The Spider's Touch (22 page)

Feeling small, Hester could only gaze down at her hands and give a nod.

St. Mars took a finger and gently forced her chin up. “After that fine example of manliness, I am reluctant to draw nearer so that no one can overhear us. But I trust you will presently credit my need to do so.”

Hester fought back a gasp, but St. Mars only possessed himself of her hands before bending to whisper in her ear, “I have been away for one month, but certain stories have reached me in France. Could you tell me
...
do you know the extent of the people’s discontent with King George?”

Immediately, all thoughts flew out of Hester’s mind, replaced by the fear that St. Mars might risk his life for treason. But she had promised not to judge him from his questions.

“I cannot tell you the extent of it,” she replied, “but surely it is much greater than even a month ago. Or at least, the manifestation of it is bolder, for I have no way of knowing what was in the people’s minds before.”

She told him about the Jacobite riot they had stumbled into, Madame Schulenberg’s terror, the King’s dismissal of so many officers from the army, delivering all this in a low voice to match his. Throughout her speech, St. Mars listened intently, giving an occasional nod, and looking not at her, but at some troubling vision in his head. When she had finished relating the news from Parliament of the last two days, the arrests and impeachments, she waited for him to explain the reason behind his questions.

He did not offer an explanation, but asked instead, “What have they said about the Duke of Ormonde?”

This question, too, surprised her, but she answered him as best she could. “He has not been impeached—as yet, but there are charges leveled against him. But, my lord, you must understand that the only news I have to give you is the little bit your cousin has let drop these past two days, which was neither very much nor very clear. He was much more concerned—almost frantic, in fact—about the possibility that your father’s name would be raised in connection with a conspiracy. It never was,” she assured him, “but I’m afraid he ordered Mr. Henry to burn your father’s papers, just in case.”

In the dark, Hester could not see well enough to read his thoughts. She braced herself for a sad reaction, but St. Mars said nothing. He simply stood still, holding onto her hands and absentmindedly rubbing them with his thumbs. The effect was so arousing as to make it hard for her to swallow. Even her knees had grown shaky.

At last, feeling that any more of this would raise a fever in her at the very least, Hester gently pulled her hands from his grasp, saying simultaneously, “ My lord
...
?”

He took an inward breath, as if she had startled him out of a deep concentration. Taking her hands again, he kissed one hurriedly and then the other. “My humble pardon, my dear Mrs. Kean. I have used you most abominably, but you must accept my word that nothing but a very serious matter could have made me forget your presence, even for a brief moment. I have one more thing to ask. I read that Lord Peterborough left London some days ago for his country seat. Do you know if he has returned?”

She shook her head and said, “I have not heard, and surely the news-sheets would have mentioned it, if he had returned to town.”

She hoped that he would now tell her the reason for his questions, but instead he began to worry about how long he had kept her.

“I must get you back to your party. You will not find it easy to explain this long an absense, I’m afraid.”

This did not concern Hester, for she had not come to their rendezvous unprepared. This was not the first time she had had to make up a story to explain the minutes she had spent with St. Mars. And in this particular case, she thought it would be relatively easy.

“Do not worry yourself on that account, my lord, although on no account must you be seen by any of them—even Lord Lovett, who would not recognize you—for he would be sure to report that I had met with an acquaintance, and Isabella would ask me who it was. My imagination does not extend as far as inventing friends I do not have.”

“Any more association with me, and you will have to become a proficient liar.” His tone was jesting, but she could hear the regret underneath.

“If that ever becomes the case, I shall be even
more
valued as a waiting woman, for I assure you that prevarication is the skill most highly cherished in any domestic servant. So again, you have no cause to worry about me, my lord.”

He laughed genuinely then. Hester felt a sense of reward for turning his mood so easily.

And, still, they faced each other closely in a place where no light from a lantern or lamp could penetrate the darkness. She thought she heard his breathing change.

“If we were not in a very compromising situation, and I did not fear for the consequences to your honour, Mrs. Kean, I should be tempted to kiss you for that remark.”

Her heart felt a thrill, but he had no sooner said those words than he added, “Come. I must restore you to your friends. Shield your face with your cloak.”

As she followed him out from behind the bushes, she hardly knew where to look. She was afraid to meet his eye for fear that he would see her elation, when he had only been teasing her. He had not meant anything lover-like. But even the thought of a friendly kiss from him had thrown her into a foolish rapture. She needn’t have worried about facing him, though, for his attention was focused on getting her past the other pedestrians without exposing her. Both knew that any witness to their emergence from the secluded spot would assume their activity to have been something quite different. He was masked, and she was not. If anyone who knew her were to see them, she was the one who would be compromised.

As they came closer to the table where she had left Sir Humphrey snoring, St. Mars inclined his head to whisper. “You must lead from here. I will follow you to make sure that no one bothers you, but it would be better if you were to seem alone.”

This was to be goodbye, then. And with no word of farewell, or any promise that she would see him again. Hester’s elation evaporated in an instant, leaving her heart and her throat both sore.

She made a grasp for his hand. “You will be careful, will you not, my lord?” The nature of his questions had raised a presentiment of danger. “You will not take any more risks?”

She could tell by the hesitation in his manner that he understood her concern. But all he said, giving her hand a friendly squeeze before letting it go, was, “You can trust me not to be as foolish as I once was.” And, with a firm, but gentle hand in the small of her back, St. Mars sent her on her way.

Hester knew that to peer back was to endanger him, so she walked quickly towards the table without turning around. Not surprisingly, she discovered that the others had returned and were looking around for her with expressions ranging from annoyance to concern. She did not have to manufacture a flustered appearance, for parting from St. Mars so suddenly had caused her real distress. Her eyes had even managed to produce a few tears.

To Isabella’s exclamations and questions, she only said that she had stepped away to find a place in which to relieve herself, had wandered farther than she had intended, taken a wrong turn, and gone quite a ways before realizing her error. Then the importunities of, not one, but a number of strangers had forced her to take several detours before finding her way back.

Of them all, only Lord Lovett appeared to doubt her story, though he was far too polite to say. Hester only had the feeling that he saw through her acting, so she tried to stay away from his more perceptive eyes as their company prepared to leave.

Sir Humphrey proved still too drunk to rouse. Harrowby’s attempts to wake him met only with indistinct mumblings, ineffectual attempts to open his eyes, and once an exclamation, when on opening them he looked at Lord Lovett and said, “Walpole?”

This surprising utterance caused Harrowby and Isabella, who were in the greatest of spirits after their evening frolics, to break into uncontrolled laughter.

“He’s mistook you for Sir Robert, by gad! Well, if he’s that deep in the soup, I don’t suppose we’ll ever get him up.”

Lord Lovett, who seemed put out, said acidly, “Very astute, my lord. May I suggest we put him into a chair unless we wish to be here all night?”

Hester wondered what had put him so much out of humour, though she could not fault him for being fatigued with their attempts to get Sir Humphrey to rise.

Presently, they found two servants to bundle Sir Humphrey into a chair. Then, they followed the chairmen down to the river where he had to be lifted out and put into the barge. On the far side of the Thames, the Hawkhurst carriage was waiting, as well as several hackney coaches looking for fares. Lord Lovett hired one and promised to see Sir Humphrey home and into bed.

Exhausted by the stresses of the evening and the range of emotions she had experienced, Hester rode silently home, while Isabella and her husband prattled on about what an amusing evening they had enjoyed.

* * * *

Gideon had much to think about after watching Mrs. Kean rejoin her companions, not the least of which was how hard it was to see her go.

He had done what he had come there to do. To warn her away from Lady Oglethorpe. But it had been much harder to stick to that purpose, and
only
that one, than he would ever have imagined. He reasoned that he deserved the Garter for the restraint and gallantry he had shown.

He would have liked so much to keep her with him longer. She had not been unhappy to see him either. The brilliance of her smile had told him that. But neither had she given him the opportunity to greet her properly, once they had got out of sight. He wondered why she had not greeted him as friends should after a long absense. It was normal—was it not?—for friends to kiss in a friendly way on seeing each other again. It was true that they had both been eager to get away before one of her companions returned and spotted him. Perhaps it was that haste that had driven the usual forms of courtesy from Mrs. Kean’s mind, but the opportunity had been lost.

Then, of course, it would have been inadvisable to kiss her, once they had gained the privacy of the shrubbery. She had been brave enough to allow him to lead her there, and he would never have taken advantage of her trust. Still, having greeted each other once without the embrace of old friends, would they ever be able to amend the custom in future?

Mrs. Kean had looked
...
so uncommonly fine. So lovely, that he wondered how he had ever considered her the least bit plain. He could not regret his remark about wanting to kiss her, though—even if he had frightened her—for she had to be warned that she must never go off into the shrubbery with any other gentleman. Mrs. Kean was so naive that she might not be aware that they would all of them want to kiss her—and do other things as well.

All of these feelings—for they were feelings more than thoughts—passed through Gideon’s heart and mind in a flash. Then he pushed them aside to deal with the news that Mrs. Kean had brought him.

The government was plainly moving against the Jacobites. Troops had been stationed in Hyde Park and others sent to suppress the rioters in other towns. Both the King and Parliament seemed to be taking steps to ward off a rebellion. And, if that was the case and their information was good, it would not be long before they took Ormonde and the other conspirators into custody.

Surely, now, Ormonde would act. He would see that he was no longer safe, which would give him three choices. He could do nothing, like Oxford, and try to defend himself, or like Bolingbroke, he could run to France. The first would be prudent only if the government’s information was bad, but from everything Gideon had heard, it did not appear that the Jacobites in England or in France had been particularly discreet. If the Duke chose the second option, James would have no leader for his troops in England. He was too far away to lead them himself, and there was no one else with Ormonde’s experience to lead a rising.

That left the Duke with the third possible action, which was to call for the rising now.

Gideon knew that he would have to speak to Ormonde again, and soon, before the Duke could be impeached. He would surely have made his decision by now, and it could take Gideon another two weeks or more to convey the news to James in Bar.

Gideon had been standing in the shelter of a tree, watching while the gentlemen in Mrs. Kean’s party tried to rouse one of their friends to go home, but now he turned and strode out of the Spring Gardens ahead of them. He walked to the river as fast as he could without attracting attention, but most of the people leaving with him had imbibed so much that they were in no condition to notice another man’s haste.

In another few minutes, he had flagged one of the watermen waiting along the bank, had climbed into the bark, and was being rowed across the Thames to Westminster Stairs.

* * * *

This time, the Duke’s porter answered the door after only one knock. He recognized Gideon immediately.

“I’ll tell his Grace yer here,” the Irishman offered, without bothering to ask Gideon to state his business. He left him standing briefly down in the hall, then brought a footman to lead him up. The footman had one arm missing, which meant that he was probably a former soldier. It was common amongst the Tories to employ wounded men from the army, and Ormonde was no exception.

The Duke was standing in the middle of his private drawing room, staring off into space, but he looked up immediately when Gideon entered the room. Until that moment, Gideon had not known what action to expect him to take in the wake of the arrests, but certainly something more than was evident. There was nothing on his desk or in this room, no sign of anyone in the house, to make Gideon think that his Grace had decided to act.

Ormonde did not seem quite as relaxed as the last time he had greeted Gideon, but neither did he betray any sense of alarm. Gideon waited impatiently to speak, then said, “I came because I heard about Prior’s arrest and the report from the Committee of Secrecy.”