Lord Kane's Keepsake

by Sandra Heath

  As he reached Lady Bagworth’s rose garden, he paused to tie some pieces of sacking over his boots so that they made no sound at all as he then continued toward the house, making his way toward the French doors of the library. When he reached them, he paused again, glancing up at the windows of the house. It was at Emma’s windows in particular that he looked, and as he saw the telltale glow of a tiny light, he smiled.

  He inserted the thin blade of a knife into the lock of the library windows, and after some careful and skilled manipulation was able to open them without a sound. Pocketing the knife, he stepped into the house, closing the French doors quietly behind him.

  Crossing the dark, deserted library, he stealthily opened the door into the entrance hall. Everything was quiet, and he knew that the house was asleep. The sacking on his feet deadened all sound as he left the library and made his way up the staircase to the bedroom floor, pausing only to get his bearings before slipping along the passage to Emma’s door.

  He hesitated as he neared it, for there was a bright light shining from beneath another door nearby. He did not know that it was Stephen’s room and that Mr. Rutherford was reading while he kept vigil; he only knew that the light signified someone to be awake. The man listened at the door, but all was quiet beyond, and after a moment he continued past it.

  He listened again at Emma’s door, but was sure that she was asleep. Holding his breath, he gently turned the handle, peeping very cautiously inside as the door opened. The soft light from the night candle moved very gently, and he could see Emma lying asleep, her dark hair in a tangle on the pillows. The man’s lascivious gaze moved appreciatively over her, taking in the soft curve of her bosom, outlined by the thin folds of her nightgown. Then he drew a long breath, for he wasn’t there to ogle the lady, he was there to relieve her of the Kane Keepsake.

  Closing the door behind him, he glanced swiftly around the room, and then he went into the adjoining dressing room. Now, then, where would she keep her jewels? He went to the dressing table and opened the jewelry casket, but he saw immediately that the particular red leather case wasn’t there. He hoped she hadn’t taken the precaution of locking it away in a safe, for that would be most inconvenient.

  His glance fell upon the chest of drawers, and he went to it. A smile broke out on his lips as he immediately espied the leather case. He took it out and looked inside. The diamonds of the Keepsake winked and glittered in the semidarkness as he took the Keepsake from its bed of velvet and pushed it into his pocket. Then he carefully replaced the leather case in the drawer, so that the theft would not be realized until the moment someone actually opened the case.

  Quietly he retraced his steps to the bedroom door, listening carefully before emerging into the passage. There wasn’t a sound in the house as he went back down to the entrance hall and out through the library, closing the French doors so carefully behind him that they looked as if they had never been forced.

  A moment later his shadowy figure could be seen hurrying silently back down the gardens toward the mews lane, and soon he had vanished into the nearby streets.

  Behind him, no one in the house was aware that he had ever been there, and no one was to realize for some time that the Keepsake had been stolen.

  *

  The first fingers of dawn were lighting the eastern sky as Dolly came to awaken Emma, who sat up sharply in the bed. “Is everything all right? Is Stephen—?”

  “Master Stephen is sleeping quietly, Miss Emma. Mr. Rutherford says I am to tell you that he thinks the delirium has gone and that maybe the very worst is over.”

  “I’ll go to him now.” Emma flung back the bedclothes, shivering a little as she slipped from the bed.

  Dolly brought her wrap, and then quickly brushed and combed her hair, leaving the dark curls to fall loose about her mistress’s shoulders.

  Before going to her brother, Emma went to the window to look briefly out at the dawn. This was the time Gerald had mentioned in his letter, when, unless Mr. Canning apologized suitably for his odious conduct, the duel would take place on Putney Heath. There hadn’t been any word the previous day to suggest that such an apology had been received, and so she could only guess that at this very moment the two protagonists were facing each other in some concealed dell. If they were, then she hoped that Lord Castlereagh would emerge the victor and unscathed.

  Gerald had promised to call upon her when the duel was over, and when he did she would inform him that she was withdrawing from the match. This time there would be no hesitation; she would do what she had to in order to preserve her own dignity and pride.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emma sat with Stephen all that morning. The fever and delirium had abated, and now he slept quite quietly. His cheeks were still fiery, and it was clear that he was far from well, but it seemed that he was responding to Dr. Longford’s medication. He had not opened his eyes at all, and he hadn’t spoken intelligibly, but from time to time Emma felt that he was close to consciousness.

  She sat by the window, for it was too hot by the fire. The September sun shone in on her neat light-green woolen gown with its long sleeves and frilled neck and cuffs. There was a golden locket around her throat, and she wore peridot earrings that caught the sunlight. She had discarded her white woolen shawl because of the heat, and it lay on the floor beside her chair as she turned another page.

  There was a tap at the door, and Dolly peeped in. “Begging your pardon, Miss Emma, but I thought you would like to know that there is a boy selling newsheets in the square, and he’s calling out that Lord Castlereagh won the duel and that both gentlemen survived.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Emma gladly.

  “Quite sure, miss. Would you like me to purchase one of the sheets?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. If Lord Castlereagh was the victor, that is all I really wish to know.”

  “Yes, Miss Emma. Oh, and the cook wishes to know if she may discuss today’s meals with you.”

  “Would you tell her that I will leave the choice in her capable hands. I am sure that she knows best and that I would only be following her advice if we were to discuss it.”

  “Yes, Miss Emma.” Dolly gave a quick curtsy and then withdrew again.

  Emma sighed, closing the book. At Foxley Hall she had always discussed the meals with the cook, and she was far from ignorant about such things, but somehow she just didn’t feel like considering such mundane matters as whether to serve fish or meat, or whether one combination of vegetables was preferable to another. And as to whether she and her father would rather have a syllabub or meringue and cream. On a day like this she really could not have cared less.

  She glanced out the window. How lovely Lady Bagworth’s garden looked, the autumn flowers so bright and cheerful. She wished she could take more pleasure in them, but she felt too empty and wretched inside to feel delight about anything. In the hours she had been sitting with Stephen, she had had time to think, and was sure that now she had found out about his long-standing affair with Raine, there was only one course she could take; she had to withdraw from the match with Gerald.

  Her father had been very tired when she had taken over from him at Stephen’s bedside earlier that morning, and somehow the moment had not been appropriate to tell him of her decision, but she had to tell him soon, for she could hardly present him with a fait accompli by telling Gerald first. He would soon be awake again, and the first thing he would do would be to come to see how Stephen was faring. She would tell him then.

  But unknown to her, her father was already awake, and was at that very moment going down the staircase to greet Gerald, who had arrived on the promised call to tell Emma how the duel had progressed.

  Mr. Rutherford’s walking stick tapped on the marble staircase. “Lord Kane, may I say how pleased I am to see you yet again, and how delighted I am to learn that Lord Castlereagh has vanquished his despicable opponent.”

  Gerald returned the smile, coming to the foot of the steps. “Maybe
‘vanquished’ is a little too strong a word, sir, but the foreign secretary has certainly come off worse.”

  “Was Mr. Canning wounded?”

  “A flesh wound in the thigh. Lord Castlereagh suffered the indignity of having a button shot from his coat.”

  “The loss of a button is hardly a grave blow, sir, especially if the result of the entire matter is to restore Lord Castlereagh’s honor.”

  “He considers it in some way restored, sir, but is naturally still offended to have been so poorly used, and to know that it all took place with the knowledge of his fellow ministers in the government. However, I trust that today’s encounter was the last we will hear of the matter.”

  “I trust so too, sir.” Mr. Rutherford smiled again. “I cannot imagine that you have called to see me.”

  “I promised Miss Rutherford that I would come to tell her about the duel.”

  “Then tell her you shall. She is at present sitting with my son, whose condition has improved a little, but—”

  “Condition?” interrupted Gerald quickly. “Has something happened?”

  “But of course you cannot possibly have heard. I fear that my son had an unfortunate accident in the Thames at the time you and my daughter were at Cranforth House. He was in the water for some time, and was then exposed to the cold air while being brought home here. It all resulted in a severe inflammation of the lungs, and we have been most concerned about him. I am told that this morning he appears to be much improved, although he has yet to awaken.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear of this, Mr. Rutherford.”

  “I believe that the worst is now over, Lord Kane.” Mr. Rutherford paused. “Lord Kane, may I beg a favor of you?”

  “By all means. I will do whatever is in my power.”

  “It is but a small favor, and it concerns Emma. I fear that she blames herself for Stephen’s condition—”

  “Blames herself? But if he fell overboard from a boat—”

  “On the morning after the accident, when Stephen had yet to fully show signs of his illness, he persuaded Emma to go for a ride with him. The ride came to a swift end, I know not why, but immediately on his return to this house, Stephen collapsed. Emma is convinced that if she had only stopped the ride from taking place, then her brother would not have been taken so ill. Maybe the ride was indeed a little unwise, but he was already very poorly, and the ride cannot have made any real difference. I would be most grateful if you could persuade her that she was not the cause of his condition.”

  “I will do all I can, sir.”

  Mr. Rutherford nodded, content. “Yes, I am sure you will, just as I am sure that you will succeed in your purpose, for it is clear to me that you and my daughter have hit it off. Arranged matches are of necessity hazardous affairs when it comes to how well the pair get on, but it was always my fervent hope that you and Emma would strike a perfect note.”

  “She has most certainly struck that note with me, sir, and I can only hope that I have been similarly fortunate where she is concerned.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you have, my boy,” Mr. Rutherford replied. “Come, let me take you to her. By the way, I dispatched the volume of Sir Joseph Banks’s work to the earl the moment Emma informed me. I trust it is the book he seeks.”

  “I believe it is, sir.”

  Gerald accompanied Mr. Rutherford up to the bedroom floor, and Mr. Rutherford had to pause at the top of the second flight of steps, for he was a little out of breath.

  “Plague take my health,” he grumbled. “It is a constant irritation to me that my mind is as nimble as ever it was, but my wretched body grows ever more feeble. I vow that inwardly I am the same young man I ever was, but outwardly I am fast becoming a Methuselah.”

  After a moment they walked on, and after the briefest of knocks on Stephen’s door, Mr. Rutherford ushered Gerald in.

  Emma rose swiftly from her chair, her book falling to the floor. She was once again been caught completely off guard by Gerald’s arrival, just as it seemed she had been so frequently during their brief acquaintance.

  The last thing she had wished was to again be at such a disadvantage for this most vital meeting, but that was what had happened. Her feeling of having been cornered before she was ready increased as she saw how well he and her father were getting on.

  Mr. Rutherford came swiftly over to her, kissing her on the cheek. “Lord Kane has come to tell you all about the duel, my dear, and so I took the liberty of bringing him up here. How is Stephen?” He left her to go to the bedside, looking down at his sleeping son.

  “He is comfortable, Father,” she replied, glancing briefly at Gerald. His gaze was upon her, his gray eyes dark and warm. She felt her heartbeat quicken, and knew to her dismay that in spite of all she had now learned of his deception and untruthfulness, she still loved him. His closeness affected her, and to look into his eyes was to fall deeper under his spell. She tore her glance away, going to stand with her father at the bedside.

  Mr. Rutherford looked sadly down at his son. “If only he would speak to us, then I would feel that he is indeed on the road to recovery.”

  “I’m sure he is, Father, for he is responding well to the laudanum and willow bark.”

  “Have you been able to give him any of the toast water?”

  “Just a spoonful or so.”

  Mr. Rutherford drew a long breath. “As you say, he does appear to be responding to the medication. He’s certainly sleeping more soundly.”

  Emma didn’t say anything, for as she looked down at her brother, her sense of guilt returned. If only she’d stopped him from going out on that ride …

  Mr. Rutherford noticed her silence, and then glanced pointedly at Gerald, who nodded slightly to indicate that he understood. Emma’s father then gave her a brisk smile. “I’ll leave you now, my dear, for I’m sure you and Lord Kane would prefer a few moments alone, and I was just about to go down for my breakfast.”

  As her father withdrew tactfully from the room, Emma remained at the bedside. Now that the moment was upon her and she was alone with Gerald, she really did not know what to say. She tried to remind herself that she had seen him leaving his mistress’s house after having spent the night there, but all she could think now was that he was only a few feet away and that if she reached out she could touch him.

  He watched her as she stood by the bed. “The fact that you went out on that ride will not have made any difference, Emma,” he said gently.

  “I wish I could be certain of that. All I know is that I permitted him to go out into the cold morning air …” She broke off, remembering that cold air and the sound of a curricle’s wheels on the cobbles of Upper Brook Street.

  “He is ill because he fell in the river and because he was cold for some time after that.” Gerald went a little closer to her. “Please don’t blame yourself, for there is nothing you could have done to prevent this happening. If he did not appear as ill as he really was when you went out on that ride, you may be sure that he would still have collapsed even had he remained in his bed.”

  She turned toward him. “My father has obviously asked you to reassure me.”

  “Yes, he has, but I am not saying anything that I would not have said to you anyway. It isn’t your fault, Emma.” He put out his hand suddenly, as if to touch her cheek, and she moved quickly away, going to the window and looking out over the garden.

  He could not have mistaken the action, for it was obvious that she had avoided the contact. “Is something wrong, Emma?”

  “I …” She bit her lip, for she couldn’t bring herself to say what she planned. Instead she found herself asking about the duel. “I understand that Lord Castlereagh was the victor at the duel,” she said.

  For a moment he didn’t reply, because he knew that that was not what was really on her mind, but then he nodded. “Yes, he was.”

  “Please tell me about it.”

  He went to the fireplace, leaning a hand on the mantelpiece and looking down into the roaring
flames. “Castlereagh, Yarmouth, and I arrived at the appointed place on Putney Heath at six o’clock in the morning. Castlereagh was surprisingly relaxed, indeed he hummed some of Madame Catalini’s songs. I endeavored to reason with the foreign secretary’s seconds, but they would not move. The distance was fixed at twelve paces, and the two gentlemen took up their positions. There was quite a crowd around the clearing, for word had more than got out. Avenley was there, of course.”

  “Why do you say ‘of course’?”

  “Because he can be guaranteed to turn up for anything upon which he has placed a wager, and judging by his smirk at the outcome, I can only imagine that his money was on Castlereagh.”

  Emma said nothing more, for she could envisage Lord Avenley’s look. She could see his single shining eye, and the cold smile on his thin lips.

  Gerald continued. “The first shots were exchanged, and neither man was struck. Yarmouth suggested to Castlereagh that a single exchange was sufficient, but Castlereagh would have none of it. The foreign secretary showed considerable courage, stating that he had come to give Castlereagh satisfaction and that it was therefore entirely up to Castlereagh when a halt should be called. The two opponents then took aim for a second time. Canning fired first, and his bullet took a button from Castlereagh’s coat. Castlereagh then took aim, and wounded the foreign secretary in the fleshy part of the thigh.

  “Castlereagh deemed his honor to be thus satisfied, and Canning was removed to Yarmouth’s cottage nearby, where a surgeon attended his wound. I then accompanied Castlereagh back to London, where he was able to reassure Lady Castlereagh that all was well and that the matter was concluded.”

  “I can imagine Lady Castlereagh’s great relief.”

  “She fell into floods of glad tears,” Gerald replied, smiling a little as he recalled.