Imitation of Love (12 page)

“That’s her. Tell Mr. Harrington everything
you’ve told me, and that he’s to come to Mrs. Somerson’s house in Surrey and
bring help. I’ll be waiting there for him. Are you sure you can remember all
that?”

“Yes, I can, Sir. I hope the young lady
will be alright, Sir.”

“So do I, Ned. If you do all this, you
can ask Mr. Harrington to give you a half a crown. Mind you don’t ask for
anymore or the Captain will be really angry with you when I tell him.”

“I won’t ask for anything, Sir. I just
want to help the lady.”

“Yes, you must be paid for your
services. Or I’ll be angry with you. After you’ve spoken to Mr. Harrington, I
want you to ask for Miss Alyssa, and tell her I said she’s to give you some
breakfast. Then tell her where you and your mother live. She’s Miss Willoughby’s
sister, and I know they will want to call on you when Miss Willoughby is safe.
Now tell me everything I’ve asked you to do.”

Ned stumbled on a few things, but he
remembered the most important points. “Good lad,” said Oakley. “Now go. Hurry.”

Xander galloped across Blackfriars
Bridge, hoping that he’d made the right guess about where Phoebe and her maid would
take Catherine. If he was wrong, it didn’t bear thinking about.

***

Even without the sack covering her,
Catherine had no idea where they were going.  She guessed from the position of
the sun that they were going south, but as she had never travelled south of
London before, she had no idea what county they were in.

They travelled for about an hour and a
half, before reaching an old manor house that was practically falling apart. The
carriage didn’t go up the approach to the manor house. Instead it stopped near
to the gatehouse, which was just as dirty and run down.

“Get out,” said Celine. “And don’t even
think of running away. We’re miles from the nearest town.”

eHe

Catherine got out of the carriage,
closely followed by Mrs. Somerson. She’d hardly spoken throughout the trip. Celine
was most definitely in charge of events. She led Catherine into the gatehouse
and up a rickety staircase. There were two doors at the top. The maid opened
one and pushed Catherine into it.

“Everything you need is in there. You’ve
got until midnight tonight to give us the documents we require.”

“That’s impossible,” said Catherine, even
though she knew it wouldn’t be that difficult. “I have no idea what to do.”

“If you’re trying to stall for time,
forget it. My sister may have the brains of a sparrow, but I don’t.”

“Mrs. Somerson is your sister?”

“Yes. She has her uses, being the one
born with looks.”

Catherine felt the anger rising in her
as she thought how Phoebe had misled Xander. Did they suspect even for a moment
he was the Captain? “Why are you doing this?”

“If you think you can stall by asking me
too many questions, you’re wrong.”

“No, really, I’m interested. My brother
Jimmy said you had a noble cause, and I just wondered if that was true.”

“As far as we’re concerned it is. Not
that we gave Mr. Willoughby the details. Phoebe told him we were helping some
friends in France. He’d never have agreed if he’d known the truth.  You’ve
never seen the real London. The people who starve on the street whilst that
coxcomb of a Prince spends fortunes on parties and women, and the king is mad,
everyone knows that. It’s time this government was shaken up.”

“You’re going to kill the king? That’s
what this is about…”

“It will show strike a blow at the heart
of your government and let the paupers know that others care about them.”

“I’d agree with you,” said Catherine,
“about the inequality. I’m not as blind to others suffering as you think. But I
think you’re lying. I don’t think you care what happens to the poor. Not after
the way I saw your sister treat Kitty. Your sister has no regard for the lower
classes at all. I think you’re doing this for money, because your sister’s
house is falling apart to such an extent she dare not live in it, and because
she wants to be part of the society you say she despises. That’s her reason,
anyway. I’m not quite sure about yours, though I do wonder if you really are
half-French.”

Celine smiled and bowed slightly. “I am
indeed. Phoebe is my half-sister. We have the same father, but my mother was
French.  He dropped her the moment he found himself a rich English wife. “

“And so you hate the English?”

“Yes.”

“As reasons go it’s pathetic,” said
Catherine. “I’d suggest you get over it. The English as a whole are not
responsible for what your father did. But I fear you enjoy the bitterness too
much. Or maybe it’s just the money your French masters pay you.” Even as she
spoke, Catherine wondered if she was being entirely fair. Society did set certain
expectations on people in regard to whom they married.  But was French society
any different? She doubted it. Those in power, as far a she knew, behaved the
same the world over.

“That’s easy for you to say, the
daughter of a gentleman farmer, with a foot in society no matter how poor you
are, as long as you have a rich benefactor like Mr. Oakley. It’s a pity, Miss
Willoughby,” Celine said, changing her tack slightly. “I think I could quite
like you in different circumstances. You’re a very astute young lady.  I also
know you’ve no money either, which is why you forged that note about Mr. Oakley’s
guardianship. Yes, I was listening at the door. Join us, and you can have all
the money you want. We may have different reasons for disliking this society,
but there’s no reason why we can’t work together to bring it to its knees. ”

“Whatever my personal feelings about excesses
of the rich, I would never become involved in a plot to kill him. Particularly
as it means working for our enemies. Do you really believe your revolutionary
council cares anymore about the poor in France than our royalty do about the
poor in Britain? The French working people are just as hungry now as they were
before the Revolution began. Only the names of those in charge have changed.
Their excesses still go on. And if you think you could destabilize the British
monarchy by killing the king, you’re very much mistaken. You forget that we’ve
already lost one monarch to revolution, and England survived it, and brought
the monarchy back.”

“Not quite as clever as I thought then.
Otherwise you would have at least pretended in order to save your life. If
you’re good, we’ll bring you food and drink later. Now get to work.” Celine left
the room, slamming the door shut. Catherine heard the key turning in the lock.

Looking around properly for the first
time, Catherine found herself in a tiny room with a grimy looking truckle bed,
and a chair and table. On the table was a pile of paper, the same letter from
the nobleman with an example of his handwriting, a sheet of paper bearing two
more women’s names, writing implements and a candle. They’d thought of
everything.

Despite that, Catherine found it
impossible to begin work. It wasn’t only to keep up the pretence of being
unable to forge the documents. The thought that she might be contributing to
the death of the king was horrifying. The idea that she’d already done it
unwittingly when Jimmy first brought her the work, and that it was the reason
he’d been silenced, was overwhelming. How naïve they’d both been, to think that
the only people asking for the service would have a noble cause. They’d been
stupid not to ask further questions.  Jimmy had obviously been seduced by Mrs.
Somerson’s charms, and probably would never have believed she’d be involved in
such a heinous plot. But Catherine knew that she should have pressed for more
information. She’d just trusted her brother to do the decent thing.

 Xander was right. What Catherine had
done, not just to him with the guardianship letter, but in putting the king’s
life at risk, was reprehensible.  When he found out that she’d assisted in the
assassination, he would despise her even more.

She imagined that the sisters planned to
assassinate the king, then use the letters from the French nobleman to escape
detection. The authorities, even if they suspected Mrs Somerson and Celine,
would be looking for an Englishwoman and her maid, not two French women
escaping the guillotine. Catherine had to make things right, no matter what the
outcome.

She sat on the bed, despondent and was
still sitting there an hour later, when Celine returned.

“I’ve brought you a drink.” She handed
Catherine a pewter tankard filled with water.  “Don’t worry it’s not drugged.
Obviously we need to keep you awake.” As Catherine was thirsty, she took a sip,
and then grimaced at the brackish taste.

“Why haven’t you started?”

“I’m not going to do it,” said
Catherine.

“Now listen to me, you stupid girl.”
Celine grabbed Catherine by the hair and dragged her to the table, knocking the
tankard to the floor, and forcing her to sit down on the chair. “I can send one
of the men back to London at any moment, and when he gets there, he’ll kill
your sister.”

“He won’t, because Alyssa is too well
cared for.” It was something Catherine had spent the last hour considering. The
rough looking men would never be allowed anywhere near Alyssa. Harrington and
Xander would see to that. She had to place her trust in them, and hope that if
her sister was in danger, they would act quickly enough to prevent her being
harmed. “And even if he succeeds, at least I’ll have done the right thing.”
Catherine thought of Jimmy, and how he lost his life, and all the times that
Xander, as the Captain, had risked his life to save others, including the time
he refused an order his Commanding Officer that would have led to unjustified
carnage.  She tried to be inspired by their courage, despite the terror in her
heart. “I’m not going to help you commit regicide.”

Celine pulled a pistol from the pocket
in her dress. “I was afraid you’d say that. But I think your own instinct to
live will overcome any objections you have. You’ve got until the count of ten
to start work.” She pressed the pistol against Catherine’s temple.

“One, two, three…”

Chapter Nine

As Xander was able to travel across
country on his horse, he reached Phoebe Somerson’s house only a short time
after they did. Under the cover of a copse several hundred yards away, he could
see the carriage parked outside the gatehouse, and the two men standing guard
at the door.  Occasionally either Phoebe or the other woman – the maid – came
out to them, and they talked for a while, looking to an upper window, which had
been boarded up. It gave him a good indication of where Catherine was.

He’d never been to Phoebe’s country
house, and was surprised by how derelict the larger building was.  He wondered
if she and her gang had abducted Catherine in order to demand a ransom.  He was
tempted to approach the men and offer any terms they wanted, in order to get
her back. But he had no weapon on him, and for all he knew, they might be armed
and open fire.

Waiting for Harrington to arrive with
help was frustrating, but he knew he had no choice. It would be foolish to
approach the gatehouse unprepared.

He’d been waiting an agonizing three
quarters of an hour when he heard the approach of hooves coming from the London
road. He pursed his lips and let out a shrill whistle, when he recognized Harrington
at the head of a group of men. They’d brought a carriage with them, for which
he was grateful. Catherine might not be in any fit state to ride back to
London.

“Xander…” Harrington rode across to the
copse, and got off his horse, making sure he kept out of sight of the
gatehouse. “I’ve brought help. What’s going on?”

“I think they want her to forge new
letters.” He briefly told Harrington about the links he’d made. “Either that,
or they intend to hold her to ransom. But no one has left since I arrived, and
I feel sure they’d send someone with a note if they wanted money. Did you bring
me a weapon?”

Harrington handed over a pistol, and a
sword on a scabbard, which Xander put around his waist. “We’ll take the two men
out first, then deal with the women inside.”