‘Done.’ Forty was not a bad amount. Far more than any of my friends could hope to earn in a year. But the sum was still far short of the true value of the jewels: if Lady Elizabeth failed to redeem them, Mr Vaughan would make a handsome profit.
Mr Vaughan drew out his cashbox and counted out a weighty sack of guineas. He pushed a paper receipt under the grille.
‘Tell your “lady” that she has six months to redeem them from me. After that time, I’m at liberty to sell them on.’
‘I understand.’
I pocketed the bag of gold and receipt and turned to go. Jonas Miller was standing at the door waiting for me.
‘Here, Cat, lend us some of that, will you?’ he asked with what he evidently thought was an ingratiating smile on his face. ‘It’s all up with me if you don’t help.’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, it’s not my money. I can’t lend it to you.’
His smile vanished. ‘They weren’t your jewels neither, were they, Cat? Have you been a naughty girl?’ He took a step towards me. ‘I wager that you wouldn’t want someone to tell the Bow Street runners about that!’
‘It’s none of your business,’ I said angrily, pushing past him. ‘Just because you filch from your employer doesn’t mean to say everyone else does.’
I slammed the door behind me and ran as fast as I could back to the theatre. Jonas’s threats did not bother me . . . I knew he was a creeper and a cheat. Lady Elizabeth could be summoned in my defence if he did go blabbing, but if Jonas was going to make trouble with the magistrate’s men, it made it more important than ever to get Johnny out of Drury Lane as quickly as possible.
‘You did what?’
Johnny was pounding to and fro on the hearthrug, the bag of coins glittering on the table between us. As my reader may guess, it wasn’t going well.
‘I told you. I happened to mention to Lady Elizabeth that you needed help and . . . ’
‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ he cut across me. ‘You’ve humiliated me, Cat. You and your friends, acting as if you can snatch me from the frying pan, but instead you’re just dropping me into the fire! Did it not occur to you that I might be quite capable of making my own arrangements? I’ve lost everything, choosing the path I’ve taken . . . my family, my rank, even the woman I love . . . but I thought I had my self-respect intact!’
He wasn’t going to pull the wool over my eyes with this bluster; he needed our help.
‘So, Johnny, what plans had you made?’ I asked coolly.
‘I was going to America,’ he said, stopping to slump dejectedly on the mantelpiece.
‘With the diamond?’ I asked.
He gave a bitter smile. ‘That’s the plan.’
‘And how were you to afford it? Unless Mr Sheridan cashes in this diamond . . . which I doubt he’d do even for you . . . you’ll need money for your ticket. He doesn’t have any from what I’ve heard.’
‘No,’ conceded Johnny, ‘Sheridan is short on ready money, that’s true.’
‘And you, do you have any?’
‘Only several hundred thousands . . . but all in my father’s pocket, I’m afraid.’ He sighed. ‘I thought perhaps Marchmont might help.’
‘You’re all abroad there, Johnny; he won’t. I know their sort: penny-pinching lice-hunters who wouldn’t cross the road to help their grandmother. They’re only happy so long as they stand to gain themselves.’
‘You’re probably right, Cat.’ Johnny looked defeated, depressed by the weight of anxiety that had descended on him since he was first charged with treason. He was just beginning to find out what the most of us already knew: what it was like to have no money.
‘So,’ I said, gesturing to the guineas I had brought back with me, ‘why not take this?’
‘Because it’s hers, of course!’ I must have looked puzzled, for he continued, ‘You’re too young to understand, Cat, about . . . about love. How could I look her in the face again if I take advantage of her in this way?’
I couldn’t believe the man: he was being a downright fool, too scrupulous for his own good.
‘Believe me, she’d prefer to look you in the face as you wave goodbye from a deck of ship, holding a ticket that she’s paid for, than watch you go blue in the face as the noose tightens. When you die of a hempen fever, it’ll be no comfort to her then to know that you owe her nothing.’
He shook his head, still unconvinced. Though many years my senior, he was no better than an infant, completely oblivious to the hard truth of his situation. He made me feel so much older and wiser than him. He couldn’t afford to indulge his romantic notions of honour and pride. If he did, he’d die. I tried another tack.
‘You know, Johnny, I think it’s you who doesn’t understand love. Love is not forced; it gives without expecting anything in return. It drops like the gentle rain from heaven . . . ’
‘Upon the place beneath,’ said Johnny, finishing the quotation I had adapted for the occasion. ‘I know, I know.’
‘So why can’t you allow her to give you this? You’re denying her the right to put her love into action if you spurn it.’
‘But . . . ’
‘I’m certain you’d give everything in your power to help someone you love. You’re not treating her as your equal if you reject her assistance.’
I had finally found an argument that hit home.
‘My equal?’ he said.
‘Yes, your equal. You mustn’t treat her like some china doll that you admire but are afraid to allow off the shelf. She’s a sensible person: she knows what she’s doing. Anyway, it’s too late: I’ve pawned the jewels and Lord Francis is sorting out your passage. You’re outvoted on this, four to one.’
Johnny laughed. ‘I regret I taught you about democracy, Cat. It’s come back to haunt me.’
‘You won’t regret it when you reach New York. Have you thought what you might do when you get there?’
Johnny sat down beside me, signalling that he had given in to the inevitable and would let us help him.