“Kitty! You’re on!”
Jennie gave her a shove in the ribs and then Kitty was skipping onto the stage, a bright, jaunty smile in place; her lines perfectly memorized as her professionalism took over.
And for the next hour, she stole the show and won the hearts of all those susceptible gentlemen and whipped up the envy of the ladies.
Indeed, immediately the cast had received their applause and had been invited to stop for a bit of dancing, Miss Mandelton did hurry forward to clasp Kitty’s hand and exclaim her utter delight at seeing her “old friend,” while a pale and shocked-looking Silverton brought up the rear.
“My dear Silverton, can you believe it, but I met Miss Bijou only a few miles from here when she rescued Poppet for me,” Miss Mandelton explained over her shoulder to Silverton, finally relinquishing Kitty’s hand as she added, “And what’s more, she took the naughty creature away to be cleaned so that Aunt Bertha wouldn’t be in a crotchet the rest of the way here. So that makes her a very kind friend in my book. Not many people would have been so thoughtful, so I can’t speak too highly of Miss Bijou.”
“I’m sure your opinion is shared by many,” Silverton murmured longingly as he locked gazes with Kitty over the top of Miss Mandelton’s head.
A smile and brief thanks were as much as Kitty could manage, and as soon as she could in all politeness get away, she wove through the crowd of revelers—guests and actors—to seek the sanctuary of the garden.
Gulping in the cool evening air, she bent double, gripping the branch of a tree that overhung the terrace.
And then the tears came from nowhere. Great, gulping sobs that seemed to suck the life and soul from her. She thought they would never stop.
“Hetty?”
Into the soft light, there emerged a figure. A slight, motherly figure with a serene face obviously mistook Kitty for someone else, for she did not stop for clarification before she’d drawn Kitty into a comforting embrace.
“Oh, my lady, you’re mistaken. I…I’m not Hetty,” whispered Kitty as she waited for Lady Partingon to drop her arms and no doubt hurry away murmuring an embarrassed—or perhaps shocked—rejoinder.
Instead, she felt the momentary stiffening of the lady’s arms about her. But they did not drop from her shoulders. And the voice did not harden. In fact, the very opposite happened as Kitty’s father’s ignorant but oh, so kind, wife, murmured, “You may not be my daughter, but you clearly are in need of comfort.”
She didn’t even look at Kitty, just held Kitty to her, and it was so wonderful to feel a mother’s arms about her—for Kitty couldn’t remember her own mother ever having offered her affection like this—that she didn’t want to move away. Finally, when her sobs had subsided, and it seemed natural to speak, Lady Partington took her hand and led her farther along the terrace and into the shadows where she said, “Would it help you to tell a stranger what has made you so sad? You were truly marvelous on stage. I can’t imagine someone so beautiful and accomplished could be so sad. But you are from London, are you not? Perhaps you miss your family.”
Kitty couldn’t meet her eye. She brushed her hand over the top of the low brick wall upon which she was resting. “I ran away from my family who disapprove of my calling, and I have a wonderful life. I’m not a bit ashamed of what I do, but I’ve fallen in love with a man who…cannot marry me, though his love is, I truly believe, equal to mine.”
Kitty was not surprised to hear Lady Partington’s slight intake of breath. Then, with the faintest trace of suspicion, she asked, “So he has just left you? And that is why you’re crying?”
Kitty shook her head. What did it matter if she spoke the truth? Lady Partington was in no danger of ascertaining Kitty’s true identity. And right now, it was cathartic to have the ear of one so clearly sympathetic, for, up close, Kitty was struck by just how kind and angelic a face Lady Partington possessed. In the moonlight, she looked half her age, and suddenly Kitty realized she didn’t hate the woman her mother had so bitterly denigrated her entire life. She even found herself able to talk to her with a frankness she could never have managed if she’d been talking to her mother.
“He has to marry properly, and indeed there is a very worthy young lady to whom he has become affianced to please his family, but in truth, his heart belongs to me.”
“And you mean to stay with this young man?”
Kitty bridled at the inherent criticism in Lady Partington’s tone. What should she have expected, though? Kitty was just a lowborn actress with morals to match. Of course, Lady Partington would look down her nose at her. “He would have married me if it had been possible.”
“Yet you intend to live as his…mistress…while he marries another?”
“I will have his heart, and that is more important to me than status or position or his money.”
“My dear, you may have his heart, but it is a poor bargain for all three of you.”
Kitty noticed Lady Partington sounded distressed and was surprised. After all, she didn’t know Kitty. Kitty wanted to argue, but she held her tongue as Lady Partington went on, “He may think he will be happy, and that he can salvage his conscience by being all things to both of you, but if his heart belongs to you, what of his wife?”
“She will have everything she could wish for, even his affection, I believe.” Kitty gulped. “But not his love, for that will always be mine and knowing that, it will be enough.”
To Kitty’s surprise, Lady Partington gave her a little shake. “My dear Miss Bijou, I will offer you a confidence held close to my heart. ” She stared into Kitty’s eyes. “Only because I would not see another innocent sacrifice her happiness out of ignorance. Do not, I beg you, go ahead with this unhappy arrangement. You say he loves you, but that duty requires him to marry another? All three of you are condemning yourselves to a lifetime of unhappiness. Think of his future wife. She knows nothing of you, is it true?”
“She is a sweet, simple soul. They are childhood friends. She doesn’t expect his heart.” Kitty was clutching at straws, but as she thought of Miss Mandelton, her own heart seemed to shrivel inside her. Lady Partington was only saying what Kitty, herself, knew to be true.
“Does not his future wife deserve to enter her marriage full of hope for the future? Is she not right in hoping that theirs will be a partnership that will be rewarding and fulfilling, that they will be blessed by children who will bask in the affection of adoring parents?”
“She will be given everything she could want. She will have his affection—”
“His loyalties are already divided. He will resent one or both of you. The children he has by his wife and those he has by…by you, will never know the fullest extent of a father’s love as he juggles his double life, trying to fulfill his promises, but failing, not because he is inadequate or less of a man, but because it simply is not possible to give two women—a wife and a mistress—and the resulting children, what they should regard as their due. I speak from experience. I spent twenty years locked in a union without love with a man whose heart belonged to another. Yes, to a woman he would have married had his parents not prevailed at the last moment.