Kitty (20 page)

To Jenkins’s surprise, Lady Henley bought three first-class tickets for London and insisted that she accompany them instead of traveling third class as usual.

As the train started to move out of the station, Lady Henley turned to Kitty.

“Now, my dear, I don’t want to frighten you more than need be, but why we are traveling this way is because I noticed two very rough characters following us.”

Jenkins opened her mouth to explain about the plainclothesmen and closed it again as she received a vicious, warning look from Lady Henley.

“So, my dear,” her ladyship went on, laying a pudgy hand on Kitty’s knee, “just to be on the safe side, I’ve thought of a little ruse. I’ve sent the carriage with the luggage on to the next station to wait for us. We’ll wait till the train is just pulling out and then jump out—not onto the platform but onto the tracks on the other side of the train.”

Kitty was too tired after her sleepless night and too frightened to do more than nod. All she wanted to do was get away somewhere safe with the reassuring figure of Lady Henley and to have time to think.

Jenkins looked at her mistress in puzzled alarm. She began to feel uneasy. There could only be one explanation of why Lady Henley wanted to avoid the men from Scotland Yard. But then perhaps Lady Henley did not know they were from Scotland Yard.

The train chugged into a quiet country station and the three woman waited anxiously in the corridor. At the sound of the guard’s whistle, Lady Henley said, “Now!” and opening the corridor door, nipped down onto the tracks with surprising agility.

In the next compartment on the train one of the plainclothesmen drew his head in as the train started to move. “No one got off here,” he said to his companion. “Waste of time, this, if you ask me. I’m sure the husband’s the one who’s behind all them murder attempts. Him and that fancy woman of his.”

His companion nodded in agreement. “At least the Baroness is all right with Lady Henley. Now, Lady Henley—she’s top-drawer—not like that there Mrs. Jackson.”

Both settled back comfortably, enjoying the rare luxury of a first-class compartment, and the train steamed off.

The three women picked their way in silence across the tracks. The little station was deserted. With Jenkins pushing from the back and Kitty pulling from the front, they managed to heave Lady Henley’s bulk onto the platform.

They made their way to the carriage and with a crack of the coachman’s whip, they traveled down to the coast and started to follow the road along the shore. The day was in keeping with Kitty’s low spirits. Both sky and sea were a uniform gray. There wasn’t a breath of wind and they seemed to be the only moving thing in the landscape for miles.

Then the carriage suddenly swung off from the main road and bumped along a country lane that was bordered on either side by huge thorn hedges.

“This house has been in my family for a long time although I hardly ever use it,” said Lady Henley, breaking a long silence. “It’s a little neglected but I’m sure you won’t mind, Kitty. All you need is a bit of a holiday with your old friend.”

Kitty gave her a weak smile. “Please don’t think I’m taking all this for granted, Lady Henley. It’s just that I’m so upset….”

“I know, I know,” said Lady Henley soothingly. “We’re nearly there.”

The carriage turned and twisted up a rutted driveway, hedged in by uncut bushes and tangled undergrowth. Suddenly, they rattled into an open clearing. “Well, there it is,” said Lady Henley. “It’s called Pevvy Chase, though that’s a pretty grand name for such a poky place.”

The house was a redbrick Georgian gem with a shell-shaped fanlight over its pillared door. The door was opened by a thin, scrawny housekeeper and Jenkins stiffened like a cat, suddenly aware of danger. She knew that kind of woman better than anyone. Prison left its mark on the hands and eyes. Well, she supposed Lady Henley must be in the habit of recruiting ex-prisoners and paying them cheap. Who was she—poor Jenkins—to get so uppity?

Kitty exclaimed in delight at the charming hallway with its delicately molded doors. The housekeeper led the way up a slim-balustered staircase lit by an oval window, to the bedrooms above. “Here you are, my Lady,” she said, throwing open the door and bobbing an awkward curtsy. “You get a fine view of the water.”

Running to the window and looking out, Kitty saw with surprise that they were again at the seaside. The road had twisted and turned so much, hidden by its high hedges, that she had assumed they must be well inland. But the uncut lawn sloped down to a small terraced garden with redbrick steps, that lead to a small beach hedged on either side by woods growing right down to the water’s edge.

She jumped as she heard Lady Henley’s voice in her ear. “You can go for long rambles, my dear,” said her ladyship. “Get the color back in your cheeks. Now, I know you’re tired and have been a long time on the road and so I think we should have an early dinner and then retire. Jenkins will help you dress since you haven’t a maid of your own. Remember, Jenkins, no chattering.” She wagged a plump finger playfully at the maid who, to Kitty’s surprise, cringed as if Lady Henley had waved her fist.

After Lady Henley left, Jenkins deftly set about getting Kitty dressed for dinner. Kitty was pleased and surprised at her calm, impersonal efficiency. She had only known the cold, insolent touch of Colette’s fingers when it came to being attended to by a maid.

She sat down at the dressing table and let Jenkins arrange her hair. “You don’t need to use these pads, my Lady,” said Jenkins. “You’ve got plenty of lovely hair. See, I’ll just arrange it in a simple style. It will look just as good and feel ever so much more comfortable.”

Kitty smiled up at the maid. “I think you’re a treasure, Jenkins. I feel like stealing you away from Lady Henley.”

“I wish you could,” said Jenkins bitterly, and then bit her lip. “I’m sorry, my Lady, I didn’t mean to say that. You won’t tell her Ladyship on me, will you?”

“No, of course not,” said Kitty surprised at the girl’s fear. Jenkins gave a correct curtsy and left the room.

How odd, thought Kitty. As if anyone could be afraid of Lady Henley! There was no gas or electricity in the old house but plenty of candles and oil lamps. Feeling as if she were living in the eighteenth century, Kitty picked up a candle and made her way downstairs to the dining room.

During the meal, Kitty began to wonder if living in close proximity to Lady Henley’s gluttony was going to be bearable. Her Ladyship had abandoned her massive stays along with any of the restraints of good social behavior and ate… well… like a pig, thought Kitty. She chomped, she slobbered, she gulped, her eyes taking on a glazed look as the dessert was served.

Lady Henley obviously kept a very good cook. The dessert was wild strawberries soaked in kirsch topped with whipped cream and served in wafer-thin meringue shells. But Kitty dropped her fork after the first mouthful. The sight of her hostess was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Instead of using her fork, Lady Henley was cramming the meringue confections into her mouth whole. Meringue powder floated around her like incense around the body of an obese buddha.

Then came the savory of grilled bacon and oysters on toast. At least she can’t make much mess with that, thought Kitty, and gave a sigh of relief when dinner came to an end. Picking her teeth with a goose quill, Lady Henley eyed her guest. “You know something, Kitty? I’ll tell you something, I ain’t told anyone else. I eat too much.”

Kitty smiled faintly. After the exhibition at dinner, how was she supposed to reply?

“So-o-o,” said her hostess, impaling a sliver of food on her toothpick and looking at it with interest, “I’ve decided to do some walking. Don’t want to die before me time, heh!”

She gave a Falstaffian laugh which sent the candle flames dancing and the shadows of her great bulk running around the room. Kitty wondered why people considered candlelight romantic. Why, it made the genial Lady Henley look positively sinister.

“Anyway,” went on Lady Henley, “why don’t you go for a walk in the woods tomorrow and explore. You won’t get lost. There’s a huge tree out in front of the house that’s been blasted by lightning. You can see it sticking up for miles.”

Kitty said that she had planned to spend the morning writing letters.

“Worst thing you could do,” said Lady Henley. It’ll start you brooding. No—exercise is the thing.”

By morning when the sun was once again sparkling on the sea and the birds singing in the woods, Kitty decided it would be a good idea to go exploring after all. Lady Henley walked out to the entrance steps with her. “Go that way,” she said, waving a piece of buttered toast in the direction of the east. “Supposed to be some sort of old Roman fort there.”

Kitty set off into the woods with a feeling of relief at leaving her hostess behind. She could not understand her burning desire to put as much distance between herself and the house as possible, but she walked on into the thicker part of the woods, occasionally stopping to untangle her skirt from a briar or to watch the squirrels foraging for food in the undergrowth. The trees grew taller and thicker and the woods became quieter. Nothing seemed to stir except the topmost branches of the trees rustling and sighing as they were swept by the wind from the sea. Turning over the puzzle of her husband and Veronica Jackson, wondering who to believe, Kitty suddenly became aware of her surroundings and realized that she was tired and hungry and that the sun was high overhead, meaning that it must be around noon.

She looked up for a sign of the blasted tree that Lady Henley had mentioned but the trees in this part of the woods were too tall. With the beginnings of a feeling of unease, she started to make her way back. After walking for what seemed miles, her stockings torn by briars, and a blister beginning to form on her heel, Kitty found herself among some smaller trees and looking across, she could see the top of the blasted tree on the horizon. With a sigh of relief, she began to make her way toward it.

After several miles more, she sat down and nearly cried with panic and exhaustion. The sun was beginning to slide down the sky and the shadows of the woods were lengthening. Although she tried to keep her eyes on it, the dead tree that was her landmark seemed to move and shift, dancing among the other trees from west to southwest as if it were enchanted. Kitty sat very still and listened to see if she could hear any sounds of human life to guide her. Then she heard it. Away to her left came the faint slurring sound of the sea. She plunged back into the undergrowth and followed the sound. In a surprisingly short time, she found herself peering through a mass of dead shrubbery at the sea. Taking off her boots, she gingerly stepped into the water which came up to her knees and started to wade back along the shore. Dusk had fallen by the time she edged around the last of the trees and found herself on the little beach at Pevvy Chase. Figures came running down the lawn to meet her and she could distinguish her hostess’s vast bulk in the gathering gloom.

“We’ve been searching all day for you,” gasped Lady Henley. “This is our local magistrate, Sir Henry Gibbons. He’s had his men combing the woods all afternoon.”

Lady Henley led her into the hall and she found herself being addressed by the tall, thin figure of the magistrate. “You really should not wander around these woods by yourself,” said Sir Henry reprovingly. “Anyone from these parts will tell you that it’s uncommonly easy to lose your way.”

To Kitty’s surprise, she heard Lady Henley agreeing. “Just what I told her myself,” said her hostess with a bland smile. “But these young gels will wander off on their own.”

Kitty was too tired to argue. She allowed Jenkins to lead her off to her room and change her torn and soiled clothes. The maid seemed unusually nervous and kept glancing at the door. Finally Jenkins said in a whisper, “If you was to know of a girl what had a bad background but was reformed-like and a very good maid, would you take her on, my Lady?”

Kitty looked at her in surprise. “I’m sure I would take on anyone you could recommend. Did she do something bad?”

“Well, my Lady,” said Jenkins, still looking anxiously at the door and pleating her apron between her trembling fingers, “this here girl come from a terribly poor family, my Lady. She fell in love with this young man. A clerk he was, a bit above her in station. Well one day this young man asks her to go walking with him, but she had nothing to wear that you would call anywheres nice.

“So this girl, my Lady, saw this real pretty shawl in a shop, just a-lying on the counter where a customer who had been looking at it had left it. Well, she thought as how lovely it would look and how it would cover her shabby old dress and ’fore you know what had happened, she’d stuffed it into her reticule and hopped it out onto the street. She was caught a few yards from the shop door, tried, and sent to Holloway Prison.”

Kitty’s senses seemed suddenly sharpened by fatigue. “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you Jenkins?” she said gently.

The maid burst into tears. “Oh yes, my Lady. Please get me away from Lady Henley or she’ll do us both harm.”

“Oh, come, come,” said Kitty. “Lady Henley has gone out of her way to take care of me.”

Jenkins bent her head close to Kitty’s. “How come then she sent you off into them woods? I heard her. How come she got you away from them two men on the train? ’Cause they was Scotland Yard men, that’s why. How come—”

She broke off with her hands to her mouth as Lady Henley entered.

“If you’re finished here, Jenkins,” snapped Lady Henley, “get about your duties.

Jenkins scurried out with her head bowed. “Has she been gossipping?” asked Lady Henley.

Kitty shook her head. “She never said a word,” she lied. Her hostess gave a fat smile. “Feel up to a bit of dinner?”

Kitty refused and said she would settle for a tray in her room and bade her large hostess a firm good night.

She was finally left alone with the beginnings of terror. She must try to speak some more to Jenkins. But Lady Henley could not be trying to harm her. It had been Veronica Jackson all along. And with a bitter stab of jealousy, Kitty did so want it to be Veronica Jackson. Why, Lady Henley had hardly enough energy to move across the room!