by Mary Nichols
‘Maybe, but judging by the look of determination on his face when he grabbed Joe, I do not think so. He came in a carriage and he doesn’t own one. I thought perhaps we could ask the people who hire out such vehicles. He would have to return it, wouldn’t he?’
‘He might. On the other hand, he might simply abandon it.’ He was not really paying attention—his mind was on other things, mainly his fractured heart.
‘If he did and we could find it abandoned, we might know where to start looking.’
‘I will see what I can discover. It would help if we knew Alf Barber’s haunts.’
‘I went to the tavern Janet said he frequented, but they knew nothing.’
‘Kate!’ he exclaimed. ‘Have you no thought for your own safety? Anything could have happened to you. Will you please not do anything like that again? Promise me, sweetheart.’
‘I promise.’
‘Does Lady Eleanor know anything of this?’
‘Yes, we told her first, but she was disinclined to help.’
‘I am not surprised. Joe is with his father and Alf has committed no crime that we know of. It is no one else’s business. And Lady Eleanor always said we should not have taken Joe on.’
‘You mean you think we should not do anything, just let him go?’
‘No, I will do what I can.’ He stood up. ‘How did you come?’
‘In our carriage. I left it with Daniels at the Bear.’
‘Wait here while I change, then I will escort you back to it.’
He went out and she heard him going along the hall and into another room. What had happened was a dream, something that she should never have allowed to happen. She should have stopped him kissing her like that. If it were only her reputation she needed to consider, she would have had no hesitation in telling him she would stay with him and be damned to the gossip. But there was more to it than that. There was Simon’s good name; she hoped fervently that the inquiry would exonerate him and he would be allowed to continue his work. The slightest whiff of scandal would jeopardise that. And there was her father to consider. He was a man of the cloth, a good man who had brought her up to know right from wrong. His standing among his peers would be wiped away, the book he had spent so many years writing, pronounced worthless. Grandmother, Earl Hartingdon and Lady Eleanor—all would be tainted by her wickedness. She did not consider Robert. His recent behaviour had swept away sympathy for him.
She stood up, went to the door and looked along the hall. There was no sign of Simon. She crept downstairs and let herself out of the front door and then hurried as fast as she could down the street to the Bear and climbed into her carriage. ‘Home,’ she told Daniels.
Her father and grandmother were waiting for her in the drawing room. ‘Kate, where have you been?’ Lady Morland demanded. ‘We thought something must have happened to you too. Are you ill? You look strange.’
‘I am perfectly well.’ She was all too conscious of the fact that Simon’s embrace had not been too careful of her hair and clothes. ‘Tired, though.’
‘Did you discover anything?’ her father asked. ‘Was the boy at home?’
‘No.’ She went on to give them a carefully edited account of what had happened. When it came to telling them she had met Simon, she implied they had come across him in Maiden Lane on his way home from the Hartingdon, forgetting he had been forbidden to go there. She wondered if they could tell what had really happened; she felt as if it were emblazoned on her brow, that they could not fail to notice she could not say Simon’s name without stumbling over it. ‘He is going to see if he can find them. Lady Eleanor would not help. She said there was nothing she or the law could do—’ She stopped as Susan came in and announced Viscount Cranford.
He came in, dressed immaculately in evening wear, carrying a posy of flowers and a small box. He bowed to everyone, then turned towards Kate, who had risen from her chair in a panic, only then remembering she was supposed to be going out with him that evening. ‘Katherine, you are not ready. We shall be late.’
‘I am not coming. I can’t.’
‘Why not? Are you unwell?’
‘No, but Joe is lost and we are all very worried about him. His father snatched him.’
‘Joe?’ he queried. ‘Oh, you mean that slum child. But if his father has him, what are you worrying about? People like that can look after themselves. Hurry and get ready. If we spring the horses, we should be there in time.’
‘No. I am sorry, my lord. I should be very poor company in any case. Go without me. Say I am not well, say anything you like.’
His face became like granite, his eyes especially were hard, his mouth unyielding. But she did not intend to yield either. It was not only that she was worried about Joe, it was as much to do with the time she had spent with Simon that afternoon. The memory of it still hung about her, still filled every sense: the sight of him looking at her with eyes full of love, the sound of his murmuring voice, the feel of him as he enfolded her in his arms, the taste of his lips, even the masculine smell of him. How could she possibly spend an evening with Robert after that?
‘Then I bid you goodnight. Lady Morland. Reverend. Katherine.’ He bowed to each in turn and strode out without waiting for anyone to ring for Susan. Kate followed him into the hall, but he hardly noticed her. She turned and went up to her room, sat on her bed, put her head into her hands and wept.
Her grandmother found her there half an hour later. ‘I have told Cook you will be at home for supper after all…’ she began, then stopped as Kate lifted red-rimmed eyes to her. She rushed to sit on the bed beside her and put her arms about her. ‘Kate, whatever is the matter? Are you upset because you quarrelled with Robert?’
‘He is so insensitive. He does not seem to understand how I feel about Joe.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘I don’t know. Responsible, I suppose.’
‘Oh, Kate, we warned you when you brought those children into the house not to become too fond of them. You made that foolish promise to Annie, you took Joe back without a moment’s hesitation and now you have put that child before the wishes of the man you are going to marry. No wonder he is displeased.’
‘You cannot stop yourself loving someone. It just happens.’
Lady Morland put her hand under Kate’s chin and turned her face towards her. ‘You aren’t talking about the children now, are you?’ And when Kate did not answer, she looked closely at her granddaughter. ‘It’s Dr Redfern, isn’t it?’
Kate was about to deny it, but found she could not. ‘I love him, Grandmama.’
‘Good heavens! Does Viscount Cranford know?’
‘He guessed. He threatened to sue Simon for enticing me away if I broke off the engagement. He said he would ruin him.’
‘Oh, my dear child, I wish you had told me. When you said you had changed your mind, I thought… Oh, how you must have suffered! I had no idea.’
‘It would have made no difference and I did not want you or Papa to be drawn into it.’
‘Never mind us. Call the wedding off, child. You will be condemning yourself to a life of misery, if you do not. I am quite out of countenance with Viscount Cranford.’
Kate gave her a wan smile. ‘There will be no end of gossip.’
‘Yes, but you can no longer protect Dr Redfern from scandal, not after what happened with Mrs Barber.’
‘Nothing did happen. Mrs Barber was paid to lie and so was her husband.’
‘Goodness, who did that?’
‘Captain Feltwell, but I think he did it at the behest of the Viscount.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘That is more than I do. I agreed to marry him, after all.’
‘It is my guess he wanted to make sure you could never see or speak to Dr Redfern again, but he is too lofty and too careful of his career to subject himself to gossip. Mr Barber attacking the doctor presented him with a golden opportunity for ruining him through a third person.’
‘I did not think a
nyone could be so wicked.’
The old lady smiled and stroked Kate’s wet cheek. ‘That is half your trouble, child, you believe the best of everyone.’
‘But the truth will come out. It has to and then Simon will be vindicated. I must do nothing to jeopardise that. I must not see him again; I do not want to give the Viscount more ammunition.’ It was said with a heavy heart.
Her grandmother pulled her into her arms and said nothing.
Kate had not seen Robert since she sent him away. It began to look as if he would not appear again before the ceremony. He was doing it on purpose, confident she would not dare leave him standing at the altar. Dare she? That would make the gossip a hundred time worse. She sat down and wrote him a letter. She was polite and apologetic, but made herself quite clear: she would not be at the church. Once it was sealed and given to the garden boy to deliver, she felt as if a great cloud had been lifted from her shoulders.
Wandering round the house, with nothing to do but wait for a reply, was jangling her nerves to breaking point. She needed to go out and took herself off to Hanover Square to ask Eleanor if she had discovered anything about Joe’s disappearance, but Eleanor was not at home. She left a message and turned to go home again.
She was approaching Oxford Street, head down, her footsteps dragging when she became aware of someone walking beside her. ‘Deep in thought, Kate?’
Startled, she looked up at Simon. He was studying her face, as if memorising its features. He often did that and at first it had disconcerted her, but she was used to it now. It would be so easy to tell him of her decision not to marry Robert, to tell him she was his if he wanted her, but she stopped herself. He would be tainted by it unless she could distance herself from him. ‘I was thinking about Joe. Do you have any news?’
‘None, I am afraid. Alf Barber did hire the carriage and horses and was supposed to have brought them back yesterday evening, but he did not arrive. The hirer is after his blood.’
‘Does he have any idea where Mr Barber was going?’
‘No.’
‘He could have left town. We’ll never find them now.’
‘There is hope,’ he said, and he wasn’t only talking about Joe. ‘Remember Pandora. She had a mysterious box she was not supposed to open, but she did and all the ills of the world flew out to torment people, except hope.’
Kate gave him a wan smile. ‘Do you want me to cling to that?’
‘If it helps.’
‘I don’t know if it does. Time is not on our side, is it?’
He knew she was not only thinking of Joe when she said that. ‘I will keep looking.’
‘Do that, please.’
‘Why did you rush out without waiting for me yesterday? I came back to the drawing room and you had gone.’
‘It was for the best. I knew I should not have come.’
‘I am glad you did.’
‘No. Simon. No more. I cannot bear it. We must say goodbye now.’ He would never know the effort it took to say that.
‘Then I wish you happy.’ He sounded hurt and she longed to tell him she did not mean it. ‘With all my heart I wish you happy.’ Then he strode away through the bustling crowd.
She crossed the road into Holles Street, walking like an automaton. He had taken the last little bit of her away with him and there was nothing left but the pain of amputation.
‘Mrs Meredith!’ The voice was so loud it forced her to lift her head. Alf Barber was leaning out of the hired carriage that had come to a stop beside her.
‘Mr Barber.’ She stepped up to the carriage, trying to peer past him. ‘Is Joe there?’
‘Come and see.’ He opened the door. She moved closer. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the vehicle. She might have struggled more if she had not thought Joe was with him. But he was not; by the time she realised that the horses were galloping, hauling the old coach through the traffic, its driver yelling at anything that got in the way. Strangely she was more angry than frightened. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded, rubbing her arm where his fingers had bruised her. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘I ain’t agoin’ to ’urt you,’ Alf said as they took a complete circle round Cavendish Square, back past her home and turned down Oxford Street. She was tempted to try and jump out, but at the speed they were going it would have been suicidal. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘The only thing I want to know from you is what you have done with Joe.’
‘He is safe enough, but ’e’s nothing if not a handful. He won’t talk, won’t eat and he cries all the time.’
‘Is it any wonder? You have taken him from his mother, and from me and a home where he was looked after and loved, and no doubt frightened him to death. Where is he?’
‘He is safe enough,’ he said. ‘But I can’t manage him. Then I thought of you.’
‘Why not his mother?’
‘She’s not a lot o’ good, too busy mooning after that doctor. It was a bad day when she met him. Filled her head with nonsense, he did, making her idle and dreamy. Not that she weren’t idle and dreamy afore that. Now she’s got ideas above her station. Mind you,’ he added, ‘you ain’t blameless in that respect neither.’
Kate had given up all idea of trying to escape. If he was taking her to Joe, so much the better. ‘I am sure I did not mean to make her discontented,’ she said. ‘But don’t you think there is something to be said for trying to better oneself? You have to admit she looked very fetching in that new gown she had for the day of the enquiry.’
‘Mrs Withersfield bought it for her, said she couldn’t give evidence looking like a trollop; no one would believe what she said. I’d ha’ knocked the daylights outa her, talkin’ like that about my Jan, if’n the captain hadn’ promised me he’d make me rich.’
What he said bore out what Janet had told her, but getting either of them to admit it publicly was another matter. She also realised Alf was protective of Janet, even if he did beat her. He was a complex and confused young man. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked as she noticed they had left the crowded streets and buildings of the metropolis behind and were on the open road.
‘To Joe.’
‘Yes, but where exactly?’
‘You’ll see.’
She wished she could think of a way of leaving a trail that could be followed, but decided that would not work. No one knew she had been forced into the same carriage that had carried Joe off. If only Simon had stayed with her a little longer, if only he had not gone striding off just as she was crossing the road, he might have witnessed her being taken. Simon. The love of her life. How soon before he heard about her disappearance? What would he think? One thing she was sure of: she would not go through with that wedding whatever Robert did. Surely he would have read her letter stating her intention by now? Her father and grandmother knew of her decision—had they cancelled the arrangements? Everyone would think she had had cold feet at the last minute and jilted Robert, which in truth was exactly what she had done. Simon was supposed to have jilted Lady Isobel, but that was difficult to believe; he was no more a coward than she was and would not have run away. Why was she sitting there, wondering about the past and the future neither of which had any relevance in her present situation; all that mattered was what was happening now. Concentrate on Joe, she told herself. Watch where you are being taken, because if the time comes for you to escape with the boy, you will need to have your wits about you.
Chapter Eleven
Simon had eaten a lonely supper and now sat in his drawing room sprawled on the sofa, the sofa on which he and Kate had kissed so ardently, with a bottle of brandy and a glass on the table at his elbow. He was less than thirty years old and yet he felt his life was over.
He ought to go to Grove Hall, which, in spite of his unhappy childhood experiences, was still the only home he had known. And there were some happy memories: the lovely old house with its nooks and crannies where he had played hide and seek; the verdant fields; solid farm
houses; the river in which he fished and swam and on which he rowed; the wild deer grazing in the park; the rabbits and foxes he would never dream of hunting to their deaths. His uncle, who had always been a great hunter, had derided him for that, called him soft as a girl. That had hurt, but he never let it show. He simply refused to ride on the days of the hunt.
His cousin had died, thrown from his horse under the hooves of another while hunting, and he ought to go back to take up his responsibilities. One of those was to marry. But he wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t sure he ever would be, not while Kate, his beloved Kate, was shackled to Viscount Cranford. He tried not to, but he found himself imagining the ceremony, hearing her voice, steady and unhesitatingly promising to love, honour and obey the man at her side. It was purgatory and he stood up and paced the room, imagining another scenario when he rushed into the church and carried her off before anyone could stop him.
He turned as Harvey entered the room, glanced at the nearly empty brandy bottle and intoned that the Reverend Morland wished to have a private word with him. Then he scooped up the bottle and glass and hid both under the tail of his coat as he made his exit, passing the Reverend on his way in.
‘Doctor, forgive the intrusion,’ he said. He sounded breathless as if he had run all the way from Holles Street. ‘Have you seen Kate?’
Simon was unsure how to answer that, but there was obviously a degree of panic in the cleric’s voice and it behoved him to speak the truth. ‘I saw her this afternoon, leaving Hanover Square. I assumed she had been to see Lady Eleanor. We had a few words together and parted on the corner of Oxford Street.’ He did not add ‘for ever’, though it was in his mind.
‘She went there, but did not stop to speak to her ladyship. After that, nothing.’
‘You mean she did not reach home?’
‘No. Besides going to Hartingdon House, I have been to Morland House, to the Hartingdon Home, to the Barbers’ place in Maiden Lane, Kate’s friends, everywhere I can think of. No one has seen her. What can have become of her? I am in fear of her life, especially after that brute Barber grabbed the boy. Do you suppose she discovered something about that and set off after them?’