Darke London (18 page)

“Before we go, I would like to get rid of some of these skirts. They’re most uncomfortable.”

“Of course. Um, do you need some assistance?”

The thought of Julian helping her undress sent a frisson down her back, but this was neither the time nor the place for tomfoolery. “I can manage,” she said.

While Julian turned his back on her, Nellie swiftly removed several layers of skirts and shawls and bundled them into a holdall. Without the extra weight, her body felt cold and weak. The thought of the long journey home ahead of them brought a sigh to her lips. She’d give anything to be in bed right now.

Julian swivelled back. “Ready?” he asked.

Just as they moved towards the door, footsteps pounded on the staircase outside. They glanced at each other, but there was no time to do anything as the door crashed open. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, blocking their escape.

“You!” Thaddeus Ormond exclaimed as he gaped at Nellie. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He transferred his stare to Julian. Ormond’s eyes bulged, as hard and black as the onyx pin stabbed in his cravat. “Well. Now this is a nasty surprise. I never would have guessed. All my bothersome fish in the same basket. That will save me a lot of trouble, I suppose.”

Chapter Eleven

Julian shouldered his way past Nellie and stood in front of Sir Thaddeus. “What an unexpected displeasure,
Uncle
.”

Sir Thaddeus sucked in his cheeks. “Insolent pup. I’m no uncle of yours and never will be.” To emphasise his words, he thunked his ebony cane on the floor.

Julian lowered his head as a slow-burning anger built up inside him. In the past few weeks his obsession with discovering his parentage had abated somewhat, swept aside as he focussed his energies on Nellie’s behalf, but now, confronted by his tormentor, his resentment blasted back to the fore.

“It gives me no joy to acknowledge our blood tie,” he snapped. “Given the man you are, I’m ashamed to be related to such scum. But tonight I’ve received even further proof of our dismal connection. Your unfortunate son revealed he was born with a vestigial toe, a characteristic I too bear. A rather telling fact, don’t you think?”

Above his high-necked frock coat, Sir Thaddeus’s face swelled up. The tips of his waxed moustache quivered in outrage. “That fool son of mine. The sooner I get him settled the better.” He turned his inimical glare on Nellie. “And you. Why am I not surprised to see you still so unpleasantly alive? I knew something was fishy about your death.” Twisting his neck, he hollered over his shoulder, “Kray! Get up here now.”

Heavy feet clumped up the stairs. Julian tensed in anticipation. His fears were confirmed as the familiar burly figure of Thaddeus’s hired thug appeared in the doorway, the distinctive pockmarks around his deep-set eyes affirming his identity.

“Aye, guv’nor,” he muttered, his gaze darting towards Nellie.

“Well, then? You’re not taken aback by the sight of a ghost?” Thaddeus jabbed his finger at Nellie. “Despite the mess on her face, doesn’t she look remarkably like the woman you were supposed to dispatch?”

Beside Julian, Nellie was breathing hard, her fists clenched at her sides. “You filthy mongrel,” she burst out at Sir Thaddeus. “You lying, despicable monster.”

“P’shaw.” He sneered at her down the length of his bony nose. “You refused to go quietly, so you got what you deserved.”

“And what of Pip? Did he know what you were up to? Did he want me dead too?” Two spots of colour stained her white cheeks.

Sir Thaddeus merely sniffed and turned to his henchman. “What happened that night? How in hellfire did a slip of a thing like her get away from you?”

The man raised his hillocky shoulders. “I were set ’pon.” Scowling, he jerked his brick-like chin in Julian’s direction. “By ’im. ’e must a followed you and me, and then ’e attacked me.”

“The devil take it!” Thaddeus huffed in exasperation. “What’s the matter with you, you dolt? You’re more than a match for that stripling. Who was the woman you threw in the river, then?”

“Some doxy no one would miss,” the dolt confessed resentfully.

“But she had the rings.” Sir Thaddeus’s face grew thunderous. “I knew it. You were after the rings, even though I’d paid you. That’s why she escaped, you no good dunce.” He lifted his cane threateningly.

Kray ducked. “Oi, sir, I’ll have none of that.” A surly scowl folded up his features. “She were a right little wildcat, she were, biting and scratching me like a hussy. I ’ad a devil of a time trying to snuff ’er.”

Nightmarish images of Nellie fighting for her life seared Julian’s brain. This was the beast who’d assaulted her, who’d slashed off her fingers and hacked up her face. Volcanic fury spurted through him, and a second later he charged towards the other man. Bent low, he drove his shoulder hard into the thug’s belly. Kray let out a grunt and staggered backwards as Julian flung his arms around his waist in a tight bear hug. The man was taller and heavier than he, but Julian had the advantage of surprise. Using his own weight, he thrust at the man and toppled him to the ground. The floorboards shuddered under the impact. Nimble and driven by fury, Julian shifted position and collared the ruffian from behind in a suffocating chokehold. The man thrashed about, his meaty fingers clawing to free himself, but Julian had both forearms braced around the man’s thick neck. He knew he could maintain that stance indefinitely, and with every struggle the man merely added to his own choking misery. Not realising this, the man fought even harder, but inch by inch, Julian simply increased the pressure on the man’s throat. The man’s cheeks started to mottle, and flecks of spittle frothed from his mouth. His eyes, wild and desperate, bulged in their sockets. Julian pressed down even harder. Threads of red appeared in the whites of the man’s eyes. Someone cried out. It sounded like Nellie, but his ears seemed muffled. All he could focus on was the man gasping in his stranglehold.

A storm of blows suddenly rained down on him, landing sharply on his head, shoulders and back. Wincing, he twisted round to find Sir Thaddeus laying into him with his cane. As he flinched away, Nellie launched herself at Sir Thaddeus, her lips drawn back in a primitive snarl. Her gloved hand was extended, ready for her claws to bite into him, but at the last minute Sir Thaddeus spun round and slashed his cane hard upon her arm. The sickening crack of wood against bone echoed through the room. Gasping in pain, Nellie fell to her knees.

“Nellie!” Julian cried, his hold slackening.

The momentary lapse was all the man in his grip required. With an almighty heave, he broke free of Julian’s hold, drew back his fist and ploughed it straight into Julian’s jaw. White stars exploded in his vision as agony shattered through his chin. He struggled to his feet, instinctively putting up his fists in a defensive stance. Kray threw another punch at him. This time he managed to duck, but it still caught him a glancing blow on his cheek. Hot salty blood spurted into his mouth. He spat, dodged another haymaker and slammed his fist onto Kray’s nose. Cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles. The man staggered back, bellowing as blood gushed from his nostrils.

Fully occupied with Kray, Julian did not see the cane swinging towards him until the last second when he heard it whistling through the air. By then it was too late. With agonising force, the rigid cane cracked against his left temple. Excruciating pain burst through his skull. He felt his knees collapsing beneath him. He cursed his weakness but could do nothing as he slid to the floor.

Nellie rushed to his side. Through the blackness fogging his senses, he felt her hands moving anxiously over him, before she was suddenly wrenched away from him. He shouted and received another blow to his pounding temple. Nausea gagged his throat. Rough hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, before a series of brutal punches rocked his head from side to side. Nellie screamed. The battering continued until Sir Thaddeus barked out, “Enough. You’re making too much noise and wasting time. Take him to the other room.”

Julian flailed his arms at the man holding him, but his body refused to obey him. He felt his feet being lifted before he was unceremoniously dragged out of the room. As he slid past the curtain, he made one final attempt to lift his head. Through his bleary eyes, the last thing he saw was Nellie facing off against Sir Thaddeus, her scars jagging like lightning across her white face.

Nellie glared at Sir Thaddeus. Pain reverberated through her arm where his cane had struck her and found its echo in the headache pounding against her skull. “Why are you here?” she flung at Sir Thaddeus. His fastidiously dressed figure filled her with revulsion. At the back of her mind lurked the sour possibility that she and Julian had walked into a trap set up by Madame Olga and Sir Thaddeus. “Why are you so concerned about Pip’s visits to a spiritual medium?”

Sir Thaddeus flicked at some dirt on the sleeve of his coat. “I’m interested in everything he does. I have to be, or that foolish boy will wander into more trouble.”

“You enjoy your power over him, don’t you? To you he is a mere commodity, a pawn in your machinations. You cannot abide him slipping out of your control. That’s why you took the trouble of visiting Madame Olga and paying her to say certain things to Pip. You would stop at nothing to maintain your hold over him.”

Sir Thaddeus pulled a face. “Pah, the boy’s a nincompoop, but he is still an Ormond and my only son and heir. I won’t leave anything to chance. I had a specific arrangement with the filthy witch who lives here. Where is she?”

Nellie’s heart sank. Madame Olga had made no mention of Sir Thaddeus visiting her tonight. Perhaps she’d forgotten, or, more likely, she hadn’t cared, her greed for Julian’s money overriding everything. Nellie cast an anxious glance at the curtain. What was that brute doing to Julian back there? She could hear some shuffling sounds which did not sound like blows, and for that she was grateful.

“You’ve played some hoax on my son. I see that now.” Sir Thaddeus glowered at her as he took in the full detail of her dress. “The devil take you, you hellcat. What nonsense did you fill that boy’s head with?”

He poked the end of his cane hard against her stomach. She choked with anger and thought about lunging at him with her claws unsheathed. If she aimed correctly, she’d hook his cheek nicely. But just as she tensed her hands, he jabbed at her again, harder this time, causing her to stumble backwards. With chilling speed, he grabbed her gloved hand by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. The bruised bone and muscle of her injured arm cried out in protest, but she bit her lip to silence herself.

“Pip is frightened of you,” she managed to pant out, “but he’ll never respect or love you. Never.”

“As if I care tuppence about that.” He wrenched her arm harder. “It’s naught to me as long as he marries the girl I’ve picked out for him.”

“Oh, yes. The so-called message from beyond the grave you paid Madame Olga to deliver. So who is this Miss Montague? Some weak-chinned inbred miss with high arches and thin blood?”

“Hold your tongue, harpy.” He cuffed her across the head. She ducked, but he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her upright. “Now move,” he ordered. Her scalp stinging, she had no option but to obey.

She staggered past the curtain and into the room beyond. They were in some sort of grubby kitchen which reeked of stale drippings. The shabbiness of the room only highlighted the horror of seeing Julian lying on the floor, arms and legs bound with stout rope, a filthy cloth gagging his mouth. His eyes were shut, and he appeared insensible, while the bestial lout stood over him, one dirtied boot resting on Julian’s shoulder.

“What now, guv?” From his coat Kray drew out a long knife and ran his thumb along the wicked edge, his eyes never leaving Nellie. “I wouldn’t mind finishing the job I started on this hoyden. I could add a few more stripes to ’er face. Make ’er real pretty.”

At the sight of that familiar knife Nellie shuddered, the scars on her face itching and tingling at the memory.

“You’re all talk and no show, I’m beginning to suspect,” Sir Thaddeus grumbled. “Why should I pay you when I have to correct your bungles?”

The man kicked pettishly at Julian’s comatose form. “Killing ain’t as easy as it looks.”

“Of course it is. You just have to go about it with purpose.” He pushed Nellie forward. “See to the wench. Tie her up properly.”

Nellie’s determination to struggle dissolved as the knife blade glinted closer. That same knife had carved into her face, had sliced through her fingers, had stabbed at her defenceless body. Dread and loathing numbed her as Kray dragged her to the far side of the kitchen. He fished out a length of rope from his pocket and swiftly bound her hands behind her back. Forcing her to the ground, he tied her ankles together, his hands jerking the rope viciously, then shackled her to the leg of a cumbersome table. When he balled up a greasy rag and kneeled down, she twisted her head from side to side in protest, but to no avail. He stuffed the loathsome cloth into her mouth until she was almost gagging.

“Don’t you look dainty?” He pinched her scarred cheek hard. With both feet, she aimed a kick at his exposed ankle. He yelped and backhanded her across the face.

“Stop that racket,” Sir Thaddeus barked. “I can hear someone on the outer stairs.” A knock sounded on the front door. Fixing his glare on Nellie, Sir Thaddeus muttered, “You’ll keep your mouth shut. One peep out of you and Kray sinks that knife into his gut.” He pointed at Julian.