Dangerous Escapade

by Hilary Gilman

  Cedric looked uncertainly from his cousin to his accomplice and then made for the door. As he reached it, he turned. “What are you going to do?” he asked nervously.

  Wellbeloved laughed. “Use your imagination, my friend,'' he replied. “Now get out!”

  As the door closed behind him, Kitty gave a little sob of despair, which elicited only another grim laugh from Wellbeloved.

  “What do you imagine I have in store for you, you little fool? Thumbscrews? Come here.”

  She lifted her head. “Why should I?”

  “Because I tell you to, my love,” he answered, jerking her roughly to her feet. “I tell you this, my dear—there is no escape from me, so why do you fight me? We could have a good life together, you and I. Forget that fool Brabington; come away with me.” His face was close to hers, his breath on her face. Mistress Katherine Brabington, reverting suddenly to Kit Clareville, swore vilely, spat in his face, and brought her knee up sharply in his groin—all in the space of a split second—and was facing him across the room with the poker in her hands.

  Wellbeloved doubled up in agony, but still he flung himself across the sofa towards her, only to go down with a well-aimed blow upon the temples from the poker. Even this could not keep him down for more than a second, however, and he lurched towards her once more. So intent were they that both failed to notice the drawing room door open. And so, when a cool voice said in an amused tone, “Very well done, my ward, your father would be proud of you,” the words fell into an astonished silence. “But do not, I beg, kill the man yet,” continued the voice. “That is a pleasure I have promised myself,”

  Twelve

  “Oh, Sir!” cried Kitty, breathlessly, and ran headlong across the room to fling herself into the waiting arms of her guardian. They closed protectively around her, but not for one instant did Debenham take his eyes off Wellbeloved, who still crouched ready to spring, his breathing raw. He was kept at bay by a serviceable pistol, which Debenham held levelled at him while, with his left arm, he pressed his ward to his side.

  “Are you hurt, Kitty?” he questioned, his calm voice comforting her, even as the pressure of his arm.

  “He hit me, Sir,” she told him in a small voice, “Twice.”

  The arm tightened, “Did he, my ward?” he asked. “Then he shall pay…twice.”

  “Brave talk, Debenham,” jeered Wellbeloved, recovering himself. “Can you make it good?”

  “With ease, my friend, I have only to shoot you as you stand.”

  “What, shoot an unarmed man? That's murder, my Lord.”

  “I would prefer to call it an execution.”

  Wellbeloved paled, he had staked his life on the certainty that Debenham would offer him a fair fight. But, evil though he undoubtedly was, he was no coward. “Very well, do it quickly!” he commanded arrogantly. “I do not care to wait upon your convenience.”

  The Earl smiled. “Do not worry, Wellbeloved. I have no intention of allowing you such an easy death. You will have your chance to fight. My ward, will you wait outside while I finish this business?”

  Kitty shook her head, “What if he should kill you, dear Sir? I must be ready.”

  Debenham laughed, “It is an unlikely contingency, Kitty, but how like you to consider it. Very well, you may stay. Here, take the pistol.”

  He shrugged himself out of his coat, and stood flexing his blade, a romantic figure in his shirt and breeches. Wellbeloved also divested himself of his coat, but even in his shirtsleeves, he looked too stocky and powerful to be in the least romantic. The tables were pushed aside, and the light adjusted in a business-like way that quite astonished Kitty, who would have wasted little time on such niceties. She reflected wonderingly upon the peculiarities of the male code of honour.

  The two men faced each other, and there was a flash of light as their blades met in a brief salute. They disengaged and circled each other slowly, looking for an opening. Kitty saw Wellbeloved lunge and a swift parry from her guardian. There was a confused clashing of blades, and then they sprang apart once more and resumed their watchful circling. Another thrust, a parry, and swiftly Debenham’s blade flashed under his opponent's guard and gashed his cheek. “That is for my ward!”

  Wellbeloved sprang back, his fingers probing the wound. “A scratch, my Lord, you will have to do better than that!”

  “I shall,” promised Debenham grimly. “On guard!”

  Each man moved warily, having assessed each other's quality. Wellbeloved was a strong methodical fighter. He fought skilfully and untiringly like a machine. Debenham was much lighter and more active. He moved swiftly, using tricks of duello he had learned in Italy and France. Again and again, he slipped under the other man's guard, only to be parried just in time. Both men were tired; the sweat glistened upon their brows. The blood from Wellbeloved's wound had dripped onto the wooden floor, making it slippery for both.

  Wellbeloved was fighting defensively now, hoping to wear down an opponent who appeared to be tireless. Debenham feinted; Wellbeloved pursued his chance and found the Earl's blade once more at his throat. The blade leapt and slashed his other cheek. “That is for Clareville,” came the cool voice again. Wellbeloved grunted and sprang back to wipe the blood from his face. It could not be long now. The pain in his chest was agony, he could hardly breathe, his arm was tiring, and he saw his enemy through a film of sweat across his eyes. “End it!” he gasped hoarsely. “For God's sake, end it.”

  “Very well,” said that maddeningly cool voice. Wellbeloved little knew how much effort was required to keep it so. “Very well, say your prayers, my friend, for you will need them!”

  To the watching Kitty, it seemed that Debenham had been merely trifling with his opponent until that moment. Suddenly he fought like a demon, so quick and strong that the other man was forced back and back against the wall. He made one last desperate lunge; his side was open. Debenham's blade flashed under his opponent's guard and buried itself in his heart. Wellbeloved crumpled where he stood and died at the feet of the only man who had ever worsted him.

  The Earl pulled his blade out of the body at his feet and flung it aside. He moved like a man inexpressibly weary to where Kitty stood, very pale, still holding the pistol on the dead man as though she feared he would rise up again to torment her.

  Quietly, Debenham took the pistol from her and pocketed it. Then, very gently, he took his ward in his arms and buried his face in her hair.

  “He is dead?” she murmured into his shoulder.

  “He will never trouble you again.”

  “I thought it was you. That is why I went with him at first; then he kissed me, and of course, I knew at once that it was not.”

  “Did you, my love?” His arms tightened around her. “Look at me.” Then, as she raised her eyes to his, he said, “I have been going out of my mind wondering what was happening to you, but at least it has helped me to make my decision. My darling, to hell with honour and duty, I love you! Marry me!”

  “Anthony, dearest Anthony,” she murmured, stroking his hair with fingers that shook. “We cannot! You were right all along, my darling, I know that now. You could not live without honour, nor could I live with you knowing that through me you had lost it.”

  “Is there no escaping this match, then?”

  “How can I tell? But this I do know—I love you, and I belong to you. If you want me, I am yours, married or no.”

  “Oh my love, that is not what I wish for. I want you to be my wife, to be mistress of Debenham, to share my life. Amelia could never be a wife to me; she does not even feign to care for me.”

  “Come, you are tired,” she said coaxingly. “Rest upon the sofa with me here, and we will forget about Amelia until tomorrow.” She led him across the room and knelt upon the floor beside him as he stretched out upon the couch. She held his hand in both hers, and soon his untroubled breathing told her that he slept.

  With one last lingering look upon her guardian, Kitty slipped quietly out of the room. She
found herself in the dark hallway and was preparing to let herself out of the house when a muffled noise above her reminded her that Cousin Cedric remained to be dealt with. She did not consider him to be a threat any longer, but she determined to confront him once more with his treachery, for her father's sake.

  Swiftly, she ran up the ancient stairway and was in time to see a door at the end of the passage close behind her cousin. As she approached the chamber, she called in a low, carrying voice, “Cedric ... Cedric, let me in. I mean you no harm, I swear.” There was no answer, yet she was sure that he was listening. “Cedric, listen...Wellbeloved is dead...do you hear me...the Black Dog is dead. You have nothing to fear any longer.”

  She heard a scuffling noise from the other side of the door, and then the sound of a key turning. The door opened a crack, and the white face of her cousin appeared.

  “Truly he is dead?” quavered Brabington incredulously.

  “As a doornail, Cousin. Now let me come in.”

  The door widened, and Kitty stepped into a dilapidated chamber containing a huge four-poster bed, “Was it true, Cedric? Did you indeed betray my father to that man?”

  He did not meet her eyes. “Yes.”

  “You do not seem to me to be an evil man. How did you become involved with such a man as Wellbeloved?”

  “I was a fool. I believe now that Wellbeloved laid a trap for me from the start. He needed someone who moved in the right circles to help uncover high-born rebels whom he could not investigate openly, protected as they were by wealthy family and connections.” He sank onto the bed and buried his head in his hands.

  “I met him at a gaming hell in St James. It is a notorious place, but the play is deep, so it is well attended. He held the bank. At first, I won continually, the best run of luck I have ever had. I won enough to pay off all my debts. They were enormous, Cousin. I was near to being ruined. Then the luck changed. I lost heavily. Before I knew it, I was in to the bank for over five thousand.... I tell you I came near to blowing my brains out.” He glanced up at Kitty but saw no pity in her eyes. He sighed heavily and continued: “Then Wellbeloved came to me with a proposition. He would forget all my debts and furnish me with the wherewithal to pay off all those devilish tradesmen who were dunning me. All I had to do was give him a little information. It was so easy if I kept my ears and eyes open. Then, after a year or so, old Brabington died. I had all the money I needed, but Wellbeloved bled me of every penny. It was blackmail, but I would have been ruined, Cousin. I had no choice!''

  Kitty arose and stood over her cowering relative. “You deserve death almost as much as Wellbeloved,” she told him contemptuously. “But you are safe from me. I could not kill so poor a creature.”

  In an ecstasy of gratitude, he caught hold of her hand and kissed it. But she snatched it away, crying, “Do not touch me, or I may forget what I have said. You do not know how much I should like to put an end to your miserable life. The only reason I spare you is because you tried, however feebly, to protect me from that man. Now I advise you to leave this house, Cousin, and if you value your safety, keep out of my way!”

  Brabington nodded fervently and made for the door. He was halted by his cousin, who bethought herself to ask, “Have you any writing paper and a pen?”

  Brabington was taken aback by this homely request but answered that the desired articles were to be found in the library. He then scuttled away down the stairs, leaving Kitty devoutly hoping that she need never set eyes upon him again.

  As she made her way down to the library, she became aware that she was rapidly approaching exhaustion. The nervous energy that had supported her throughout her ordeal drained away, leaving her limp and weary. Nevertheless, she forced herself onward, for there was a great deal at stake. The hazy plans that had been forming in her tired brain suddenly crystallized. With a decided little nod, she entered the library and sat down to compose the first letter she had ever written to the Earl. It was fortunate that there was a good stock of paper before her, for the letter proved unexpectedly difficult to write. However, it was finished eventually, sealed with a wafer, and slipped noiselessly under the door of the drawing room where the Earl still slept.

  Then, fighting back the tears that threatened to choke her, Kitty followed her cousin from the house. The stables were by no means as decayed as the rest of the property and, as it was by now early morning, Kitty was able to see to saddle one of the sturdy carriage horses without any trouble. She toyed with the idea of taking Wellbeloved's splendid mount, but some superstitious fear prevented her. The carriage horse would carry her very well. Docilely, he allowed himself to be led to the mounting block, and Mistress Brabington mounted, an incongruous but dazzling figure in her domino, her crystal gown shimmering in the weak morning sunshine.

  Some hours later, the sun was strong enough to penetrate even into the shuttered chamber where Debenham slumbered. As the light fell upon his face, he stirred uncomfortably and then sat up with a jerk as memory returned to him. A swift glance around the room showed him that his ward was missing, but he was unconcerned until his eye fell upon the letter that lay just in front of the door. He rose and almost immediately stumbled over Wellbeloved’s body, which lay as he had fallen, his face against the floor, his arms outstretched. With an exclamation of disgust, Debenham flung his cloak over the body and, stepping over it, picked up the letter, some instinct warning him what it contained.

  She had written: “My dearest, I have thought very hard, and it seems to me that the best thing will be if I go away. I hope you will not try to find me, but remember I shall think of you always. If the time ever comes that you are free to wed me, I shall know, and I shall come to you, I promise. But do not, for my sake, compromise your honour; indeed, dear Anthony, I could not bear that. Please do not worry about me. I shall go to someone who will care for me. I love you very much.

  If the first reaction of the Earl was one of shock, his second was one of acute exasperation. Much as he loved his ward, he could not help feeling that she was a little idiot. Did she really imagine that she, an acknowledged beauty and great heiress, could simply vanish without a good many people wanting to know the reason why? She had, he noted, made no mention of her fortune. What did she imagine he was going to do with it?

  How like Kitty to go off so dramatically—as though she had only to leave him and he would be able to pick up the threads of his life again as though she had never entered it.

  It could not be done, of course. He must find her! She must be convinced that there was no need for her flight. He would marry Amelia, and in time Kitty would find some young man worthy of her and forget that she had ever been so foolish as to fall in love with him.

  It was with a desolate heart that Lord Debenham took the road back to London, leaving behind him in the dilapidated Court the still body of the Black Dog and the ruins of all his dearest hopes for the future.

  Thirteen

  The two ladies, left to themselves for an entire night and most of the morning, had passed almost as uncomfortable a time as Kitty and Debenham. Neither lady had found it possible to close her eyes in sleep, and both arose betimes the next morning as anxious and heavy-eyed as when they retired. Madame de Longueville wore a strained expression and tended to jump up every time a carriage was heard, much to the annoyance of Lady Horatia, whose nerves had induced in her a blinding migraine, which reduced her usual good temper to a certain asperity.

  “My dearest Marguerite, I beg of you!” she exclaimed in exasperation as the Comtesse ran to the window for the dozenth time that morning.

  “Forgive me, Horatia!” cried Marguerite impetuously, “I think this waiting will drive me mad. Oh! Will he never come?”

  Lady Horatia shook her head gloomily. “It has been so long, I fear...I fear greatly for the dear child. That evil, evil man, what can he want with her?”

  “We have been over this a hundred times. I do not know what he wants, Horatia, any more than you do,” returned the Comtesse tartly.
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  It was well for the friendship of the two ladies that Lord Debenham now entered the room, tired, dishevelled, and inclined to be monosyllabic. He was greeted by a volley of questions and exclamations, which he ignored, merely striding to the breakfast table and helping himself to a cup of lukewarm coffee.

  Lady Horatia watched him with disfavour, exclaiming, “Anthony, how dare you keep us in suspense like this? Where is Kitty? What in God's name has happened?”

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt,” he bowed, “but I very much fear that I cannot answer your question. I do not know where my ward may be.”

  “Ah, mon Dieu!” almost shrieked the Comtesse. “What is this you tell us? You did not find la petite?”

  “Oh yes, I found her, Ma'am, attacking her kidnapper with a poker. She appeared to stand in little need of my services.”

  “With a poker?” echoed Marguerite. “Ah, she has spirit, the little one.”

  The Earl smiled. “I agree with you, Ma'am, a great deal of spirit. However, as I had arrived, I saved her the trouble of disposing of the man by doing so myself. We are rid of Mr Wellbeloved for good.”

  Lady Horatia was watching him keenly. “Why then is Kitty not with you? You must tell us where she is, you know.”

  “My good Aunt, I wish I could,” he replied wearily. “Kitty has removed herself from my protection. I do not know where she is, although I can make an informed conjecture.” He saw the distress in his aunt’s face and continued. “She has not gone empty handed. I have discovered that she returned to Debenham to pack a valise. She then induced John to provide her a considerable sum from rent monies collected last quarter-day. From what I know of my ward, she will contrive.”

  “But why did she have to leave?” exclaimed Lady Horatia in exasperation.

  “I will say this just once, Aunt, and then I do not wish to hear any more about it. As you two ladies have no doubt realized, I have fallen deep in love with my ward. She also loves me. Honour has compelled me to keep faith with my betrothed until now. Amelia has my sworn oath that I will not repudiate her. Last night, I offered to break that oath. Kitty would not let me. She has run away from me to save me from dishonour!”