Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (31 page)

“Ellen!” he called out. He cupped his hands around his mouth and tried again.

Please, Lord, let her answer.

Charging forward, he accidently crunched a few people’s hands and tripped across outstretched leg. He flipped over bodies. Pawed through mud. Searched for Ellen.

Others joined him, gathering wounded loved ones and hobbling away. A few police officers prowled the crowd, but mostly they assisted their injured coworkers.

“Ellen.”

He rose and tromped in every direction, but his search came up void. Moisture gathered in his eyes. He worked his jaw back and forth. Not five minutes ago she’d been nearby. Safe. Where could she be?

Hugh came beside him and clamped onto his arm. “Come with me.”

James jerked away. “No. I have to find her. She was here. I saw Ellen.” He staggered back to the first location.

Hugh followed him. “Help me load some of these injured people onto our wagon.”

Dropping to his knees, James shook his head.

He needed to find Ellen.

With a growl, Hugh seized his lapels and towed James to his feet. Hugh shook him. Hard. “She is
one
person. There are many more who need your help. Someone above kept you safe for a reason. Rise to the occasion.”

James slammed the palms of his hands against Hugh’s arms. “She is not just one person. She is my world.”

Hugh glared. “Tough, Kent. Whether you like it or not, you must learn that the world continues without her. If that new world starts tonight, then I pity you, but you must seek a further purpose. Put your pain to use.” He pointed at a bleeding man who lay a foot away. “This man needs you. Help me carry him to the wagon. Now.”

“But—”

Hugh squeezed his shoulder. “Trust her into the hands of the God you claim to believe in. Once you’ve done that, help me do some tangible good.” Hugh scrubbed his forearm over his brow, then stooped. He knelt beside the man on the ground and pressed his handkerchief to the bloody river trickling down the man’s chest.

James studied the square. How many people lay dying? At least sixty protestors, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the number was higher. From what he could tell the police side hadn’t faired any better.

Fat raindrops drummed against the wooden walkways.

James bowed his head and let his hat slip to the ground. “Hugh’s right. God, take care of Ellen. I can’t. I’ve never been able to. She’s always been under Your watch. I was foolish to think otherwise. Please let her be safe.” He opened his eyes and scanned the waste of life and suffering surrounding him. “And spare as many as You can tonight.”

Feeling the weight of his heart in the pit of his stomach, James joined Hugh. Wordless, they worked side by side. They lifted eight different men into Hugh’s wagon and helped ten more find safe passage home.

James prayed they all might heal.

“Alerting her family is a bad idea.” Hugh’s voice stopped James’s pacing.

One of Hugh’s servants rushed past, holding a pot of steaming water. Wounded men filled the dining room. When they arrived at the house, James had discovered that Hugh was a trained physician. He’d helped the mysterious Englishman patch people back together for what felt like hours.

James dropped onto the bottom stair, head in his hands. “I don’t know what is best.”

“Are you certain you saw Miss Ingram? There are many young women in the city about her size.”

“I’m sure.”

“In the darkness you could have confused—”

“It was her.” James ground out the words through clenched teeth.

“Well.” Hugh leaned against the wall, his fingers stroking his chin. “We know a couple clues then.”

“Being?”

“She wasn’t among the dead. So, she either got away, or….”

James jerked a couple of his hairs from his head. “What if she’s hurt and hiding somewhere? We might have left her there in pain. I keep picturing the worst.”

“Which is of no use to us at the moment. Save grief for the appropriate time. For now, let’s use our wits and the resources at hand.”

Hugh hollered for his butler. Mr. Ansley appeared within moments. Deep lines edged around his eyes. The aging man inclined his head.

Hugh tapped his cane. “Be a good man and summon the elite three of the Brotherhood. Send William to the Danby’s. Have him question the staff about Miss Ingram’s whereabouts. Send Andrew and George to their usual spots to see if they can round up any information. Use the swan stamp on my desk to seal the letters.”

“Very well, sir.” Ansley bowed again and hustled away.

“You trust your staff with your secrets?”

“Ansley’s been with my family since my boarding school days. He was the one who suggested Cygnus for our identity.”

“Do you think we’ll find her?”

“Kent, try and relax. I’ll tell you when I have information. If all goes well, in an hour’s time, we’ll get word that she’s safe and sound in bed at her uncle’s.”

James leaned his shoulder against the railing. “Or she’s out there—”

“Listen to me.” Hugh stood a few feet away. His shoulders sagged. “Trust me when I say I will do all in my power to find her if she is missing. I promise.”

Gray walls in the dining room did nothing to alter James’s mood, but helping the hurting did. For the next hour, James occupied himself in ways a Kent had never done before. Hugh’s staff scurried from making food to fetching fabric. Some were gone on Cygnus Brotherhood business. James followed the master of the house’s example and poured water and spirits for the injured. Wrote notes to loved ones and dispatched the information of their whereabouts.

He bent to offer a glass to a stranger with an impressive black mustache.

The man gripped his arm and the willow bark tea in the cup James held sloshed onto James’s trousers. Hot liquid left a stinging trail down his leg. He grimaced.

“I am not a bad person,” the patient wheezed.

James studied the man. Bedraggled clothes matched his long unkempt hair, and his accent sounded Mediterranean. The gut shot would kill him, more than likely.

“The physician is asking everyone to save their strength.” James set the cup on the floor.

“But I want someone to know, I want—” The man’s eyes rolled.

“You aren’t bad. I know that’s true.”

His eyelids fluttered open. He locked his coal-black gaze with James. “Will you tell my family?”

James nodded. “If you give me the name, I’ll deliver a letter to them myself.”

“I wouldn’t have gone if I knew it’d be dangerous.” The man sucked in a series of shallow breaths.

“None of us would have.” James’s stomach twisted.

“Don’t even know if I believe in their speeches. But my girl—my wife—Rose does. She wanted to go. I told her I’d go for her and bring back news. I’m not bad.”

“We’d do just about anything for the women we love. I understand. You were brave, Mr…?”

“Antonio Russo.”

“Antonio … might … would it be all right if I prayed with you?”

The man coughed, cried out in pain, and then he leaned his head back upon the ground. He seized James’s hand. “Yes. That’s the most intelligent suggestion I’ve heard all night.”

Nearing midnight Ansley entered, his boots clipping across the wood floor. He spoke in hushed tones to Hugh. Moments later the Englishman motioned for James to follow him from of the room.

“What’s the news? Tell me. I can’t tolerate another second of ignorance.”

Hugh remained silent until he clicked the library door closed behind James.

“Be seated.” Hugh’s lips pinched into a grim line. “Know that I don’t take pleasure in delivering this news to you.”

Dead? No, don’t say dead
. Black spots clouded James’s vision.

“What is it?” He gripped the edge of a high-backed chair.

“They have taken her.”

James’s knees buckled. He landed in the chair. “Who?”

“Lewis’s militia.”

James burst to his feet. “She’s not lost yet. I’ll search until there’s some sign … until I’m sure … until I see—and when I find Lewis, I’ll—”

Hugh strong-armed him back into the chair. “Settle yourself, Mr. Kent.”

James resisted.

“I happen to be in agreement with you.” Hugh pulled a note from his pocket and scanned the contents. “If our information is correct, they caught her and are waiting for word from her brother before they do anything.”

“But they could have her anywhere. This city is huge.” His mind whirled. “How many men do you have? Speak plainly with me. How are our prospects?”

Hugh grabbed his cane from where it lay on his desk. “They are excellent.”

“Don’t toy with me.”

“I know exactly where they have her.”

“Where? And cut the dramatic pauses already.”

Hugh folded the letter again and tucked it into his coat. “Cochrane’s Shipping Yard.”

“Isn’t that where they moved all the explosives?”

“Precisely.”

Apprehended.

Four heckling men lugged Ellen through a catacomb of buildings at the end of a wharf to dump her into a small office on the second floor of the dockside warehouse. They corded a heavy hemp rope around her middle and secured her to a foundation pole. Then the brutes bound her arms and legs.

Ellen licked her lips. Her throat burned. She ceased screaming a half hour ago when she realized no one would be coming to her rescue. Not this time. Angry voices of men debating in the next room bled through the thin wall.

Shadows cast a ghostlike trance over the dank room. The reek of fish and grease permeated the air. It was the kind of smell that sunk into a person’s skin. If Ellen got away, she’d have to soak in a tub for days and go through two bars of soap to be rid of the stench. The cold floor leached away her body heat through the threadbare fabric of her dress and coat.

It didn’t seem fair. She hadn’t even been snooping this time. They grabbed her anyway. At least Mary Goodwell hadn’t made an appearance … yet.

If only Ellen had obeyed Uncle Garret and stayed at the house. He’s specifically wanted to keep her away from Haymarket Square. And where—like a fool—had she gone?
Stupid Ellen.

A tear scorched a trail down her cheek.

All those lives lost. If not for her—she shook her head and bit back a sob. The men in the other room didn’t need the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

Hopefully Iana was safe.

Ellen fought against her restraints, but the tightly wound ropes sawed into the delicate flesh of her wrists and ankles.

To think she chided James at The Rat Palace that she hadn’t needed his help to get away. If only she had the prospect of him coming now.

Not that he knew the danger she was in. He’d left the Danbys to protect her. She saw that now. How had she been so stupid—so blind—about that?

Wounded pride, scorned feelings, stung from rejection, that’s how.

If she had been the woman society expected, none of the situations in the last week would have happened. She would be across town packing right now. No, she’d be on Carter Hurst’s arm at some posh party. More than likely he’d be introducing her as his fiancé to a flurry of clanking goblets.

But that didn’t set well either. No. She knew now, in the face of the possibility of death, that existing without James—when she knew he remained single—would have been no life at all.

Laughter in the adjacent room stalled her thoughts. The scrapes of a scuffle ensued. Chairs grated against the floor. Then the door to the office flew open with such force it rattled on the hinges. Five men shoved a kicking prisoner into the room and tossed him onto the concrete floor.

“James!” She lurched against her restraints.

He landed with a thud and a groan, his hands tied behind him. The brutes dragged him to the next foundation pole and tied him there.

“Might as well give you love puppies a moment alone before Mr. Ingram arrives.” A man with missing front teeth sneered. “Just like Lewis said, that boy followed right after her.”

“Maybe someone ought to stay in here with them. Make sure they aren’t up to any funny business.”

“Naw, his orders were to keep ‘em here. The girl’s more dangerous if she has one of us to talk to. She convinced the new recruit to set her free last time.”

“Right.” They shuffled out and the door
eeeked
to a close.

James’s head slumped. Had they knocked him senseless?

Ellen scooted to face him. Stretching her toes, she nudged his foot.

He shook his head, opened his eyes. “Ellen. Thank God you’re alive.”

Her fingers ached to touch his hand, brush back his hair, and caress the horrible bruise appearing along his jawline. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You must hate me.”

“Take heart. It’s beyond me to ever hate you.” His eyebrows knit together. “What terrible thing have you got to be sorry for?”

“They caught you.”

He scratched his chin against his shoulder. “I didn’t need a reminder, thank you. In the end, that’s my fault.”

“But you were coming for me … weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Water dripped through a crack in the ceiling. It pinged against the concrete floor.

Ellen shuffled, trying to get close enough to touch him with more than her toe. “Do you think it’s normal to come to the end of life and think about what you did wrong?”

“The end of life? Oh, don’t give up yet. There are more people out there trying to free us. And if it comes to … to that, I’ll fight them with everything in me to save you. If they’ll listen to a deal, I’ll promise them anything.”

“If I had been who I was supposed to be, none of this would have happened.” She leaned her head against the pole.

“Been who you were supposed to be? What does that even mean?”

“At Madame De Molineus’s school, we were taught to listen to our family, to stay away from excitement, to let others make decisions for us. But me? I’m always running ahead of my brain, and before I know it, I’m in the middle of another big catastrophe. This time there’s no way out. I never feared before, because you or Lewis always rode in and saved me from whatever trouble I found.” She snapped her eyes shut. “But now … now I’ve put you in harm’s way, too. Had I been the compliant girl I should have been, none of this would have happened.”