Cat O'Nine Tales

by Julia Golding

  ‘Thanks, Pedro. You’re a good friend.’

  ‘Ready to face Frank then?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Well, you’d better be – because he’s coming this way.’

  It was too late to bolt. Frank was striding towards us with a determined look.

  ‘Pedro, would you mind? I’d like to talk to Cat alone for a moment,’ he said sternly.

  What did this mean? Was the carriage already at the door?

  ‘Of course. I’ll see you in the breakfast room.’ Pedro grinned and scooted off into the house. The traitor.

  ‘Cat, I just wanted to say –’ continued Frank.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything.’ My misery was complete: I was to be dismissed in disgrace. ‘I’m sorry about last night. It wasn’t what it seemed – it never is with Billy. As for leaving, it really is time I returned to my real life and stopped pretending to be a fine lady when we all know I’m –’

  Frank put his hand over my mouth. ‘Don’t you ever shut up for a moment?’

  ‘Hmm-hmm-hmm.’ But my reply was lost.

  ‘Before I was rudely interrupted, I was trying to apologize to you. I over-reacted and I neglected you. You had a horrible evening and that was my fault. As for you marching off to London, I won’t hear of it. You’re my friend and we’re going to stick together for as long as possible.’

  ‘Hmm-hmm . . .!’ (By which I meant ‘But Frank – !’)

  ‘No “buts”, Cat. I’m off to college next year: we don’t have long to turn you into a proper horsewoman. We’d better get to work!’ He took his hand away.

  ‘But – !’

  He swiftly replaced it. ‘I said “no buts” and I mean it. I don’t care if all the stupid people in Bath think you’re beneath them: I know you’re first rate and I’m always proud of you, any time, in any company. And I would’ve been honoured to dance with you if I could’ve plucked up the courage to ask.’

  He took his hand away again but I was speechless.

  ‘That’s better. Now, breakfast.’ Frank offered me his arm and escorted me back into the house.

  Joseph returned from Bristol having drawn a blank. No one had seen or heard anything of Syd – or so they said. I was beginning to get anxious.

  ‘You know who we should ask, don’t you?’ I said to Frank as he trotted beside me on his black gelding, Amigo. My mount, Beauty, was a docile grey mare, just right for incompetents like me. We were riding through the beautiful parkland that surrounded Boxton. It was still hard to believe that it would one day all belong to my friend. A herd of deer scattered on our approach, bounding into a leafless copse and vanishing among the grey trunks. It should’ve been an idyllic scene except I was in continual fear of falling. I think I would have taken more to riding if I hadn’t had to perch side-saddle. I always felt in imminent danger of sliding off – and had done so on more than one occasion.

  ‘No, who should we talk to?’ asked Frank, tapping Beauty back into line with his crop.

  ‘Billy Shepherd. He always knows things. Syd’s his enemy – you can bet he keeps an eye on him just out of habit if nothing else.’

  Frank groaned.

  ‘I know how you feel,’ I said. I had been in debt to Billy before and didn’t want to repeat the experience.

  ‘Do you know where he’s lodging?’ asked Frank.

  I shook my head.

  ‘It can’t be difficult to discover,’ Frank continued, taking a swipe at the dried stalks of cow parsley in the hedge, probably imagining them as Billy’s head. ‘I’ll ride over and talk to him.’

  ‘Not a good idea. I suggest we catch him unawares – somewhere public. It’ll give him less chance to exploit the situation.’

  ‘We?’ Frank tipped his hat back with the top of his whip. ‘So anxious to see him again?’

  I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. ‘No, I’m just anxious to help Syd. Billy tells me things, you know that. He said he was here to take the waters; if that’s true, then we should be able to surprise him in the Pump Room.’

  ‘Well, the fashionable time to drink the waters is before ten,’ sighed Frank. ‘Looks like an early start tomorrow.’

  Mr Dixon accompanied us to the Pump Room, saying he had business to conduct in town. I rather wished he had decided to stay behind as I couldn’t help but feel awkward with him in the carriage. Neither of us had mentioned Monday night – he was too much of a gentleman to allude to it, of course, but he must be wondering about me. His charming demeanour had become cold and somewhat strained when I was around. I was, therefore, pleased to lose him in the crowd when we entered the Pump Room.

  ‘I suppose now I’m here I should try the stuff,’ I remarked to Frank, wrinkling my nose over the evil-smelling glass the footman had offered me from the ornate fountain. We were in a large, light room with a high ceiling. An orchestra played at one end while the visitors circulated, greeting each other. It was like watching a selection of fashion plates parade before you, each dress, jacket and uniform chosen to impress. There was something forced about it all, the preening and strutting too self-consciously done. Not having much to strut and preen about, I preferred to turn to the real business of the Pump Room: that of taking the water. I’d heard it was wonderfully good for you.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ Frank replied. I should have been warned by his amused expression.

  ‘Well, down the hatch.’ I took a sip and retched as a sulphurous taste attacked my throat. ‘Ugh! That is disgusting!’

  ‘I thought I recognized those dulcet tones!’ Billy Shepherd separated himself from the crowd and thumped me on the back as I coughed and spluttered. It had worked: my presence had been bait enough. I suppose I should have been flattered. Frank stiffened but pretended to be uninterested in the new arrival.

  ‘I hope you’re not sickening for something, Miss Royal?’ Billy asked with mock concern, as I stood up, eyes streaming.

  ‘Just trying to remove an unpleasant taste left behind from Monday,’ I said hoarsely, wiping my mouth on a handkerchief.

  ‘Really?’ Billy’s eyes were fixed on my lips. ‘I was left with a most pleasant sensation – a powerful tingle right here.’ He touched his mouth. ‘I could’ve sworn it was mutual.’

  I could feel the blush rushing up my neck. ‘That shows how much you know about me.’

  ‘Doesn’t it just?’ There was a pause that I rather wished someone would fill, before Billy offered me his arm. ‘As the Earl of Arden will no doubt tell you, the done thing is to circulate.’

  I hesitated, then took the offered arm. As loath as I was to touch him again, there seemed little choice if we were to talk. With Frank on one side and Billy on the other, we began to move through the crowds. I was used to everyone making a point of greeting Frank but I was surprised to note the number of people who nodded respectfully to Billy. He saw me watching and, leaning down, began to mutter under his breath for my entertainment:

  ‘In debt for a hundred. That one . . . let me see . . . I think it’s only fifty pounds – a trifle. I’m surprised he bothers to nod. Now that one – blown everything on a very disreputable woman who lodges in Gay Street – in debt to the tune of a thousand. Interest racking up daily.’ We passed Mr Dixon talking to an unfamiliar lady. ‘You’ll be curious about that one – mortgaged to the hilt. I own everything now.’

  ‘What, the lady?’

  ‘No, the gent.’

  I glanced up at Frank to see if he had heard but he was chewing his lip with a distracted expression as a line of girls curtseyed to him. He was doubtless wondering what everyone thought seeing a duke’s son in this questionable company.

  ‘Cousin of your friend, isn’t he?’ continued Billy in a low voice. ‘I’m squeezin’ pretty ’ard – he might go under if he don’t cough up soon. Such a shame my lord is so hale and hearty. All Mr D’s money troubles would be solved if his cousin croaked – next in line, you see?’

  ‘You wouldn’t . . .!’ It was no joke to hear Billy make reflect
ions on Frank’s longevity. I glanced fearfully over at him.

  ‘Nah, don’t worry, Cat.’ Billy stroked my arm as if soothing my bristled fur. ‘I’m not after ’im, though as ’is friend you should keep your eyes peeled – there’s bound to be others who are.’

  ‘Who?’ I cast an anxious look round the room, half-expecting to see cloaked assassins behind every potted palm.

  ‘Scheming mothers mostly.’ Billy chuckled. ‘Not life-threatening – but pretty dangerous to health and happiness. The Marchioness of Westbury was devastated that he didn’t ask her girl for a dance at the ball; same with the Countess of Gunnersford. These noble mothers are spoiling for revenge because the gossip is he wasted half the dances looking for you, desperate to save you from the clutches of your devilish admirer. You are quite the talk of the town.’ Billy gave me a wink. ‘Not that you needed rescuing. That kiss was long overdue and it’s only the start, but perhaps that’s a discussion we should have on our own somewhere less public.’

  Billy Shepherd truly has a gift for disconcerting me. I did not know where to start with my denials. ‘Billy, I –’

  ‘And then, of course, there are the jilted suitors,’ continued Billy, squeezing my hand. ‘None of the other young men are getting a look in with the heiresses while the ladies have their hopes pinned on catching the Earl of Arden. Quite a few of the gents are muttering darkly that life was much better before he arrived.’

  Frank turned his attention back to us. ‘What’s that you’re saying? Who’s arrived?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said quickly.

  ‘We were just discussing your marital prospects,’ slipped in Billy.

  Frank went red. ‘I’ll ask you to keep your nose out of –’

  ‘Frank!’ I exclaimed. Had he forgotten that we were trying to wheedle information out of Shepherd, not start a punch-up?

  Billy came to a halt. ‘So, Cat, why is my lord here lowering himself to spend time in my company? And you – I thought you never wanted to see me again?’

  ‘Well, you know I can’t resist your witty repartee and faultless manners,’ I said with a simper that I knew would annoy him.

  ‘Cut it out, Cat. You want somethink.’

  ‘And what if we do?’

  ‘You know nothing comes cheap with me.’ His expression was unpleasantly suggestive.

  ‘Well, I think I made a payment on account on Monday – you certainly took without asking. You owe me.’

  He scratched his chin, running one finger over his lips. ‘Perhaps I do. Go on, then, spit it out.’

  ‘It’s about Syd.’

  ‘Ah. You don’t know then?’

  ‘Know what?’

  Billy threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  I fumed silently.

  ‘I love it when you get all worked up, Cat,’ he said at last. ‘And I can see I’m annoying you now.’

  Frank stepped in between us. ‘Stop taunting her, Shepherd. If you claim to be a gentleman, start acting like one.’

  ‘Ooh, got you angry too, have I?’ Shepherd grinned and began to walk away.

  Frank made a move to follow but I grabbed his arm. ‘Wait,’ I cautioned.

  Billy turned when he realized we weren’t pursuing him. His eyes locked on mine, gleaming with amusement. ‘Go to the docks at Bristol. Ask at the Honest Tar.’

  ‘Is this a trick, Billy?’

  ‘Would I trick you, Cat Royal?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For once, I’m trying to do you a favour. The kiss was worth it.’

  ‘The Honest Tar?’ Mr Dixon rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully as the carriage rumbled back to Boxton. We had left the honey-coloured stone houses of Bath behind and returned to the landscape of thatched cottages and farms of the estate. ‘That’s not good. A rough place by all accounts. I really don’t like the idea of you exposing yourself to danger, Frank.’

  ‘Well, we’ve no choice. We’ve got to find out what’s happened to Syd,’ I said, staring out of the window miserably. Talking with Billy always did this to me: there was a temporary exhilaration of crossing swords with him, matching my wit against his, followed by the depressing awareness of my own fallibility. I realized I was missing Syd. He never made me feel cheap and he always treated me with respect.

  ‘Well, if we must go, then I suggest we go in force,’ replied Mr Dixon, giving me an encouraging smile. ‘We should dress so as not to attract attention and take a footman for our protection. That Joseph fellow should do: he’s big enough.’

  ‘You’re coming with us?’ I asked, impressed by his demonstration of bravery in a matter that did not concern him.

  ‘Of course.’ Mr Dixon patted my hand. ‘I can’t leave a friend of my cousin in distress, can I? Frank and I have been in many a scrape together before.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Cat.’ Frank now entered the conversation, ready for battle. ‘You can’t seriously expect us to take you with us!’

  ‘Why not?’ I knew this was coming and had my armoury of arguments ready.

  ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Let me ask you a question, my lord: who’s been living in luxury since he was born and who’s been looking after herself on the streets since she could walk?’

  ‘That’s not the point, Cat.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Will, talk to her, please!’

  ‘To be honest with you, Frank,’ said Mr Dixon, shaking out the newspaper he’d taken from his pocket, ‘I cannot see that having a young lady as one of the party will put any of us at risk, rather the opposite. People will assume we’re just out for a night on the town. Miss Royal will doubtless rise above any reflections on her character that may result. I think she is used to doing that. Honi soit qui mal y pense.2’

  What a wonderful man! I gave Mr Dixon a beaming smile.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I care little for false propriety when my friends are in danger.’ I wanted to add that I was sure Frank and his family would stand by him in his monetary difficulties with Billy, but knew I must hold my tongue. I wasn’t supposed to know and he would not thank me for broadcasting it.

  Mr Dixon returned my smile. ‘Quite so. Then that’s settled.’

  With hindsight, I should have listened to Frank, not Mr Dixon. Instead, I found myself entering the Honest Tar at nine that evening in the company of Frank, Pedro, Mr Dixon and Joseph. It was a low place, somewhat like the Jolly Boatman back home off The Strand: the only attraction the cheap beer dispensed by a rouged barmaid. Frank bought a round for everyone and carried our drinks to the table.

  ‘What now?’ he asked, slopping the beer on to the unwashed surface.

  ‘Get talking to people,’ I whispered, pushing my mug away. I didn’t like beer as it made my head swim and I knew I had to stay alert. ‘I’ll talk to the maid – you know, woman to woman. I’ll tell her Syd’s my long-lost sweetheart, see if I can get her on my side.’ (This wasn’t so very far from the truth.)

  Pedro got up. ‘I’ll tackle those sailors over there.’ He took out his violin, which he’d had the foresight to bring. ‘Come on, Frank.’

  ‘And I’ll see what headway I can make with some of the regulars,’ Mr Dixon volunteered gamely. ‘Be careful, everyone.’

  We all went our separate ways. It wasn’t long before the inn began to fill with merry tunes courtesy of Pedro’s fiddle – a bit of a comedown from Handel, but he wasn’t too proud to help Syd with a few sea-shanties. I sidled over to the barmaid.

  ‘Lovely,’ she sighed, her blonde curls jiggling as she tapped her foot. ‘A friend of yours?’ She nodded to Pedro.

  ‘Yes.’

  She flicked a cloth at a fly settled on the remnants of a customer’s supper. ‘What brings you to Bristol, my duck?’

  Good – she was a curious one: that boded well for my enquiries.

  ‘We’re looking for a friend of ours.’ I leant closer. ‘My fiancé.’

  She clucked her tongue sympathetically. ‘Men! You can’t trust them.
Promise you the moon, then sling their hook.’

  ‘Not Syd. He wouldn’t leave me without a word. I’m afraid something’s happened to him.’

  She smiled sceptically and continued to wipe the mugs with her cloth.

  ‘You might’ve seen him,’ I continued.

  ‘I see a lot of men, my duck.’

  ‘But Syd’s special.’

  ‘You poor thing.’ She patted my cheek. ‘Best if you forget him. A pretty thing like you won’t have to wait long for someone to take his place.’

  ‘No, I’m telling the truth! Syd’s not like that. Look, he’s big – about six foot – blonde, handsome. Nose been broken. A boxer.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘A boxer, you say?’

  ‘Yes. He might’ve been with another man, a sharp dresser with a face like a fox.’

  She put her cloth down. ‘I know the very ones! They were in here not so long ago celebrating a victory over a seaman, the ship’s champion. Not very clever of them: they should’ve taken their party away from the tars.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ I asked eagerly. ‘Nothing – well, not in here at any rate.’

  ‘Go on.’

  The maid pursed her lips. ‘I’m not saying nothing, mind, but the Courageous is trying to fill its quota. It lost half its men to yellow fever last voyage. And no one wants to serve with Captain Barton, of course.’

  ‘You mean the press gang got him?’

  ‘As I said, I’m not saying nothing.’ She picked up her cloth again and wiped a few tankards dry. She paused. ‘Word is the Courageous sails on the tide. You’d better hurry. I hope he’s worth it.’

  I darted back to Frank in a panic.

  ‘The barmaid as good as told me Syd’s on the Courageous. We’ve got to be quick – it’s ready to sail!’

  Frank gave a nod to Joseph, who’d been standing guard by the door, then turned to find his cousin. Mr Dixon was sharing a pint with a surly-looking man in a corner. On seeing us rise to leave, he shook hands with his companion and followed us out.

  The sailors, however, were not so eager to lose Pedro.

  ‘Just one more, boy!’ they pleaded, work-calloused hands stretched out in appeal.