Virginia Henley (21 page)

“Simon, whatever gave you an idea like this? It doesn’t seem quite right to just run off and get married,” Kitty protested.

“Kit, you know the O’Reillys will be relieved if they don’t have to put on a fancy wedding for us. Besides we made a bargain; don’t cry off now.”

“Kitty, you daren’t do this; Patrick will kick up a hell of a stink!” protested Terry, who was appalled at the thought of Kitty marrying Simon.

“Daren’t? Are you implying I must have Patrick’s permission before I decide my future?” she demanded.

“Why, you know how Patrick feels about you, Kitty,” said her brother.

“How does he feel about you?” demanded Simon.

“He thinks he owns me, but I’m about to prove him wrong.”

Barbara cut in, “Nonsense! He’s busy with his own marriage plans to Grace Haynsworth. What possible difference can it make to Patrick?”

“True!” said Kitty with a toss of her head. “Well, why are we sitting here? We have a wedding to attend.”

It was only when the minister was intoning the words to the marriage service that Kitty came to her senses. He looked more like an undertaker than a man of God. The flowers
didn’t even look real. The sing-song voice was asking her to pledge away the rest of her life to this young man she hardly knew. She thought wildly, What am I doing here? The day had blank spaces in it for her. Now they were back in Cadogen Square and she didn’t remember one moment of the carriage ride. Simon was speaking. She must make an effort to hear what he was telling her.

“Pack your bags. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

The next thing she knew, she was being scolded and congratulated by Julia, “Oh, dear, you don’t have anything that vaguely resembles a trousseau. But never mind; when you’re Lady Crowther you’ll even take precedence over me.”

Kitty ignored this patronizing remark and folded her old flannelette nightgown.

“Oh, you must have something a little more alluring than that thing,” said Julia. “I’ll get one of my silk embroidered ones for you. Now, don’t protest, for I insist.”

Kitty packed her toilet articles and Julia came back with the nightgown.

“You have no riding habit,” said Barbara.

“Oh, dear, I’m a positive ragbag; I never should have consented to this marriage in the first place. I don’t know whatever I was thinking of.”

“Nonsense, every single girl in the world who marries believes she’s just made a dreadful mistake, but by tomorrow you’ll feel differently, believe me.”

As the tears threatened, Kitty said quickly, “Thank you very much for everything; you’ve both been very kind to me.”

Terrance was waiting below with a small bag that contained his few belongings. He hesitated. “I’ve written a note for Patrick.”

“Oh!” Kitty said, startled.

“I just thanked him for everything and said I didn’t want to leave him but I was going with you to take care of you.”

“Don’t you think Simon will take care of me?” she asked uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

Simon arrived and good-byes were said. Kitty was relieved to get away, but when she got into the hired carriage she was surprised to find two young men occupying it.

Simon laughed and said, “Isn’t it the most marvelous thing? I ran into my two very best friends in the world, Brockington and Madge, and they insist on coming with us so we won’t be moped, stuck in the country.”

Kitty murmured, “Hello,” then added, “Did you say Madge?”

“His name’s Talmadge, but you can call him Madge; we all do,” said Simon.

“Indeed I won’t! Madge is a girl’s name! What’s your first name?” Kitty smiled.

“Vivian,” drawled the tall, thin youth, and the other two became engulfed with laughter, as if this was a most particular piece of wit. Kitty smiled too. “I see. I suppose I’d better stick to Madge then, like everyone else does.”

“Oh, by the way, Mother wishes you luck and sends you her keys,” said Simon.

“So she’s finally cut the leading strings, eh, old boy?” grinned Brockington.

“Completely washed her hands of me. You’ll have to play dragon now, Kit.” Once again the young men went off into gales of laughter.

“I have a splendidly romantic idea,” Madge suggested. “Why don’t we go to The Elms by water?”

“Could we?” demanded Kitty excitedly. “Is The Elms on the river?”

“Of course it is,” said Simon. “Tell the driver to take us to the river.”

Brockington opened the little connecting door and told the driver, “Westminster Bridge.”

“What the hell did you tell him that for?” asked Madge disgustedly. “We’re much closer to Lambeth Bridge.”

“Vauxhall!” put in Simon.

Terry hesitated. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe we’re closest to Chelsea Bridge.”

“’Course we are,” said Brockington. “Are you foxed, Simon?”

“I’ll tell you what it is, Brocky,” said Simon. “You both got into the sauce before you even met me.”

When they arrived at the waterstairs, Kitty couldn’t believe all the baggage they had among them.

“Wedding presents,” Madge winked at her, touching his nose to indicate it was a secret.

They hailed a barge and the waterman held it steady while they all climbed aboard. Kitty was excited by the smell and sounds of the Thames. Simon told the waterman he would show him the dock he wanted when they arrived. “It’s between Weybridge and Chertsey.”

“Not a bit of it,” said Brockington. “It’s after Hampton Court but before Chertsey.”

“You’re both wrong,” insisted Madge, “everyone knows the waterstairs are at Richmond, Kingston, Hampton Court, Wheybridge and Chertsey.”

The waterman shook his head as he pulled on the heavy oar, “Yer awl right, mates, so why argue? Westward ho!” he called out.

Kitty was shocked at the shabby condition of The Elms. There was a beautiful center staircase with three bedrooms upon each side, upstairs. Downstairs there was the kitchen,
tiny breakfast room, dining room, lounge and a library-cum-gaming room. It was a little gem of a house with mullioned windows, but its furnishings were almost dilapidated. The draperies were faded and rotted from the sunlight. The chairs were all worn and frayed—some covers even hung in tatters —and the carpets in every room were threadbare. Moreover, the whole place needed a thorough cleaning.

Kitty remarked to Terrance, “I’m ashamed to have guests here when it’s in this condition, but they don’t seem to mind. It makes you wonder what sort of homes they are used to.”

Terrance chuckled and said, “Didn’t you know they’re both lords?”

“Saints preserve us,” exclaimed Kitty, astounded.

Ail the men took themselves off to the stables, so she opened her gifts alone. She was disappointed to discover the wedding presents were a case of wine and a case of brandy.

Simon hadn’t even assembled the servants for her to meet, so she went toward the kitchens in search of someone. She found an old woman nodding over a small kitchen fire. “Hello, I’m the new Mrs. Brownlow. Could you ring for the other servants? I’d like to meet my staff.”

The old woman looked at her shrewdly before blurting out, “There’s only me and Hobson, me old man. He does the outside work.”

“But, Mrs. Hobson, who does the cooking?” asked Kitty.

“I do,” said the old woman.

“Then who does the cleaning?” asked Kitty.

The old woman’s eyes kindled and she let out a crack of laughter. “Nobody, as ye can plainly see for yourself!”

“But that’s terrible. We must hire some girls from the village,” suggested Kitty.

“Girls from around here wouldn’t come,” she stated flatly.

Kitty was puzzled. “But why not?”

Mrs. Hobson shook her head. “Goings on,” she said enigmatically.

“What sort of goings on?” asked Kitty blankly.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, missy,” cackled the old girl.

Kitty decided to take a higher hand with this disrespectful servant.

“There will be five of us for dinner. I’ll leave the menu in your hands, Mrs. Hobson—after all, I don’t want to start interfering on my first day—but let me assure you that if I don’t find things to my satisfaction, I shan’t hesitate to make some changes round here.”

“Well, let me assure you, Mrs. Brownlow, that unless me and my husband get some of the back wages that is owed us, we shan’t hesitate to make some changes round here.”

Kitty was immediately contrite. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hobson. How much does Simon owe you?” she asked bluntly.

“Three months to the day.”

“I’ll speak to him about it right away,” she promised, then silently changed it to tomorrow. She emerged from the kitchen to see Brockington streak up the stairs after Madge, both discarding their clothes in a shockingly abandoned fashion.

“Drunk as lords,” Simon joked as he caught the shocked look on her face. “Actually they can’t wait to get into their riding breeches and do a bit of hunting. We’ll be back for dinner. Amuse yourself.”

“Simon, hang on a moment, please. I know we have an understanding that we won’t live in each other’s pockets, but you haven’t even shown me to my room.”

“Sorry, Kit,” he grumbled, “don’t turn into a tiresome female. Just pick any room you fancy. Oh, one word of advice.
This lot always uses the rooms to the left of the stairs, so if I were you, I’d take the right.”

Terrance came in from the stables shaking his head.

“Mr. Hobson must do his job as ably as Mrs. Hobson,” remarked Kitty.

Kitty lit fires in every room. She went over the house from rafters to the cellar and poked her nose into every cupboard. She found a meager supply of coal and put some in a skuttle and carried it into the lounge. A mental picture of herself came into her mind and she sank into the nearest chair. “Hauling coal again,” she gasped with laughter. Oh, if I don’t laugh, I know I’ll cry, she thought wildly. What on earth have I gotten myself into?

The atmosphere was pandemonium. The dining room was echoing with laughter when she went in. Mrs. Hobson served them an almost inedible meal. There was a watery broth followed by a tough boiled fowl. The vegetables were sparse and the bread stale. But the young men ate heartily and proposed toasts liberally, so the little dinner party seemed a resounding success. They moved on to the library and immediately set up a card table.

“Come on, Terry; you too, Kit. Nothing beats a good game.”

“I’m sorry, Simon, I don’t enjoy cards, probably because I don’t know how, and Terry doesn’t have any money.”

“Nonsense. I’ll stake him,” Brockington said grandly. They insisted that Terry sit down with them. Kitty soon became alarmed at the amounts they were gambling, but she knew it was pointless to argue with men who had imbibed too much, so in desperation she told Simon that she was going up to bed. She looked at him apprehensively. His mouth curved into the nicest smile and he looked impossibly young. She put on the silk embroidered nightgown Julia had given her and waited. The only face that Kitty could see was
Patrick’s. The mouth that could be cruel and passionate, the arrogant nose and smoldering eyes haunted her. “Oh, God, I love him so,” she cried out loud.

The din from below grew louder until it became an uproar, but still Simon did not come. The racket continued and Kitty began to relax. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, but Simon never came.

Patrick hadn’t removed his coat before he asked for Kitty.

“Oh, Patrick, the most exciting thing, Kitty eloped yesterday!” said Julia.

“With whom?” he thundered.

“Why, Simon, of course.”

“Goddamn it, woman, how did you allow such a thing to happen? Is Amelia still in town?” he demanded.

“Why, yes, I think so,” she faltered.

He grabbed his hat and departed. It was a man incensed who confronted Amelia. “If we act immediately we can get this thing annulled,” he said firmly.

“You must be mad! They had my full consent. Why should I wish the marriage to be annulled?”

“I wish it and that should be sufficient,” he thundered.

“You can’t bully me, Patrick O’Reilly, so save your breath. Kitty is all I could wish for in a wife for Simon. The marriage is perfectly legal and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. I wish you good day, sir.”

He turned on his heel and left. Julia received the full brunt of his temper.

“For God’s sake, calm down, Patrick, and consider this rationally,” she pleaded. “Kitty received an offer of marriage and she jumped at the chance.”

“You pushed her into it, to get rid of her,” he accused at the top of his voice.

“I did nothing of the sort. They are well suited in age and make a lovely couple.”

“Has he taken her to The Elms?” he asked ominously.

“Yes, they are on their honeymoon and you mustn’t go bursting in on them.”

Patrick then did something he’d never done before. He slapped her. She ran from the room in tears.

Then he had Barbara to contend with. She flew to her sister’s defense and attacked Patrick head on. “Don’t you dare to breeze in here and blame Julia for what is a direct result of your own high-handed behavior! You’re the one who went merrily off to engage yourself to Grace what’s-her-face and left Kitty with a broken heart. Now you return and find she has contracted a marriage with an eligible man of her own age instead of finding her prostrate with grief and pining for you. So you fly into a jealous rage and slap Julia.”

He looked as if he were about to slap Barbara too, but she went on heedlessly, “I think Simon must love Kitty very much. He took her without dowry, without hardly a stitch to her back, if it comes to that. He’s not very flush in the pockets until he comes into his uncle’s money. He could easily have had Lord Brockington’s sister, who has about thirty thousand a year, I believe.”

“Good God, it would take twice that amount to get rid of her in the marriage market,” he hooted.

“Anyway, it seems to me you’re playing dog-in-the-manger. You wouldn’t marry Kitty, but you don’t want anyone else to have her. Well, you’re making a damned cake of yourself, because it’s
a fait accompli
and that’s that!”

Patrick did what every other man would do under the circumstances. He got drunk. It didn’t help. His temper was savage with everyone and everything. He called Kitty every vile name he could lay his tongue to. Patrick was cut to the heart that she preferred Simon Bloody Brownlow to himself.
He felt totally betrayed. Bitterness ate at him relentlessly. Finally he vowed to put the little jade out of his mind by throwing himself into his work and he again made plans for a voyage to America.