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

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!