by Wilma Counts
Alice Barnet, Sydney thought, her terror increasing tenfold, for the Barnet woman ran one of London’s most notorious “flash” houses. Originally intended to provide for and protect abandoned children, these facilities were training grounds for pickpockets and prostitutes. The people who ran them—mostly women—pocketed any money the children brought in. Images of Marybeth forced into prostitution and of Walter sent back to that sordid life threatened to undo Sydney. She struggled to tamp down her nausea.
“Here. This is the place,” the girls said.
The gravel on the path had been seriously disturbed.
“Walter and Marybeth did not go quietly,” Zachary observed. “With luck, they will slow their captors.”
“They went that way.” Amy pointed.
A few minutes later, the path parted, branching off in three directions, but Geoffrey’s friend Reggie Atkins was there to show them the way. The boy was very excited and spoke in short bursts as he pointed to the right. “Geoff is still following them. We almost caught up to them. He told me to wait here to show you the way.”
“We are near the west entrance,” Zachary said.
“You girls stay close with Mr. Atkins,” Sydney ordered, hastening to keep up with Zachary.
Moments later, they reached the entrance where gas lamps on either side of the gate illuminated a chaotic scene.
Two adults were trying to cram two wriggling, screaming youngsters into a carriage whose driver was yelling, “Hurry up!” as he tried to hold his team steady. A third youngster, Geoffrey, clawed at the man, trying to rescue his sister. The man, taller and much heavier than the boy, managed to thrust him aside. Geoffrey stumbled and fell, but quickly scrambled to his feet and began the assault anew.
The woman already looked frazzled as Walter kicked and screamed, “Let go o’ me. I ain’t goin’ with you.”
“Oh, yes you are, brat. Now shut your mouth an’ get in there.” One by one, she pried his fingers loose from the edge of the carriage door as she still held onto his other arm and tried to avoid his thrashing feet.
Meanwhile, the man kept trying to fend off Geoffrey and control the equally uncooperative Marybeth.
“Yeow!” he yelled. “She bit me again!”
“Don’t let her get away,” the woman said. “That Fish woman will pay good money for her. She’s just the right age.”
This remark hit Sydney like a slash of sleet, cold and brutal, for she knew who “that Fish woman” was: the madam of a brothel that catered to clients who preferred very young girls.
Zachary rushed forward. “Stop! Stop right there! You are going nowhere with these children.” He jerked at the arm with which the woman held Wally, thus spinning her off balance and allowing the boy to escape.
The man was so startled at the interruption that his grip on Marybeth loosened and she quickly fled to Sydney’s side, crying in relief. Wally, too, immediately rushed to Sydney. She now cradled a child under either arm.
The coachman, apparently seeing no profit for himself in this scene, whipped up his team and pulled away, leaving Alice Barnet and her male companion standing on the side of the street. Zachary released his grip on the woman’s arm, but drew the pistol his father had given him and motioned for the two to stand together. The woman was not yet ready to give up, though.
She shouted at Sydney. “That boy is mine. You can’t have him.”
“Are you his mother?” Sydney asked.
“No, but—”
“Then he is not yours.”
“Yes, he is. His mother sold him to me. He is my property.”
Sydney looked down at Wally’s upturned face. His stricken look told her this was true. She hugged him even closer.
By now the Vauxhall guards had arrived and were ready to take charge. And right on their heels, Trevor Harrelson appeared and said, “Confound it! I missed everything.”
Zachary put away his weapon. “It must have escaped your notice, madam, that England abolished slavery several years ago.”
“Don’t matter. I paid good money for his services,” she said with a note of triumph.
“But not the clothing he wears,” Zachary said. “Should you choose to pursue this matter, I will personally have you charged with trying to steal his garments—a crime for which I am sure you know you could be hanged or transported.”
“That’s true, Alice. Best give it up,” her assistant said.
“Hmpf.” She turned away in a show of contempt, but Sydney detected a trace of fear at the mention of hanging or transportation.
By now, Amy, Anne, and the Atkins boy had caught up with them and stood watching the altercation.
Calming and comforting Marybeth and Wally, Sydney said, “You are all right now. You are safe. I want you to go back with Geoffrey and Reggie and the twins.” She glanced at Trevor and said, “Lieutenant Harrelson, would you mind going with them?”
“Be glad to, my lady.”
As Geoffrey, his friend, and the girls nodded their assent to this idea, Sydney added, “Stay close and stay on the main path. The fireworks will start soon. Aunt Harriet will be worried. You must tell her and the others what has happened. We will be along soon.”
The Vauxhall guards took down the names of the Barnet woman and her companion and forbade their ever returning to the gardens, but did not release them yet.
Sydney was furious at the thought that they were getting off so easily for what they had attempted to do. Attempted. In that word lay the problem. Were she to pursue the matter, the newspapers—never mind ordinary gossips—would consider it a godsend, what with the names of some of the people even remotely involved. And probably in the end for something only attempted, but not achieved, the result would be the same.
Reading the frustration on Sydney’s face, Zachary said, “You think they deserve far more severe punishment, don’t you?”
“Yes. It’s outrageous. That woman and her ilk send children out to beg and steal knowing full well they can be hanged for stealing as much as a—a handkerchief. Hanged! One little boy having only six years cried on the gallows for his ‘mommy.’ And—and what she planned for Marybeth—” Sydney burst into tears.
Zachary could not help himself. He simply stepped closer, took her in his arms, and held her tightly as she sobbed. He knew she was suffering shock and relief over what might have been. “Don’t cry, Sydney. Please don’t cry. Your sister is safe. Wally is, too,” he murmured, stroking her back. “You can’t save all London’s street urchins.”
“But—but there shouldn’t—shouldn’t be any—to save,” she said through sobs that were subsiding.
At this point McIntyre and Thornton arrived. McIntyre raised an eyebrow at seeing Zachary embracing Sydney, but made no comment.
Thornton turned to Zachary. “You want us to make sure these two just quietly disappear, Major? Easy enough to do in the dock area.”
Sydney stepped away from his embrace and Zachary felt a sense of loss, but reacted to Thornton’s suggestion by scowling at the two miscreants. Their fear clearly showed that they knew the idea was feasible and these soldiers were undoubtedly capable of performing such a deed. After all, London was a city with no police force, a city in which unspeakable acts were carried out in darkness every night. Zachary deliberately let them stew in their fear as little enough payback for what they had put those children through.
He held their gaze, trying to convey a full measure of his contempt. He fervently hoped they thought he really would carry through on such an act. Finally, he said. “Yes, it is a good idea. Excellent, in fact.” He paused. “But, frankly, we haven’t the time tonight. We have their names. We know where they live and operate.” His voice hardened as he turned directly to the would-be kidnappers. “If either of you ever—in any way—annoys Lady Paxton or any of her associates, we will come after you. In fact, you might find it healthier to move your activities elsewhere. Perhaps take up some honest work?”
Even through their relief, the two glared at
Zachary and Sydney, but they nodded and then quickly scurried away like the vermin they were.
When they had gone, Thornton said, “I doubt they will repeat this particular offense. But those two represent just a hint of the greater problem. How long—how long before Parliament discovers a backbone to give us a police force?”
Recognizing this as a rhetorical question, the others did not respond.
“Allyson will be worried,” Thornton added and began to walk rapidly back to the arena. McIntyre quickly joined him, leaving Zachary and Sydney, her hand tucked in his elbow, bringing up the rear. Sydney was very quiet. Zachary was certain she was caught up in the aftermath of the near disaster she had just experienced. He had seen such reactions many times in the last few years. He wanted to wipe away her pain, to bring back the joy and contentment of the early part of the evening.
Back on the main path with its string of gas lamps hanging from trees, Zachary steered her into one of the conveniently situated, dimly lit alcoves. She made no protest as he slipped an arm around her and lifted her chin.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am now.”
In her eyes he saw relief and gratitude and an indefinable something else. Longing, maybe. He couldn’t help himself; he lowered his mouth to hers. With no hesitation, she responded passionately, her arms around his neck, her need as urgent as his. He hugged her even closer, his hands caressing her back and she leaned in to him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“I have dreamed of this for so long,” he murmured.
“I have too. Nearly three years.”
He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Really? Since that day in the park in Bath?”
“Yes. Since then.”
He kissed her again, a long, searching exploration of her mouth and was delighted as she responded in kind. Fully aware of his own intense desire, he thought she felt the same, yet he could not bring himself to take advantage of her vulnerability. She had, after all, just suffered a very traumatic experience.
A loud boom brought them back to their senses even as the sky above them radiated brilliant light.
“The fireworks,” she said. “We must get back.”
“If you insist.”
“I insist.” She gave him a kiss that started as a friendly, joking peck, but quickly evolved into something deeper, far more intense. When they separated ever so slightly, she said weakly, “I insist.”
He grinned. “All right. But this is unfinished business, my lady.”
She nodded, her eyes reflecting her ready agreement.
They returned to the tables where others were already oohing and aahing over the fireworks spectacle. Zachary’s mother gave him a small nod. Allyson directed a knowing smile at them. McIntyre lifted a thumb slightly, but no one commented on their tardiness.
For Sydney, Zachary’s kiss brought back not just the joy of the evening, but also the joy of those earlier days in Bath. She chastised herself as a silly schoolgirl, but faced the next day with eager anticipation. When she received a small bouquet of violets the next morning, she thought her heart might burst with happiness. Yes. Definitely a schoolgirl reaction, she noted, not at all that of a young matron.
Regardless of her renewed feelings for Zachary, she was mindful of the narrow escape she and hers had had with the Barnet woman and that awful man. In the afternoon, accompanied by one of the “bodyguard” footmen and a maid, besides her coachman and another footman, Sydney visited the Fairfax sisters. As usual in her visits to that house, her coach was laden with foodstuffs, linens, and used clothing that Fairfax House would use itself or distribute to others.
The Misses Fairfax greeted her warmly, and over a tea tray Penelope said, “Wally told us of his narrow escape. And your sister! I do hope she will not have nightmares over this.”
“Marybeth is quite strong,” Sydney replied, accepting a proffered cup. “She seemed her usual bubbly self at breakfast. How is Wally today?”
“He is fine. Really. You must not worry. He is a very resourceful lad,” Priscilla said. “He is out with Boskins at the moment, delivering a cooker for a family over on Everdon Street.”
“He was very excited about the show,” Penelope said. “He simply could not stop talking about the spectacle of the battle and the fireworks. He is quite the envy of every child in the neighborhood.”
“Some adults too,” Priscilla said.
“I’m glad.” Sydney remembered that stricken look on his face when the Barnet woman said his mother had sold him. “I think his earlier life was full of misery.”
“However,” Penelope said, “Wally’s enthusiasm and anticipation before the event may be why Alice Barnet happened to be at the gardens at all. He must have mentioned it to another child and where he would be got back to her.”
Priscilla nodded and said, “When I did the marketing this morning, I heard talk on the street about her attempt to snatch him. Barnet’s place is in a neighborhood some distance from ours, but such news travels fast.”
“Especially when it involves Alice Barnet,” Penelope said. “That woman never has been one to suffer in silence.”
“And now she thinks herself mightily abused,” Priscilla said.
Sydney leaned forward to set her cup on the tray. “Should I worry excessively?”
Priscilla responded. “Um—not excessively. I think she received a real fright last night. Still, she associates with some truly despicable types that hardly deserve to be called human beings.”
“So, just be cautious, my dear,” Penelope added.
When she arrived home, Sydney was disappointed to find she had missed a visit from Zachary.
“He seemed ever so sorry to have missed you,” Celia said in a casual tone but with a sparkling glint in her eyes.
“Celia, don’t tease,” her mother admonished. “Major Quintin wanted to inform us that he is going out of town for—I think he said—three days.”
“Oh.” Sydney tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. Three days? Three whole days?
“He is to accompany his sister, Lady Islington, and her two children from Warwickshire to London,” Celia said, all teasing gone. “Seems Lord Islington has business on the continent, but will return in time to escort his wife to the Prince Regent’s grand soiree at Carleton House.”
“I see,” Sydney said absently. She was still trying to absorb the idea of three days. But she had to laugh at herself. What was three days compared to three years? She was impatient that the relationship between her and Zachary be carried to the next level, whatever that might prove to be. If his kisses at Vauxhall were any indication, he was equally eager for that to happen.
The three days passed more quickly than she had anticipated. On the first day, she went shopping. Shopping was never her favorite activity, but it might be nice to have a new gown for the prince’s extravagant affair. Rumor had it that he had invited nearly a thousand of his intimate friends to help him and the visiting royals honor the Duke of Wellington and other Peninsular heroes. On the second and third days, Lady Paxton was seen making a number of morning calls—certainly engaged in far more socializing with her peers than had been the case in the last several months.
For six months after Henry’s death, she had adhered faithfully to society’s dictates for a grieving widow. In this case, the widow of a husband who had not loved his wife, who had been unfaithful throughout the marriage. While it was also true that she had not loved him as a wife perhaps should, it was equally true that she had been totally faithful to her vows. In fact, she had forced herself not to dwell on what her life might have been with someone who stirred her senses as Zachary Quintin did.
And now, for an additional three months, she had been in half-mourning, curtailing her activities and dressing very soberly. Enough was enough. She would not behave outlandishly—Lady Paxton was no Caroline Lamb—but she would look better and enjoy herself more than she had these past few months.
And if a cer
tain army major’s eyes lit with appreciation and he sought her company, it would be worth a bit of censure for bending the rules.
On the third day, it was with eager anticipation that she looked forward to a dinner party being hosted by her friend Lady Allyson.
CHAPTER 24
Sydney, who never fussed much about her attire for a given party or event, changed her mind repeatedly in preparing for Allyson’s dinner party. Finally, she settled on a gown of iridescent teal silk with a silver overskirt, a low-cut neckline, and off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. With it, she wore silver colored kid gloves and her aquamarine necklace made of stones of graduated size, the large center stone teardrop-shaped and resting at the top of her cleavage. Dangling earrings were smaller aquamarine teardrops. Her hair was again arranged in the Greek style with curls framing her face.
She gazed at herself in the looking glass and said to her maid, “Maisie, you have worked a miracle this time.”
“You look very fine, my lady.”
Before descending the stairs to the drawing room to meet Aunt Harriet and Celia, Sydney went up to the nursery. Jonathan has been out of sorts all day, his cheeks warm, but not truly feverish.
She found Nurse Watkins in the playroom sitting on the floor with William, who was giggling on hands and knees, trying to catch up with a wind-up toy monkey skittering across the rug. The maid immediately stood as Sydney entered.
“What a lovely gown, my lady.”
“Thank you, Watkins. The dressmaker did a nice job, did she not?”
The toy lost its momentum and William began to howl. The maid lifted him into her arms and he quieted, but reached toward the toy, which Sydney had picked up to rewind. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but his interest was focused on the toy in her hand. She smiled ruefully. “So much for trying to gain masculine attention.” She handed the toy to William and said to the maid, “I came to check on Jonathan.”
“He’s sleeping—at last,” Watkins said as she returned William and the toy to the floor. “It’s just as I thought, my lady. He is getting a new tooth. One of the back ones. It broke through just this afternoon. I moved his crib into my room so if he cries in the night, he won’t wake this one.”