30. Chapter 30
With her departure looming, Kitty went through her meagre possessions by candlelight.
She didn’t know if she would have the chance to retrieve what she left at a later date, but she needed to travel light if she was walking all the way to Weymouth.
After wrapping her mother’s pearls in a spare shift, she laid them in the bottom of a bandbox.
On top of that she placed a few personal items, and her grandfather’s Bible, and prayer book, leaving just enough room for her nightgown, which she would add in the morning.
Everything else she would have to leave behind.
She stood at her window and gazed out at the sea, glistening in the moonlight.
It was a view she would miss, and she could have watched for an hour without growing bored.
But if she was going to escape the house on the morrow, she needed to undress and go to sleep for the last time within these walls.
Her eyes trailed back up the garden, and her breathing hitched as she saw a familiar sight.
A plume of smoke rising in the darkness.
It could not be Laura’s husband, so who was it?
Not her father, as he abhorred tobacco. Blake, perhaps?
Or the prisoner of war that Mr Jenkin suspected was living in the basement?
Kitty’s heart beat faster within her chest. If the Frenchman were still here, she might have a chance to get the evidence they needed.
Once he was gone, there would be little hope of convicting Hugh, and if he were aiding the French, he must be stopped.
Men like him were putting Edward and his fellow soldiers at risk.
Could she get into the butler’s pantry while its occupant was outside?
There was a possibility she would meet someone while nosing around, but Hugh had found her wandering the corridors at night before, and there had been no repercussions.
If he discovered her this time, she would claim a sudden curiosity to see Cousin Silas.
Kitty slipped out of her bedchamber into the darkness.
Using her hands, she felt her way along the corridor and clung to the banister as she descended the stairs as fast as she could.
Across the hall to the servants’ stair, then down again, holding onto the rail to make sure she didn’t fall if she missed her step.
At the top of the flight leading to the cellars, she stopped to listen.
The stillness echoed around her. Heart in her mouth, she hurried down the last few stairs, knowing that if anyone followed her, she would have no way to escape.
As she neared the bottom, she could see light streaming out of the open door on her right.
Kitty crept forward. Breath held, she peered inside.
What a relief! There was no one there. A bed, table, and chair—and visible signs of occupancy.
A fire burning in the grate. Discarded clothes.
An ornate brass candelabra with three lit candles illuminating the space.
The remains of a meal. A half-full bottle of wine and a used glass.
Pen and ink—and what looked like a journal.
She listened again, but hearing nothing, she hurried to the table and flicked open the pocketbook. Its pages were filled with a strong, slanted script—most definitely not the work of a madman. Every word was in French.
Mr Jenkin was right. Hugh must have been housing escaped prisoners of war in his basement and helping them to return to France. And it looked as if the latest enemy officer was still here. Her pulse raced. She needed to get out. Fast. This was not dabbling in contraband. This was treason.
Dare she take the notebook with her? It would be hard to explain if she was found, but it might be the evidence Mr Jenkin sought.
Stowing the book in her bodice, alongside the letter to William, she hurried out the room.
But before she could mount the stairs, she heard footsteps. Someone was coming.
Should she claim her curiosity got the better of her, or should she hide? But where? Away from the light streaming out of the butler’s pantry.
Kitty edged her way down the flagstone corridor, hoping the darkness would shield her until she could make her escape. She’d never been in the cellars before. Was there a drop? More steps?
Something scurried past her ankles, and she swallowed a squeal as she stepped backward and lost her footing. With a thud, Kitty landed on the cold floor just as candlelight appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
In the shadows, she could see three men. Hugh and Blake entered the butler’s pantry.
The third person hung back outside the door. “C’est quoi ca?”
Ignoring the pain in her thigh caused by the impact, Kitty held her breath as the Frenchman stared into the darkness. Had he heard her fall?
Hugh stuck his head out of the doorway. “What’s the matter, Loutrel?”
“A noise,” the man said in heavily accented English.
Blake called from inside the room. “I expect it’s a rat. Come and have a drink.”
Trying not to think of the rodents that might share the floor with her, Kitty shuffled backward until stopped by the unyielding coldness of the cellar wall. There was nowhere else to go.
“A moment.”
The Frenchman strode toward her in the dark. She winced as his booted foot met her knee. A hand came out of the darkness and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to her feet.
“A very large rat!” he said, dragging her into the light.
Hugh’s mouth was tight, his eyes accusing. “Catherine, what in heaven’s name are you doing down here?”
Kitty stuck to the story she had planned. “I was curious to see Cousin Silas for myself, but when I came down here, the door was open and I panicked that there was a madman on the loose and lost my footing in the dark and—”
“Yet you didn’t call for help,” said Hugh. “I am disappointed in you, Catherine. Did you trust me so little that you thought I wouldn’t come to your rescue?”
Kitty gulped hard. What was he going to do with her?
The Frenchman disappeared through the doorway and returned, brandishing a pistol. “She’s been in here. Someone has stolen my journal.”
He levelled the gun at Kitty’s head, but Hugh batted it away. “You fool! There’s a riding officer upstairs. Do you wish to bring down the law on all of us? You can forget your ticket out of here if you’re going to land me with a charge of murder. Get some sleep. I’ll deal with the girl.”
The Frenchman withdrew into the room, leaving Kitty alone with Hugh, his face eerie in the dim light of the candle he held.
“Oh, Catherine. Why did you have to satisfy your curiosity? Now you’ve upset Loutrel, and I’m afraid the man’s got a short rein on his temper. He would have shot you if I hadn’t prevented it. I must press you once more for an answer.”
He reached out his free hand and cupped her cheek, giving her gooseflesh. “Will you marry me, Catherine?”
Kitty recoiled at his touch, bringing a scowl to Hugh’s face.
“Don’t be so hasty to reject me again. You’ve brought this on yourself. Marrying me is the only way I can keep you safe.”
How ridiculous! Marriage to a traitor was not safe. Better to die for upholding what was right than to live with such a man. “I could never marry you.”
“Still holding out for his lordship? I did not think you were so worldly. Droxford has gone, Catherine, and he won’t come back. Not for the likes of you. I am your only option.”
The mention of William had the opposite effect to that which Hugh intended. It strengthened her resolve not to submit to his bullying to save her skin. Praying to God for strength to do what was right, no matter the cost, she repeated her refusal.
“I will not marry you, and nothing you can say will persuade me to change my mind.”
He heaved a sigh. “Ah, what it is to be young and in love, but your feelings for Droxford will be your downfall. You leave me no choice but to hand you over into Loutrel’s care. Be grateful his lordship didn’t accompany you on this foolish venture. I would not have been so lenient with him.”
Tremors racked Kitty’s body as his words sank in. If William had come with her, Hugh would have killed him. And now, she was being given over to the mercy of the Frenchman. The man who had put a pistol to her head a few moments before.
“The journal, Catherine—or do you want me to leave Loutrel to retrieve it?”
Heat raced up Kitty’s neck and spread until her entire body was on fire. With her back to him, she extracted the notebook from her bodice. Hand trembling, she held it out, and Hugh snatched it away. He thrust her into the room ahead of him. What was going to happen to her?
Left to cower in the corner, Kitty fiddled with the lace edging on her sleeve until the aged garment started to disintegrate in her fingers.
She would need to replace it soon—or maybe not.
She would have no need of new clothes if God didn’t answer her prayers and rescue her from the clutches of these evil men.
At least they couldn’t hurt the man she loved. Dear William. Would she ever see him again? Judging from the French officer’s readiness to wield his gun, she doubted it.
She dwelled on that bitter-sweet moment of parting. Not at the door, but in the garden, when his kiss had touched her forehead. Even now her skin tingled when she thought of it. How she wished she had found the courage to go with him.
William paced up and down the drawing room. Why hadn’t he gone with Anthony and his sisters to Rufus House? It was agony waiting for their return, not knowing if Kitty had agreed to come back with them.
At last, the sound of horses outside. He ran down the stairs and rushed through the door, which Rowson had already opened.
Hetta descended the steps of the carriage, and he knew at once from her expression that Kitty was not with them.
Why hadn’t he accompanied them? Refused to take no for an answer?
His sister grasped his fingers. “I’m sorry, Will. She’s gone.”