The Disdainful Marquis

by Edith Layton

  Catherine took Rose’s arm and, feeling the frozen hand which clutched her, Rose stopped chattering and sat quietly while Catherine poured out her story.

  “Oh, that’s a rum case,” Rose sighed, when Catherine had done at last. “That’s a fine predicament.”

  Rose stood and shook her head and looked consideringly at Catherine.

  “You do have a problem, Catherine,” she said, “and I have got to be right out with you, dear. The easiest thing for you to do would be to go with Beaumont. Hervé Richard ain’t a bad sort. He’s clean, and he’s got something blowing in the wind for him. And,” Rose added, absently rubbing her shoulder, where Catherine could now see in the brightening dawn light, there was a fresh set of bruises, “he ain’t got any strange ways about him, so far as I have heard. No, he’s a straightforward chap who wouldn’t want nothing special from you.”

  Catherine recoiled and hastily averted her face. The look of horror, however, had not escaped Rose.

  “No,” Rose sighed, “I didn’t truly think so. Ah, Catherine, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was just an idea, you know. Forget I said it, do. For I know you’re a good girl, and I wasn’t thinking straight. We have just to get you away from here without Beaumont twigging to it, and all will be well. How to do it is the question.”

  Rose and Catherine sat silently in the room as the light increased, each thinking alone. When Rose heard a movement from the next room, her face brightened.

  “That’ll be Vi. She’s just the one. She’s far more longheaded than I, and she’s a wonder at getting herself out of tight corners. I’ll just go get her.”

  Before Catherine could look up from her miserable contemplation of the carpet, Rose had fled the room, and before a few more moments had passed, she returned with a tired-looking Violet in tow. In the fresh light of morning, Violet’s dramatic orange costume seemed tawdry, and her carefully made-up face seemed blurred and exhausted.

  “Here she is,” Rose sang. “Oh Vi, we need your help, for our Catherine’s got herself into a terrible problem.”

  Violet turned her weary smudged eyes toward Catherine’s woebegone form.

  “If she’s gotten herself in the basket,” Violet yawned, “she’s just got to turn round and go home. She can’t be increasing in the duchess’s employ. The old girl don’t want a squalling brat on her hands.”

  “Oh Vi,” Rose cried, genuinely staggered, “you know better. Catherine ain’t in the family way. And she don’t want to be in the game, neither, and that’s the problem.”

  Violet flung herself upon the bed and lay so still while Rose explained Catherine’s situation that Catherine feared she had fallen asleep. But when the tale was done, she opened her eyes and looked at Catherine narrowly.

  “You want to skip out, then?” she asked.

  “I must,” Catherine said. “But how? And I must do it now, for Beaumont will be here to collect me by nightfall. But how shall I go in broad daylight?”

  “It’s not impossible,” yawned Violet. “I’ve done it myself. Remember in London, Rose, when that poxy viscount was after me?” She laughed. “I made a monkey out of him, didn’t I?”

  Rose nodded eagerly. “So you did, Vi, but this is Paris, and Catherine and I ain’t so wise as you. What’s she to do now?”

  Violet studied Catherine’s abjectly sorrowful face. Her thoughts raced behind her sleepy facade. So the Richard lout was about to come into riches and wanted a fine English female? Well, she’d do just as well to console him when he’d lost the one he had his heart set on, wouldn’t she? She watched Catherine—she had nothing against the girl, but business was business, and it wouldn’t suit her to stick her neck out and defy Beaumont. But if there was some profit to be made from the girl’s disappearance, well, there were no flies on Violet. The problem was, she thought, how to get the chit safe away without Beaumont twigging to the fact that she’d helped. After a moment she smiled.

  “Rose, you goose. The answer’s plain as the nose on your face. Catherine, do you take those things you find necessary, and only a few things at that. Here, wait a tick,” she said, suddenly galvanized, and the two other women stared at her in wonder as she leaped up and ran lightly to her room.

  She returned in a few moments. “Here,” she said, placing a worn portmanteau at Catherine’s feet. “I always carry it in case I have to skip fast. It’s old and battered, but it won’t attract attention.”

  Catherine looked at the worn case and had to agree. Indeed, it looked as though it had been used in the days of Violet’s grandmother.

  “Now you take only a little with you, and when you’ve all secured, act sharp, because time isn’t on your side. Then, you come back here. And then, Rose, you take Catherine down to the stables. James is there, and he’s a right caution. What he don’t know about Paris, the Frogs themselves don’t know. He’s a game ’un and up to anything. And if your pretty face don’t tempt him to help, Catherine, your good gold coins will. For he’s always on the lookout to make some extra. And he don’t like foreigners above half. Now shoo, go to it, Catherine, time is wasting.”

  Catherine fairly flew to her room and collected those few items she felt necessary. She left all her fine dresses and bonnets and slippers without a backward glance, only taking those few dresses she had originally come to the duchess with. She flung toothbrush, hairbrush, and underthings into the portmanteau.

  When she was done, she hurried back to Rose’s room.

  “Good,” Violet smiled. “Now Rose, you take her down the servants’ stairs and James’ll do the necessary.”

  Rose paused and then asked, “Catherine, let me see your purse.”

  Dutifully, Catherine handed it over to her.

  “Oh, this will never do,” Rose cried, “for you’re a pauper. Look, Vi, how far can she go on this?”

  Rose hurriedly went to a box in her closet and came back with coins that she poured into Catherine’s purse above her horrified protests. “No, no,” Rose said adamantly, “I couldn’t sleep nights thinking of you starving in a ditch. We’re friends, aren’t we?” she asked, suddenly stopping and looking hard at Catherine.

  To refuse Rose’s money, Catherine realized, would be to deny her friendship.

  “So we are Rose,” she whispered, “and I am grateful. Someday I hope to pay you back.”

  Satisfied, Rose nodded sharply. “Here, Vi, open the coffers. For you’re fast with advice, but tight with your purse. What do you want Catherine to think?”

  With ill grace, Violet left, to come back and add her mite to Catherine’s growing treasure. “But understand,” Violet said quickly, “if anything goes amiss, you’re not to prattle about where you got the funds.”

  Catherine smiled bitterly and met Violet’s worried eyes. “Do you think M. Beaumont will wonder at my riches?” she asked.

  Violet seemed satisfied, but she added, “And I hope you’ll not cry rope at us, if he does find you. Do you promise to leave us out of it?”

  “Of course,” Catherine said softly. “But I think if he does find me, he won’t care how I failed or who helped me fail.”

  “But you won’t fail, Catherine,” Rose said quickly. “For James is as sharp as he can be. We’ll have to think of something Catherine can wear to escape notice, Vi,” she added, biting her lower lip.

  “Leave it to James, Rose,” Violet answered. “He’s up to all the rigs. Now get her out of here. And then I’m to bed. For I’m worn out.”

  Rose bustled ahead to the door, to see if any servants or guests were in the corridor.

  “Half a mo,” she said cheerily, like a little girl up to some midnight pantry raid, “I’ll go ahead and check out the stairs to see if all’s clear.”

  “Violet, I thank you,” Catherine said softly, when they were alone, “for I know it’s a dangerous thing for you to do. And I know that you never really approved of me.”

  “I like things straightforward,” Violet murmured, suddenly less bored. “And it
may be, Catherine, that I don’t like being constantly reminded what I am by some great-eyed innocent girl. It’s well enough with Rose, and the gentlemen I accompany. And the old duchess is daft anyway, you know. But it just may be that I like to think of myself as only a clever businesswoman, and I don’t care for the constant presence of someone who is so very much aware of what a bad business mine is. You don’t hide your thoughts too well, you know. And while I’ve come to terms with myself a long while ago, you keep reminding me of what I am and where I’m undoubtedly going. I wished to be an actress once, and the trick of being a good actress is to believe in your part. You shake that belief, Catherine, and I don’t mind telling you, I’ll be relieved when you’re gone.”

  “Thank you anyway, Violet,” Catherine said, wondering whether she should give the older woman a farewell embrace, for wherever she herself was headed, she did not think they would, in any case, ever meet again. Violet settled the matter by taking Catherine’s hand and shaking it.

  “Good luck,” she said simply, and then, with a smile, she added, “and stay away from wicked companions in the future.”

  “Come, come, don’t just stand there, Catherine,” Rose whispered in exaggeratedly conspiratorial tones. “Time is wasting. Come, come, let’s go, for the stair is clear.”

  Violet lifted an eyebrow in Rose’s direction and said with some asperity, “Stop looking so sneaky, Rose. You’d make anyone suspect you of anything. It’s a good job you never tried for the stage. Good-bye, Catherine, keep a good thought.” And then she gave a tremendous yawn. “Lord, I’m beat. I think I’ll sleep the afternoon away, and if anyone knocks upon my door, they’ll see that I haven’t done a thing but sleep since I returned. I haven’t seen a thing, I haven’t done a thing. Just like you, Rose, just like you.”

  “To be sure.” Rose tittered in her excitement. “And where dear Catherine’s got to, how should we know? We’ve been just two sleeping beauties, haven’t we? Come, Catherine, the time is right.”

  Chapter XII

  Catherine followed Rose down the servants’ back stairs, bumping her portmanteau against the wall at every turn. They went quickly, Catherine hiding, flattening herself against the wall at every landing as Rose scouted to see if the way was clear. But it was early dawn and they achieved the sanctuary of the stables without any mishap. Once there, in the dim light, with the strong scent of horses and hay in their nostrils and only the curious nickering of the horses to greet them, Catherine relaxed at last. Rose nodded with satisfaction, for none of the grooms or coachmen were afoot in the stalls area, and there was no sign of any human activity.

  “Do you wait here now, Catherine,” Rose whispered, and she bustled off down the line of stalls and disappeared up a stairwell at the back of the stables. Catherine absently stroked the neck of a mare and wondered how Rose knew her way so surely through the stables, for she herself had only seen horses and carriages emerging from them during the days and nights that they had rested at the hotel. After a few moments during which Catherine worried about the increasing daylight and started at every restless sound the horses made, Rose reappeared at the other end of the stable and motioned urgently for Catherine to follow her. Catherine followed Rose up the turning wood stairs and found herself on a level above the stable proper. There were several doors off a wide wood-planked hall, and Rose led her unerringly to the door at the end of the corridor.

  “Are you decent now, Ferdie?” Rose whispered as she tapped softly at the door.

  The door swung open and James stood there, stuffing his shirttails into his trousers. He yawned, then grinned wickedly at Rose.

  “Ah, Rosie, you never asked that of me before,” he grinned.

  “No nonsense now,” Rose snapped, all business as she motioned Catherine to follow her into the room.

  It was a garretlike room, with a wooden floor and a high sloped ceiling. A simple bed and dresser with a lamp occupied one wall, and the other wall had a large window overlooking the stable entrance. James gave Catherine and Rose a sweeping bow and then sat down on his bed and smiled sleepily at them.

  “Your visits are always welcome, Rosie, my love,” he said, “but you don’t often bring me extra helpings. Whatever will our little Miss Catherine think?”

  Rose flushed a bit and then said hurriedly, casting a worried eye at Catherine shrinking back against the far wall, “None of your games now, Ferdie. I told you. The poor thing is in trouble. And Vi said, and I agreed, that you’re the very one to spirit her out of here. And quickly too, for that devil Beaumont is after her, and he’s no easy boy to cozen.”

  “Ferdie?” Catherine whispered, wondering if her fear had turned her comprehension, for it was James, the duchess’s coachman who was grinning happily at her.

  “Oh, that,” James laughed. “The old girl calls all her coachmen James, but it’s Ferdie Robinson at your service. So you want to nip out and leave the old girl in the lurch?”

  “No, that’s not it,” Catherine said quickly, “for she’s washed her hands of me. M. Beaumont has frightened her badly.” Catherine grimaced involuntarily. “He wants to give me to Hervé Richard. He thinks I’m…that is to say, he believes me to be…” Catherine found herself at a loss for words, since with Rose standing next to her, how could she describe what Rose and Violet were without giving offense?

  But James/Ferdie just laughed and Rose looked on benevolently.

  “Oh aye, I know. All of us here know, lass. You’re not in the same game as dear Rosie here, and we’ve often wondered just what your game was. For I swear I’ve brought you back to the hotel a dozen times alone when you could have had company easily, and I knew back in dear old London town you was in above your head. I thought to drop you a word even back then, but I’ve learned the less said, the safer your head. So now you’re in the soup, eh?”

  “Oh James—that is, Ferdie—” Catherine faltered.

  “Keep it James, lass, or you’ll be stammering all morning.”

  “James then,” Catherine said, gathering up her courage at the friendly expression on his plain, homely face. “I must go. I cannot do as M. Beaumont wishes. I cannot stay. Indeed, I should not have stayed so long. But see, I have all this money. I only need enough to take the packet back to England. You may have all the rest, but please, if you know of a way for me to leave safely, help me now.”

  “Keep your brass,” James said, with a wave of his hand. Catherine’s heart sank and Rose bridled instantly.

  “Why you are a beast, Ferdie Robinson. After all we’ve been to each other. And after I thought you were a right sort!” she shouted. “It’s as well I never went along with you and your high promises. You’ll leave my friend to go to strangers for help? Oh, you are a rum cove, you are.”

  “Hush, hush, Rosie,” James said, quickly rising and going to Rose and capturing her in his arms. “Did I say no, love? I only said I wouldn’t take her money. And so I won’t. For she is your friend, love, and I wouldn’t charge her for a favor. Anyhow, I don’t like Beaumont, and I don’t like the duchess, and I don’t like this whole setup. I’ve only stayed on to earn some more shekels, puss, so I can set you up proper if you ever say yes.” Catherine noted the satisfied little grin on Rose’s face with some shock. For she had never seen Rose so content as she seemed now as she coquettishly tapped James on the chin and sighed, “I knew I was right in you, Ferdie. You are a good lad. Ferdie is the wisest thing in creation, Catherine,” Rose said comfortably. “So rest easy, he’ll think of a way.”

  “They’ll be expecting you to fly,” James said thoughtfully. “We’ve got to confuse them a bit, that’s all. We’ve got to get you safely away from here to Saint-Denis. That’s only outside the city a way, and there’s a diligence that stops there that goes to the coast. You’ve only to hop on it and you’re in Dieppe again. Then skip on a packet and you’re home.”

  “But how?” Catherine and Rose said in concert.

  “Some sort of disguise,” James muttered, pacing and thinking
. “A widow!” Rose exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “That’s the very thing! With a long black veil. And you could pretend to cry a little, couldn’t you, Catherine, dear?”

  “And all they’d have to do is lift the veil,” James put in, “and then she’d be crying in earnest. Rosie, love, when we do buy that inn, it’s you who will greet the guests, and I that will run it. For it’s your face that’s your fortune, puss.”

  Rose subsided sadly. She walked over to Catherine while James stood, lost in thought.

  “It’s true,” she sighed, “I’m not longheaded at all, you know. And I’m not getting younger neither. I most likely will buckle up with Ferdie. And follow his path. For he wants us to set up an inn on the road to London, and after this trip I think I’m done with this old life. I had such dreams of fortune. Now I think I will be very glad to be plain Mrs. Ferdie Robinson.”

  “Never plain,” James said, turning to them. “It’s a disguise we’re after. Now how can we change this lovely English beauty into something Beaumont’s lackeys will ignore?”

  Catherine thought for a moment and then she clapped her hands together.

  “James! Rose! I have the very thing. I’ve seen it done on the stage. And I’ve read about it often enough. I’m not very tall, you know. I can dress as a lad.”

  James looked skeptical, but Rose was delighted.

  “The very thing,” she cried.

  “I don’t know,” James said, but, at Rose’s urging, he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s worth a go, I suppose. Wait here. There’s a room downstairs with some old kit left over from lads that have stayed here and skipped. I’ll be back in a flash. If Beaumont’s coming to collect Catherine, we’ll have to move smartly.”

  Catherine wrung her hands in anticipation. “I know I can do it, Rose. I’ve seen it often enough. And they’ll be looking for a girl. I’ll pull my hair back and I’ll swagger a bit.… Oh Rose, it has to work. I cannot bear to think of what will happen if it doesn’t.”