Virginia Henley (28 page)

He laughed indulgently. “I’ve seen many women in the islands smoke, so I wouldn’t be shocked. I wouldn’t advise you to smoke, though. Not because it’s unladylike, but because your breath would no longer be sweet, and it would spoil your pretty teeth.”

“Oh! Then I shan’t smoke,” she promised. “Do you own any ships?” she asked innocently.

“Well, now, not officially. However, at the risk of shocking you, I will admit I’ve financed a few pirate ships in my time.”

“How exciting! I thought piracy had been outlawed.”

“It has,” he said dryly. “So has slavery, but sometimes I have to turn a blind eye to that also.”

“Oh, no! I cannot approve of slavery. How could you?” she asked reproachfully.

He sighed and said, “Well, morally I’m opposed to it too,
lass, but the whole economy of the islands is based on it. You can’t run a plantation without slaves. If I enforced the letter of the law, the economic structure would collapse and thousands would starve. So I’m left to choose between two evils, as is so often the case in life.”

“I see,” she said sadly. “Patrick is in partnership with a shipowner in Liverpool. I just forget his name, but I think he makes quite a good profit off them.”

“Aye, that would be Isaac Bolt. That Patrick has a business head on his shoulders. Profit is his middle name,” he said and laughed.

She had gotten the answer to one of her questions easily enough, so she decided to ask him the other questions that were puzzling her. She put her head on one side and regarded him archly. “Sir Charles, you’re a man of the world and I’m woefully ignorant of some things. Would you tell me honestly the answers to some rather intimate questions?”

“Well, we’ve made a habit of being truthful with each other. What do you want to know?”

“Is there a substance you can buy that will rid a woman of a child she is carrying?”

He looked at her for a penetrating moment and asked quietly, “Is it for you, Kathleen?”

She took both his hands into hers in a sort of pledge and looked straight into his eyes. “No, it isn’t for me, Charles.”

His features relaxed. “Yes, there is then. It’s called Penny Royal. You have to buy it from an apothecary shop.”

She took a deep breath and said, “And the other thing I want to know is, How can you prevent conceiving a child in the first place?”

“Well for the woman there is a little sponge with a ribbon attached that you put inside before you make love, and for the man there is a linen sheath that he can wear.”

“I see! Thank you for being so frank with me, Charles.”

His eyes twinkled. “And I suppose that isn’t for you either?”

“Well, you have to admit it’s useful information for a woman to know,” she said and laughed.

“Kathleen, I’ve only a couple of days left. Would you consider …”

She put her hand over his mouth. “Oh, please don’t spoil it by asking me to sleep with you,” she pleaded.

“Lass, I wouldn’t ask that of you. I want you to come with me!”

She shook her head sadly. “It would be a great adventure, but I won’t be any man’s mistress, Charles.”

“I swear, I had nothing so dishonorable in mind. Kathleen, I want you to marry me.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Marry you? My God, that would make me a duchess! No, Charles, they’d never accept me.”

“You would be my choice, my lass; they’d accept you,” he swore.

“Charles, no one has ever done me a greater honor, but I cannot.”

He looked at her sadly. “I understand. It’s too soon after your loss. A lass can’t replace a young virile husband she loved deeply with a middle-aged man she hardly knows.”

She wanted to cry out a denial, but she let the words lie undisputed.

The weather had suddenly changed, and changed drastically. Summer was over. The wind blew from the north so fiercely and the rain had come down in sheets all night. Autumn was here with a vengeance and the leaves were shedding from the trees by the thousands. Kitty wrapped her cloak about her and stepped out into Cadogen Square. She walked quickly up to Knightsbridge and on past Hyde Park Corner. There was a little man in a cocked hat he had made out of the
Times.
He carried a placard that read: “Less Meat … Less Lust.” In spite of the biting wind, Kitty stopped to listen for a moment. He equated meat eating with carnal lust and was handing out leaflets advising people to eat more fruit and vegetables and thereby become pure. Kitty bit back a question about rabbits and their breeding abilities and covered a smile with her gloved hand as she hurried along Piccadilly. She turned up Half-Moon Street, with which she was somewhat familiar, and into Shepherd’s Market, where she remembered there was a very fancy apothecary shop. As she opened the door a bell rang above her head and an elegant gentleman with a very pronounced Mayfair accent offered to assist her. For a moment she wanted to ask for something else and leave quickly, but her courage didn’t quite desert her. She was amazed to hear herself asking for Penny Royal, but she couldn’t keep her face from coloring deeply as he gave her a sly, knowing look of sneering condescension. He left her alone while he went into the back of the shop. She waited and waited and would have left without what she came for except her feet wouldn’t seem
to carry out her wishes. When he finally returned, he was still measuring powders into packets and as she waited patiently he kept casting her knowing glances.

Kitty’s Irish was up as she observed his carefully concealed bald spot and expensive clothes. Finally when he handed her a tiny packet and asked for twelve guineas, she knew he had her over a barrel in asking such a ridiculous price. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to haggle over the cost, but she couldn’t help giving him a setdown. She looked at him blandly and said, “I’ve heard this stuff is good for baldness,” then turned on her heel prettily and departed unruffled but pleased with herself.

“I want a few minutes alone with you, Julia. Will you come up to Patrick’s room, where we won’t be overheard?”

Julia, intrigued, followed her upstairs.

“Please don’t interrupt me until I’m finished, Julia. I’ve made up my mind to do something which no amount of arguing will change. I’m going to America, to Patrick. I hope to sail next week. I’m a widow now and I see no reason why I should wait months for him to return.”

Julia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Please don’t waste your breath trying to dissuade me.”

“Then all I can say is
bonne chance.
” Julia smiled kindly.

“Now then, I have a present for you.” Kitty reached into her reticule and handed Julia the packet. Her eyes widened as she realized what Kitty had done for her. Then tears of relief and gratitude mingled and fell down her cheeks. “I’ve also learned of a simple device to use to prevent conception. I’ll write it down for you.”

Barbara came running in, breathless with excitement. “Oh, Kitty, Terrance has just told me. I think you’re the bravest person in the whole world!”

Kitty started to laugh, almost hysterically. She was quite
willing to bet she was the most terrified person in all London. Her insides were jelly when she thought of the terrifying sea voyage that was ahead of her. Then there was the child. She couldn’t even allow her thoughts to wonder what she would do if Patrick would not marry her. An illegitimate child in Victorian England was so sinful its stigma lasted a lifetime. Beyond this was the dark fear of childbirth. Her own mother had died giving birth to Terry and the thought was enough to make her mouth go dry and her knees turn to water.

“I want you to help me pick out some traveling clothes, Barbara. Then maybe we can dine at that new fancy restaurant after the shops close this evening. I don’t think Julia is feeling too well, and I think she’d like to be left alone for a few hours.”

Kitty bought an amber velvet gown with a square neckline and puffed sleeves. At another shop she purchased a pale green wool with long sleeves and a dark green velvet cloak with a heavy quilted lining. Queen Victoria had set the fashions to disguise her many pregnancies. Kitty was glad of the full skirts, for though she hadn’t started to expand yet, they would be useful in the months ahead to camouflage her condition.

Barbara and Kitty didn’t return to Cadogen Square until after eight that evening. As soon as Kitty deposited her packages in her room she went along to Julia’s bedroom.

“May I come in for a moment?”

Julia’s voice rang out, “It worked splendidly, Kitty, but by God I’ve gone through hell this afternoon. The worst seems to be over but I’m still having awful cramps.”

“I think you will have, but I suggest we have the doctor come and have a look at you just to be on the safe side.”

“But, Kitty, he’ll know!” she protested.

“Very likely he’ll have his suspicions, but there isn’t a damned thing he can do about it, is there? He can’t put it back, can he?”

“But what if he goes to Jeffrey with the story?”

“The best thing is for me to send him a note telling him you’ve miscarried and we’ve sent for the doctor. He’ll come dashing home from his club or wherever he’s gotten to at this time of night, filled with guilt and showering you with sympathy.”

“You know a lot about men, don’t you, Kitty?” asked Julia with admiration.

“Do I?” wondered Kitty, surprised.

“Please see baby Jeffrey gets to bed without me tonight and send that note off to his father right away. Terrance probably can run him to earth.”

While Barbara and Kitty bathed the baby, Kitty observed him closely. He was all O’Reilly, exactly as Patrick must have been. He had a head full of black, silky curls, a very red mouth that was either chortling with laughter or screaming his displeasure with those about him. He was a robust, sturdy baby with all-knowing Irish eyes, and not one speck of his father’s blue blood showed up in his physical appearance. She prayed that her own baby would be half as lovely.

The next morning she took a hansom cab to The Swan with Two Necks in Lud Lane. They owned sixty coaches and over a thousand horses. To sit up on top cost three pence per mile, while a seat inside cost five pence. The weather was too miserable for Kitty even to consider an outside seat. The trip from London to Bolton would take twenty-eight hours, with a stop for the night at Leicester. The coachman would expect a tip of at least a shilling, and the guard would want half a crown. Doing mental arithmetic, Kitty allowed five pounds for the trip. The generous amount Patrick had given her had
shrunk to such minuscule proportions that Kitty felt guilty. What had seemed like an adventure soon deteriorated into a wearying trial of endurance. The seats were so hard you could get relief only by shifting about, but the passengers were packed so tightly you had to sit still to avoid encroaching on your neighbors. The roads were so bad with the constant downpour that all the passengers had to disembark every time the coach came to a steep hill because the horses couldn’t climb and pull in the mud. Although her cloak was sodden and her shoes and stockings wet through, Kitty pitied the horses and felt annoyed at the complaints of the other passengers, most of which came from the men, she noted with contempt. The next morning her clothes still were damp when she embarked at Leicester. The sky was leaden, but at least it had stopped raining. When the coach finally unloaded at the Packhorse Hotel in Bolton, Kitty stumbled and could hardly walk. Resolutely she picked up her bag and walked down the dirty, narrow streets that led to Spake Hazy. It was after dark, but the lamplighters had done their rounds and the gas lights shone their brave yellow along each cobbled street.

After Kitty had been sitting in front of the fire, laughing and chattering for an hour, it was almost as if she had never been away. Everything was the same, except Ada had produced another child and by the looks of her, she was off again. When the household retired, Kitty and Swaddy were able to be private at last.

“Well, my beauty, you’re off to America, are you?”

“Patrick promised to marry me, and I don’t see the need to wait months and months until he sails home. Do you?”

His eyes twinkled. “Well, lass, if he’s been at you, it would be a good idea to get that ring on your finger.”

“Grandada, don’t reproach me. I’ve been wildly in love with him since I was a child.”

“Couldn’t you have satisfied yourself with that young husband you wed?”

“No, I’m afraid not. He married me only because he fell in love with Terry.”

“Then he deserved to die. Remember, beauty: no guilt.”

Kitty pressed ten pounds into his hand before she curled up for the night.

“Thanks,
acushla.
Make an effort to behave yourself in the future, lass. You have an uncanny knack for getting into scrapes.”

She laughed and said, “Patrick will look after me.”

He shook his head and thought, “A man would need to wear his jackboots to control you, lass.”

It was teatime the next day when Kitty walked past the posh Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool. Inside, waiters in white gloves and frock coats served wafer-thin cucumber and watercress sandwiches to the elite who politely listened to a twenty-five-piece orchestra hidden behind a jungle of foliage. Kitty hurried past and bought a pie from a pieman hawking his wares. Liverpool was peopled with seamen from all over the world, lascars, black men and at least half the population seemed to be Oriental. A large directory on the wall of the Lyver Building told Kitty where Isaac Bolt had his offices. She knocked and walked in. A clerk asked her her business and she told him she wished to speak to Isaac Bolt.