Regency High Society Vol 3: Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love

Surprisingly light on her feet for a woman of her size, the housekeeper went over to the door, her expression clearly troubled as she turned back to add, ‘Should you require anything further, please do not hesitate to make use of the bell-pull. But I beg of you, mademoiselle, under no circumstances leave this room. The house is large, and I should hate for you to lose yourself.’

Puzzled, Katherine watched the housekeeper withdraw. How on earth was she supposed to take that strange warning? she wondered. Was the woman truly concerned over her safety, or was she perhaps afraid that the unexpected guest might be tempted to purloin the family’s silver?

What an odd creature the housekeeper was, to be sure! Bemused, Katherine shook her head, sending her long hair floating about her shoulders like a swathe of silk. It was almost as if the woman had a dual personality, not unlike the house in which she worked. One half totally at variance with the other, Katherine mused, as she gazed with renewed interest about the apartments into which she had been escorted some little time before. In stark contrast with the vibrant colours in the ground-floor salon, the bedchamber was charmingly decorated in subtle shades of primrose and cream. Foolish though it might be, it was hard to believe that she was in the same house.

Rising to her feet, she went over to the window, which offered a view of an enclosed garden. Madame Carre too, like her house and devoted servant, was something of an enigma. Who was she? More importantly, what part had she played—did she continue to play—in Daniel’s life? The way she had greeted him in that over-familiar fashion suggested strongly that at some point they had been rather more than mere friends.

The cruelly stabbing thorns of that unfamiliar emotion once again made themselves felt, but Katherine steadfastly refused not to face the very real possibility that at some period in the past the vivacious Madame Carre had been Daniel’s mistress. But if that was the case, what had become of Monsieur Carre? Had there in truth ever been such a person and, if so, where was he now? More importantly, where was Daniel himself? And why had he left her here alone with only strangers?

A blessed surge of anger began to protect her from those wickedly stabbing barbs, and she swung away from the window, as bored with the restricted view as she was with the confines of this bedchamber. But what could she do? Her clothes had been removed for laundering, and she had been given the flimsiest of dressing robes to cover her modesty.

Suddenly feeling weary, Katherine glanced across at the four-poster bed, and after a moment’s indecision decided to avail herself of its comfort. A book lay open on the bedside table, and she decided to make use of that too. Fortunately she could read and understand the French language far better than she could speak it, and was able therefore to follow the story of a pair of star-crossed lovers reasonably well. Eventually, though, the effort of translation became too much, and her eyelids grew increasingly heavy.

* * *

Katherine would have sworn she had dozed for a few minutes only. Be that as it may, when she opened her eyes it was to discover the drapes drawn across the window, the bedchamber bathed in soft candlelight, and to see a pile of clothes neatly placed at the bottom of the bed.

The position of the hands on the mantel-clock confirmed that she had, surprisingly, slept soundly for more than two hours. Hurriedly slipping her feet to the floor, she wasted no time in scrambling into the clothes, which were a perfect fit, and exactly to her taste, except for the slightly immodest neckline on the pretty muslin gown. This minor defect was immediately remedied by the donning of a silk shawl, which she arranged carefully about her shoulders as she crossed to the bell-pull.

She raised her arm, but her reaching fingers were stilled for a second or two by a disquieting sound, somewhere between a scream and a squeal. Then, clasping the velvet cord and tugging sharply, Katherine momentarily wondered what the noise might have been—the wind, whistling about the eaves, or perhaps two cats at odds in the garden? Then she clearly detected the noise again, clearer and more shrill this time, and definitely coming from somewhere inside the house.

Certain that someone must be hurt, and perhaps in need of help, she conveniently forgot the housekeeper’s warning and immediately went to investigate. The long passageway outside the room had doors leading off at intervals on both left and right, but she judged the odd cry must have come from behind that single closed door at the very end. Beneath her guiding fingers its key turned easily in the lock and the wooden barrier swung wide to reveal the continuation of the passageway in a dazzling blaze of light, its floor, walls and ceiling decorated in the same garish colours as were to be found in the main salon below, its atmosphere heavy, too, with the aroma of cheap perfume.

For a few moments it was as much as Katherine could do to gape in wonder, in disbelief. It was like suddenly finding oneself in another world, a totally alien place—intriguing but unnerving, and undoubtedly littered with unseen snares primed to entrap the unwary. Faint-hearted she had never been, and yet some sixth sense kept her rooted to the spot, as that cautionary little voice in her head gave clear warning not to venture further.

Prudence won the day and Katherine was on the point of retracing her steps to find the housekeeper, when a door suddenly burst open, and a squealing female, dressed only in a pair of frilly pantalettes, erupted into the passageway, quickly followed by a balding, middle-aged man, sporting only a pair of under-breeches, and brandishing something suspiciously resembling a feather duster.

As the ribald pair disappeared round the corner of the passageway, the woman squealing with delight as she received a thwack with the feather-ended stick across the buttocks, stark reality hit Katherine with all the force of a physical blow, and was no less disconcerting than the fingers which suddenly grasped her arm and hauled her backwards. The door was then firmly closed and re-locked and she found herself confronted by the highly disapproving housekeeper.

‘I warned you not to go wandering about, mademoiselle!’ Her tone was scolding, like that of a governess reprimanding a disobedient child. ‘Come, dinner is almost ready, and I have yet to dress your hair.’

In something of a daze, Katherine allowed herself to be led back into the bedchamber, and made no demur when requested to sit before the dressing-table. The housekeeper’s demeanour changed the instant she began to set about the task of arranging the auburn curls, and she became once again that very obliging woman who had willingly catered for her unexpected guest’s every need. Would that Katherine could summon up one ounce of gratitude now for all the care and attention she’d received!

A house of ill repute! A surge of anger swiftly mastered Katherine’s searing sense of shame. It beggared belief that any man purporting to be a gentleman would ever think of housing a virtuous young woman in a brothel, let alone leaving her there to fend for herself. Yet her so-called protector, the unprincipled wretch, had done precisely that!

Like a bottle of warm champagne, vigorously shaken, Katherine was ready to explode. Had Daniel been present she would not have been responsible for her actions. Yet she somehow retained sufficient control and good manners enough to thank the housekeeper for the trouble she had taken over the arrangement of her hair, before obediently following her down to a room on the ground floor where a table had been set for just two persons.

She was conscious of a stab of disappointment only to find Madame Carre present, and did her utmost to convince herself that this was purely the result of being denied the sweet satisfaction of subjecting Major Ross to a blistering tirade.

‘Ah, Katherine! I may call you Katherine, may I not?’ Madame Carre greeted her with every evidence of delight, before she subjected her guest’s attire to a swift scrutiny. ‘I see the dress fits you very well. I was sure that it would.’

Until that moment Katherine hadn’t given a thought as to whose apparel she had donned. She was fairly certain that it had not been taken from the wardrobe of the woman who was now patting that portion of the chaise-longue beside her invitingly. Blessed with womanly curves, Madame Carre was below average height, and several inches shorter than Katherine. It was quite possible, however, that the flimsy garment belonged to one of those females working in this disgraceful establishment.

Cosseted and protected throughout her life Katherine might have been, but she was not completely ignorant of the ways of the world. She had been aware for quite some time that younger men were wont to seek the company of a certain type of female, and it was not unheard of for a married man to satisfy his carnal desires outside marriage either. She wasn’t so bigoted as to condemn those poor unfortunates who, through no fault of their own, were forced to sell themselves in order to survive. Madame Carre, however, didn’t appear to be undernourished. And neither had that brazen hussy whom she had seen romping along the passageway been a half-starved waif!

Something in her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, and the fact that she was no longer ignorant of the nature of the establishment in which she had been temporarily housed, for Madame Carre, after a moment’s thoughtful silence, lowered her deceptively dreamy brown eyes and smiled wryly.

‘Oh, dear,’ she muttered. ‘My darling Daniel will not be best pleased with his little Josephine when he discovers that you know.’

Major Ross’s views on the matter were of absolutely no interest whatsoever to Katherine. After all it was he, the unconscionable wretch, who had brought her here in the first place! she decided, at last availing herself of the invitation to sit beside her hostess on the chaise-longue. Outraged though she was, she was still not prepared to allow the housekeeper to be blamed for what had been in effect her own misdeeds, and didn’t hesitate to make this point very clear, before casually enquiring the present whereabouts of the man who had plummeted in her estimation.

‘After we returned in the carriage, he went into the town to see if he could find a buyer for your horses. I no longer enjoy that form of exercise and have no need for hacks. Furthermore, my stable is not sufficiently large to house them. He said he doubted he would be back in time to join us for dinner. But I am certain we can manage to entertain ourselves well enough without him.’ Again there was a suspicion of a wry smile. ‘As you might imagine, it is not often that I find myself in the company of such a refined and charming young lady.’

Striving not to allow lingering resentment or prejudice to cloud her judgement, Katherine attempted to view her hostess dispassionately as she watched her rise gracefully to her feet and move across to the table on which several decanters stood.

Madame Carre might not have been universally considered a beauty. Yet, blessed with a riot of dusky curls, a flawless ivory complexion, and a pair of sparkling dark eyes, she was certainly most attractive. She was not short on charm or sportiveness, traits which would undoubtedly appeal to the vast majority of the opposite sex, and for all her provocative smiles and dreamy-eyed glances, she was not lacking in intelligence either.

It was only when she accepted the wine held out to her that Katherine realised that, since entering the room, the conversation had been conducted in English and, intrigued, she didn’t hesitate to discover where Madame had learned to speak the language so well.

‘Josephine, please,’ Madame insisted before subjecting Katherine to yet another of those swift and acutely penetrating glances. ‘My parents were prosperous enough to afford the services of a governess for both my sister and myself.’ Once again a flicker of a wry smile tugged at the corners of the full-lipped mouth. ‘The dress you are wearing is a present for my widowed sister. I intend to pay her a visit in the not too distant future. Needless to say, I cannot invite her or my little niece to stay here with me, though I do try to help her as much as I can. Her husband died in Spain, and she does not find it easy to manage on the little she makes from taking in sewing. I help as much as I’m allowed, but she is very proud. One day I shall buy my house by the Seine, and invite them to live with me.’

Clearly detecting the slightly sombre, almost wistful, note in her voice, Katherine couldn’t help thinking that Madame Carre was not altogether happy with her present situation. So why had she chosen such a profession in the first place when she was more than capable of earning herself a living in some genteel occupation? And where did Monsieur Carre fit into the scheme of things?

‘And you, Madame … Josephine, have you ever been married?’ Katherine found herself asking, curiosity having got the better of her a second time, and she quickly discovered that eyes which could twinkle with a wickedly teasing sparkle could harden in an instant and glint like chips of ice.

‘Oh, yes, petite. Unfortunately I was once married. Both my sister and I married soldiers, the only difference being my sister chose wisely. My brother-in-law was a charming man, courageous and noble, not unlike your Major Ross in many ways; whereas Henri Carre, although possessing all the outward trappings of a gentleman, was a callous, manipulative blackguard who cared for nothing and no one except himself.’

Josephine’s eyes, dimmed by bitter regrets, focused on a spot somewhere on the wall opposite. ‘Young and foolish, I was beguiled by a handsome face and the silver tongue of an inveterate gamester. And not a very skilled one at that! It did not take me very long to realise the mistake I had made, but I was too proud to return to my family. When he had gambled away my dowry and our home, I had little choice but to accompany him out to the Peninsula, where I swiftly discovered just how vile and contemptible he could be, when he forced me to retrieve his IOUs from his friends and fellow officers in a way that only a woman can.’

Utterly appalled, Katherine was as powerless to prevent the gasp that rose in her throat from passing her lips as she was to conceal the heartfelt sympathy which sprang into her eyes. Yet surprisingly Josephine raised one hand in a dismissive gesture and, more amazingly still, even managed to smile.

‘I do not deserve your pity, ma chère. I was too proud to return to seek assistance from my family and admit the mistake I had made. And my pride cost me my self-respect. Nevertheless, it also taught me something too. I know the depths to which men can plummet. But I have also been blessed to experience how honourable and chivalrous some quite exceptional men can be.’

The self-deprecating smile which had clung to her lips suddenly became very tender, as did her whole expression. ‘When my husband was killed at Badajoz, it was not a Frenchman who came to my aid, but an English captain.’

Katherine gazed at her companion in dawning wonder, clearly remembering at least part of the conversation she had had with her cousin on that wet February day. So it was true! She had been foolish ever to doubt it.

‘Yes, petite,’ Josephine confirmed, expertly judging her companion’s expression. ‘It was your Major Ross who saved my life, who spared me the humiliation of being violated by several of Wellington’s troops, little realising at the time that suffering painful humiliations was nothing new to me. His noble act very nearly cost him his own life. I remained in the British camp and nursed him back to health.’ There was a suspicion of tears in the dark brown eyes as they lowered and focused on the contents of her glass. ‘He demanded nothing from me during the time I remained with him. He gave me money so that I might return home and even went so far as to escort me as close as he dared to the French lines.’

She paused for a moment to sample the contents of her glass. ‘My return to France was not altogether happy. On reaching Paris I discovered that my mother had died just a few weeks before. I didn’t choose to live with my brother and his wife, who I had always considered a shrew, and I refused to be an added burden to my dear sister, whose husband had died at Talavera. So I came here to Normandy to take care of an ailing maiden aunt. She had little money, but she did leave me this house which, after my experiences in Spain, I was more than capable of putting to good use.’

Half an hour earlier Katherine would have found such a bold admission deplorable, but this was no longer the case. Now she could understand perfectly, and felt ashamed of herself for having been so naively judgmental as to stigmatise the woman sitting beside her as nothing more than an immoral trollop.

She didn’t believe she could feel more conscience-stricken, but she was wrong. Her sense of shame spiralled when Josephine unexpectedly announced, ‘Although I would never betray my country, I do not forget my friends. When I first settled here in Normandy I did write a letter to Daniel, which eventually reached him. He paid me an unexpected visit last year, in the summer, before finally returning home. Naturally, after Napoleon’s abdication, we assumed the conflict between our two countries had finally come to an end. Sadly, this increasingly seems not to be the case. But I told Daniel once that if ever he should be in need of my help in the future, he had only to contact me.’

Slender fingers reached out to give Katherine’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘He brought you here, petite, because he knew you would be safe. And for no other reason.’

As the door opened and a servant entered, bearing a tray, Madame Carre rose to her feet. ‘That, I think, should satisfy your curiosity about me. And now, while we eat our dinner, you must satisfy my curiosity and tell me all about yourself.’

Chapter Ten

It wasn’t until later that night, as she sat once again before the dressing-table mirror, absently pulling the brush through her hair, that Katherine began to appreciate for perhaps the very first time the effect her experiences in France were having on her: changing her attitude to a great extent; forcing her finally to face the fact that, when eventually she did arrive back in England, she simply couldn’t pick up the threads and continue that humdrum existence she had been leading in recent months, if she wished to bring even a modicum of contentment back into her life.

She might have been prompted by the purest of motives to agree to this venture. Yet she couldn’t deny that she had seized upon the opportunity offered to sever those ties placed upon her by Bath society and its petty restrictions. What eluded her completely was why she had lacked the courage, the self-confidence to do so long before now.

Oh yes, when her aunt had been alive there had been some excuse for remaining in that once very fashionable watering place. Sharp-tongued and frequently contrary her great-aunt Augusta had undoubtedly been, but from the very first she had proved to be excellent company, and they had rubbed along together wonderfully well. Since the elderly lady’s demise the previous year, however, the atmosphere in the Camden Street house had been for the most part sombre, alleviated only by those battles of will in which she and Bridie occasionally indulged.

Katherine shook her head, at a complete loss to understand why she had allowed herself to live such a repetitive, boring existence all these months, where all she had seemed to do was make and receive calls from the same circle of people. What on earth had happened to the spirited girl who had ridden at that next-to-nothing pace across the Irish countryside with her father, whose days had been filled from dawn till dusk with excitement and laughter? Oh, she was still there somewhere, hidden beneath that mantle of good manners and respectability which she had been forced to don in order to be accepted into the fringes of the polite world. How she longed to toss the restricting covering aside and just be herself again!

But had she not succeeded in doing precisely that in recent days? a tiny voice queried. Had she not, in fact, begun to reveal glimpses of that occasionally volatile and intrepid Anglo-Irish girl some time before embarking on this trip to France?

The second question, filtering through her mind hard on the heels of the first, induced Katherine to pause in her task of brushing her hair and to stare intently at her reflection, seeing not her own image in the glass but a scene in a crowded salon where she had confronted a tall, broad-shouldered ex-army Major, whose Rifleman-green uniform had set him quite apart from every other gentleman in the room. Dear God in heaven! Was it possible that she had him to thank for helping her to break through that repressive shroud of ladylike respectability? Or had Major Daniel Ross alone been responsible, without her having been aware of it, for slowly peeling away those layers of conformity and reserve to reveal increasing glimpses of the Katherine Fairchild O’Malley of yore?

A knock on the door interrupted these disquieting reflections. Assuming it must be the housekeeper returning her freshly laundered garments ready for the morning, Katherine didn’t hesitate to bid enter, and was mildly disconcerted to discover none other than the subject of her former disturbing thoughts purposefully entering, with a pile of clothes held firmly in his large, shapely hands.

The niggling resentment at his behaviour, his almost total neglect throughout the entire day, swiftly surfaced, instantly restoring her composure. She rose to her feet, so determined to air her grievances that she never gave a thought to her less than respectable state of dress.

Daniel, on the other hand, was instantly aware that the borrowed raiment left little to the imagination, and it took a monumental effort to draw his eyes away from the clear outlines of perfect feminine curves and oh, so enticing shadows to inform her that he had brought her attire for the morning.

Momentarily forgetting her pique, Katherine cast a brief glance at the neat pile of unfamiliar garments which he had placed on the chair by the bed. ‘Those are not mine. Am I not to wear my own clothes?’

‘No.’ An expression of rueful amusement flickered over his features. ‘I acquired these garments especially for you, on account of the fact that tomorrow you are to take on a new role—that of my nephew.’

‘Really?’ Although the smile she cast him could not have been sweeter, it didn’t quite disguise the return of the dangerous glint in her eyes. ‘Well, let us hope you display a deal more consideration towards your nephew than you did the sister you abandoned in this—this disreputable establishment!’

He held her disdainful gaze levelly, not too pleased himself to discover that she was no longer ignorant of the nature of her surroundings. ‘Who told you?’ he demanded abruptly.

‘No one told me,’ she admitted, incurably truthful. ‘I discovered it for myself.’

‘You mean you went wandering about the place, you infuriating girl!’ Hands on hips, he regarded her much as an irate father might an erring child. ‘I cannot take my eyes off you even for five minutes without you getting into—’

‘Had it been only five minutes,’ she interrupted, her voice no less censorious than his own, ‘I might possibly have remained ignorant of the fact that you, you unconscionable wretch, had abandoned me in a house of ill repute!’

‘Damn it, you little shrew, I did not abandon you!’ Sighing, he ran impatient fingers through his hair, clear evidence of a troubled mind. ‘I discovered from Josephine, shortly after we arrived here, it’s strongly rumoured that Louis XVIII has fled and Napoleon is now back in the capital. If it’s true, then I very much fear our country will once again be at war, so it’s imperative we get back to England as swiftly as possible. Josephine very kindly agreed to accompany me to the coast, where she made contact with a friend of hers who subsequently agreed to take us back across the Channel tomorrow.’