Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999)

by Nichols, Mary

  ‘Oh, my dear, do not grieve,’ his lordship said. ‘He will come safely home.’

  She fumbled for a handkerchief in the pocket of her gown and scrubbed at her eyes, unable to tell him the true reason for her tears. ‘Yes. I am sorry.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ he said, patting her hand. ‘We will soon be there and then perhaps I can persuade the War Minister to recall him, eh?’

  They stopped only to change the horses and have something to eat, and arrived at Beauworth House in Hertford Street late the same night. The Earl kept a number of servants there even when he was not in residence and their rooms were soon prepared and a meal put before them.

  ‘Tomorrow I shall go to Horse Guards,’ his lordship told her, as they ate. ‘You will want to visit your uncle and stepmama. Take the coach. I can hire a chair.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, wishing Jack could have been there to accompany her. She needed his support. But visiting her old home would take her mind off what might be happening at Horse Guards.

  It certainly did that. She dressed in the finest of her new gowns, a pale lemon silk with a deep fringe at the hem and a wide yellow-and-amber striped sash at the waist. The narrow sleeves ended in a deep frill and her shoulders were draped with a gathered scarf pinned above the cleft of her breasts with a large ornamental brooch. It was one Lady Beauworth had persuaded her to buy in Winchester and was only moderately expensive. Her hat had a tall crown and was trimmed with curling feathers. An amber-coloured pelisse, satin pumps and fine yellow kid gloves completed the outfit.

  She smiled to herself as the Earl’s carriage drew up at the rectory door. That would set her stepmother in a flurry and she would be dashing about giving orders about how her illustrious caller was to be received, not realising who it was.

  Kitty was unable to suppress a smile when she saw the thunderstruck look on the maidservant’s face when she opened the door. ‘Miss Kitty!’

  ‘Lady Chiltern,’ Kitty corrected her with a smile. ‘Would you please tell my uncle I am here.’

  ‘Yes, miss—I mean, my lady.’ The door was flung wide. ‘I’ll fetch him. Don’t go away.’ And she went running off to the rector’s study, quite forgetting to show Kitty into the presence of Mrs Harston.

  Alice, unable to contain herself in patience, came out into the hall to see an elegant young lady dressed in the height of fashion, standing alone peeling off her gloves. ‘Oh, forgive me, ma’am. Where has that stupid girl gone? She should have brought you straight to me. Servants these days are so useless, one is in despair of finding one who knows what is expected of her. Do come in. Oh …’ Her voice faded in shock as Kitty turned to face her. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘Yes, Stepmama, it is Kitty. And Annie has gone to fetch Uncle William.’

  ‘Oh, then you had better come into the drawing room. He will be down directly, though you are lucky to find him in. He is more often than not at Beresford Hall. Your grandfather has asked him to catalogue the library, you know.’

  She led the way into the drawing room. ‘As you see, nothing has changed. Sit down. When your uncle comes we will have tea. I must say, you have done very well for yourself. How did you manage to persuade Viscount Chiltern to take you on, I wonder? You had nothing to commend you. I never would have believed it if I had not met his lordship himself.

  ‘Such a gentleman,’ she went on, giving Kitty no opportunity to reply, not even when Annie came in with the tea tray and set it on the table at her side. She waved the maid away and continued without pause. ‘He and the Reverend spent a long time closeted together in the study, though what they had to talk about, I cannot imagine. There could be no question of a dowry. You had left home, cut yourself off …’ She looked up as the Reverend came into the room. ‘Ah, here is your uncle.’

  Kitty rose and ran to her uncle, dropping him a full curtsy. ‘Uncle William.’ She was too choked to go on.

  ‘Get up, Kitty, do. And give your uncle a kiss.’

  He was holding out his arms. She flung herself into them. ‘Oh, Uncle, it is so good to see you again. I am truly sorry if I hurt you. Please say you forgive me.’

  ‘Of course I forgive you. You are my niece, though why James should write to you of his problems and not to me, I do not know. And to swear you to secrecy! I have given him a very great scold.’

  Kitty had no idea what he was talking about, but dare not say so. ‘Oh, but you should not blame James.’

  ‘No, for some of it must be put at the door of young Chiltern. Spies, agents, I never heard the like. If James needed money for his clandestine work, why did he not ask me for it? He should have known you would have to borrow it.’

  She was beginning to see daylight. ‘I think he did not want to trouble you, especially as you do not approve of war and fighting. And I don’t suppose he thought I would be so foolish as to take it to him myself.’

  ‘So he said.’ He sighed. ‘Ah, well, we will say no more of it. Edward Lampeter has been repaid and you have come back married. Are you happy, child?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied.

  ‘Who wouldn’t be, married to the heir to an earldom?’ Alice put in, pouring tea. ‘That can’t be bad. I am so thankful I advised your uncle against that match with Edward Lampeter. After all, he is nothing but a sea captain and his father a mere baronet.’

  ‘He is also a very nice man, Stepmama,’ Kitty said. Her stepmother did not change; she was still manipulating the truth to suit herself, forgetting that she was the one who had wanted to send Kitty away. Now it pleased her to think she had been instrumental in marrying Kitty off so advantageously.

  ‘Yes, of course. Now, drink your tea and we will go up to the nursery to see Johnny. I wonder if he will remember you. Children forget so easily, do they not?’

  Johnny had not forgotten her. He showered her with kisses and exclaimed rapturously over the toy soldiers she had brought him as a present, asking her if she was going to stay.

  ‘No, my love, but I shall visit you again and you may come and visit me soon.’

  She took her leave and returned to Beauworth House, thankful to escape Alice’s sharp tongue. How her uncle bore it, she did not know. Even if she and Jack never lived together, if the marriage came to an end, she would not live at home again. Too much had happened and she knew Alice would never let her forget her infamous conduct, whatever her uncle said; there would be hints and innuendo and cruel taunts, just as there always had been. Whatever happened, she would keep her hard-won independence.

  Her father-in-law had only in the last hour returned from Horse Guards. ‘All day I’ve been there,’ he complained to Kitty, as soon as she had taken off her pelisse and hat and joined him in the withdrawing room. ‘Everyone seemed intent on passing me on to someone else. They were too polite to tell me to go away, but too cautious to tell me what I wanted to know. I had to go right to the top, the Minister himself.’

  ‘What did he say? Is he going to recall Jack?’

  ‘He said he could not. He said communication was so bad, he could do nothing until Jack himself sent word.’

  ‘But what is he doing in France? He cannot save the whole French nobility single-handed.’

  His lordship smiled a little grimly. ‘No, but he might try to save one in particular, someone extra special …’ He paused.

  ‘The Queen?’ she queried. ‘The young King?’

  ‘I am sworn to secrecy,’ he said enigmatically, but she knew she was right by the look in his eyes.

  ‘It is, though, isn’t it? Oh, how could they ask it of him? Surely her Majesty is closely guarded?’

  ‘Undoubtedly she is. We must pray for a successful outcome.’ He paused and reached across to take her hand. ‘I have been told that the Lady Lucia with Captain Lampeter on board is standing by off the coast of Brittany to take them all to safety.’

  ‘If they succeed.’

  ‘Even if they do not, the sloop will wait two days for Jack.’

  ‘When is the attempt to
be made?’

  ‘I was not told the exact date. The Minister told me he had already given me more information than he should have done and we must be content with that.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’ But it was so very difficult to accept and her imagination was already running riot with all the things that could go wrong.

  He smiled reassuringly. ‘We will go home tomorrow and wait and pray for Jack’s safe return. And Kitty …’ He paused. ‘We will say nothing of this to anyone, do you understand?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Not even the Countess. Especially not the Countess. We must shield her from worry, she has had to endure enough already. Her country torn apart by bloodshed and her son so confused and unhappy, he must expunge it by flinging himself into ever more dangerous situations. But now he has you and a chance to settle down. To be honest, I am a little peeved with him for volunteering to go. He had no business to leave you so soon after your wedding.’

  ‘I expect he thought it was his duty.’

  ‘Duty, bah! His duty is to you and his family. He is my only son and heir and I want to see a grandson before I call in my accounts. If I lost him …’

  ‘Oh, pray that you do not,’ Kitty said, reaching out to touch his arm.

  He took her hand from his sleeve and squeezed it. ‘This is no way to go on, is it? We will be patient and cheerful.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Can you not call me Father? I should like that very much.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ she said, shyly. She was beginning to love this man and the thought of disappointing him as a daughter-in-law weighed heavily on her. She sensed that he needed her, that her presence was a comfort to him in the absence of his beloved son. ‘We will go home.’

  If only Jack would come back, if only they could somehow learn to get along together.

  The forger had been busy again and Jack now had a new identity. His cover as Jacques Faucon was blown. Now he was Pierre Bandol, a gunsmith. Because there had been mass conscription of all young men to fight the war that was sapping the country’s life-blood along with that spilled daily in the Place de la Guillotine, he was obliged to pretend to be lame and had practised a strange limping gait, as if one leg were longer than the other. It was tiring, but it did mean he was left alone when recruits were rounded up and marched off to be soldiers.

  The Luxembourg and Tuilleries Gardens had been turned into massive forges and the fires were kept going night and day, making weapons. In the buildings nearby women were set to work stitching tents and uniforms, and children were making bandages. Men too old to fight were directed to repair roads and public places and encouraged to preach patriotism, the invincibility of the Republic and the hatred of kings.

  The need for more and more weapons made it easy for Jack to find work, to listen to gossip, to find out exactly where in the Conciergerie the Queen was held. It was becoming even more urgent that something was done because there was open talk of putting her on trial for treason. But it seemed no one had any communication with the prisoner. She was kept in solitary confinement and even her guards had guards and were watched.

  It was the end of August before any progress could be made. After weeks of careful nurturing the prison administrator, a former lemonade seller called Michonis, was persuaded to let the Queen have a visitor.

  The Chevalier de Rougeville, who had led the Queen to safety from the attack on the Tuilleries just before the royal family were taken to the Temple prison, was allowed to have a few words with Antoinette and left her a message hidden in a carnation. ‘We have men and money at your service. I will come Friday.’

  ‘Now, we wait,’ he said to Jack and the other conspirators when he met them afterwards in the cellars of a wine merchant. ‘And pray she found the message. I was watched all the time and could give no indication that she should examine the flower.’

  It was one of her guards, a man named Gilbert and a distant cousin of Jack’s, who brought her reply, pricked out with a pin on a scrap of paper. ‘I am watched. I speak to no one. I trust you. I shall come.’

  The scene was set for one of the most daring attempts of rescue Jack had ever been involved in. Shortly before eleven on Friday the second of September, dressed as a guard, he accompanied Michonis and Gilbert to the Queen’s cell, deep inside the prison.

  The room was only a few feet square, sparsely furnished with three beds, one for the Queen, one for her woman and one for the two guards who never left her. It had no fireplace and no lighting, save for a glimmer of light which came from a lamp in the courtyard. It was bitterly cold and had a sour-sweet smell of medicines and herbal concoctions, having once been the prison pharmacy.

  Jack was shocked that the queen of a great country like France should be treated so harshly, but he could say nothing, nor show her any politeness or good manners. He did not speak at all and neither did Gilbert.

  ‘I have orders to conduct the Widow Capet back to the Temple,’ Michonis told the guards.

  Flanked by Gilbert and Jack, dressed as a gendarme, and preceded by Michonis, the Queen left the cell and began to walk down a long corridor and through several gates, each of which had to be unlocked. So far so good. There was only one more to be unlocked and then they would be at the main exit, where Rougeville waited with a carriage. Nervously Michonis fumbled with the keys, but at last they were through and could see the dim outline of a vehicle in the courtyard.

  Suddenly Gilbert stopped. ‘What ails you, man?’ Jack demanded.

  ‘I saw something,’ he whispered, shaking from head to toe with fear. ‘A guard with a musket, hiding in the shadows.’

  Jack looked. ‘There is no one there. Come on, we have no time to lose.’

  ‘I can’t. It is not right …’

  Jack was all for knocking him down and continuing without him, but Michonis himself seemed to lose his nerve. He placed himself before the Queen, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting. ‘Go back.’ He glanced towards the main gate as he spoke. The sentries there were watching them intently, their muskets off their shoulders, ready for use. ‘Our bluff has been called. Go back, citoyenne, back to your room.’

  The Queen gave one despairing look at Jack, turned and walked slowly back through the gates they had just left, followed by Michonis and Gilbert. The sentries moved forward, muskets pointing. Jack could not go back into the prison; his only hope of escape lay with Rougeville, who was pacing impatiently beside the carriage, wondering what had delayed them.

  He strode towards the sentries, hoping they had not recognised the Queen. ‘A slight hitch,’ he said, and passed them at a run. They levelled their muskets and called to him to halt. ‘Get into the coach!’ he yelled at Rougeville, as bullets spattered round him. Rougeville, startled, ran back to the coach and scrambled inside, holding the door open for Jack, while the driver whipped up the horses.

  They rattled out of the courtyard followed by musket fire, across the bridge and into the maze of alleys on the north side of the river. Behind them they could hear shouts of command and the sound of horses in pursuit.

  ‘What happened in there?’ Rougeville demanded.

  ‘Gilbert got cold feet.’ Jack had been hit by a musket ball and his arm was hurting him. ‘We were within a hair’s-breadth of pulling it off and the spineless fool has to go and be frightened by a shadow. Michonis realised the game was up and quietly took the Queen back where she came from.’

  ‘Damn! We’ll never have another chance to save her. They’ll be doubly watchful now. Did they recognise you?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it is of little consequence. I am not going to go anywhere for a little while.’

  Alerted by his tone, his companion turned to look at him. ‘You’ve been wounded?’

  ‘Yes. And please do not suggest taking me to a hospital.’

  ‘You need attention.’

  ‘I’ve had all the attention I need, I thank you, sir. I’ll get out here.’ He put his head out to tell the driver to stop. �
��You save yourself.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Best you don’t know.’ He opened the door and yelled at the driver. ‘I told you to stop, damn you. At least slow down.’

  Reluctantly the man pulled the horses up, but long before the wheels had stopped turning Jack had jumped into the road. He stumbled and put his hand against a wall to save himself, jarring his injured arm, forcing a grunt of pain from him. The coach rattled on and he dashed into an alley as their pursuers passed.

  Ten minutes later he half-walked, half-fell into Jean Clavier’s furniture workshop among the wood shavings and chair legs.

  ‘Jack! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’ his friend demanded. ‘And wounded too. Well, do not say I did not warn you. Come on, let me get you upstairs. Thérèse will bind you up.’ He put Jack’s good arm about his shoulder and helped him up the stairs and into his living quarters. ‘But do not tell us what happened. We do not want to know.’ He gave a cracked laugh, as he guided him through the sitting room into a bedroom beyond it. ‘Not that it would help much if a wounded man were seen coming in. There is a new law. Anyone can denounce anyone anonymously. They call it the Law of the Suspect.’

  ‘I know. I do not ask you to hide me. Simply bind me up and let me be on my way.’

  Jean let him down onto a bed. ‘Where do you go?’

  ‘Home.’ The sound of the word conjured up visions of England, of Chiltern Hall, of his parents and Kitty. Most of all, of Kitty. He had been a fool not to tell her he loved her, a bigger fool not to stay at home where it was safe and where they could learn to love each other. She had a great capacity for love, he knew that without being told; all he had to do was make her fix some of it on him.

  Edward Lampeter on Lady Lucia was standing by off the coast of Brittany, watching for the signal to send a boat ashore to pick up the Queen and her rescuers. They had failed, but he must still make it to the rendezvous and then home. Home and Kitty.

  Thérèse was digging around in his wound, trying to find the musket ball, and the pain was making him sick and dizzy. Jean handed him a bottle of cognac and he gulped at it. It dulled the edge of the pain. Kitty hovered in a kind of fog just out of his reach. He lifted an arm feebly beckoning her to come to him. Thérèse put it back under the covers.