“My poor boy,” said his aunt. “We must find her, Anthony.”
“Of course, we will find her, but not for me. Put that out of your head once and for all. Kitty will return to be the toast of London, and I shall marry Amelia. Is that clear?”
With that, he stalked from the room, leaving his aunt weeping upon the shoulder of her friend, who murmured, “These things can be arranged, Cherie, do not despair.”
Before Lady Horatia had inquired the meaning of this strange remark, Madame de Longueville had swept from the room, leaving a thoroughly bewildered and overset lady behind her.
Lady Amelia Henshawe was not expecting a visitor that morning. She was seated with her mama in the morning room, neat and precise as always, occupied with the delicate embroidery that was her one talent. Neither lady was acquainted with the Comtesse de Longueville, but the announcement of her arrival threw them both into a flutter. Lady Amelia recovered herself in time to rustle forward importantly to greet her visitor, who had chosen to do justice to the occasion in a gown of crimson silk worn with a charming hat, which sported several nodding plumes. Lady Amelia was made to feel a little countrified in her chintz saque and thus at a disadvantage.
The Comtesse greeted both ladies with her usual charm, and it said much for her finesse that she was able to persuade her hostess to leave her alone with Lady Amelia without that lady feeling in any way neglected. However, once the good lady had departed, the Comtesse’ affability fell from her, and she became alarmingly business-like.
“Well, my dear, let us not beat about the bush,” she commenced briskly. “I have a proposition to put to you.”
“I do not understand you, Ma'am. What proposition?” answered Amelia, frowning a little.
“A very simple one. Your reputation in exchange for Debenham’s freedom.”
Lady Amelia sat down abruptly. She shot a quick look at her visitor. “Do you come from him?” she demanded.
“No, Debenham does not know that I am here.”
“Then how do you know that he wishes to be released? Indeed, what has it to do with you, Comtesse? I find your interference strange.”
“My dear, do not let us play games. I wish you no harm, but you know as well as I that Debenham cares for his ward, not for you.”
“He offered for me!” interrupted Amelia swiftly.
The Comtesse nodded. “True, my dear, and if that were all, I would say that he must stand by you. But that is not all, is it, Amelia? There is the matter of a certain Captain Markham, I believe, who has some hold upon your affections?”
Amelia started, “He told you that? He swore he would never speak of it...he swore!”
“And he kept his word; it was not from him that I learned this. You have not been very discreet,” answered the Comtesse, smiling coolly. “Believe me, I do not blame you. Who of us has not been indiscreet at some time? It would pain me to harm you, but if you persist in holding a man, for whom you care nothing, to his promise, you will force me to it. Why do you not marry your dashing captain, instead? There are compensations to a love match.”
Lady Amelia regarded her visitor contemptuously. “Markham is amusing, but he has nothing. There are no compensations to poverty.”
“But, you are so very beautiful, you know. I am sure something could be arranged. Perhaps a sojourn in Paris? I would be delighted to use my influence on your behalf. Indeed, I have a certain Marquis in my mind….”
Lady Amelia looked up, her face alight with interest. “Well, Debenham is a dull fellow, after all. Perhaps I could be persuaded to give him up.”
'The Comtesse laughed warmly. “My dear, I am sure you will make the right choice. You would very much enjoy Paris and, I think, make a delightful Marquise.”
The two women looked at each other for a few moments; then Amelia nodded. “Very well, Comtesse, you may tell my gallant betrothed that he is free of me and I wish him joy!”
“You will send a notice to the appropriate journal?”
“Of course.”
Madame de Longueville rose briskly, pulling on her gloves with a satisfied air. “I am pleased to find you so reasonable, my dear. Your Mama will receive my invitation this afternoon.”
“She will be delighted,” responded Lady Amelia coolly.” As she spoke, she tugged at the bell rope and, upon the arrival of a footman, she swept a curtsy to her guest, who departed, very well satisfied with her morning's work.
It was nearly a week later that the Earl of Debenham arrived once more upon the steps of the Maison Beauclare, strain and anxiety apparent upon his handsome countenance. He was admitted into the well-remembered hall by the same footman and almost immediately was hailed by a melodious voice from the gallery above.
“So, Milor Debenham, you have returned. How can I help you?” Hélène was descending the stairs towards him, an amused smile hovering upon her full lips. He felt again at a disadvantage before this exquisite creature, but he bowed courteously and kissed her hand.
“Madam, I hope very sincerely that you can help me, for if you cannot, I shall be lost. I am looking for my ward, Ma'am. Can you tell me where she may be?”
“And if I do, what comes to her? Are you free to claim her in all honour?”
Lord Debenham's severe countenance relaxed. “Then she is here? You relieve my mind, Ma'am. She is safe?”
Hélène nodded, smiling, “Safe she is, Milor, but unhappy. Ah, la pauvre petite! So unhappy, she loves you, you understand?”
“May I see her?” he asked quickly.
“What of the other woman?” questioned Hélène. “I will not have her further distressed without reason. Are you free indeed?”
“I am!” he assured her smiling. “Now take me to her; I grow impatient, Ma'am!”
She laughed, taking his hand. “Come then. Surprise her. I dare swear she will welcome you.”
Once more, the Earl followed Hélène up the wide stairway, her perfume heavy in his nostrils, but this time he had no eyes for her beauty. At the top of the stairs, she left him, having pointed to a door, which hung invitingly ajar. In two strides, he was across the landing and had flung the door wide. Kitty turned hurriedly and, at the sight of her guardian, her eyes widened. Then she sprang up and, holding out her arms, she stumbled towards him to land breathless and laughing in his embrace.
“Anthony...ah, Anthony...I have missed you!” she sobbed against his shoulder. “But why have you come? Did I not beg you not to?”
He smiled tenderly, stroking her hair with a gentle hand. “Why, my sweet, are you not pleased to see me?”
“How can you ask? You know I love you so!”
Debenham's arms tightened and, with one white hand, he turned her face up towards his. At the ardour in his gaze, her eyes dropped, and she blushed rosily. But when his lips found hers, she felt herself swept along by his passion, and she returned his kisses eagerly, thankful for the strong arms that held her close at last.
After long moments, he lifted his head. “Well, my love, will you run from me again?” he asked softly.
“No, never! I cannot summon so much courage twice.”
“Then it is fortunate, my Kitty, that there is no necessity for you to leave me ever again. Amelia has released me from our engagement. I am free.”
The expression of wonder in her face made him laugh again, and he bent his head to set another kiss upon her lips. She questioned him, demanding an explanation, but still he teased her with kisses and laughter. Later, as she sat with her head against his shoulder and her hand tucked in his, she asked him again and learned that it was to the Comtesse de Longueville's good offices that he owed his release.
She snuggled her head into the hollow of his shoulder and stroked the hand that held hers in a strong clasp. “Why should dear Madame de Longueville have done such a thing?” she asked him, “We scarcely know her, after all.” Debenham hesitated. He had perforce heard the whole story of Kitty's birth from her mother, but he was not anxious to be the one to break the news to her
. Moreover, he thought it the Comtesse’s privilege to keep her secret if she so wished.
“I believe she will tell you that herself, my love. I am charged to take you to her from here, for she accompanied me here to act as your chaperone.”
“Is not Lady Horatia in Paris then, Sir?” she asked surprised.
“My good aunt was unfortunately quite prostrated by your escapade and, in any event, we were not absolutely sure we would find you. She had to remain in London lest you returned.”
“Oh, I am sorry that poor Lady Horatia is unwell. But I shall be happy to see the Comtesse again. When shall we go?”
“'We shall go now, my ward, for I am impatient to have you to myself. What do you say to marrying me here in Paris, my love? Can you do without bridesmaids and wedding visits and wed me tonight, here, with only the Comtesse to witness it?”
She raised glowing eyes to his face. “Yes, Dearest, it would please me so much!”
He took her hand, and together they went in search of Hélène to bid her farewell. Tearful embraces were exchanged by the two women as Debenham looked on indulgently. Then he wrapped his bride in a shawl and led her out into the sunshine, where his carriage awaited them.
The Comtesse was watching for them in some anxiety, but as they arrived one glance at their faces was enough to reassure her. She clasped Kitty in her arms, scolding her affectionately for the worry she had caused them. Kitty apologized prettily and was forgiven.
The Comtesse received with great joy the news that the wedding was to take place from her house and immediately swept Kitty off to her bedchamber in order to help her choose a gown in which she could be married. The Earl had brought much of Kitty's wardrobe with him, but the Comtesse dismissed all her gowns and insisted upon presenting Kitty with one of her own, never yet worn, which far surpassed in grandeur anything Kitty had worn before.
“Dear Ma'am, this is a lovely gown, but are you sure you really wish to part with it? Why should you give me such an expensive present?”
Tears filled the older woman's eyes, and her lips trembled. “Ah, ma petite, if you only knew. I have more right than any other to give you anything you desire.”
Kitty gazed at the distressed Comtesse wonderingly. “What can you mean, Ma'am? I do not understand!”
Madame de Longueville possessed herself of Kitty's hand and, taking a deep breath, she announced bravely, “I have the right, Kitty, because…because…I am your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yes, petite, I gave you birth, but you were taken from me. I could do nothing. Please believe that—nothing.” She was crying now, holding her daughter in her arms and rocking her as though she were an infant once more. “You do believe me, do you not...? I would not have given you up...they forced me to it. Then your father found you, and I was content. He loved you, my little one, did he not? He was good to you?”
“Always, always! But, Ma'am...I mean...Mother, I still do not understand. Please tell me everything.”
The Comtesse flushed with pleasure when she heard her child name her Mother and, holding her yet closer, she embarked for her daughter's edification upon the history of that wild affair so long ago.
“And now I have my child once more,” she concluded, “only to lose her to her husband this very night. Believe me, my love, I could not let you go again to anyone else, but your Earl is charming. Now, enough of this sentiment. Your lover awaits you. You must be gowned.”
Rather relieved by her mother's change of mood, Kitty allowed herself to be arrayed in the gown the Comtesse had chosen. She would happily have wed her guardian in the simple gown of Hélène’s providing but, when she saw herself in the dress the Comtesse had chosen, she was delighted and pirouetted before the mirror, laughing at her reflection in the glass. In truth, the shimmering gown of silver tissue, cut low across the breast and adorned with velvet love knots, became her admirably. And when the Comtesse had, with her own hands, dressed her silky ringlets, Kitty ran down to greet Lord Debenham in a flush of glad confidence.
He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, his own happiness radiating across his face, rendering him even handsomer than before. “Well, my ward, are you finally ready?”
With a queenly gesture, she gave him her hand, her head held high.
“Yes, my guardian. I am ready.”
It was late autumn when the Earl and Countess of Debenham returned to their ancestral acres. Together they trotted over the rise and saw the estate laid out before them, the house peaceful and gracious in the golden haze of the afternoon. They paused, hand in hand, to drink in its beauty, and then they turned to each other and smiled, remembering. Joyously, they urged their mounts forward, happy to be together, happy to be in England, but most of all, happy to be home.
The End
Dangerous Escapade Page 13