Imitation of Love

by Sally Quilford

  Despite that, Catherine found it impossible to begin work. It wasn’t only to keep up the pretence of being unable to forge the documents. The thought that she might be contributing to the death of the king was horrifying. The idea that she’d already done it unwittingly when Jimmy first brought her the work, and that it was the reason he’d been silenced, was overwhelming. How naïve they’d both been, to think that the only people asking for the service would have a noble cause. They’d been stupid not to ask further questions. Jimmy had obviously been seduced by Mrs. Somerson’s charms, and probably would never have believed she’d be involved in such a heinous plot. But Catherine knew that she should have pressed for more information. She’d just trusted her brother to do the decent thing.

  Xander was right. What Catherine had done, not just to him with the guardianship letter, but in putting the king’s life at risk, was reprehensible. When he found out that she’d assisted in the assassination, he would despise her even more.

  She imagined that the sisters planned to assassinate the king, then use the letters from the French nobleman to escape detection. The authorities, even if they suspected Mrs Somerson and Celine, would be looking for an Englishwoman and her maid, not two French women escaping the guillotine. Catherine had to make things right, no matter what the outcome.

  She sat on the bed, despondent and was still sitting there an hour later, when Celine returned.

  “I’ve brought you a drink.” She handed Catherine a pewter tankard filled with water. “Don’t worry it’s not drugged. Obviously we need to keep you awake.” As Catherine was thirsty, she took a sip, and then grimaced at the brackish taste.

  “Why haven’t you started?”

  “I’m not going to do it,” said Catherine.

  “Now listen to me, you stupid girl.” Celine grabbed Catherine by the hair and dragged her to the table, knocking the tankard to the floor, and forcing her to sit down on the chair. “I can send one of the men back to London at any moment, and when he gets there, he’ll kill your sister.”

  “He won’t, because Alyssa is too well cared for.” It was something Catherine had spent the last hour considering. The rough looking men would never be allowed anywhere near Alyssa. Harrington and Xander would see to that. She had to place her trust in them, and hope that if her sister was in danger, they would act quickly enough to prevent her being harmed. “And even if he succeeds, at least I’ll have done the right thing.” Catherine thought of Jimmy, and how he lost his life, and all the times that Xander, as the Captain, had risked his life to save others, including the time he refused an order his Commanding Officer that would have led to unjustified carnage. She tried to be inspired by their courage, despite the terror in her heart. “I’m not going to help you commit regicide.”

  Celine pulled a pistol from the pocket in her dress. “I was afraid you’d say that. But I think your own instinct to live will overcome any objections you have. You’ve got until the count of ten to start work.” She pressed the pistol against Catherine’s temple.

  “One, two, three…”

  Chapter Nine

  As Xander was able to travel across country on his horse, he reached Phoebe Somerson’s house only a short time after they did. Under the cover of a copse several hundred yards away, he could see the carriage parked outside the gatehouse, and the two men standing guard at the door. Occasionally either Phoebe or the other woman – the maid – came out to them, and they talked for a while, looking to an upper window, which had been boarded up. It gave him a good indication of where Catherine was.

  He’d never been to Phoebe’s country house, and was surprised by how derelict the larger building was. He wondered if she and her gang had abducted Catherine in order to demand a ransom. He was tempted to approach the men and offer any terms they wanted, in order to get her back. But he had no weapon on him, and for all he knew, they might be armed and open fire.

  Waiting for Harrington to arrive with help was frustrating, but he knew he had no choice. It would be foolish to approach the gatehouse unprepared.

  He’d been waiting an agonizing three quarters of an hour when he heard the approach of hooves coming from the London road. He pursed his lips and let out a shrill whistle, when he recognized Harrington at the head of a group of men. They’d brought a carriage with them, for which he was grateful. Catherine might not be in any fit state to ride back to London.

  “Xander…” Harrington rode across to the copse, and got off his horse, making sure he kept out of sight of the gatehouse. “I’ve brought help. What’s going on?”

  “I think they want her to forge new letters.” He briefly told Harrington about the links he’d made. “Either that, or they intend to hold her to ransom. But no one has left since I arrived, and I feel sure they’d send someone with a note if they wanted money. Did you bring me a weapon?”

  Harrington handed over a pistol, and a sword on a scabbard, which Xander put around his waist. “We’ll take the two men out first, then deal with the women inside.”

  As he spoke a shot rang out from the direction of the gatehouse. Fearing the worst, and with no thought for his own safety, he jumped on his horse, commanding Harrington and the others to follow him. The two ruffians didn’t have time to react to the sudden onslaught, as they also seemed shocked by the sudden gunshot. Xander and Harrington were able to knock them out pretty quickly, leaving the others to tie them up, whilst Xander kicked open the gatehouse door and ran inside.

  Phoebe was crouching in a corner, whimpering. “Xander … darling …” she said, running to him. “I had nothing to do with it. Celine made me do it. I’d never hurt dear Miss Willoughby. I…”

  “Phoebe, get out of my way! Andrew, deal with this … woman.” He dashed past her and up the stairs. Just off the landing was an open door, and he could smell the gunpowder emanating from the room. “Catherine!” He went in, terrified of what he might find, and cursing himself for waiting for help. He should have come for her sooner. If he was too late…

  He found her standing at the edge of the room with the pistol in her hand. She trembled from head to toe and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I killed her,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. I just tried to get the pistol from her because I didn’t really want to die and …”

  Celine lay in a pool of blood on the floor. Xander took a blanket from the truckle bed and threw it over her. Catherine, who hadn’t moved in all the time he’d been in the room, looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to help them in the plot against the king. I honestly didn’t know.”

  “Catherine…” He went towards her, just in time to catch her when she fell into a dead faint.

  Harrington came bursting into the room. “Oh Lord, Xander is she…” He looked at Catherine lying in Xander’s arms.

  “No, she’s alive. She just fainted. It’s not surprising with everything she’s been through.”

  “Thank God she wasn’t hurt. What happened? Who fired the pistol we heard?”

  “The French maid is dead,” said Xander in slow and deliberate tones. “I shot her as she was about to shoot Miss Willoughby.”

  “But…” Harrington paused, and then nodded. “Yes, in fact I saw you do it with my own eyes.”

  “Miss Willoughby saw nothing, because she fainted. So there’s no need for the authorities to ask her questions about the shooting.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “Good man.”

  “Phoebe and the two men are under arrest, and we’re going to hand them over to the nearest goal.”

  “Will you take care of that, Andrew? I want to take her home.”

  “To London?”

  “No, I’ll take her to Oakley Castle. It’s more private, and I’ll need to talk to her before she sees anyone from the authorities.”

  Catherine felt so ashamed. She wasn’t the fainting kind. Hadn’t she said that to Xander? And what had she done the moment he entered the room at the gatehouse? She’d fai
nted away. She opened her eyes to find she was sitting next to him in a carriage. He had one hand on the reins and the other around her waist, holding her close to him. She was in the most wonderful place on earth, despite the fact that the movement of the carriage was making her nauseous.

  She wanted to talk to him. To explain everything, and let him know that she hadn’t given into Celine’s demands, whatever he might think of her, but her mouth felt dry and her head hurt.

  Her recollection of events seemed hazy. She remembered Celine starting to count to ten, and she got to five when it suddenly struck Catherine that it was a ludicrous thing to do as it gave her time to think. Before she’d reached ten, Catherine had gripped her hand and pushed her away. There was a struggle, as they fought for the pistol, and then, as they both fell to the floor, a loud retort.

  Catherine could see herself, almost as if watching an actress on stage, getting up with the pistol in her hand and looking down at the dead woman. Then Xander arrived, and she’d wanted to tell him how brave she’d been. To tell him how she’d stood up to their demands. Only she’d started to feel ill. Her stomach ached, and she felt queasy. Not least because she knew she’d killed someone. Then she disgraced herself by fainting in front of him. He was so brave, he’d despise her for that, surely. But she’d killed someone, and she couldn’t get rid of the nasty taste in her mouth.

  “Xander…” she whispered, as they rode through the countryside in his carriage.

  “Don’t try to speak,” he said. She was ot sure, but she thought he leaned over and kissed her hair. She must have imagined it because he would never do such a thing. Not when she’d been an unwitting accomplice in a plot against King George’s life.

  She didn’t know how long they’d been travelling when Oakley Castle came into view. She’d dozed for part of the journey, still fighting the fever that gripped her. She supposed, as they approached the house, that he’d brought her here because he was too ashamed to take her to London again. With that came the dreadful realization that everyone knew what she’d done. It wouldn’t matter to her if no one wanted her in society, but it might harm Alyssa.

  “We’re home, darling,” said Xander, as he stopped the carriage outside the house. “You’re safe. No one can hurt you again.”

  Catherine wondered who ‘darling’ was. She was sure no one else had travelled with them. Had he brought Mrs. Somerson back too? What if he didn’t know about her? There was so much she had to tell him, if only she had the energy to speak. Catherine glanced around and could see no one else so the mystery of darling remained.

  Xander went around to her side of the carriage, to help her down. “No,” she said. “I can manage on my own. I can walk.”

  He ignored her and helped her down anyway. She pulled away from him, determined to show that she wasn’t some weak, insipid woman. She could stand on her own two feet. Except her feet seemed to be made of jelly, and didn’t cling to the ground half as well as they should have. She was going to faint, and she couldn’t do that in front of him. Not again. He despised her enough already. “I’m quite capable of…” she tried to say, but the world started to spin, and she was afraid it was going to make her fall over if someone didn’t put a stop to it soon.

  His arms went around her and she heard him shouting. Was he angry with her? She couldn’t blame him, even if it was a bit unkind of him to shout when her head hurt so much. But he also seemed to be shouting at Griffiths and a physician.

  She decided to have one last try at showing him she could walk, and of proving it to him, but then blackness descended and she couldn’t say anything at all.

  What followed were nightmares, as she relived over and over the dreadful scene with Celine. She’d actually killed someone, and even if that person had been evil, they didn’t deserve to die. Then firm but gentle hands lifted her and offered her a drink, but she pushed it away, because she knew that the water was dirty, and it would make her feel even more unwell. A deep voice entreated her to trust him, and instinctively she did, taking the water offered. It tasted wonderful, clean and fresh. But still her illness persisted. Then the vision changed and she was floating upwards, and looked down to see her sister crying at the side of a bed. There was someone lying in the bed, but Catherine couldn’t make out who it was. Was it Celine? Perhaps she hadn’t died after all. But Catherine was sure she had, and that even if she was alive, Alyssa wouldn’t be crying over her.

  “No, Alyssa, don’t cry,” she whispered. “Harrington will take care of you.” And she was glad to see that Harrington was there, holding Alyssa in his arms. She had done everything she could for her sister, and it was time to let go. Only something … someone … kept pulling her back. The same, safe, strong arms that brought her the fresh water. She wanted to go to sleep and find peace, but he kept insisting she drink water and eat broth.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she heard the deep voice say. “Not when I have so much to say to you.”

  “I’m so tired,” she said.

  “I know, darling. But you have to fight for a little while longer.”

  So she fought, because he asked her to and she wanted to please him. And then finally, the peace she sought came, and she rested on his shoulder and fell asleep, exhausted from the fight.

  She opened her eyes to see sunlight streaming into the bedroom, and Kitty bustling around her. “Oh, Miss Willoughby…” Kitty approached the bed. “You’re awake.” Her maid gave her a broad smile. “We’ve all been so worried about you. I’m ever so glad you’re well again. Mr. Oakley said it was that horrible dirty place they took you that did it. It gave you a fever.”

  “It was the water,” said Catherine. “I shouldn’t have drunk it. Where am I, Kitty?” Catherine looked around the bedroom, but didn’t recognize it.

  “You’re at Oakley Castle, Miss Willoughby. We all are. Mr. Oakley said we all had to come back from London because … well it’s not important now. You’re well again, and that’s all that matters and Mr. Oakley said I’m not to upset you with talking about things what might have happened. Mr. Oakley and Miss Alyssa, they haven’t wanted to leave your side for a minute. But last night the physician said your fever had broken, and Mr. Harrington ordered them both to get some rest. Otherwise they’d have been here when you woke up, I’m sure. Then Mr. Oakley and Mr. Harrington had to go off to London early to talk about those villains. Fancy someone wanting to kill the king. It’s horrible. Oh I hope they hang them, Miss Willoughby. ”

  “This isn’t my room,” said Catherine, wanting to think about anything but hanging. The walls were a cheerful primrose pattern, with silk covers on the four poster bed to match.

  “No, Mr. Oakley put you in the room right next to his, so he could watch over you, he says. It was his mother’s room when she was alive.”

  Before Catherine could find time to digest that information the bedroom door opened, and Alyssa burst in. “Oh darling,” she said, running to the bed and throwing her arms around Catherine. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  “Now, Miss Alyssa,” said Kitty, “you know Mr. Oakley says we’re not to upset Miss Willoughby with all the details.”

  “I’m alright, Kitty, don’t worry,” said Catherine. “I can guess for myself that I’ve been very ill.” Kitty curtseyed and left the room.

  “How long have I been ill, Alyssa?” asked Catherine.

  “Over a week, dearest.”

  “And the king? Is he safe?”

  “Oh yes, don’t worry. They cancelled the parade.”

  Catherine wondered just how much trouble she was in. She felt sure that Mrs. Somerson would have told the authorities that she was the one who forged the first false letters, not Jimmy. Added to the fact she killed a woman. Was it possible she’d survived the fever only to have to face the gallows for treason and murder?

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re still unwell, dearest,” said Alyssa, when Catherine shivered involuntarily. “Try and get some rest, and I’ll come back to see you aft
er breakfast.” Alyssa walked to the door, looked back and blew her sister a kiss.

  “Alyssa … did Mr. Oakley say anything about the authorities wishing to speak to me?”

  “No, darling. Why would they want to do that?”

  “I killed someone, Alyssa. Mrs. Somerson’s sister, Celine.”

  “No, you didn’t, dearest. Mr. Oakley said he heard you talking in your sleep, and from what you said, he thought you might have had a dream that you’d killed someone. He warned us that you might think some of the dreams really happened, because a fever can make imaginary things seem very vivid, but you haven’t killed anyone, dearest. Honestly, the very thought of you doing such a thing! Now get some rest.”

  Catherine couldn’t rest. After Alyssa had gone, she got out of bed, feeling a little shaky, but stronger than she had when Xander brought her back to Oakley Castle. She called for Kitty to draw a bath, and lay soaking in it, reveling in the clean, warm water, even though her mind was still troubled.