Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999)

by Nichols, Mary

  After they had finished their meal they set out again and began to climb into the hills. To save the horse, they both got down to walk. The road became steeper and more broken and Jack began to fear for the carriage, as it jolted out of one pothole into another. There was a single roadmender half-heartedly throwing rocks into the worst of the holes and even as they passed him, he stopped and sat down on the side of the road to drink from a flask, watching them out of sight.

  Halfway up the hill they came to a village, surrounded by a broken wall. At the gate Kitty turned to look about her. The view over the valley below was breathtaking: rocky outcrops, stands of trees, shimmering lakes and terraced vineyards.

  ‘Our destination,’ Jack said, pointing at a large château which overlooked the town from the tree-clad hills above it.

  The old carriage rumbled over the cobbled streets of the little town with Kitty and Jack walking at the horse’s head. It seemed a typical hillside community, with lopsided wooden houses, a church with a very tall spire, a mill, a town hall, a fountain in the middle of the central square and an inn with a stableyard. She could not imagine many wayfarers passing through; the only road out of it, apart from the one climbing up from the valley, seemed to lead to the château.

  ‘What is this place?’ she asked. ‘And who lives at the château? Is James supposed to be here?’

  He smiled; never content with one question, she must always ask several at a time. ‘The village is called Haute Saint-Gilbert and the château is the home of my mother’s sister and her husband, the Marquis and Marchioness de Saint-Gilbert, or I should say the ci-devant Marquis and Marchioness, since titles have been abolished and he is simply a citizen like everyone else. And, yes, we may very well find your brother here.’

  ‘What is he doing here?’

  ‘You must ask him that.’

  As they climbed the last steep hill of their long journey, she began to wonder what Jack would do next. Would he hand her over to her brother and leave her? Six weeks before she had not wished for anything else, but now she realised she would miss him dreadfully. He had become necessary to her existence and without him she would crumble to dust and be borne away on the wind.

  He had kept her sane when nightmares troubled her; he had provided her with food and warmth, had entertained her with discourse and laughter, instructed her on the countryside, pointing out places of interest. He had been her guide on her very own Grand Tour. And now it was coming to an end.

  He had protected her from prying eyes, lied gallantly to ensure her safety as well as his own and, if he had sometimes been tyrannical, it was a tyranny of love not hate. She loved him. She knew hardly anything about him and yet she loved him. He was married and yet she loved him. Her footsteps slowed as she realised the enormity of her discovery and the hopelessness of it.

  ‘Come, I would have thought you would be all eagerness to be there,’ he said, stopping to wait for her to catch up.

  ‘Of course I am,’ she retorted. ‘But this slope is so steep I hardly know how to climb it.’

  ‘Nonsense! You have walked up far steeper ones in the last three weeks.’ He reached out to take her arm. ‘Here, let me help you.’

  She wrenched herself from his grasp, unable to bear his touch for fear of giving herself away. ‘I’m all right.’

  He looked sideways at her, wondering what had come over her. She was ill at ease, walking with her head down, as if she did not want to look at him or speak to him. He sighed. ‘What have I done wrong now?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then I wish you would look more cheerful. Your brother may see us coming and will surely think I have been ill-treating you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Why should he think that?’

  ‘You have a face like thunder and I do believe I could strike a tinder from the sparks in your eyes.’ He stopped and took her chin between his fingers and thumb and forced her to look at him. ‘Or are they tears?’

  ‘Of course not. Please release me.’

  He dropped his hand and pulled on the horse’s harness. ‘Come, Samson, just a few more yards and your work is done, then you may rest as long as you want.’

  Kitty looked up as he spoke and realised they were within a stone’s throw of the château, every bit as imposing at close quarters as it had been from the village below. It looked like a fairytale castle with steeply sloping roofs and several turrets and a huge oaken door which stood open to reveal a paved courtyard and a fountain. Jack led the horse and cart through it.

  A door opened to one side and a young lady flew out of it and ran towards them. ‘Jack! Jack!’ He stood with his feet apart, holding out his arms and she flung herself into them. Laughing joyously, he picked her up and swung her round and round, revealing a frou-frou of lace petticoats and silk stockings, while Kitty watched, her heart growing as heavy as lead.

  This must be his wife. She was so young, hardly more than eighteen, and Kitty’s notion that he had not talked about her because he did not care flew away. He had not spoken because he cared too much to share his thoughts with a mere stranger. This lovely girl was petite and pretty and beautifully dressed in pale aquamarine silk, with ribbons in her very pale hair.

  Kitty became acutely conscious of her rough peasant skirt and blouse and the darned shawl which she had draped about her shoulders. And, unlike the girl’s satin pumps, her shoes were so thin that even the smallest stone imprinted itself on the soles of her feet. She could not bear to look and turned away to pat Samson’s nose.

  ‘Oh, Jack, you do not know how I have longed to see you again.’ Kitty could turn away, but she could not shut out the sound of the young lady’s voice. ‘But how did you manage it? Are you going to stay this time?’

  ‘Questions, questions, questions,’ he said, setting her back on her feet. ‘Why are women so full of them?’ Reminded of Kitty he turned to her, only to realise she had disappeared. ‘Where is the pesky woman?’

  ‘You mean the citoyenne. Why, she went round to the back of the carriage. I must say, Jack, it is the most dilapidated vehicle I ever did see. And as for that animal …’ Her laughter pealed out, making him smile.

  ‘He brought us safely from Paris,’ he said. ‘Three hundred miles, as Kitty will vouch if I could only persuade her to come out of hiding.’ He went round the carriage and found her trying to pull her basket out from under the seat where it was wedged fast. ‘Leave that,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘A servant will see to it. Come and meet Nanette.’

  ‘Nanette,’ he said, drawing her forward. ‘This is Miss Kitty Harston.’

  ‘Kitty Harston,’ she repeated in astonishment. ‘You mean Jamie’s sister?’

  ‘I do, indeed.’

  She stared at Kitty, taking in her rough clothes and tangled hair, obviously doubtful as to the truth of the young woman’s identity. ‘But I thought you were a peasant. Whatever are you doing here?’

  ‘Now, that is hardly a welcome, ma petite,’ Jack remonstrated. ‘We have come a long way and we are dirty and tired …’

  ‘Oh, please forgive me, Miss Harston. I was so taken aback I forgot my manners. And Jack has forgotten his, too, for he has not introduced me. I am Nanette de Saint-Gilbert.’ She smiled at Jack. ‘And for my sins I am Jack’s French cousin.’

  ‘His cousin.’ The day was overcast but it seemed as though the sun had come out and flooded the courtyard with its warmth. This lovely girl was not Jack’s wife.

  ‘Yes. You do speak French, do you not?’

  ‘A little.’ Kitty curtseyed. ‘How do you do, ma’amselle.’

  ‘Come in. Come in. A bath and a meal first, I think. Papa and Mama are out visiting, but they will be back directly, and we will save the story of your journey until they arrive and we can all hear it together.’ She took Kitty’s arm as she spoke and led her into the house.

  ‘Mon frère …?’

  ‘You have just missed him. Jamie went to Lyons this morning. There is to be a meeting tomorrow.’

 
; ‘When do you expect him back?’ Jack asked, as he followed them into a vast marble-floored vestibule with an enormous fire which burned a log as big as a tree trunk.

  ‘I don’t know. The day after, perhaps. He was a little vague.’

  Jack groaned. The man was as elusive as a butterfly. What was he up to? What meeting? If he was stirring the mutterings of discontent into more rebellion, he must be stopped. It was too late to do anything tonight and he was dog-tired. Tomorrow he must find him and make him understand that people who went off at half-cock without proper orders were a danger to themselves and everyone else. James must take Kitty home.

  Nanette clapped her hands and servants appeared from everywhere. One was despatched to see to the fires in bedrooms, another to make up the beds, two others to fetch hot water and another to summon the cook for new instructions. The Revolution did not seem to have touched this out-of-the-way place; everything spoke of opulence. The furniture, the hangings, the carpets, the huge fires, the myriad of crystals in the chandeliers, the paintings on the walls, the carved oak staircase, the long windows, all spoke of great wealth.

  Kitty was led upstairs to a huge bedroom which had a magnificent view of the town nestling on the hillside. From here she could also see that there was another road down the mountain, small and winding and hidden for most of its length by trees.

  Servants bustled in to fill a bath before the fire, which was already warming the room. Kitty suspected that it was kept alight and only needed stirring up and more fuel added.

  ‘Take your time,’ Nanette told her, as a male servant arrived with her basket. ‘Let me have the gown you mean to wear, I will have it pressed for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kitty, who had very little choice in her basket, picked out a short-sleeved dress of blue muslin, with a deep frill at the hem and a fichu of white lace to fill its low neck. She handed it to Nanette, together with a fine lawn petticoat trimmed with lace, the same undergarment she had been wearing in Paris. She shuddered as she touched it, remembering again the humiliation of having it flung over her head, but pulled herself together and smiled at her young hostess.

  ‘You don’t know how much I have been looking forward to being clean and civilised again.’

  ‘I suppose that reprobate cousin of mine insisted on you dressing like that? It really is too bad of him.’

  ‘I believe it was necessary.’

  ‘Then you shall tell me all about it later.’ She turned for the door with the clothes. ‘I admire your courage, ma’amselle. I am quite sure I should never have endured it. Marie will help you dress and conduct you downstairs when you are ready.’

  The water was hot and scented with jasmine. Kitty soaked herself for nearly half an hour, until every vestige of grime from her journey had been washed away. The maid washed her hair and she sat before the fire to dry it, musing on the events which had brought her here. Less than two months before, she had been sitting in a bath and having her hair done before dressing for the Viscount’s ball.

  Young and naive, she had set out in a mood of excitement, looking forward to the dancing and the supper, of meeting one or two local eligibles, perhaps even the man of her dreams. He would be handsome and gallant and fall in love with her on sight. Instead she had been kissed by Edward Lampeter, whom she had known since childhood and who was definitely not the man her fantasies were made of.

  It was strange how something as innocent as a kiss could lead to this. A château in the middle of France in the company of a married man. She had no money, only two dresses and a filthy skirt to her name and that name tarnished forever. Would she, given her time over again, have stayed at home?

  No, a thousand times no. If she had stayed she would be betrothed to Edward by now, her future mapped out for her and she would not have met Jack. Chiltern or de Saint-Gilbert or Faucon, it did not matter; she loved him whatever his name. But she did have two regrets: Judith had died needlessly and Jack was married. Both gave her nightmares.

  Marie, the maid Nanette had assigned to her, returned with her petticoat and dress and laid them on the bed. ‘Shall I brush your hair, ma’amselle?’ Her voice impinged on Kitty’s reverie and she shook her sad thoughts from her. She must think of happy things, of James and their coming reunion. He was obviously staying at the castle and expected back so it would not be long now.

  She sat in her shift and petticoat while the maid did her best with her hair, which was inclined to be wayward and would not stay where it was put. Since Judith had cut it, it curled all over her head like a mop. ‘Do you wish for powder?’ the servant asked. ‘It might help it to stay down.’

  ‘No, thank you. A ribbon band will suffice.’

  Her reflection in the glass revealed a much thinner Kitty Harston than the one who had set out on what she had so naively called high old adventure, but it suited her, made her look older. She supposed she had matured. In a few short weeks she had changed from a schoolgirl into a woman. She stood up and allowed herself to be helped into her gown, then slipped on some pumps which Judith had packed for her and picked up her fan. ‘I am ready.’

  Chapter Six

  Kitty was conducted downstairs and along a wide corridor to a large room which overlooked terraced gardens, just beginning to show the green shoots of spring. It was luxuriously furnished, making her wonder again how it had escaped the ministrations of the sans-culottes.

  At first she thought she was alone, but a slight sound made her turn and she saw Jack standing by a bookcase with an open book in his hand. He had shaved and changed into black superfine breeches with white silk stockings and buckled shoes. His black velvet coat had diamond buttons; his jabot of fine lace cascaded over his embroidered blue waistcoat and ruffles of lace fell over his wrists. His hair, washed and brushed to a black sheen, was unpowdered and held back by a velvet ribbon. She was surprised that he had such finery in his small valise. Did it mean he meant to come here all along?

  He bowed formally. ‘Ma’amselle.’

  She curtsied. ‘Monsieur. I may call you monsieur now and not citizen?’

  ‘You may call me Jack, as you have been doing for the past few weeks.’ He put the book back on the shelf and walked towards her, surveying her from her dainty feet to her mop of dark curls and smiled. ‘The cygnet has become an elegant swan and I am overwhelmed.’

  It was true. He had always thought her beautiful in a gamine sort of way, an innocent, but now she took his breath away. Here was no schoolgirl, but a woman of startling attractions. The oval shape of her face, the expressive eyes, the firm mouth and clear-cut brows, the heavenly curved body filled him with desire.

  He had not been unaware of it when he held her in his arms each night, trying to keep her warm, to comfort her when nightmares invaded her sleep, but it was easier to think of her as a child. He could only thank God for the rough clothes, the lack of hot water to wash, the cold, and her fear of the bad dreams that had brought out the gentler side of his nature. Why had she come into his life when she had? The timing of it was all wrong. What future could they have?

  ‘Kitty …’ He took a step towards her, just as the door opened and Nanette came into the room, and whatever he had been going to say remained unsaid.

  Nanette, innocently unaware that she had interrupted anything, crossed the carpet and took both Kitty’s hands in her own and held them out to look at her. ‘Why, you are quite lovely,’ she said. ‘Jack, how could you bear to disguise her in that horrible garb she arrived in?’

  ‘It had to be done,’ he said. ‘Paris is a hotbed of revolutionaries. No one is safe.’

  ‘So Jamie told me, which was why he decided to come back with Papa after his visit to Paris last year.’

  ‘And found the delights of Haute Saint-Gilbert so beguiling he forgot he was supposed to meet me in Paris,’ Jack said. ‘It was damnably inconsiderate of him.’

  ‘He said there was plenty of time,’ she said, blushing and looking down at the toe of her slipper, peeping out from the hem of h
er gathered satin skirt. ‘He did not expect you so soon and he was not to know his sister would come looking for him, was he?’

  Jack smiled, noticing the flush in her cheeks. ‘Oh, I see. That is the way the wind blows, is it? And what does my illustrious Uncle Louis think of that?’

  ‘He is perfectly at ease with it. James is the grandson of an English viscount, after all, and he is a very presentable young man.’

  ‘With no prospects.’

  Kitty could not let that go. ‘Monsieur, I protest. Prospects are not everything, if two people are in love. He will come into something from our grandfather, even if it is not a great deal.’

  ‘I was not referring to material wealth, so much as his penchant for hurling himself into every adventure that comes his way with no thought for the outcome,’ Jack said; then, to Nanette, ‘Where is he now? What is this meeting all about?’

  Nanette shrugged. ‘I do not know.’

  ‘You think he is in danger?’ Kitty asked. ‘Oh, I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to him.’

  ‘What is going to happen?’ said a booming voice from the door.

  All three looked round to see a portly man in a square-cut blue frockcoat, short brocade waistcoat and cream cashmere breeches. His hair was long and heavily powdered.

  ‘Papa, look who is here,’ Nanette said. ‘Jack has brought Jamie’s sister to stay with us.’

  ‘His sister, eh?’ The Marquis advanced into the room and stood facing Kitty before inclining his head towards her. ‘Enchanté, ma’amselle.’

  Kitty curtsied. ‘My lord.’

  ‘Hush, child, there are no titles now. I am citizen along with everyone else.’ He turned to Jack and held out his hand. ‘Good to see you, boy. How goes it in Paris?’

  ‘Bad, I’m afraid. Anarchy. Hangings and beheadings and likely to be worse before it is better.’

  ‘That is precisely why I keep my head down. I give the peasants most of what they want and they leave us alone, it is as simple as that.’ He paused. ‘You were speaking of that pup Harston, I believe?’