’
‘Not …?’ She looked down at Kitty’s neck. ‘Not that …?’
‘Yes, I am afraid so. I do not know if she realises it yet, but when she wakes, we must break it to her gently.’
‘Oh, la pauvre! We must fetch a doctor.’
‘No.’ The word was almost snapped and he regretted it instantly. ‘I’m sorry, Lucie, but it is obvious what has happened to her and the doctor would not treat her without informing the authorities. We cannot afford to be investigated. In truth, no one must know we are here …’
‘But if she should die?’
‘She will not die. She had already started to recover when I gave her a sleeping draught.’ He smiled to reassure her. ‘We will see how she goes tomorrow, eh?’
‘Very well. I will watch over her. You must go to your own bed, you look exhausted.’
‘I am. Merci, ma petite.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and went to his own room. Three days and nights with hardly any sleep had taken their toll, and he had hardly pulled off his clothes and flung himself on his bed before he was out to the world.
A weak winter sun was shining in at the window when Kitty woke. She turned her head and saw Lucie sitting in an armchair beside the bed. The light played on her blonde hair, turning it to iridescent gold; she made Kitty think of angels. ‘Where am I?’ she croaked.
‘Dieu soit béni! You are awake. Do not try to talk. I will fetch monsieur.’
She hurried away and presently Jack came into the room. Lucie had evidently caught him in the middle of dressing for he was wearing black trousers and a rough shirt, but no neckcloth or waistcoat.
‘How are you?’ he said, sitting on the side of the bed.
‘Sore.’ It was no more than a whisper. ‘I can’t talk.’
He grinned. ‘A silent woman, now there’s a thing!’ He paused and looked closely at her, putting his hand on her brow. Thank heaven, there was no fever, her eyes were bright and there was a little more colour in her cheeks. ‘You do know how lucky you are, don’t you?’
‘Yes, and I must thank you. If you hadn’t come when you did I …’ She shuddered. ‘Judith …?’
His heart was wrenched with pity, but he could see no way to soften the blow. ‘I am sorry I was too late to save her.’
‘What … will … happen to her? Will someone take her down?’
‘Yes. I will see that she is buried.’
‘Those dreadful women. Like animals, screeching for blood …’
‘They were hungry and their children starving.’
She was astonished. ‘You condone what they did?’
‘No, of course not, but they have been taught to hate the aristocracy as the cause of all their ills and hate dies hard.’
‘They had no reason to hate us. I was pushed over. Judith tried to stop them trampling on me.’
‘That was all?’
‘They did not like our petticoats.’
‘Petticoats!’
‘Said they were too fine and we must be aristos.’
‘You had them on under your rags?’ If he had known that before they left Calais, he would have insisted on them being removed.
‘Yes. We were cold without them.’
‘You didn’t give your name, or that of Faucon?’ If his cover was blown, he must find a new identity and quickly.
‘No.’ She began to cough and he picked up a glass of water and held it to her lips. When she had swallowed a little she pushed his hand away. ‘We said nothing.’
He scrutinised her carefully, deciding that being soft would not do, he had to make her realise her predicament or they would all be lost. ‘Did you not realise that when I told you to stay with Jean, I had a very good reason for doing so and expected to be obeyed?’
‘You did not come back.’
‘I was detained. You should have waited.’
‘Your friends did not want us, they were afraid.’
‘Everyone is afraid. Now, in future, you will obey me to the letter, do you hear?’
She nodded. What else could she do? She was virtually his prisoner. All her money had been taken; she was penniless and entirely in his hands. She was not even sure that he had her welfare at heart. Had he even looked for her brother or simply gone about his own business, whatever that was?
‘James …?’
‘Your brother has disappeared.’
‘You looked for him?’
‘Of course I looked for him. Do you think I wanted to be saddled with a couple of silly women? There is nothing I wish for more than for him to take charge of you. I could find no sign of him.’
She could not believe that, after all she had been through, she was not to be reunited with James. ‘Do you think he has been arrested? Or …’ she gulped, feeling the rawness of her throat ‘… hanged?’
‘I have certainly found no evidence of it. He may have sensed danger and decided to go home. I have yet to find out.’
‘What must I do?’
‘Nothing. You will stay here and get well. Lucie will look after you, but you will not attempt to go out and, if anyone comes to the house, you will hide. Lucie will show you where. Is that understood?’
She nodded. She must have imagined his tenderness of the night before, dreamed that he had kissed her; there was nothing tender about him now. What was he up to, that there had to be so much secrecy? Was he a criminal? She knew he would not answer if she asked him, but he could not be all bad because he had saved her life. Why had he bothered, if she was such a burden to him?
‘Good. Here is Lucie with some chicken broth for you. You must try and swallow it. I must go.’
‘Go? Go where?’
He smiled. ‘That’s another rule. No questions. The less you know, the better. You won’t always be dumb.’
He stood up and made way for Lucie to sit in his place. ‘Be good until I return.’ And, to Lucie, ‘She is not to get up. If she attempts it, you are to tie her to the bed.’
Lucie smiled at Kitty. ‘He does not mean it.’
‘Oh, yes, he does,’ he said. And with that he was gone.
Lucie sat by the bed and slowly spooned broth into Kitty’s mouth until she had drunk nearly a whole bowlful, then she helped Kitty to lie down and tucked the bedclothes about her.
‘Goodnight, ma’amselle,’ she whispered. ‘I will be in the next room, if you need me.’
Kitty watched her as she glided silently from the room and gently shut the door. She smiled as she heard the key turn in the lock; Lucie was going to make quite sure she obeyed Jack’s command.
Chapter Five
During the next two weeks, Kitty mended slowly. The bruises on her neck, though fading, were still visible and she still spoke with a rasping voice, but her hurt went deeper than bruises and that would take longer to heal. And the longer she stayed inactive, the more time she had to dwell on her culpability.
Oh, if only Judith had been saved too! She missed the old servant, she missed her warm affection, even her scolding, and wished she had taken more notice of her. Judith’s death was on her conscience and she would have nightmares about it for the rest of her life. She turned her head into the pillow and wept silent tears of remorse and misery. ‘Forgive me, Judith, forgive me.’
Her confinement frustrated her and she longed to be able to dress and go downstairs, to go out and breathe fresh air, but Lucie would have none of it. ‘Monsieur said you must stay indoors,’ she said firmly.
‘He is a tyrant,’ Kitty whispered, when her latest request was denied her.
‘No, ma’amselle,’ Lucie said, putting a tray containing a bowl of soup in front of her and handing her a spoon to feed herself. ‘He is gentle and kind, but it is sometimes necessary for him to be firm. It is for our own good.’
‘Do you always obey him?’
‘Always.’
‘When did you meet him? Is he your kin?’
Lucie laughed. ‘Kin? No, I am far, far beneath him.’
‘But you do love him.’
‘Naturellement, I do. I owe him my life. Just as you do.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘There is little to tell. I worked in the household of a duc, as a maid to the duchesse. They were ardent Royalists and were accused of taking part in the plot to help King Louis and his family flee the country. When they were arrested, the Duchess entrusted me with a letter to take to the Comte de Malincourt, a friend she thought might be able to help them. Unfortunately, I was searched on my way out of the château and arrested too.
‘Citizen Faucon heard of it and he came to my trial and told the court I could not read or write and did not know the importance of what I had been given. He said I was on my way to deliver the letter to the captain of the guard, believing it to be my duty. They believed him and I was released.’ She paused to make sure Kitty was swallowing the soup. ‘It was very brave of him to stand up in public like that. He risked his own safety for me and I can never sufficiently repay him.’
‘And now he has saved my life too,’ Kitty croaked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why was it such a risk for him to defend you?’
‘It is always a risk to cross the Public Prosecutor. It will be held against him if he is ever caught.’
‘Caught doing what?’
‘That I cannot tell you, ma’amselle.’
‘Cannot or will not?’
Lucie blushed crimson. ‘I have not asked him and I entreat you not to do so.’ She took the tray with the empty bowl from Kitty and stood up. ‘We have talked long enough and you must rest.’
The more Kitty learned about the enigmatic Jack Chiltern, the more puzzling she found him. The man Lucie had described was hardly the man she knew. The Jack Chiltern she knew hadn’t a sympathetic bone in his body. He had saved her life but, even after that, when she thanked him, he had cross-questioned her, more concerned with what she might have told those dreadful women about him than about how she felt. And he had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to be rid of her. And yet, in spite of that, he had rescued her.
Lucie stayed in the house and occasionally her mother arrived with provisions and gossip, but no one else came to the farmhouse and, so far, Kitty had not had to resort to hiding behind the wood panelling under the stairs. It had no window and was cramped and airless; on the one occasion she had rehearsed going into it, she had been beset by a horror of the dark, something that had never bothered her before coming to France, and only just managed to refrain from screaming.
Jack’s return, at the end of three weeks, was a great relief.
Lucie had allowed her to dress and go downstairs on her promise not to try and leave the house, a promise she gave willingly because all thoughts of trying to proceed alone had been driven from her by her terrible ordeal at the hands of the mob. It could so easily happen again. She was thankful Jack had made her leave her luggage at the farmhouse, so that she still had some clothes to wear.
As soon as he entered the room where she was struggling with the French in a book she had found on the shelf, she stood up, wanting to run into his arms, to tell him how pleased she was to see him and how much she had missed him, but she dare not. There was a moment of awkward silence while they stood and looked at each other, before she gave him a little curtsy. ‘I am glad to see you back, sir.’
He smiled. It had not taken her long to forget their intimacy and become once more a cool young lady of manners. But also a very beautiful young lady in her green silk dress, which fitted her slim waist and flowed over her hips to almost cover her dainty shoes. She had allowed her hair to fall loose on her shoulders, held back from her face with combs, and had filled the neckline of her dress with a lace fichu, in order to hide her throat, but he could still see a little of the purple bruising.
He gave her a sweeping bow. ‘Ma’am, your obedient. I hope I find you recovered.’
‘Indeed, yes. You see, I can speak again.’
The slight huskiness in her voice enhanced it and he was tempted to tell her so, to admit that he found her enchanting, but it was a temptation he stifled. ‘You will be pleased to know that I have news of your brother.’
‘You have?’ Her eyes lit with hope and she forgot their stiffness with each other. ‘Where is he? Is he well? What did he say?’
‘I have not seen or spoken to him, but I believe I know where he is.’
‘Then let us go to him at once.’
He smiled at her eagerness; she was simply asking to be teased. ‘Is my hospitality so lacking, my dear?’
‘No, no, I did not mean …’ She stopped, confused. ‘You have been very kind and I am not ungrateful, but I do so want to see my brother again. It is why I came to France in the first place.’
‘Is that so?’ he said laconically, seating himself on the sofa beside her. ‘Now, I thought it was something to do with a distaste for marriage …’
She coloured. ‘I have no distaste for marriage, I did not want to marry Edward Lampeter simply because he kissed me.’
‘Kisses mean nothing to you, then? Anyone may kiss you with impunity so long as they do not ask for your hand in marriage? I am relieved to hear that I shall not be expected to offer for you, after all.’
She stared at him, uncomprehending, making him laugh. ‘Had you forgot so soon? Perhaps I should remind you.’ He put a hand either side of her face, drawing it towards him. The temptation was almost overwhelming; her soft lips, slightly parted in surprise, were only inches from his. He smiled, tipped her head down and kissed her forehead before releasing her.
‘Sir,’ she said, refusing to admit, even to herself, that she had wanted him to kiss her, to experience again that extraordinary feeling of dizziness, of floating on air, of being moulded to his body as if they were one being, of hot sweet melting deep inside her. She wanted to know it if were real or she had dreamed it. But her behaviour on that occasion had not been ladylike and she did not want him to think she was always so wanton. ‘I do not need reminding that you are not a gentleman and care little for a lady’s sensibilities, and I should certainly refuse you should you have the impertinence to propose.’
He threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘Oh, well said, ma petite, but don’t you think it is too late? You are already my wife, or had you forgot?’ He paused and became serious. ‘Citizeness Faucon.’
‘Jacques Faucon does not exist, so how can he have a wife?’
‘I have papers to prove he exists.’
‘Forged.’
‘You know that for sure, do you?’
‘Of course I do. Jacques Faucon is not your name and, besides, you told me you were married.’
‘How do you know what my name is? How do you know that, in these heathen times, a wife cannot be discarded as easily as a grubby cravat, that a marriage ceremony is necessary? If the Jacobins have their way, the Church will become defunct. They have already confiscated the assets of many churches and sold off their lands to the highest bidders.’
‘I don’t believe that. You are just trying to frighten me, to make me do as you wish.’
He sat back and surveyed her, looking from her dainty feet, up over yards of green silk and her poor bruised neck to her face and expressive violet eyes, which betrayed her bewilderment. Did she rea
lly believe he could be so callous? She might be grateful to him for saving her life, but gratitude was not love or trust. He had nothing to complain of; he had done nothing to deserve either.
‘Enough of this banter,’ he said brusquely. ‘I am not coercing you into anything, but if you want to see your brother again, we have a long journey ahead of us and it were better you believed in Jacques Faucon.’
‘Long journey?’ she queried. ‘He is not in Paris?’
‘No, he has gone south to Lyons. We leave tomorrow. Be ready.’ He paused to pick up a handful of her silk skirt and rub it between finger and thumb. ‘As Citizeness Faucon.’
They set out at dawn, travelling in the old coach. Kitty, dressed in the common dress of a sans-culottes, sat on a cushion provided by Lucie. A rough blanket was tucked about her legs and there was a warm brick on the floor at her feet, though the balmy air was showing the first signs of spring. Her remaining clothes had been packed into her basket and were stowed away under the seat on which she sat.
‘If we are stopped, do not speak,’ Jack said, as he shut the door. ‘I do not want a repeat of your performance at the Paris barrière.’
‘Supposing I am asked a question?’
‘Then groan. I shall say you have a contagious fever. It might be enough to make inquisitive people keep their distance.’
‘How far do we have to go?’
‘Three hundred miles.’
‘Three hundred!’ She was aghast. ‘How long will that take?’
He grinned. ‘At six miles an hour, you work it out.’ He turned from her to make a final check of the harness. ‘And don’t forget the poor horse has to be rested regularly and we have to sleep.’
She stuck her head out of the window as he climbed on the driver’s seat. ‘Couldn’t we go post chaise?’
The question seemed to afford him a great deal of amusement; he chuckled but did not answer as he flicked the reins. ‘Walk on, Samson, my beauty.’
Kitty sat back on her cushion as they jolted down the lane to the road. They had hardly gone a mile when he turned off it again to avoid going through Paris.
Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999) Page 10
