by Anne Gracie
There was a sudden silence in the green room.
The hall clock tolled the half-hour. Half past four. An hour to dawn. Kit wished she never had to face it.
"Miss...Miss Kitty-cat?" Sir William sounded appalled.
Kit couldn't speak.
"Tell me it isn't true, lass."
Kit hung her head. She could not look him in the eye.
"What's happening William?" called Lady Marsden and came into the room. She stopped suddenly. "What on earth...?" Her voice trailed off as she took in the picture of Rose Singleton's long-lost niece dressed as a Chinaman, tied up on the floor. The safe door was open. Her husband stood over Kit, the box containing his precious chess set held in his hand.
The concern faded from her face. A cold, disdainful look replaced it. She glanced down at Kit. "So this is how you repay our hospitality."
Kit swallowed. There was nothing she could say. All the disgust Lady Marsden expressed could not equal the disgust Kit felt for herself. She wanted to explain that she had been trying to put the chess set back, but she knew nobody would believe her. And she had stolen it in the first place.
"It seems the apple didn't fall far from the tree after all," said Sir William. He sounded immensely weary. Utterly disappointed.
"Papa, what is happening? Nell says you have caught a wicked thief and I want to see him—" Little Sally's voice broke off, suddenly uncertain. She stared down at Kit, who was still on the floor. "Papa? It is Miss Kitty-cat! Why is she on the floor? And dressed like that?"
Nell tumbled into the room after her, followed by a nursemaid in a blue flannel gown, muttering dire threats.
"Papa, did you catch him? How monstrous excitin'—
Papa!" The girl stopped, her face suddenly shocked. Her face ran over the ropes around Kit's wrists and ankles. "Miss Kitty-cat?" she whispered in distress. "You cannot be the wicked thief...can you?"
Kit closed her eyes.
"Come away, my darlings. This is no place for you," said Lady Marsden and gathered the children hurriedly out of the room.
"What the devil!" Mr Devenish burst into the room and took in the situation at a glance. “Why the devil have you got her tied up like a criminal?''
“She was caught in the act of stealing the chess set, sir,'' said the butler.
"Nonsense, I don't believe it! Get those ropes off her now, before I do someone an injury—and it won't be her, you can rest assured!"
"But, Dev, old fellow, she did steal the chess set," Sir William said heavily. "Have to face it, old man. The girl deceived us all. She's the Chinese Burglar."
"I knew that!" snapped Hugo Devenish. "Now get these blasted ropes off her—ah, give me that!" He snatched a knife off one of the servants and sliced through the ropes binding her. Gently, solicitously, he lifted her to her feet. 'Can you walk, sweetheart?" he said softly. He glared around at his stunned audience. "If you've harmed her, I'll nave your heads for this, you misguided fools."
He helped her to a seat, supporting her with his hands and his voice. His body radiated rage and protectiveness.
He was going to take responsibility for her, Kit realised suddenly. He was standing up for her in the blackest of black situations. Never had anyone stood up for her like this.
She didn't deserve it.
She couldn't allow it.
She stood up and pushed his hands away from her. "It is nothing to do with him," she said. "I am nothing to do with him." She stepped pointedly aside.
"Dammit, Kit—" he growled.
"I am the Chinese Burglar and I did steal your chess set, Sir William," she said clearly. "It is nothing to do with anyone else, not my maid, not Mr Devenish—it was all my own doing." She raised her chin and tried to look Sir William in the face. His distress was more than she could bear. She hung her head again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
There was a long silence.
"Take her up to her room," said Sir William at last. "I'll deal with this in the morning...somehow."
The servants led Kit away.
"And, Dawkins—"
They paused.
"Lock her in."
As she ascended the stair she heard Mr Devenish's voice saying angrily, "Dammit, Billy, I'll not allow you to turn her over to the authorities. They'll hang her, man!"
Kit did not hear Sir William's response. But she knew what it would be.
Sir William was a magistrate.
"She's gone!" Dawkins burst into Sir William's study. "I went to let her maid in as you instructed, sir, and the room was empty."
Sir William raised his brows in surprise.
"I did lock the door, sir, truly I did. And I kept the key by me all night, too—not trusting that maid of hers not to let her out,'' Dawkins assured him. “But the lass must have climbed out the window. Dunno how, sir. A fearful long way to the ground it is, and with the night being so damp, the slate would've been terrible slippery."
Sir William jumped to his feet, staring towards the garden, a worried expression on his face.
Dawkins anticipated his question. "No, sir. She ain't lyin' in the garden with a broken neck either. I checked. She got clean away, sir."
Sir William subsided into his chair with a sigh of relief. "Well, I have to say, I'm glad of it."
"Sir?"
"Come now, Dawkins, could you really see us taking that girl off to prison?"
Dawkins relaxed his stance a little. "Well, sir, we was all right unhappy about the idea. But a thief is a thief, I s'pose." His brow furrowed. "Didn't act like a thief, if you don't mind me saying so. We was all very fond of Miss Kit." He spoke for the servants' hall. "A bonny, sweet-natured lass, she were, sir."
Sir William sighed. “Yes, Dawkins. A lovely girl. Lady Marsden and I were very fond of her. And the girls too. The pity of it is..." He did not finish his sentence, but sat for a moment, looking miserable.
"You'd better fetch Mr Devenish then, Dawkins. Having bent my ear all night about the girl, he has gone upstairs to shave."
Hugo felt a cold fist close around his heart. "What do you mean, she's gone?"
"She's gone, sir," said Maggie Bone. "Climbed out the window and across the roof. She borrowed a horse from the stable—left a note in the stable to say it would be at the coaching inn."
"A note?"
"She left a letter addressed to you, sir. And a note for me. Yours is the biggest." She proffered a neatly folded square. Hugo almost snatched it. He carefully broke open the seal on the letter and read it hastily.
Dear Mr Devenish
I do not wish to be hanged and so I am leaving. Please convey my most abject and sincere apologies to Sir William and Lady Marsden. Please tell Sir William that I was, in fact, returning the chess set. I stole it on the first night of my arrival—the night we made toast in the nursery. I repent it most bitterly.
My entire purpose in visiting England was based on the very worst of falsehoods and deception, but there is no point in excuses. I thought I was doing the right thing and that all the people I stole from had stolen those objects from my father. I was wrong. I didn't realise Papa would even he to me on his deathbed.
Please ask Sir William not to report my crime, for Aunt Rose's sake. I will do my best to undo the harm I have done. There is a small risk I may be apprehended. If so, you may rest assured I will give a false name so that she shall not be tainted by the scandal. My family has caused Rose enough distress. Please, sir, protect her as best you can from the worst consequences of what I have done.
I also leave in your care my beloved and faithful companion, Maggie Bone. She is a loyal and hardworking servant and a woman of the highest moral calibre. Please, do not judge the servant by the mistress. Maggie has done her best these last six years to turn me into a respectable person. That her efforts were unsuccessful is not her fault, but the fault of my early upbringing. Also my blood. What I have learned in the last few days has convinced me of that.
If you could offer Maggie a position in your hous
ehold, I would be eternally grateful. As well as securing the services of a first-rate maid, I hope you will thereby also promote the happiness of your groom, Griffin. He has been walking out with Maggie these last weeks and I believe their attachment is sincere and powerful. Maggie would never choose her own happiness over what she sees as my welfare. She will be hurt and distressed by my departure, but I want her to find joy and security on her own account with Griffin.
As for yourself, my dear sir, I must thank you for the friendship, forbearance and care you have shown me.
I also thank you for the offer you made at the opera, that night. It was the most wonderful offer I have ever had, much more than I could ever deserve. I shall never forget it, or you.
You will find another girl, sir. A girl much more deserving of such a magnificent offer, who will bring to her marriage honour and an unstained past. You will find true happiness with a girl like that, I am sure of it. I will pray for you.
Had things been different—(This last was scratched out.)
Do not try to find me, I beg of you. It does me no credit to admit I have much experience in disappearing without trace. Please do not worry about me. I shall go to live with my mother's family.
Take care of yourself, dearest sir, and of Aunt Rose and Maggie Bone. Know that I leave behind me the three people in the world whom I love, with all my heart.
Yours forever, Kit
Hugo crushed the letter in his hand. There was a hard, bitter lump in his throat, so that he could not speak for a moment. He stared down at the crushed paper in his hand and with careful deliberation smoothed it out again.
Know that I leave behind me the three people in the world whom I love, with all my heart.
Three people? Her Aunt Rose and Maggie Bone. And...himself? ...the three people in the world whom I love... He was the third, whom I love with all my heart.
It was enough. He started to breathe again.
With slow precision, Hugo folded the letter along its original folds and slipped it into his shirt, against his heart.
"Where would she go, Maggie?"
If Maggie felt surprise at his informal use of her first name, she didn't show it. "I don't know. It's hard to tell, sir. She's tricky, Miss Kit."
"Which part of Ireland?"
Maggie stared. “Ireland? Whatever would she go to Ireland for, sir?"
Hugo frowned. He touched his hand to his chest, hearing the faint crackle of paper. "She said she would go to her mother's family. They are in Ireland, are they not?"
Maggie shrugged. “Her mam may have come from Ireland, but Miss Kit ain't got a relative in the world that she knows of. No, I reckon she'd make for Italy—leastways, that's what her plan used to be." Her stoic demeanour collapsed suddenly. "She's taken herself off, sir, all alone in the world as she is! And without no one to care for her!" She burst into tears. "Oh, why did she do it? Why leave me behind?"
"Italy," interrupted Rose, confused. "I don't understand. Why would she go to Italy? I don't understand. Why would she steal from Sir William? I thought she'd come home to live, here in England." She looked from Maggie to Hugo in distress. "I don't understand anything at all."
Hugo regarded Rose sombrely. "She didn't know she was your real niece, Rose. She thought it was some masquerade her father had cooked up with you."
Rose looked puzzled. "A masquerade? But why?"
'"Twas a promise she made him, Miss Rose, ma'am— her father," said Maggie, wiping her eyes. "When he was
dying. Asked her to take care of... some unfinished business of his. Miss Kit has never broken a promise yet."
"But why would she not know I was her aunt? I don't understand. She must have known. She called me Aunt, from the beginning."
"Fact is, ma'am," said Maggie grimly, "that girl has never known who she is. Her whole life with His Nibs— your brother, ma'am—has been one long masquerade after another. Miss Kit never knew she was a true Singleton. In all her life with him, she's had that many names and played that many parts it's been a wonder to me she could ever keep up with them." Maggie looked bleak. "He Med to her, ma'am. Lied to her all the time. Sent her to London with a dangerous job to do and his own version of the truth—which was all rubbish, as it turns out! Miss Kit thought you were an old, er, friend of his."
Hugo frowned. He hadn't missed the hesitation before the word friend. What a life the girl must have led, to accept a mistress more readily than an aunt.
"But—"
"Fact is, Miss Rose, it didn't help matters that ye never did reminisce about her father to her. I understand why, now, o' course, with Mr Cranmore coming back and all—" Maggie looked a little self-conscious as a blush coloured Rose's cheeks. "Sorry ma'am, but servants will talk. And I don't blame ye, ma'am, for not wanting to speak of such matters. But ye see why Miss Kit might've thought ye weren't truly her blood relation—that ye were playing a part too. Fer the sake of His Nibs."
Rose bit her lip, looking troubled. "Oh, yes, I suppose I can see that now. Oh dear, oh dear, what a frightful mess it all is." She sighed. "James always did leave a trail of damage behind him."
Hugo said decisively, "Well, there is no reason why that should happen any longer. We'll fetch her back, Rose, do not fear. Maggie, will you come with me? The coach goes to London, so we'll try there first."
Maggie looked at him steadily a moment as if assessing his motives. "You're not fixin' to hang Miss Kit, are ye?"
“What?'' exclaimed Rose, horrified.
Hugo looked calmly back at Maggie. "Sir William will explain everything to you, Rose. And no one is going to hang Miss Kit, Maggie. I promise you that. And I don't break my promises, either."
Maggie smiled suddenly and jumped to her feet with new spirit. "Then I'll come with you, sir, and right gladly."
As the fast travelling chaise raced and bounced along the road to London, Maggie filled Mr Devenish in on all the information she felt he ought to know about Kit.
"He was a scoundrel, through and through, her father, but charming with it, you know?" She snorted derisively. "Not that I ever felt the charm, mind, but I saw enough people fall for it—men as well as women. And Miss Kit, she 'ad a reahblind spot where he was concerned. Loved him, despite all he did. It's her weakness that—she'll do anything for those she loves." Maggie gave him a thoughtful look and added, "You'll need to be careful of that."
Hugo stared straight ahead, unwilling to put the idea of Kit loving him any more firmly in his head, in case he was wrong. He couldn't bear it if he was wrong. Now that he'd absorbed the notion that perhaps she loved him a little, he was like a man paused high on a wire, over a precipice, waiting to find out, for sure.
"Miss Kit, she's got a soft heart and more courage than is good for any woman. Those what loves her ought to take care of her. But that man played 'er like a dratted violin. And he had no scruples about using her for his purposes."
Hugo shot her a quick, hard look, which Rose interpreted correctly.
"No, not that, sir. At least he spared her that, though he nearly did sell her to an Indian prince once, for to be his heathen princess. But Miss Kit, she ran away and hid, so she told me, and it all fell through." She added, "But that was before my time. And I really don't know as how her pa would actually have sold her, or whether he was just planning to swindle the prince out of a small fortune in jewels. He were bad, but he weren't evil."
"Before your time? When did you come into her life, Maggie?"
Maggie clucked and shook her head disapprovingly. "I dunno as I ought to tell you that tale. But I suppose, since you're a going to—" She frowned suddenly and leaned forward to scrutinise his face. "What are ye planning to do with Miss Kit if—?"
"When."
Maggie's face softened at his implacable refusal to consider defeat.
"All right, then, when we find her. What are ye planning to do with her, sir?"
"Marry her."
Maggie sat back in her seat in a busde of relieved bom
bazine. "Oh sir, I'd hoped...I never dreamed..." Tears began to roll down her cheek and she began to grope around in her reticule. "Oh, drat it, where is that handkerchief!" She sniffled and smiled at him mistily, the tears pouring down her cheeks. "I'm that glad, sir. I used to worry that she'd never.. .oh dear, where is that dratted thing? Miss Kit, she's...she's a real darlin', you know."
He smiled, leaned forward, handed her a folded white handkerchief and said softly, "Yes, Maggie, I do know."
After some time, when Maggie had composed herself,
Hugo leaned back against the cushions, crossed one long leg over the other, and said, "Now, Maggie, I would like to hear how you met Kit, when she was thirteen, I believe."
"She really ought to tell you herself..."
Hugo smiled. "She will. After we are married, no doubt."
Maggie conceded. "Very well. I'd been sent out to be a maidservant, a nanny, really, to an English family in India. Only when I got there, it was to find that every poor blessed soul in the family, even the kiddies, had died of the yellow fever. So, of course, there wasn't no job for me. Somebody from the Company did offer me a job, mind, but with all that disease, and the dirt, sir! Well, I didn't want to stay, and since they'd offered to pay my way home again..."
She shrugged. "So there I was, staying in a little hotel in Calcutta, waiting for the next English ship to come to take me back home. Days, I waited. And one day, well, night, it was, something woke me, a noise. I got up, and investigated. I had one of those elephant-foot umbrella stands—bought it for me Da—and I waved it about, thinkin' to hit the intruder over the head with it. Well, to cut a long story short, I found myself waving the elephant's foot at this skinny, dirty little Indian boy, doubled up in the corner of my bedroom. Clutching his stomach, and in a panic."
She watched his face as she spoke. "O' course, I yelled at 'im good and loud, just to frighten him off, not expecting him to understand, of course—I'd yelled at him in English, naturally. Well! You coulda knocked me over with a feather because he answered me—in English!"
He frowned, not seeing quite where this would lead.
Maggie continued. "And it weren't no pidgin English, either. Nor any learnt from sailors or such. Nor was it my sort of English, either, ordinary folks' English." She paused. "It was the sort of English spoke by the gentry."