Chasing Eliza (3 page)

Not only
was the tavern run-down and barely habitable, it was located in one
of the most disreputable areas of Derby. One didn’t go anywhere
without something sharp to hand with the chances of being relieved
of your valuables being increased tenfold. He had learned long ago
that being able to move around undetected had its benefits and in a
location such as this, could undoubtedly safe not only his purse
strings, but his life.

The
long, dark corridor ran the length of the inn, with several doors
opening to one side. As he entered, the raucous sounds of revelry
from the main tap rang loudly in the air, but it was the
conversation being held in one of the side rooms that commanded his
immediate attention.

He
paused, and melted into the shadows to listen.

“
I won’t do it, I told you.” Her voice was loud and defiant as
it rang hollowly down the empty corridor.

“
And I told you missy that I expect you to take your place
upstairs.”

Unless
Edward was much mistaken, the man Eliza was talking to was Bernard,
the innkeeper. Edward leaned his broad shoulders against the rough
stone wall and waited.

“
You are not turning me into one of your whores.”

Even
from outside of the room, Edward could hear the tinge of fear that
laced her voice, and mentally cursed the lumbering brute of a man
who would try to force her to such depravity.

“
You will do as you are damned well told girl. You are under
my roof, and are bloody useless as a wench. No customer of mine
wants their ale thrown at ‘em. I got customers who will pay good
money for a turn with you, and you’ll give ‘em what they want. Do
you hear me? You will - or you will leave.” Bernard’s voice was
unrelenting as he lay down his orders, clearly expecting to bully
her into submission.

“
Then pay me what you owe me and I will leave.” Eliza spat
defiantly, refusing to be pushed. “I have been working here for
months and you haven’t paid me a penny.”

“
I’ve been putting a roof over your head ain’t I? I’ve fed
you, and put up with you throwing drinks at my customers? And now
you want paying!” Bernard laughed harshly. “You’ll get nothing from
me gal; nothing but the back of my hand.”

“
I’m not being a whore and that’s final.”

Eliza
gasped as despite his ample girth, Bernard moved swiftly across the
room and grabbed her chin in a rough hold, pushing his face close
to hers. She could see the vile lust burning in the depths of his
black eyes and shivered in alarm. She remained stubbornly
motionless as his heavy body pushed her against the wall as his
wet, sloppy lips landed over hers. His hot, putrid breath was
enough to make her feel sick and Eliza immediately fought to free
herself. But her smaller stature and lighter weight was no match
against his girth and she made little headway in releasing his
brutal hold. Tears flooded her eyes as a meaty paw grasped roughly
at her breast and began to squeeze tight.

The
slamming of a door seemed to break Bernard’s attention away from
her for several seconds and it was all Eliza needed to create some
distance between them. Quickly lifting her knee, she pushed roughly
at his shoulders and issued him a healthy smack on the side of his
head. Her fury burned, as she wiped her wet mouth with the back of
her hand.

“
If you ever touch me again, I will kill you.” She spat, her
voice cold.

“
You’ll pay for that.” Bernard snarled, holding his privates
tenderly. “You’ll bloody well do as you are told. Get upstairs, you
are taking your first customer or you get out of this Tavern
now.”

“
Pay me what you owe me and I’ll leave.” Eliza gasped as her
cheek stung from the force of the slap Bernard dealt
her.

“
You give the clients what they want and if I hear of any
arguments, you won’t be fit for purpose by the time I’m through
with you. It’s either them or me, or the streets. Take your
pick.”

Eliza swallowed against the lump in her throat and wondered
if she was going to lose the contents of her nearly empty stomach
all over his boots.
It would serve him
right if she did
. She thought to herself
as she stared at him blankly. His orders given, Bernard clearly
considered the subject dropped and returned to work, disappearing
down into the cellar with a grunt.

In the
silence of the room, Eliza fought to choke down a sob and took a
moment to steady her nerves.

That was
it then, she had no choice now. She had to leave but where could
she go? Jemima had vanished and was God only knew where. Her father
was dead and without the pay Bernard owed her, she had no money to
live off. She simply could not leave until she had the wages that
were rightly hers.

But to
get hold of the money from Bernard’s desk, she needed to remain at
the tap until it had closed, then she could leave in the night
without risk of being caught. Given the part of the city the tap
was located in, it was incredibly risky for any woman to be out on
the streets but she really had no other choice.

Unfortunately that left her with a problem of how to get
through the rest of the evening without meeting the clients Bernard
intended to send up. She simply was not going to become one of
Bernard’s working girls. She had not been paid anything since her
arrival; the food she had been given was meagre at best and the
work endless and exhausting. But the girls upstairs were in an even
worse position.

Her
thoughts briefly turned to the man in the corner of the tap room
but she immediately dismissed the possibility of seeking his help.
He could be working for Scraggan, and couldn’t be trusted. If he
wasn’t one of Scraggan’s cohorts, he was clearly gentry and he
wanted Jemima, not her. No matter how handsomely menacing he was,
she couldn’t expect a stranger to step in and help her.

She
staggered out of the room, her eyes blank with horror as the
reality of her current predicament dawned on her. Having issued his
orders, Bernard clearly wasn’t expecting her to go back to serving
in the tap room – it was enough to buy her the time to collect her
few meagre belongings. She was lost in thought, trying to figure
out how to get out of the tavern without being seen preferably
before Bernard sent up her first ‘client’, and didn’t notice the
man dressed in black move silently into the room she had just left
and quietly close the door.

Edwards
temper burned. It had taken every ounce of self control he
possessed to stand back and allow the events in the office to
unfold. A surge of unfamiliar masculine possessiveness had swept
through him as he had watched the big man maul Eliza. The hand that
had grabbed at her breast was enough for Edward who himself had
slammed the door with more force than was necessary.

He had
stood in the protection of the shadows and watched Eliza take
advantage of the respite she had been given and was intensely proud
of her for her fortitude and quick thinking in kneeing the man.
Edward himself could think of a lot worse things to do to him. The
look of horror on her face as she left the room increased his
unfamiliar protectiveness towards her. While he had breath in his
body, Eliza was not going to be whoring herself, especially to the
patrons at this hell-hole.

With a
glint of retribution in his eye, Edward carefully closed the door
and waited for the lecherous Bernard to reappear.

Desperation clawed at her as she stumbled upstairs, shaken
and terrified. She ignored the catcalls and lewd suggestions from
the tap room’s occupants that followed her and quickly slammed the
door to her room behind her, blocking out the mocking laughter.
Unfortunately it didn’t have a lock – Bernard refused to allow
them, so she knew the risks were still very real.

Her
stomach quivered in fear as she frantically collected a small mound
of her belongings from around the small room, although why she was
bothering she wasn’t sure. They certainly didn’t have any
sentimental value, most were just small items she had picked up
while on her travels with Jemima. But they were still hers and she
was loathed to leave them behind for Bernard or her replacement.
Besides the relatively mundane activity gave her something to do
with her hands while she considered how best to get out of the
building.

She
couldn’t sleep with anyone. She simply couldn’t become a whore. She
had spent many nights when the tap room was closed listening to the
sounds coming from the rooms on either side of her room, and had
heard enough stories from the girls who worked there to know she
couldn’t face the prospect of being subjected to such degradation.
She knew Bertram frequented the girls himself and would take great
delight in using her as well, most probably as brutally as
possible.

She
ignored the bawdy dress lying on the bed, obviously left by one of
the girls at Bernard’s command. In red silk with tattered black
lace edging, its days of being attractive were long gone. It was
gaudy and cheap and a stark reminder of what awaited her if she
didn’t get herself away from the current threat. Her mind flew this
way and that and she fought to suppress the fear that clawed at
her. She quickly snatched the dress up and lifting the sash window,
threw the horrid item out into the bushes. Briefly she looked down
at the ground, mentally calculating if she could jump. It was an
awfully long way. Even if she could hit the ground on her feet,
there was nothing to say she wouldn’t end up with broken bones and
at the mercy of Bernard and his customers. She glanced frantically
around the room, desperately looking for inspiration.

She was
busy folding the small bundle into a knot, when there was a soft
knock on the door. Eliza’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to
answer it in case it was Bernard and he had decided he was going to
be her first customer. But she couldn’t leave the man standing at
the door. Frantically she glanced around the room, considering the
window for a few moments before snatching the heavy candle stick
off the rickety wooden dresser. Quickly she extinguished the small
flame and tucked the stick into the pouch beside the
bed.

A seed
of a plan began to tentatively grow and she sucked in a deep breath
to calm her fraying nerves. Another knock at the door had her
lowering the front of her dress suggestively before moving to stand
beside the bed, her belongings at her feet. She didn’t know if her
plan had any hope of working, but if it failed she could at least
make use of the candlestick.

Taking
in another deep breath she called for her ‘client’ to
enter.

She
briefly considered using the candlestick there and then as she
watched the scarred wooden door slowly open. The moonlight did
little to eradicate the gloom within the tiny unlit room and she
could see little of the man who entered but could feel his presence
as he slowly entered and closed the door behind him.

Eliza
stood quivering with sickening nerves and waited for him to
approach. She knew it wasn’t Bernard, or any of the drunken
regulars downstairs. They would have stumbled in making as much
noise as possible. Despite her fear, her innate curiosity was
piqued at just who had decided to avail themselves of her
‘services’ first.

Her
heart hammered in her throat so loudly she was certain the men
downstairs could hear her trepidation as she stood and watched the
shadows in the far corner of the room. She was aware that he hadn’t
moved or spoken for several moments and wondered if he had indeed
entered, when he slowly separated from the shadows; as silent as a
wraith in the moonlight.

Her
stomach dropped to her toes as she recognised the man in the tap
room who had asked so many questions about Jemima. Every nerve
within her was locked on his silent approach, as rippling awareness
scattered her senses.

Edward
stood in the shadows, and took advantage of the gloom to
reconnoitre his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished with
a simple wooden dresser and a single bed on the opposite wall. He
could hear the rhythmic banging on the wall from the couple in the
room next door and shifted uncomfortably as his body responded to
the possibility of engaging in such activity with the woman before
him.

Quickly
banking that thought out he slowly left the shadows and sauntered
across the room. He knew she was probably terrified and didn’t want
to frighten her any more than was absolutely necessary but the
possessive streak in him wanted her to realise just how dire her
situation could have become. He wasn’t going to do anything to ruin
her but she was undoubtedly worrying that she was facing a life of
whoredom.

His slow
approach also gave him time to study her closely. She was standing
wide-eyed and trembling next to the bed. The window behind her was
unencumbered by curtains allowing the soft glow of moonlight to
bathe her in its gentle glow. She looked like an angel as she stood
encased in the shimmering light; a fallen angel. The soft mounds of
her breasts trembled with each breath she took, tempting him to see
for himself if they were as delectably soft as they looked. The
wayward strand of hair that had bothered her so much throughout the
night had been joined by the rest of her wild mass of curls that
lay over her shoulders in a silken cloak. His fingers curled into
his palms as the need to slide his hands into the tumbling cascade
swept through him.