Poetry and perfection 20

 

Chapter 20

 

It might be said that Hugo and Kitty saw less of each other as guests in the house of another; but that made time only nominally overlooked by Louisa more precious. And when Kitty managed to be up before Louisa, and met with Hugo, she looked up at him, and gasped.

He drew her into his arms, and kissed her. Kitty melted to him, pushing herself against him, and her mouth opened under his.

He ran a hand down her side, and lifted his face from hers, to a little mew of dissatisfaction won from her.

“I have ten eager serving-men who long to make a stately dance

Across terrain forbidden them, whereon mine eyes might only glance;

For it lies hid beneath a cloud, in many layers quite concealed

Although my serving men might guess at the delights caress revealed,” he said.

“Oh, my!” said Kitty. “I am too flustered to make a reply.”

“A happy flustered, I hope, not upset?” asked Hugo.

“Very happy,” said Kitty. “More so, I am sure, than Louisa would like, though she has a tendre for Sir James. I worked with her to leave some poetry in his books for him to find and realise she might be ready for wooing.”

“Minx!” said Hugo. “I’d better make sure he knows it is from her, not from you.”

“It should be obvious; she has pretty handwriting,” said Kitty. “I have a round, schoolboyish hand when I concentrate, or a scrawl like a spider having a fit in an inkpot when I don’t.”

“I’ll remember that if you write me poetry and can’t decipher it, and not take a fit of the sulks if I think you have described my serving men as ‘elephant’ when you meant ‘elegant,’” said Hugo.

She sniggered.

“You’re rich enough to make you pay the extra sixpence if I ever have to write to you in the post, to avoid me crossing my lines.”

“Assuredly! I have an aunt who crosses and recrosses lines and her last missive was, I swear, something about her gardener immolating someone.”

“I would think that’s frowned on in the best society,” said Kitty, gravely. “It’ll turn out to be something about moles.”

“Oh, that could explain it,” said Hugo. He had not let her go.

“Why aren’t you kissing me when we have a chance?” demanded Kitty.

“Because I am enjoying the view of your décolletage moving rapidly with your breathing because I appear to be affecting it,” said Hugo.

“Oh! Well at least you are not wasting time snatched. Your serving men are unnecessarily decorous.”

“Well, if they are invited to be less decorous…” he slid his hands down her sides and round to cup her buttocks. “Have you serving maids?”

“Yes, but they are shy,” admitted Kitty, her hands on his back.

“Oh, my Kitty! I look forward to teaching them not to be shy. And I need to be careful of your broken rib, too.”

“It is healing, but I am still as weak as a kitten when doing too much.”

“Bones can take many weeks to heal, and you pulled the healing apart, and shook up your head again by nutting him. Though you are young and strong, and it can be hoped that you are over the concussion, at least.”

“Yes, that appears quite healed, despite hitting it on his belly; that at least was flabby,” said Kitty. “Oh, good morning, Louisa,” she added, as that worthy tripped into the room.  Hugo rapidly slid his arms up her back, and moved away from her.

“Good morning, Kitty, Mr. Bottringham,” said Louisa. “I am ready to believe that you were just asking Kitty how her cracked rib is standing up to pressure.”

“Why, what else might I be doing, Miss Tippet?” said Hugo, with a blandly innocent look.

“Whilst all clothes remain in place, I have no need to know,” said Miss Tippet.

“Clouds,” murmured Kitty.

“You’re a good sport, Miss Tippet,” said Hugo.

“Why, Mr. Bottringham, I know that you are a man of considerable continence, or you would have given Kitty a distaste for yourself whilst nursing her in what must have been embarrassingly intimate ways,” said Miss Tippet.

“I have a second sister, who is an invalid,” said Hugo.

“Ah, that explains much,” said Miss Tippet.

“And she is also a dear friend of mine,” said Kitty.

“I think you will be very happy together,” said Miss Tippet. If she sounded a trifle wistful, Hugo smiled.

He had assured Sir James that the poem he had discovered in the returned book was not in Kitty’s hand.

 

The one Kitty slid to him at breakfast was in her firm, boyish script, and he did not fear finding it hard to read.

He dared to glance.

Ten serving maids reserved and shy in modest eagerness await

The guidance of ten serving men, to show them o’er the new estate

And give them leave to roam those grounds at will

Where sweet caresses bring their travels such a thrill.

His breathing was rapid.

 

Sir James came in to breakfast.

“I see you have been able to use my books to good effect,” he said. “I trust this one might contain something you could use?” he handed a book to Miss Tippet.

She opened it, to find a loose page inserted, ran her eyes over it, and blushed.

“I am sure I shall enjoy the efforts of all the poets in this volume,” she said, demurely.

“Excellent!” said Sir James, heartily, his own colour a little high.

Kitty caught Hugo’s eye and both smirked.

Hugo passed Kitty a piece of paper as she sat, sewing. Kitty hated sewing, but her stockings needed attention.

Ten serving men who live to please, within the house that’s made a home

By gentle maids whose welcome touch will make sure they will never roam

They yearn to find each privy room reserved for their eager master’s touch

To help prepare it when he comes to share the home he loves so much.

Kitty breathed very deeply.

 

She got out her writing slope, and presently, a maid brought a sealed letter to Hugo.

Ten serving maids long to adorn the master of the property

With sweet caresses laid upon the body of his entity

So that he might have all ingress to anywhere his heart desires

For he is master of the house who stokes its hot and burning fires.

Hugo took himself to his bedroom to sort himself out.

 

When the young couple met again for dinner, there were many blushes.

“Dear me, Mr. Bottringham, Kitty, I hope you are both quite well,” chirped Louisa. “I do hope you enjoyed the exercises of poetry earlier; I am enjoying a wider range of poetry than I am used to as well,” she added.

“My dear lady, you are a quite remarkable poet,” said Sir James. “Of course, a lady is always a graceful ornament to any table; like flowers. You do like flowers, don’t you?”

“I… I do,” said Louisa, going pink.

“I am especially fond of tulips…” said Sir James. Louisa blushed violently.

Hugo and Kitty exchanged a glance of amusement, which broke their own embarrassment.

Louisa gasped, firmed herself, and looked Sir James in the eye.

“Tulips look even lovelier when visited by a faithful bee,” she said. “He may quest for nectar at any time.”

It was Sir James’s turn to blush.

 

Kitty noted that Louisa was not in her bed that night; and sniggered. She hoped that all went well; a maiden lady of uncertain years had very few opportunities for happiness, and Louisa seemed to have seized an opportunity without regret. At least, Kitty hoped there would be no regret.

Louisa had slipped into her bed at some point during the night when Kitty awoke next morning, and was asleep with a smile on her face. Kitty was glad.

This day was market day, and the day of the trap. Kitty rose early, to be sure of something cooked for breakfast and was addressing buttered eggs, to be followed by a very rich, haddock kedgeree, when Ethan Pringle arrived, making sure to get there before the servants left.

“Breakfast?” said Kitty.

“I don’t mind if I do; I skipped it at the hotel,” said Pringle.

“Can’t have you fainting with hunger,” said Kitty. “Hello, Hugo,” she added, as Hugo came in.

“Ah, nice fishy kedgeree,” said Hugo. “Buttered eggs? Ham? Splendid.”

“There’s a pair of kippers for Louisa,” said Kitty. “I don’t know when she’ll be down.”

“I’m here, dear,” said Louisa.

“Sleep well?” said Kitty. Louisa blushed, but helped herself to kipper.

“I might have taken a while to get to sleep,” she murmured.

“I imagine you ladies are a little worried,” said Pringle. “I wonder if you should leave….”

“And go where, back to the inn? Thank you, no,” said Kitty.

“Kitty and I will stay upstairs and let you men handle the ruffians,” said Louisa, who had been brought in on the plan to trap the Hardcastle brothers. Kitty sighed.

“I shall have my pistol ready, anyway,” she said.

“Of course,” said Hugo.

It would be a long, weary day waiting to see if the villainous brothers came thieving; and of course, they might not.

Sir James joined them. He looked tired but happy.

“I put out as many rumours as I could,” said Pringle. “We may not have a nibble, in which case, I shall be in trouble for dragging my heels, but I want to try this.”

“It seems good bait,” said Sir James. “And as I approve it, you will not be in trouble, as you are working under my recommendations; you and Mr. Bottringham came up with a good idea, but as magistrate, I carry the responsibility if it does not work. And you carry the credit, if it does.”

“That’s good of you, sir,” said Pringle. “How are we going to arrange ourselves?”

“We don’t want to split up,” said Hugo. “I suggest we lurk in the library. It’s at the back of the house.”

“I agree,” said Sir James. “And we can distract our minds.”

“Miss Tippet and Kitty will go to their parlour,” said Hugo. “Kitty has her little pistol and the spare coach pistol from Haselbraid’s coach.”

“Which I hope I won’t need, as it kicks like a mule,” said Kitty. “And I don’t want to strain my ribs again.”

“It’s there if you need it; because if you need it, you will really need it,” said Hugo, soberly.

Kitty nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. The Hardcastles would not spare her or Louisa, though they would probably use them before killing them.  But they must be stopped before they killed anyone else.

 

Kitty and Louisa looked at each other.

“I can’t settle to anything, can you?” asked Kitty.

“I confess, I am afraid,” said Louisa. “For James… which is to say, for the men…” she tailed off.

“Me for Hugo, too,” said Kitty. “And less personally for the others. I… I think we could not hurt in praying.”

“You are right; that is never out of place,” said Louisa. “Will you…” she invited Kitty to find the words.

Kitty clasped her hands together.

“Dear God,” she said, “Two women beseech thee that these foul despoilers should be caught this day without harm to the brave men who wait to entrap them. May it go well, and may they be prevented from harming any other people. Amen.”

“Amen,” said Louisa. “Is it blasphemous after praying by suggesting something frivolous like playing cards?”

“Cards are not evil, card sharps who fleece the unwary are evil, and those who beggar their families because they can’t stop gambling,” said Kitty. “Let us play silly nursery games which take no real concentration, for I think we will neither of us be able to concentrate.  But it is enough to divert our thoughts, I think.”

 

 

The servants left, chattering and giggling, in high spirits to be given the day off to go to the fair.  The voices died away as they left the house, even the shrill squeals from some of the maids, and silence surged back like a palpable wave, as the house settled down to quietude. Sir James, Hugo, and Pringle lurked in the library. Pringle was reading, with deep concentration, “Waverley;’ Sir James was wrestling over a reply to the latest poem from Louisa. Hugo was penning a poem to Kitty, and trying to keep it a little more chaste than Louisa’s and Sir James’s torrid exchanges. He was struggling with a line about kisses straying between twin peaks when there was the sound of the kitchen door being forced.

“Ah,” said Hugo, putting down his literary efforts, and drawing a pistol. “Now we know; and if not the Hardcastles, then other villains of similar stamp.”