The Elsingham Portrait

Seven


While Kathryn and Bennet stared at one another, there came a tap on the door. Bennet stumbled over to see what new threat was arriving. A footman stolidly presented a rather grimy note, carefully sealed and superscribed for Lady Nadine Elsingham.

“Just delivered by hand,” the footman advised.

Bennet dismissed him and brought the note to Kathryn.

“Open it for me, Bennet. I’m so awkward with this arm,” fretted Kathryn.

The note was short:


My lady—Donner has arranged passige home for her nursling on the Irish Mail packet from Liverpool. Ther will be a privat kerrige waiting at the Black Swan at 10 tomoro morning. Ile be in it, waiting an ready to look ater you an get you safly home to the dere contry.

Bring all yer jools and whatever monny you can lay hands on. I have yer nighttime potion by me, so you can rest like you were wont before that Englishman separated us.

Then, in a more literate hand, was scrawled,

Beware, Nadine! The Englishman is going to have you confined in Bedlam. The word of it is all over London.


Donner’s crabbed signature closed the letter.

“Well,” said Kathryn grimly, “I have no choice. Stay here and be sent to Bedlam, wait and be sent to Ireland at my lord’s whim, or go to Ireland tomorrow with Donner.”

“You’d never do that last, Miss Kathryn!” protested Bennet. “See, the shameless creature is coaxing you with promises of that drug she was in the habit of giving you—”

Kathryn interrupted her. “Donner is the last person I’d go anywhere with,” she reassured Bennet. “Every time she came near me I felt an actual sickness. She’s the witch, Bennet. But what’s this about a drug?”

“Remember the little brown bottle she tried to dose you with that night you fell? Dr. Anders had the contents tested. He told Lord John it was a —mind-destroying drug,” Bennet reported. “Dr. Anders said you should probably be under constant supervision, for your own sake, lest worse symptoms develop, and Lord John was swearing he’d have Donner sent to prison.”

Kathryn thought hard. “Bennet,” she said slowly, “it seems to me there is only one thing I can do. I’ve got to try to get back to my own time and place, the only way I know how . . .”

Bennet, frightened but resolute, said, “You mean—through the portrait?”

Kathryn nodded. “It seems crazy . . . but I did get here that way, no matter what anyone says. So I’ve got to try to get back the same way.”

“Shall we try now?”

Kathryn gave her a grateful smile. “It’s too early. Too many people around, to see me and try to stop me. But you can get a supply of candles to make the light we talked about. Perhaps I was hypnotized by it, or something. I think it’s part of—the way.”

Bennet was chilled by a sudden thought she didn’t dare to voice. What if the drug—that devil’s potion Donner had been giving this poor child—was also ‘part of the way’? She clasped her hands in agonized indecision. Mind-destroying? Essential?

Kathryn was speaking. “As soon as the household settles down, I’ll go to the main hallway and stand in front of the picture. I’d better wear that awful golden-orange dress Nadine was wearing—I’m sure that I must have everything the same as it was that night. Can you find the dress for me, Bennet?”

“I’m sure I can, Miss Kathryn,” Bennet assured her. “I’ll go right away and get candles and look for the dress.” She was glad to be doing anything to get her mind off the horrifying thought that the experiment would never succeed without some of the drug from the brown bottle. Was there any way she could get some? She didn’t even know what it was, or how much to administer. Too much might kill the child. Oh, dear! this was a frightening business! As she trudged down the servants’ stairway at the rear of the great London mansion, her thoughts scurried hither and yon. She felt like a small terrier determined to overcome a very large and menacing wolf pack.

She had no trouble in getting a large number of candles up to her room. No one on the staff would think of questioning Lady Nadine’s personal maid, even if Bennet had not been long and favorably known to most of them as one who knew and kept her rightful place. As his lordship’s old nurse, she was equal in standing to the butler, Mr. Burl, himself.

She had little more difficulty in finding her ladyship’s gown. It had already been neatly mended and cleaned, and was hanging in the sewing room waiting to be restored to her ladyship’s extensive wardrobe. Still Bennet was not satisfied. Putting on her neat dark shawl and bonnet, she delegated one of the upstairs maids to listen for her ladyship’s bell while she ran an errand in town. For Bennet, gentle soul and devoted servant, had conceived a daring plan. She would go to Dr. Anders’ consulting rooms and try to get the brown bottle.

Fortune favored her scheme. The doctor was out on a call, but his manservant recognized Bennet as the trusted Elsingham servant who had first brought the bottle to the doctor. He accepted, after some demur, the request, purported to come from his lordship himself, that the bottle be returned for some unspecified purpose. Bennet carried it off with a fine air of authority, but had the doctor’s servant not been already totally convinced of the fact that the “Quality” were all unreasonable and completely irrational in their demands, she might have had a harder time. As it was, the man shrugged and found the bottle for her in his master’s desk.

Bennet hastened back to the Elsingham town house. She went at once to Kathryn’s room and confessed what she had done and why. Kathryn was delighted at her wisdom and enterprise.

“I’d never have thought of it,” she marveled, “but of course, the drug is essential. It must be!”

Bennet was already having second thoughts. She almost wished she hadn’t thought of it. “What if we give you too much?” she fretted. “There’s neither of us knows aught about the dosage—and Dr. Anders as much as said the stuff was deadly! Mind-destroying, he called it!”

“Well, my mind’s not destroyed, whatever happened to Lady Nadine’s,” Kathryn replied firmly. “Bennet, don’t weaken now. You’ve been a tower of strength and a friend in need and I do not know what I would have done without you. I’d better eat something and then rest until you come to help me dress—after everyone is asleep, Bennet,” she added.

Bennet nodded and went to order a particularly nourishing meal for the intrepid time traveler. Bennet was wishing she could confide in her nursling, now grown to such a tall and splendid man—but with, alas, a will of his own and an inflexible desire to have his commands obeyed.

Kathryn too was having second thoughts. It had suddenly struck her that she was having the most exciting time of her hitherto colorless life. She got up and, slightly staggering after her days in bed, went toward the largest of the many mirrors with which the room was liberally supplied. Standing in the bright light of the candles which flanked it, she had a sudden surge of delight as she met the eyes of the lovely creature in the glass.

“Ravishing,” she said with a chuckle. “My girl, you may have been a tartar and a termagant, but you certainly are a knock-out. Pity you didn’t have more sense than to let yourself be manipulated by that weirdo Donner. Because as Lady Nadine Elsingham, baby, you really had it made.”

“Why do you say that?” came a deep voice behind her.

Kathryn whirled, panic-stricken. Lord John was standing in the doorway. “How did you get in—” she began, and then blushed. He was Nadine’s husband. It was his right—

Lord John came into the room and shut the door behind him. He advanced toward her, watching her with interest. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you blush before. It is most becoming.”

Kathryn, blushing harder, could find nothing to say.

Lord John came a step closer. “Do you know . . . I find myself nearer to believing this story of yours than ever before? It isn’t so much the things you were saying as you looked into the glass. It was the way you said them. You truly believe that you are someone else, don’t you? I hadn’t accepted that before.”

“My lord,” said Kathryn soberly, “as God is my witness, I am Kathryn Hendrix of New York—to the best of my knowledge and belief.”

The big man looked at her, his eyes less cold than she had ever seen them. “Yes, you believe it. So what are we to do, Kathryn-Nadine—whoever you think you are? Have you a solution for our problem? Do you want to stay here —with me?”

An involuntary shiver of delight went through Kathryn at the sound of that deep male voice. And he noticed it—and in his eyes there leaped a fire such as Kathryn had never seen in a man’s gaze before. She drew back from the force of it, just as Lord John took the last step which brought them face to face.

“I am without doubt the greatest fool God ever made, but I’m going to ask you. In spite of everything that has happened between us—in spite of the folly and the quarreling and the shame—shall we try again, Nadine?” His voice was low and husky with passion, and something in Kathryn responded to it with an intensity she had never known in all her lonely life. Almost without willing it, she was in his arms, strong arms that yet, even in that moment of passionate attraction, remembered to hold her injured arm gently, protectively . . .

While their lips still clung and her mind refused to function, Kathryn felt deep within some inner small core of commonsense crying out that this ecstasy was not for her. She told herself that it was the beautiful body of Nadine that this man loved, not the mind and soul of Kathryn Hendrix. Could she remain in this place and time, aware always that she was a substitute—aware always that not only Lord John but everyone who knew them would remember the ugly things Nadine had done? A vision of the contempt in Randall’s eyes and the stern judgment in Lord Peter’s face flashed into her mind, and she drew herself out of Lord John’s embrace.

“No!”

It was no more than a breath of rejection, but he heard it. Almost reluctantly he pulled himself away from her. He loomed above her, a big blond giant of a man, staring down intently into her face. Had Kathryn been less distracted, she would have been aware of the wakening trust in the man’s eyes, the almost desperate desire to believe in her—or to believe that this beautiful, wanton child had matured into the woman he had dreamed of when first he saw her, breath-taking in her dark green habit, the glorious auburn hair flying in the wind as she rode her powerful hunter across the green field. But Kathryn was too full of her plans for return to her own time to be sensitive to the man’s reactions. She had not considered the ultimate hazard this place might offer—that she might feel tenderness—face it!—might even fall in love with a man who had died a hundred years before her own birth. It was impossible! She drew away, trembling, and Lord John, a mature and sophisticated man, recognized at once the difference between this trembling and the shiver of desire his wife had felt a moment before. Still, there was the new and exciting look in those fascinating green eyes, a look they had never held for him before. He frowned.

“What is it? What troubles you so? I am willing to come half way—to forgive and forget—to begin again with what we have. You cannot deny that we do have . . . something for each other?”

At that moment Kathryn knew that she had fallen under the spell of this virile man. Beside him, poor Don faded to a miserable creature, a conniver, an opportunist. She realized with gratitude that she would never grieve for Donald Madson again. Better nothing than that pallid excuse for love she had felt. But this man posed a real threat. He was dangerously attractive, disturbing to her peace of mind. If she yielded to his charm now, she would be frozen here forever in this body, in the persona of a woman for whom no one could have respect—not even Lord John. Not even herself. On his terms: to be Nadine, the forgiven sinner, always to be watched lest the old trouble recur.

Intolerable.

Kathryn drew back a step or two. “My lord,” she began, and her voice trembled in spite of her effort to control it.

Lord John smiled a little, tenderly. Kathryn noted that it was a singularly attractive smile. “Call me by my name, Na-Kathryn,” he suggested. “As you did in Paris.”

But the damage had been done. “Na-Kathryn.” That’s what she would be, if she weakened and let herself stay here. An afterthought, the weak echo of another woman.

“John,” she complied, fighting desperately to avoid his gaze, his warmth, his exciting presence. “Will you permit me to rest now? I’m still pretty shaky. We can . . . continue our discussion tomorrow, when I am rested and calmer.”

Lord John accepted his dismissal with perfect courtesy. “Of course, my dear. Although I for one do not anticipate that you and I will ever be able to discuss this issue calmly.” His smile was rueful as he bowed and went quietly from the room.

Watching his broad shoulders in the faultlessly tailored coat, Kathryn knew that her heart would betray her if she had to have any more ‘discussions’ with this nobleman.

*****



Entering an hour later, Bennet found Kathryn seated in an armchair near the dying fire. Bennet was carrying the golden dress. “Miss Kathryn,” she whispered, “everyone’s gone to bed. I’ve lighted the candles—there’s a proper blaze above the portrait. Lady Nadine had new sconces installed, just so her picture would be well-lighted for the reception. She was a very vain young woman,” finished the older woman with a disapproving shake of the head.

Kathryn smiled ruefully. “Well, we’ll have to admit that she had plenty to be vain about,” she commented. Bennet didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused, considering the lips from which the words were coming, but she joined Kathryn’s soft laughter.

“I can’t seem to connect you with her,” she whispered. “Not that I was that close to Lady Nadine. Donner held everyone at arm’s length; keeping the poor child under control, I suppose. But it was impossible to mistake her character—”

“And mine is different?” invited Kathryn.

But Bennet wouldn’t be led into flattery. “Come now, Miss Kathryn, we’ve got to get you into this garish bit of a costume and down to the landing before someone wakes and discovers what we’re about.” She hesitated. “Are you sure, Miss Kathryn? Very sure that this is the only way?”

“I’m sure, Bennet. Don’t confuse me.”

“Never,” vowed Bennet devoutly, and assisted Kathryn into the dress.

“I don’t think it’ll matter if my hair isn’t fixed exactly the same,” whispered Kathryn. “Anyway, I could never get it to look that way again. It must have taken an hour.”

“An hour?” sniffed Bennet. “More like three or four! And looked a proper rats’ nest at the end of it!”

In spite of—or perhaps because of—the serious nature of their project, the two women found themselves giggling wildly over a joke that really wasn’t funny. “We’re getting hysterical,” cautioned Kathryn. “We’d better go down to the landing quickly, before I lose my nerve.”

“That reminds me,” whispered Bennet as they left the exquisite room for the last time—Kathryn hoped—“I’ve got this,” and she held out the little bottle.

Kathryn drew in her breath sharply.”Bennet! Do you think we should? How much of it should I take?”

They were in front of the portrait now, very conscious of the mocking light in those painted, sea-green eyes that stared so insolently down at them.

“I don’t know, milady,” confessed Bennet, forgetting the ‘Miss Kathryn’ in her distress of spirit. “I’m not even sure you should take any of it—but there’s little doubt, if what that creature said was true, that Lady Nadine was full of it, the night—the night you changed places.”

“Do you know,” said Kathryn with an air of discovery, “I’ve never for one moment thought of her—of Lady Nadine. If I came here, did she go to the picture gallery in New York? I wonder what she thought of plain Miss Hendrix’s body—and that awful old coat?” She began to giggle compulsively. Bennet shushed her quickly.

“Miss Kathryn! You’ll have them all down on us! Tell me, what must I do?”

“Well, you’d better give me a few drops of that drug—I’ll try first with a little—”

“You will try no such thing in my house,” came a voice of such icy contempt that Kathryn felt her flesh shrink. “I should have known not to expect truth or decency from you, Nadine. But to have drawn poor innocent Bennet into your filthy schemes—Give me that!” and Lord John, white with rage, snatched the small bottle from Kathryn’s nerveless fingers. He towered over the two trembling women, his anger so plainly written on his face that neither of them dared offer any excuse.

“You will go to your room at once, madam, and I shall lock you in it. As for you, Bennet, it would be better for you to stay in your room until Lady Nadine and I have left for Liverpool in the morning. Send one of the maids to pack for milady. I’m sorry you should have been drawn into this imbroglio.”

He stood in the blaze of light from the candles, obviously controlling his anger with difficulty, looking, thought Kathryn miserably, like Judgment Day. Hating herself for her meekness, Kathryn crept upstairs to the room she had hoped never to enter again. She was scarcely inside when she heard the key turn in the lock. Dragging herself to the bed, she lay down, too despairing even to weep.