Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) (25 page)

“Oh, this is surely a bad dream!” she murmured thickly, her eyes still shut, “I shall open my eyes and I shall be back in my own bed!”

“Not a chance I’m afraid, Mrs Churchill” said Sir Richard’s sneering drawl.

She opened her eyes wide to stare at him and began to scream.

He slapped her; which she had expected, though the pain of the hardness of the blow was more than Frank had ever managed.

She started to sob hysterically; it was guaranteed to make men nervous though it was a tactic she had scorned to use on Frank, scorned to let him have the victory of making her react at all.

But her victory here was to stay alive and hope that she might do so long enough for rescue.

Caleb would not leave her.

Caleb came running out on hearing a commotion and Jane’s voice raised in distress; he was in time to see the berlin turning the corner of the square towards the Pembridge Road by which the vehicle might go left into the city or right towards the north. Fowler was arguing with the driver of the Hack.

“Foller that bleedin’ carriage!” shouted Fowler, beside himself.

“You’re ‘avin’ a laugh, Mr Fowler, strite up you are!” said the coachman “Swelp me, my poor nag can’t keep up wiv even one o’ them prime prads, never mind two!”

“He is correct, Fowler” said Caleb tightly as Fowler made a move as though planning on leaping up and taking the reins. “However we shall need the services of this good man to take us to see if we cannot get clues as to which direction this carriage has taken. If it only had any distinguishing features!”

“Well there can’t be many berlins wiv – with – a blue muffler on the door handle,” said Fowler with satisfaction, “not bereft of her wits, Mrs Jane ain’t not by a long mark!”

Caleb heaved a sigh of relief.

“Miss Bates!” he said kneeling beside the poor woman, who was sobbing, still on the ground “Are you badly hurt? I should have asked immediately!”

“Oh Mr Armitage, you are everything that is good,” cried Miss Bates, “I am not hurt….a little bruised perhaps but an application of arnica will soon set me rightabouts; oh, my poor Jane! What is happening? What will become of her?”

“Nuffink if I have any say in it,” said Caleb, grimly, “my dear Miss Bates, permit me to assist you to rise; ah, here is Simmy. What news Simmy? Did you see what happened?”

Simmy nodded, sobbing in fright himself.

“Oh Mr Armitage, that loverly lady, will vey sell her inter slavery?” he cried.

“It’s generally the province of those who abduct children” said Caleb as Miss Bates gave a little shriek and swooned. “Here you silly young fellow, get in that Hack – here’s a purse – and see what you can’t find out. Mr Fowler says there’s a blue muffler on the door.”

“I seen it” said Simmy. “Reckon I know the prads too; but I’ll be back in a brace o’shakes. Onward my man!” he put on a false society accent as he mounted into the Hackney Carriage painfully and awkwardly but proudly.

“I’ll Onward you, you little scamp” said the coachman without much rancour. The boy had been given money; and this was a guaranteed fare for most of the morning. It could be worse though if the brat showed any signs of putting on airs to irritate, he’d get a clipped ear for his pains!

Caleb carried the swooning Miss Bates within and up to the parlour where he laid her tenderly on the chaise longue. Dorothy tripped into the room; she had not wished to join the shopping expedition and had gone instead to play with Frances; but she was beginning to wonder what the commotion was about.

“Eoow, poor Miss Bates!” she cried, “what ‘appened, Mr Armitage? Where’s Mrs Jane?”

“She’s been abducted,” said Caleb grimly, “now you be a good girl Dolly….. strewth!” he added as Dorothy set up a screech.

“Eoow, eoow, eoow, vey’ll murder ‘er and sell ‘er to ve resurrection-coves if vey don’t sell ‘er inter slavery!”

Caleb looked around and picked up Jane’s floral arrangement of greenery and snowdrops and threw the water, flowers and all in Dorothy’ face. She sputtered in shock.

“Right my girl; pick up them flahrs and stems and put more water in ‘em or Mrs Jane’ll be disappointed when we gets her ‘ome” said Caleb losing control of his vowels and aitches a little. “Then you shall see to a hot brick for Miss Bates and a shawl to wrap herself in and a cup of tea. You make yourself useful to her and leave me to worry about Mrs Jane, see?”

“Yes Mr Armitage; sorry Mr Armitage” said Dorothy, subdued.

She was rather in awe of Caleb; but he was kind too, and most men would have slapped her. Dorothy got about the task of picking up the scattered snowdrops and greenery, mostly rosemary, lavender and bay from the kitchen garden, there not being much in the way of plant material at this time of year. Dorothy was not an expert flower arranger though she liked to watch Mrs Jane at the daily task of keeping pleasant bowls of what Dorothy’s uneducated idiom called ‘erbs in the parlour and dining room, with such flowers added as might be in bloom. Jane had shown Dorothy the green shoots that would be crocuses and bluebells over the next couple of months and had suggested an outing to pick hazel catkins on Hampstead Heath. Meanwhile Dorothy enjoyed the scent of the lavender and rosemary as she poked the plant material back into the pretty bowl Jane had chosen to arrange them in, and stood it near Miss Bates so the scent might help revive her. She ran for a carafe of water and a glass too, to water flowers and give Miss Bates a drink at the same time; for Dorothy was a thoughtful enough girl even if not particularly clever. And if Mr Armitage said he would get Mrs Jane back, he would get Mrs Jane back! And so she assured Miss Bates!

Caleb knew that Dorothy would look after Miss Bates well enough once brought out of hysteria; and ran back down. The three soldiers were waiting for him, much upset.

“I’m not sure we might of stopped it ‘appenin’ nowise,” said Jackie, “but one of us might of leaped that rattlin’-cove afore ‘e fired on Mr Fowler, or one of us might of stopped the nags, or at least leaped on the back and hung onto the boot!”

“Oh I doubt you might have stopped it,” said Caleb, “it was over too fast; I sent Simmy to get word from beggars which way they went. He ought to be back before long, so get your barking-irons primed and ready and check the sharp on your cutlasses and we’ll be off, I hope, presently.”

“We have a sharp on our tooth picks; you don’t need to worry about
that
” said Jackie. “Good naval ones they be; got them cheap. Purser on the make; less ways to feather their nests now the war’s over, see.”

Caleb saw; he had heard much about the depredations of crooked pursers at sea, and they made the shenanigans of the Royal Waggon Train look quite honest by comparison.

He was however quite relieved when the Hackney Carriage returned bearing Simmy and a disreputable looking beggar with one leg and scabs and sores all over his body. Caleb eyed the newcomer with mixed feelings.

“If you think I’m introducing you into the house where I’m staying looking like that you maundering fermerdly-cove you can think again, Billy Blue!” he said “Simmy, you take him down the area steps and clean orf all them sores and scabs so he look half respectable and you can let down that leg o’yourn too” he added.

“There’s rhino in this right?” said Billy Blue.

“Mr Armitage will give you a quid; di’n’t I say?” said Simmy shrilly.

Caleb raised an eyebrow.

“He has information worth that much?” he queried.

“’E’s seen that carriage afore and where it go” said Simmy in great excitement.

“All right; when he’s respectable” said Caleb.

Billy spat, and undid a strap allowing the leg that had been held up behind him to be released, and shook it to restore the feeling.

“Fer gelt I’ll take orf all me artistic finery” he said.

“Bring him to the book room when he’s fit to be seen” said Caleb hoping that the information was good; and knowing that a guinea was a small amount to pay for Jane’s safety.

Miss Bates had shown signs of wanting to hear what Simmy’s acquisition might have to say but Caleb had dissuaded her from leaving the parlour. Billy Blue was a beggar of more colourful language than Miss Bates’ delicate nerves would be able to stand, though Caleb grinned at the thought that Jane would have found him more fascinating than disgusting. Jane was a remarkable woman! And he must make shift to rescue her as soon as possible; at least that blasted Hackney coachman was ready to be held as long as need be. Of course he was used to waiting on gentry-morts doing all their shopping; it was probably all of a piece to him.

Caleb tried not to sigh with irritation as he waited; and hid his impatience as he heard Simmy on the stairs with Billy Blue.

“I went down and found beggars to say what route were took, see,” said Simmy, “and seeminly ‘e was ‘eading
Norf
so I finks, Gawd, is ‘e takin’ Mrs Churchill ter Gretna? And when we was on the Great Norf Road startin’ up ‘Averstock ‘Ill well I fort that were it! Ven I seen Billy yere, in Camden so I says to the jarvis to stop, see?”

“Camden?” queried Caleb.

Billy started to hawk, caught Caleb’s furious eye and swallowed, choking horribly.

“Big bully” said Billy.

“Gawd, Bill, ‘E ain’t nothin’ on Mrs Jane,
she’d
make yer clear it up
and
scrub yer mouf aht wiv soap!” declared Simmy.

“And yer wants ‘er back?” Billy was incredulous. Caleb took a single panther like pace and grasped him by the throat with one big hand.

“One word contrary to Mrs Jane and you might not live to enjoy your guinea; and I’m beginning to wonder if Simmy ain’t made a mistake and you don’t know nothin’! Why Camden?”

“Stand to reason, don’t it?” Billy said. “They just got the Regent’s canal as far as Camden; and there’s new ‘ouses goin up. Gawdstrewth, bein’ the first on the grahnd fer the pickin’s is worf a mort o’ rhino.”

“That follows,” said Caleb, “touching the navvies too I suppose with sporting tips, spurious or otherwise, while they extend it towards Limehouse?”

“Well, mebbe” said Billy looking shifty. “Few good fibbing-matches take place out Primrose ‘Ill way. Vere’s one termorra night, cove called Charlie the Miller against…..”

“I am not interested in bare knuckle fights” said Caleb waspishly. “Did you see the carriage with the blue muffler?”

“O’course I did!” said Billy “Struck me as right queer t’see Sir Richard Marjoram’s berlin bedecked like a dell in a milliner’s shop; so I was able to tell Simmy yere what I knows; and I’d like ter see yer gelt, no offence, Mr Armitage, afore I whiddle the scrap.”

Caleb laid a guinea on the table.

“That’s for identifying the berlin” he said. “There’ll be a brother to it if you have any more.”

Billy started talking very rapidly.

The drive was not long for Jane; that they had left the metropolis she was able to gauge by the cessation of the noise of frequent traffic and the shouts of itinerant peddlers and traders; they appeared to travel up hill for some way then the carriage turned sharply left and came to a halt.

“We have arrived,” said Sir Richard, “and if we should encounter anyone and you kick up any fuss I shall smile and inform them that you are my unfortunate cousin released from Bedlam to be under the care of a private doctor. Screams of abduction would be disbelieved I assure you!”

“Oh I don’t know,” said Jane, “you look sufficiently like a loose fish to me that I shouldn’t mind putting it to the test. Shall we try it? After all the worst that can happen is that people think I am mad and pity me; at best someone might run you through which I should find vastly entertaining.”

Sir Richard stared like a stuffed cod; then slapped her resoundingly across the face. Jane was knocked sideways on the seat but managed to give him a brittle smile.

“Why thank you Sir Richard,” she said, “the bruise and the cut on my cheek from your ring immediately tells disinterested passers by that you are violent and will make them more inclined to believe me over you!”

He gaped.

The door was opened by his footman.

“Problem, Sir Richard?” he asked.

Sir Richard glared.

“Make sure the coast is clear; this little virago believes she can call my bluff; and I would rather not try her and see” he said.

“Yessir,” said the coachman, “here’s a muffler on the door; you want that out of sight.”

Sir Richard rounded on Jane who ignored him and cried out in delight.

“Oh my muffler! Why I made sure I had lost it when this horrid creature grabbed me; it was knit for me by a maidservant you know, all with her own hands!”

“Cease your prattling woman!” cried Sir Richard, grabbing her by the arm again to manhandle her down the steps. Jane fumbled with her skirt, glad that fashion decreed more width in skirts this season; and took a flying leap for the ground. She stumbled slightly but her arm was free for Sir Richard lost his balance and fell ignominiously to the ground. She found herself in the yard of a coaching inn, which was open and not in an enclosed courtyard; there was some kind of structure on the other side of the road down which they had presumably come, and beyond the hard gravely sand that made up the yard was some kind of heathland, with short rabbit-cropped earth and gorse bushes. Taking all this in at a glance, Jane lost no time in setting off towards open country at a run.

Her freedom did not last long; with a yell the coachman flung himself upon her and pinioned her arms.

She bit his wrist.

Then Sir Richard was there with a wicked looking knife.

“If you don’t want me to cut your face off you’ll behave” he said.

Jane considered her options. There was no guarantee he might not do so anyway to keep her at home when he married her by force as such was his intent; and that if she got hurt she might at least remain free. But Caleb would come; the main thing she must try to concentrate on were delaying tactics so she might not have to hold out against torture too long.

“How can I be certain you will not cut my face off in any case to make me a compliant wife?” she countered, “it might be worth my while to take my chances” and she bit the coachman again. He howled satisfactorily.