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,
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,
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