The Elusive Heiress

by Gail Mallin

  ‘You should be.’ Randal’s voice was grim. ‘You see, Gerald Sullivan didn’t write to complain of Kitty Nixon’s behaviour. He wrote to inform me that she is dead. She drowned in River Liffey three weeks ago.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘Detestable man! Leading me on in such an odiously underhand fashion! I swear he enjoyed every minute of my discomfiture!’

  Kate Devlin threw herself back against the dingy squabs of the hired chaise, a frown distorting the exquisite beauty of her face.

  ‘Not one single shred of mourning to warn us. Does the man lack all sense of family feeling? If he thought Kitty dead, why didn’t he display at least a modicum of grief?’ Her rich contralto voice crackled with rage.

  ‘Perhaps he thought it would seem hypocritical,’ Mary Porter suggested quietly. ‘Him not having seen her since she was a baby, I mean.’

  ‘It would suit him if she was dead. He stands to inherit her fortune! Come to think on it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in league with Sullivan.’

  ‘Calm down, Kate. You know you shouldn’t make such wild accusations without proof.’ Mary’s broad face creased into disapproving lines.

  ‘Bah!’ Kate snorted inelegantly.

  Mary hid a smile. It was no use scolding the lass. Kate Devlin was wholehearted in everything she did. Without her enthusiasm, their plan would never have got this far, but it was a pity she had decided to take his lordship in dislike.

  ‘We ought to be deciding our next move,’ she reminded her young companion gently.

  Kate emerged from her brooding and took a long, calming breath. ‘You’re right as usual, Mary,’ she sighed. ‘But it goes against the grain to let him think he has won!’

  ‘I reckon Redesmere is as shrewd as he can hold together.’ Mary scratched her chin thoughtfully. ‘Maybe we ought to abandon the attempt?’

  ‘No! I’m damned if I’m going to let that…that interfering oaf prevent us from helping Kitty.’

  Wisely, Mary said no more. She had argued against the whole crazy scheme from the beginning, but Kate’s soft heart had been touched by Kitty Nixon’s plight and once she got an idea into that stubborn head of hers then Old Nick himself couldn’t shift it.

  A silence fell between them. Kate stared blindly out of the dusty window, too preoccupied to notice the bone-shaking of the old chaise as it rattled down the narrow country lane.

  She had told the coachman to convey them away from Crawford Hall with all possible speed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake off the memory of her interview with Randal Crawford so easily.

  How she had longed to slap that mocking expression off his handsome face! She hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to say after he had dropped that bombshell in her lap. The tide of embarrassed colour which had flooded her cheeks hadn’t helped.

  By the time she had recovered her nerve he was ringing for the footman to escort her out.

  Rising to her feet she had met this reversal of fortune with dignity.

  ‘You will find, sir,’ she had informed him coolly, ‘that my uncle is mistaken. I am Kitty Nixon and I can prove it.’

  ‘You will have to.’ His expression had hardened, the blue gaze raking her up and down with obvious contempt. ‘But I would advise you not to try.’

  Ignoring the frisson of alarm that made her knees quake, Kate tilted her chin at him defiantly. ‘Is that a threat, my lord?’

  ‘Consider it a warning,’ came his silky reply.

  Forgetting her haughty pose, she glared at him. ‘You, sir, are a bully,’ she declared hotly.

  To her fury he had burst out laughing.

  ‘And you, ma’am, are an adventuress,’ he riposted with a smile that dripped mockery.

  ‘How dare you—’

  ‘No. Don’t bother to deny it.’ He silenced her protests with an easy gesture of one well-kept hand. ‘Accept your conge, gracefully, m’dear. Otherwise…’ He gave a significant shrug.

  Kate understood him perfectly. ‘Don’t worry. I will go quietly,’ she snapped back with vicious irony. ‘But you needn’t imagine this is the end of the matter. I intend to take my claim to the lawyers.’

  His brows drew together in a quick frown at her reply.

  Stupidly, Kate found herself noticing how much darker they were than his hair. Like the long thick lashes that framed his vivid eyes, their colour was a deep brown.

  ‘That, ma’am, must be your choice.’

  The cold anger in his voice immediately put paid to Kate’s wool-gathering and she tensed.

  ‘But be sure you understand the consequences. Next time I might not find your impudence so amusing.’

  The arrival of the footman to escort her to the waiting carriage had been timely. Another moment in Randal Crawford’s company and Kate might have exploded!

  Fiend seize the fellow! What was it about him that could set her all on edge? He was very handsome to be sure with those strong, well-cut features and that tall, lithe body, but she was hardly a green girl whose head could be easily turned. Once perhaps…but that was a long time ago.

  A little shiver ran through her slender frame. Her nerves must be in a worse state than she thought. Recalling the past was an idiotic waste of time. Her folly was best forgotten. Dead and buried like Francis.

  ‘Are you all right, lass?’ Mary asked anxiously. ‘You look as if you had seen a ghost.’

  Kate swallowed down the bitter mixture of regret and sorrow that threatened to choke her whenever she thought of her late husband and turning back to her companion managed a slight smile.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m behaving like a fool!’ A faint sigh escaped her. ‘I should have guessed Gerald Sullivan would try something. No wonder Redesmere was suspicious!’

  ‘Now don’t go falling into the dismals!’ Mary reached out to give the small white hands that lay clenched in her young friend’s lap a comforting squeeze. ‘You weren’t to know that blackguard would write to his lordship.’

  ‘He called me an adventuress,’ Kate seethed. Then, drawing a calming breath she asked in a much more hesitant tone, ‘Do you think he could have guessed what I really am? Perhaps I betrayed myself in some way.’

  Mary shook her greying head. ‘Never,’ she said firmly. ‘Why should he suspect? You are a lady. You were gently born and bred and nothing can change that fact, even if you’ve come down in the world since.’

  Her heavy features softened into a smile. ‘Bless you, lass, you mustn’t blame yourself for failing to convince him! It was just bad luck that Sullivan’s letter arrived before we did.’

  Reassured, Kate settled herself more comfortably on the somewhat lumpy seat and began to contemplate their next move.

  Money, as usual, was the problem. It was in scarce supply and providing a suitable wardrobe for her new role had been expensive. Nonetheless, they would have to stay at a better kind of inn tonight, one which catered for the gentry. A well-bred young lady like Kitty Nixon couldn’t stay anywhere else!

  At least they could dispense with this carriage once they returned to Chester. As soon as the stage had set them down outside the White Lion this morning they had sought a means of conveyance to Crawford Hall. The inn was one of the busiest and most popular in the city and the landlord had treated their request with scarcely-veiled impatience once he realised that they did not possess a long purse.

  His brusque attitude made it plain that he found their desire for economy as peculiar as their lack of male escort. However, when Kate employed her sweetest smile and fluttered her impossibly long eyelashes at him he’d relented.

  Unfortunately, the chaise eventually provided wasn’t quite the bargain it had seemed on first sight. The showy paint work couldn’t disguise its neglected interior or its abominable springing. Before they’d gone a mile Kate was regretting that they’d been forced to deplete their slender resources on hiring such an uncomfortable vehicle.

  Her generous mouth twisted. For all the good it had done, they might as well have saved their
money! The visit to Crawford Hall had been a disaster!

  What would his high-nosed lordship think if he knew the real truth of her identity? If he knew that she was a professional actress, paid to parade herself on the public stage? Without a doubt, he would despise her! Good God, even her own father had cast her off and refused to have anything more to do with her!

  ‘Do you know, Mary,’ Kate said abruptly, forcing herself to eject the detestable Lord Redesmere from her thoughts and concentrate on more important matters. ‘I think that the Sullivans probably do imagine Kitty to be dead. They certainly intended she should drown.’

  ‘Aye, she would have done too if Ned Gillman hadn’t picked that particular stretch of the river bank for your stroll.’ Mary let out a cackle of mirth. ‘Right unlucky he was, if you ask me! Moonlight, a soft gentle breeze and the bit of privacy he’d engineered all gone to waste!’

  ‘Mary! You know I have no romantic interest in Ned. I like him and find him easy to work with, but he is just a friend.’ A flush of rosy colour stained Kate’s cheeks, betraying her embarrassment.

  Fearing her outspoken colleague would argue that the actor-manager of their small company would happily play a much larger role in her life if only she’d let him, Kate hastily brought the conversation back to the problem in hand. ‘We shall have to seek out Lady Edgeworth and try to engage her support. If Kitty’s godmother is seen to accept me, it will lend weight to my claim. She might even have some influence with the lawyers.’

  Mary nodded. It was worth a try.

  ‘I wish John Nixon hadn’t left everything in Redesmere’s control.’ Kate’s slim fingers drummed against the cracked leather seat. ‘The lawyers will be very reluctant to go against him even if I can persuade them to acknowledge me.’

  ‘Maybe Lord Redesmere will change his mind when he sees that letter and the locket Kitty gave you,’ Mary suggested hopefully.

  Kate shrugged eloquently. ‘I doubt he is the vacillating type. He’ll probably say I stole them!’

  Her dark gaze fixed itself upon the campion and lady smocks rioting in the passing hedgerows, but all she saw was a pair of bright blue eyes narrowing with contempt. It was strange how much it had hurt.

  Her gloomy expression suddenly brightened. ‘Still there is one thing even Randal Crawford must take into consideration. Gerald Sullivan claims Kitty is dead, but he cannot prove it, not without producing her body.’

  Mary began to chuckle. ‘I’d like to see him try!’

  Kate grinned back at her. ‘So it is his word against mine and everyone knows that he is desperate for money.’

  Her rich laughter soared to fill the coach.

  ‘Onwards to Chester and ! The game is still afoot!’

  * * * *

  The sun was already hot when Kate emerged from the Hop-Pole Inn in Foregate Street the next morning. Unfurling her blue silk parasol to shade her delicate skin, she had the satisfaction of knowing it set off her demure outfit to perfection.

  She had taken a great deal of care with her appearance for this meeting with Lady Edgeworth. A wealthy widow in her mid forties, Kitty’s godmother was one of the leaders of local society and said to be a generous hostess.

  ‘But I don’t really know much about her,’ Kitty had informed them apologetically. ‘She and Papa were childhood friends and she wrote a very kind letter to Mama after he died. She even offered to give me a London season once I was out of mourning. Mama refused, we could not afford it, but when it was decided I should claim my inheritance Mama wrote asking her if she would house me whilst the business was settled. She thought such a course would be more suitable since Cousin Randal is a bachelor, but we did not receive a reply before I left home.’

  Given the difficulties of sea transport this silence on Lady Edgeworth’s part did not daunt Kate. She had sent a note round to Abbey Square as soon as she had removed her bonnet in the Hop-Pole’s best bedchamber. In spite of Mary’s gloomy prediction that her ladyship might be away from home, a pageboy had brought round a reply within the hour.

  Kate was invited to call after breakfast and correctly deducing that Lady Edgeworth would not expect her before eleven, she partook of coffee and rolls in a leisurely fashion before beginning a toilette designed to impress her supposed godmother. Once she had bathed, she sat patiently in her wrapper while Mary brushed her dark curls until they gleamed to rival seal’s fur and dressed them in a simple chignon, leaving just a few loose tendrils to frame her face.

  ‘Nearly ten o’clock. Time you was dressed. We don’t want to start off on the wrong foot by being late.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Kate let out a mock groan. ‘Dearest Mary, you aren’t going to make me wear all those? Can’t I just wear the petticoat?’

  Mary ignored Kate’s plea. ‘Proper young ladies always wear drawers and stays,’ she said inexorably, handing Kate the pair of flesh coloured pantalettes she held.

  ‘I had forgotten what a restricted life I used to lead. Heavens, I shall be baked alive!’ Smothering a sigh, Kate slipped the long drawers on and then allowed Mary to lace her into the corset a la Ninon, which was at least soft and lightweight enough to be fairly comfortable.

  Mary had pressed her gown while Kate had breakfasted and it lay on the bed waiting for her, a snowdrift of pure white muslin, its only ornamentation a narrow row of pale blue embroidery about the flounced hem.

  Kate had refused to wear it yesterday.

  ‘I don’t care if it makes me look demure. The green is more eye-catching and I want to make an impression!’

  Well, she had certainly made Randal Crawford sit up and take notice! The only trouble was, he’d decided she was an adventuress!

  Damn the man! She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Last night she had lain awake for hours, going over their interview again and again, trying to decide where she had gone wrong.

  Had she really just imagined that insistent tug of attraction?

  ‘Thank you, Mary.’ Annoyed at not being able to exercise more self-control over her thoughts Kate scrambled into the white gown with a haste that made Mary mutter in protest.

  ‘I look hideous!’ Kate complained, regarding her reflection with distaste.

  ‘Fiddlesticks!’ Mary retorted. ‘You would look good in sackcloth and ashes, Mrs Devlin, and well you know it!’

  Kate grinned at her and flung up the palms of her hands in an extravagant gesture of defeat. ‘All right, I admit I was fishing for compliments but, truly, I don’t believe white to be my colour.’

  ‘Be that as it may, just you remember what Miss Kitty told us. This dress is an exact copy of the one she described.’

  Kitty had been forced to leave Ireland with nothing but the gown she stood up in. Kate was tempted to think this misfortune no great loss after hearing the younger girl describe her wardrobe. Her own tastes ran to something more sophisticated. She liked rich fabrics and glowing colours to set off her exotic looks and at the advanced age of four and twenty she felt entitled to discard virginal muslins. It was going to be distinctly irritating to have to wear the pastel shades deemed appropriate for a young unmarried girl again.

  Mary handed her a pale blue spencer to put on.

  ‘Still, Lady Edgeworth will find nothing to cavil at in my appearance,’ Kate consoled herself, picking up her parasol.

  The knowledge that her friend’s talented fingers had been able to exactly recreate Kitty’s modest style boosted Kate’s confidence as she stepped out across the flag-way. Mary, clad once more in her respectable black bombazine, took up a correct position a few paces to the rear and, declining the services of a pair of idle chairmen, they set off on the short walk to Abbey Square.

  Armed with comprehensive instructions from the landlady of the Hop-Pole, they made their way down the street and passed inside the well-kept city wall.

  Eastgate Street was crowded. Kate looked about her with interest, her attention caught by her first proper sight of the famous Chester Rows. Yesterday’s travels had afforded
them nothing more than a brief glimpse of the town, which she had never had the opportunity to visit before, but she had already heard of these unique two-tiered streets.

  Continuous covered walkways had been built into the ancient buildings at first floor level and Kate noted that at intervals steps had been provided to allow access. There were shops on both levels of the Rows, but those on the upper gallery seemed to house a better quality of merchandise.

  ‘It must be pleasant to be able to go shopping and stay sheltered from any bad weather,’ she remarked to Mary.

  ‘Aye, but I expect those shopkeepers charge higher prices,’ Mary answered.

  In addition to these shops, stalls selling butter, poultry and cheese had been set up on the uneven cobbles of the street and a great number of wagons and carts were struggling to pass along the busy thoroughfare. Kate began to look for the short-cut mentioned by their landlady, but the thronging crowd made the task difficult.

  ‘Watch out!’

  Mary let out a warning and Kate narrowly avoided stepping into the mucky kennel running down the street as she dodged a heavily-laden basket wielded by a busy housewife.

  ‘Perhaps I should have taken a chair,’ Kate commented wryly, inspecting her skirts for damage.

  Luckily, the white muslin was not splashed and they walked on.

  ‘I think this is the place,’ Kate announced a moment later and they proceeded to climb up the steps that led to the entrance of Godstall Lane.

  This narrow passageway led towards the Abbey and Kate was glad to find it quiet, if somewhat gloomy.

  ‘I shouldn’t fancy coming down here at night.’ Mary gave a shudder.

  Kate instantly understood her meaning. Although picturesque, this ancient lane, like the Rows themselves, must be shadowy and dark after sunset. A perfect backdrop for danger and violence!

  Nearing the end of the lane, they spotted the decaying bulk of the Abbey.

  ‘‘Tis a pity to see a great church going to ruin,’ Mary commented as they drew closer.

  Kate agreed. ‘If there is money enough to ensure the Wall is fit for use as a promenade you would think the good citizens could spare a few coppers to keep St Werburgh’s in decent repair.’