‘Shall we go on deck and say goodbye to England?’ Kitty suggested. ‘I am sure you will feel better if you can see what is happening.’
They returned to the deck, holding on to superstructure, posts and rigging, anything to help them keep their balance, until they were standing side by side at the rail, watching as the ship slowly made its way out of the shelter of the harbour.
‘Well, well, if it isn’t my little runaway.’
Kitty whirled round to face the man who had spoken, the man with whom she had shared a cab little more than forty-eight hours previously, the man she had seen getting out of a coach at the inn. She had been so intent on the clerical gentleman, she had not recognised him then.
‘You!’
He doffed his tall hat with its narrow curly brim and executed a mannerly leg as steadily as if they had been in a London drawing room and not on a heaving deck. He was smiling. ‘As you see! Jack Chiltern at your service, ma’am.’
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, unaccountably pleased to see him. He was solidly real in a shifting world; someone from England. How did he know she would be on the packet? Had she let her intentions slip when talking to him in the coach? ‘Have you been following me?’
He smiled lazily. ‘Why should I do that?’
‘To take me back.’
‘If that were so, I would surely have made a move before we set sail. I can hardly swim ashore with you. My presence on this ship is pure coincidence, I promise you.’
‘Oh.’ She turned from him to look at the receding coastline as the ship met the open sea and began to pitch and roll. The unexpected movement flung her towards him. He caught her and steadied her, holding her just a fraction longer than was proper before releasing her.
‘But I am curious,’ he went on, deliberately setting aside the pleasure her small body next to his had given him. ‘Tell me, Kitty, what is so objectionable about Edward Lampeter that you cannot abide being in the same kingdom with him and must flee the country?’
She gasped. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘Lampeter murmured it when he required me to give a description of the person who commanded his presence so early in the morning. He said he would not stir for any little bit of muslin who might opportune him; his words, not mine, I add. It was not until he had been convinced of your identity that he agreed to go to you.’ He sighed melodramatically. ‘I am only sorry that it was to so little purpose.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why, that you did not come to an understanding. I should have thought a life with him would be infinitely preferable to the course you have chosen. Or perhaps he did not offer?’
‘Sir, you know nothing of it but what I was so foolish as to confide in you. Pray forget it.’
‘With pleasure, ma’am. I have more important things to occupy me than a madcap girl who does not seem to realise she is jumping from the frying pan into the fire.’
‘Nonsense!’ she said with some asperity. She did not know why she continued to converse with him, he was so arrogant and not at all civil, but he had the kind of presence you could not ignore and, if she were honest, she felt a little safer with him beside her. ‘I know there is some unrest in Paris, but we mean to bypass the city—’
‘You call the bloodiest deed ever to disgrace the name of France some unrest!’ he interrupted. ‘Less than a week ago, they sent their King to the guillotine. Pray, tell me where have you been hiding yourself that something which has cast a cloud over the whole of Europe should be of so little import to you? Do they not have newspapers in your part of the country?’
She was shocked by the news but quickly recovered herself. ‘Naturally they do, but I rarely see them. Uncle William thinks they are not fit reading for genteel young ladies. When he spoke of it, he said it would come to nothing; a people could not depose a king and right would prevail.’
‘And so you remain in blissful ignorance, which is no bad thing, except that you have taken it into your silly head to hurl yourself into the fray.’
‘You overstate the case, sir. We are not hurling ourselves into anything, we intend to stay only at respectable inns and avoid trouble.’
‘Easier said than done, Kitty, believe me. But tell me, where are you bound? Purely as a matter of satisfying my curiosity, you understand. Or is this simply a whim to travel without a destination?’
His condescending attitude infuriated her. ‘Sir, I did not give you permission to use my given name. But, since you ask, I am going to join my brother in Italy.’
He whistled. ‘Right through France? Child, you are mad. Did you not know France is also at war with Austria and half of Europe and will undoubtedly soon be in conflict with England? Do you have papers stating your business? And passports? You will need them to pass through the barriers and cross the borders.’
Before she could tell him that she lacked these requirements, Judith, who had been standing beside her growing paler and paler, was violently sick, and she turned from him to look after her maid. Taking her down to the cabin, she helped her to bed and sat beside her, bathing her brow, until she was calmer and fell asleep.
Later, longing to escape from the malodorous cabin, she returned on deck. The short day had turned to night and she stood by the rail again, breathing deeply, thankful that she appeared to be a good sailor. The sea was calmer now and, above the billowing sails, the stars made a dark pincushion of the sky. They made her think of home, of her uncle and little Johnny.
He would be missing her as she missed him: missed his giggle when she tickled him, his rapt attention when she told him a story. She prayed his mother would have patience with him and perhaps find him a loving nursemaid. She wondered fleetingly what her grandfather, the Viscount, had made of her disappearance; undoubtedly Alice would have put it in the worst possible light.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ said a voice at her elbow.
She did not need to turn round to know who stood beside her; she recognised the voice, knew the large capable hand that grasped the rail only inches from her own, felt his tall presence overshadowing her. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘It is strange to think that those same stars are twinkling over the whole northern hemisphere, over France and England, rich and poor, good and evil, faithful and faithless. You would think they would be more discriminating, wouldn’t you?’
‘We are all God’s creation,’ she said, wondering at the tinge of irony she detected in his voice.
‘Indeed, yes.’ He stood looking down at her, seeing the glitter of tears on her lashes in the moonlight and feeling a sudden surge of compassion which he quickly stifled. ‘But I believe you are already regretting your precipitous flight.’
‘Not at all,’ she said, as coolly as she could, though his nearness was making it almost impossible. ‘I have always wanted to travel, I’m looking forward to the experience.’
‘It is an experience you may learn to regret,’ he said. She had courage, he would give her that, and it was courage she would need in the weeks ahead of her. If he was not so pressed for time, he might be tempted to offer to escort her, but then smiled at his own stupidity. Hadn’t he learned his lesson yet? ‘In those clothes, you will stand out like a beacon. The sans-culottes will strip you naked and worse before taking all your money and denouncing you for an aristo.’
Kitty, who considered herself very plainly dressed, looked down at the fur-lined cloak and sturdy half-boots she wore and then back up at him. In the darkness it was difficult to see his expression, but his eyes were watchful. ‘What does sans-culottes mean?’
He grinned. ‘Is your French not up to translating it? It means “without breeches”. In other words, those who wear pantalons and not knee-breeches.’
She found herself blushing. Alice would never use either word and always referred to gentleman’s nether garments as Inexpressibles. ‘I still don’t understand.’
‘It is a term applied to the working classes, labourers, shopkeepers, craftsm
en. Since they wield a great deal of power these days, it is advisable not to upset them. And being better dressed than they are upsets them.’
‘Your puerile attempts to frighten me are wasted,’ she said, determined not to let him see how nervous he had made her. ‘I am an Englishwoman, not a French aristocrat, so what have I to fear? I have done no wrong and shall do none.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘Oh, my eye, a genuine innocent! And you think your haughty manner will be enough to keep you safe? Rest assured, nothing could be further from the truth. Will you, for instance, know how to deal with this?’ And before her startled senses could warn her what was coming, he had taken her into his arms and was kissing her.
It was nothing like the gentle kiss Edward had given her which had roused nothing in her but innocent delight at her daring. This man’s mouth was hard and demanding, forcing her lips to part, engulfing her, shutting out everything else around her, the wind in the sails, the creak of the rigging, the low voices of the crew, everything except the surge of something growing and expanding deep inside her, something wild and ungovernable which took her breath away.
With one arm still about her waist, he put his other hand up to her neck, caressing it with his thumb from ear to throat, making her shudder. When his fingers found the ribbon that tied her cloak, she suddenly realised what was happening and pulled herself away.
She stood, eyes glittering, breast heaving, unable to speak, unable to think of anything except the effect that kiss had had upon her. She raised both clenched fists to him, but he simply grabbed them and held them fast.
‘That was only a small taste of what you might find yourself having to endure,’ he said as calmly as he could, though his own heart was pounding. He knew he ought to ask pardon, but apologising would put him in the wrong and render the lesson ineffective. ‘Others would not be so careful of you.’
‘Careful!’ she hissed, unwilling to scream and alert the crew to her plight. She doubted if they would come to her aid, if she did. ‘I cannot think of anything more lacking in care. Do you take me for a … a …?’ She could not say the word.
He released her hands. ‘No, I meant only to demonstrate to you the dangers which might beset you. Talking seemed to have little effect.’
‘All you have demonstrated, sir, is that you are a cur.’
She turned, intending to go down to the cabin, but suddenly realised that the coast of France, which had been a distant line on the dark horizon when she came on deck, now loomed large and she could dimly see buildings and lights and people. Even as she hesitated, the sails were furled and a rope was thrown out and they were being hauled alongside the jetty by a tugboat.
‘If you had any sense,’ he said, addressing her stiffened back. ‘You would not disembark, but stay aboard and return to England. Better the devil you know …’
Kitty might have been tempted to take his advice, if Judith had not been so anxious to have terra firma under her feet again that she declared she would rather face a thousand bloodthirsty Frenchmen than spend another minute at sea. Kitty told her nothing of her latest conversation with the tall stranger—she realised she still had no idea who Jack Chiltern was—and, picking up their baggage, helped her maid up on to the deck and down the gangplank on to French soil.
The other passengers had disembarked before them and were each going their separate ways. The two women stood undecided on the quay with their bags at their feet, looking about them for a cab to convey them to a hotel for the remainder of the night. They could see no such vehicle. What they did see was the stranger, who had been striding purposefully ahead of them, stop and turn. He stood for a few seconds, watching them, then strode back.
‘Damn you, woman!’ he said. ‘I cannot abandon you.’ Kitty was so thankful to hear his voice, she forgot to reprimand him for his language, although Judith bristled with indignation and would have said something if Kitty had not laid a hand on her arm to restrain her.
‘Come with me,’ he went on, picking up the valise and basket. ‘I’ll see you safely settled in a hotel, if you can call it by that name, but more than that I will not undertake to do. I have other more pressing errands.’
‘Thank you.’ It went against all her inclinations to be civil to him, let alone grateful, but she had to admit she needed help and, as he was the only one to offer any, she should not be too proud to accept.
He conducted them along the street and round a corner, where he stopped in front of a building which looked more like a tavern than a hotel. Above the door the sign of a cockerel creaked in the wind. He ushered them over the threshold into a dimly lit parlour, where several people were drinking. All of them were meanly dressed, the men in pantaloons, rough collarless shirts and a garment that was somewhere between a sleeveless jacket and a waistcoat. Some also wore long overcoats.
The women were in skirts and blouses with red, white and blue shawls tied about their shoulders or waists. All wore the crimson caps of the Revolution, with their tricolour cockades pinned on the side.
‘Citizen Chiltern!’ The innkeeper came forward and, clasping both their escort’s arms, embraced him. ‘It is good to see you again, mon vieux. Come into the back room and you can tell me all your news.’
‘I’ll tell you later, Pierre, my friend,’ their escort said in fluent French, stepping aside to allow Kitty and Judith to precede him into the next room where a bright fire burned. He put down their bags. ‘First, I must dispose of certain encumbrances. Can you find a room for these two?’
The man looked doubtfully at Kitty and Judith who stood uncertainly just inside the door, looking longingly at the fire. ‘Jack, I’ll do anything for you, you know that, but …’
‘One night, then put them on a south-bound diligence in the morning and forget you ever saw them.’ He pulled a purse from the capacious pocket of his greatcoat and extracted some coins which he laid on the table.
‘They have passes?’
‘No, they travel light.’
‘Too light, citoyen, too light.’ He looked Kitty up and down, noting the warm clothing. ‘And in other ways too heavy.’
‘I know, but what can I do? They have thrown themselves on my mercy …’
‘And you cannot resist a pretty face, I know it. Where do you go in the morning?’
‘To Paris.’
‘Without them?’ He nodded at the two women.
‘Without them. But I would not have them molested. They need passports and papers to travel through France. An escort part of the way, if you can provide one.’
‘Mon Dieu! You do not ask much, do you?’
Jack laughed. ‘Put Gerard on to it.’ And again gold coins were extracted from the purse and laid beside the others on the table.
‘I shall need their names and their destination and a valid reason for travelling.’
Kitty, who had learned a little French in the schoolroom, had managed to follow the gist of what had been said. ‘I am going to Italy to live with my brother, my parents both being dead,’ she said, moving to stretch her cold hands towards the blaze. ‘Is that reason enough?’
‘And this one?’ The man pointed a blackened finger at Judith.
‘She is my maid, Judith Sadler.’
‘Maid, eh?’ He smiled at Judith and chucked her under the chin which made her recoil. ‘No, not a maid. Citizeness, you are a free woman, free to come and go as you please.’
‘Of course she is,’ Kitty said, grasping the situation. ‘I meant she is my friend. Yes, very definitely my friend.’
‘And you, citoyenne, who are you?’
‘Kitty Harston, plain Kitty Harston. My brother is James Harston, should you need to know that.’
‘What!’ The exclamation came from Jack.
She turned to look at him. The astonishment on his face was comical. ‘Harston,’ she repeated. ‘Did Mr Lampeter not tell you that when he told you my given name?’
‘No, he did not.’ He sat down heavily in the nearest chair. ‘Mon Dieu! This
alters everything.’
‘How so?’
He ignored her and turned to the innkeeper. ‘Pierre, we shall have to think again.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kitty demanded. ‘Do you know something of my brother?’
‘Shut up, woman, and let me think,’ he said in English.
‘Did you ever hear such ungentlemanly language?’ Judith protested. ‘Kitty, I cannot think what we are doing here, allowing ourselves to be bullied in this fashion. I begin to think it was a bad day when you met up with the scoundrel. I am quite sure he is doing all this on purpose to frighten us.’
‘Do you know something of my brother?’ Kitty asked again, thoroughly alarmed by the thunderous look on Jack Chiltern’s face. ‘If you do, I beg of you to tell me. He is not … not dead, is he?’
‘Not that I know of, but he is certainly not in Italy.’ He stood up suddenly and spoke to the innkeeper in French. ‘Pierre, give the citizenesses your best room and something to eat. I will go and see when the Faery Queen is due to return to England. These two must be on it.’
Kitty, who had followed most of what he had said, was thoroughly alarmed. ‘Mr Chiltern, I beg of you to tell me, where is my brother?’
‘In Paris, ma’am. At least, he was there two weeks ago.’
‘Then we go to Paris tomorrow.’
‘Oh, no, we don’t. If you think I am going to saddle myself with a couple of ingénue tourists, you are mistaken.’
‘Then don’t. We did not ask for your help and will continue without it.’
Pierre demanded a translation, which Jack furnished him with and which resulted in ribald laughter.
‘It is not amusing, my friend,’ Jack told him. ‘You know how important my business is and how much in haste I am to see it done. I must either return them to England or take them with me. Either way …’ He shrugged.
‘Leave it to the morning,’ Pierre suggested. ‘No one goes anywhere after curfew and the tocsin has long since sounded. And besides, Gerard will need time to forge the papers. Yours, too, because Jack Chiltern is no longer safe in France.’
Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999) Page 4