by Jane Ashford
“We was waiting for your signal,” said Tom, coming up beside the curricle. “Alf thought that was it.” He pointed.
Arthur turned to see a large column of smoke billowing up on the other side of the wall. The fire had not been found in time. It seemed to be a major blaze. “It is a sign of something,” he said.
“Liberación,” replied Señora Alvarez.
Twelve
Freedom came with some complications, however. “We spent so much time planning how to enter the house,” Teresa said to the earl as they drove along the lane in his curricle. “And very little thinking what to do once we succeeded.”
“It does suggest a sad lack of confidence in our own abilities,” he replied. He met her gaze. His eyes were bright with triumph. In fact, he looked like a mischievous boy who had pulled off an epic prank.
Teresa had to laugh. She was feeling euphoric herself. “We have the excuse that we did not know exactly what we would find.”
“Or how we would manage the rescue,” he agreed.
“But the girls cannot ride in that cart all the way to London.”
“Of course not. Post chaises will be best, I think.”
“And you will wave your hand and make them appear.”
“I will go to an inn and hire them.”
And he would do it with great panache, Teresa thought. He didn’t seem at all concerned over their predicament. Perhaps the awkwardness of his position hadn’t soaked in yet. “We can choose an inn where you are not known,” she began.
“Oh, I think we had better go to an establishment where I am known. I can take advantage of my, ah, privileged aristocratic position and run roughshod over the sensibilities of those who serve me.”
She had used phrases rather like that on him once upon a time. Clearly, he had not forgotten. “But how will you explain a cartload of young women hidden under piles of hay?”
“Explain?” he asked, in the drawling, imperious tone he had used on the denizens of that dreadful house.
“I beg your pardon, my lord. But you must know that tongues will wag.”
“Let them.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter a jot to him.
Teresa thought it would matter when the gossip started. He would not like being twitted by his society friends. But she saw no other way to transport her charges, and so she said nothing more.
Lord Macklin led their cavalcade to the nearest inn, where he was indeed well-known. As he was engaging a private parlor for their use, the girls began to emerge from the piles of hay in the wagon. Naturally, this caused a sensation. The landlord grew more and more stiff and expressionless with each one who appeared, particularly those who showed signs of ill usage. Finally, he could bear it no longer. “My lord!” the hefty, aproned man protested.
Teresa was amazed that the earl showed no sign of embarrassment. “We have uncovered a nest of criminals not far from here,” he said. “I require the direction of the nearest magistrate.”
“Sir Samford Jellison lives a matter of two miles away,” said the landlord. He gaped at Odile, who had a dark bruise on the left side of her elfin face.
“Ah, good, not too far.” Lord Macklin turned to Teresa. “I am sorry to leave you, but I must go and speak to him at once.” He set one booted foot on the step of his curricle. Then he paused, lowered it, and came over to Teresa. “You had best take this,” he murmured, slipping her a thick roll of banknotes. “I intend to be back quite soon, but it’s best you have the means…”
“To overawe the innkeeper?”
He smiled down at her in a way that made her heart pound. “Precisely. You will be all right?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll look after ’em,” said Tom. The state of the dancers had eroded his usual good humor. He looked grimly determined.
The earl gave them each a nod and climbed into the curricle. “Tell me how to find this Sir Samford,” he said to the innkeeper. The man did so. “I will return as soon as possible.” Lord Macklin touched the brim of his hat and drove away. Teresa felt a twinge of dismay at his departure. She suppressed it ruthlessly.
Her fingers gripping more ready money than she’d possessed in a long time, Teresa put on her most authoritative manner. “Come,” she said to the six girls. She took them up to the private parlor and ordered whatever refreshment they desired. The landlord seemed glad to have them out of his yard and made no difficulties. Yet.
“My friends have to go,” said Tom, who had followed them upstairs. “They’re due back at their work.”
Teresa nodded. “Where is Joe?”
“Hiding in the stable, looking after the cart horses. He seems to think they’re his now.”
“Why not?” It seemed fair to Teresa.
“I’ll just see Alf and the others off.” Tom went out, closing the door behind him.
Maria dissolved into hysterics. Odile collapsed onto the settee and put her face in her hands. Jill clasped hers tightly as if to stop them trembling and started to cry. Sonia cursed at length, and most colorfully, in Spanish. Jeanne sat very still, as if afraid to move. “It all comes over you, like, now that we’re well away,” said Poppy. She plopped into a chair and bit her lower lip.
“Yes, it does,” replied Teresa. She was quite familiar with aftermath. She saw them all seated, comforted Maria, and reassured the others. When the trays arrived, she distributed cups of tea with plenty of sugar along with cakes and ham sandwiches and well-buttered scones with jam. At some point during this process, Tom stuck his head around the door, approved the scene, and immediately withdrew.
The sustenance helped. The girls slowly recovered. They began picking irritating bits of hay from their gowns. From the way they moved, it was clear that the ride in the cramped cart had been a strain and that some of them were more hurt than they appeared. They would need care, and Teresa started to wonder how this could be managed. Her house was far too small. Their scattered lodgings would not do, even if they were still welcome there.
Tom reappeared and consumed all the scones that were left. “Joe’s sloped off with the cart horses and wagon,” he said. “Slipped out to a lane behind the inn and scarpered. You want me to ride after him?”
“Do you think he is a danger to us?” Teresa asked him.
“I think he means to run as far from here as he can and never look back.”
“Well, we will let him go.” She had enough people to worry about.
As if in response to this thought, Jill wailed, “What’s going to become of us?”
“Do you have family?” Teresa responded. “We could help you return to them.”
As Jill shook her head, Poppy said, “Neither of us has anybody close. Reckon that’s why that she-devil took us on. We was at a mop fair, and she asked all about our families before she offered us work.” She looked as if she wanted to spit. “Work! I wisht I had hit her when I had the chance. And I hope I burned that place right down.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Tom.
From the settee, Odile moaned. She was the worst off, and Teresa wished she knew how to help her. They needed a doctor.
The sound of carriage wheels below took her to the window. Lord Macklin had returned. The sight of him filled Teresa with a burst of joy so strong she could scarcely contain it. They’d labored side by side to save the day. He’d trusted her, and fully deserved her trust in him. Now, the handsome man pulling into the inn yard seemed everything that was admirable. She hurried down to meet him.
Stepping from his curricle and turning toward the inn door, Arthur was buoyed up by the welcome in Señora Alvarez’s dark eyes. “I have told the whole story to the magistrate,” he said. “Sir Samford was very much shocked. He is gathering a group of men to go to the house and detain anyone who remains there.”
“I suppose most of them have run away,” she replied.
“Probably. But it was most important to rescue their captives.”
“Yes.”
Arthur didn’t think that she’d ever looked at him this way before. A heady mixture of tenderness and desire surged through him. If he found the right words now would she…?
A hail from above drew his eyes to the window of the private parlor. Tom stood there with his hand raised. Arthur waved.
The señora looked up as well. “Odile is in a bad way, I think. I would like her to see a doctor.”
“I have a good physician in town. Can she make it so far?”
“I’m quite worried for her, but let us go and ask what she would like to do.”
When he saw the young opera dancer lying on the settee, ashen and weak, Arthur was once again filled with rage. She was such a small, fragile-looking girl, and clearly she had been treated shamefully. What sort of man could do that? What sort let it happen? Because the staff had known very well what was going on in that place. How did people come to care so little for others’ pain?
When consulted by the señora, Odile begged to go home to London. The thought of staying anywhere near the house where she’d been imprisoned clearly terrified her.
Arthur moved closer. “We want to care for you.”
She cowered away from him. No one had ever gazed at Arthur with such sick fear. He hated it, and hated the reason she now felt it. Those responsible should pay for this. He retreated to the other side of the room.
Señora Alvarez soon joined him. “It is clear that staying here would be worse for Odile than the drive to town. However hard that may be.”
And so the arrangements were made, and they all set out—Teresa and Macklin in the curricle, the six young women in a roomy post chaise, and Tom riding beside.
“Where are we going to go?” Señora Alvarez asked after a few miles on the road. “The dancers lost their lodgings when they were taken away, and Poppy and Jill have none.”
“I’ve been considering,” Arthur replied. Six girls, most of whom showed clear signs of ill usage, would not be welcomed at an inn or hotel, even with ample funds. And after their imprisonment, they would not care to be shut into strange rooms alone. He thought they might do best if they were together. “I believe the best plan is to take them to my house for a while to recover,” he answered.
Her mouth fell a little open. “Your…”
“You could stay with them there, as reassurance and as a nod to propriety.” He hadn’t thought of this until just now. But he found the idea of installing her in his home very appealing.
Señora Alvarez seemed to grope for words. “Have you gone mad?” she asked finally.
“Not that I’m aware.”
“Nod to propriety,” she muttered. “You know very well that I offer no such thing.”
“Ah, well, you appear very proper.” He was more and more pleased with his plan.
“Lord Macklin!”
He reined in his high spirits. But not his determination to convince her. “These poor girls need peace and quiet and safety,” he said. “Time to see a doctor. And it seems to me best that they be kept together for a while. So that they can support each other as they heal. My house satisfies all those conditions.”
“But word would spread. This would cause a great scandal.”
He had thought of this, and found he didn’t care a jot. “I have lived a life untouched by any hint of scandal,” he replied. “Perhaps it’s time to add a bit to the mix.”
“Will you be serious? This is not a joke.”
“I’m not joking.”
She stared at him as if trying to probe the depths of his brain. Arthur endured the examination calmly. It was true that he wanted to impress her as well as help the unfortunate girls. But he did wish to help them. There was no deception involved. “Your house,” she said.
Her heavy tone reminded Arthur of her history. He hadn’t thought that an invitation to stay with him might feel like a threat. Now he remembered the grandee who had done the same and then closed her in a trap. “You will be completely free to order things as you wish. I can ask my housekeeper to give you charge of all the keys.”
Her gaze at his face never wavered. “Your housekeeper would be outraged by such a request,” she said. “She would probably give you her notice.”
“We can explain what the girls have endured. And that they trust you. And so this temporary measure…” He trailed off. Mrs. Garting would not be pleased by such an arrangement. Nor was Chirt going to welcome these visitors. At first. He would come around. Probably. “My butler may be a bit…difficult. He has a rigid sense of propriety. I wonder if I should stay with friends, or at a hotel, until this is…”
“Running away and leaving me to cope with the complaints of your staff?” She seemed torn between amusement and irritation.
He had to admit the option was appealing. “I’m certain you are more than up to the task.”
“Have you ever lived in a house where the servants showed their displeasure at everything they were asked to do? No matter how small?”
“No.” Arthur realized that the idea shocked him, as if servants had no right to opinions. He did not believe that. Did he? Señora Alvarez always taught him things—some, about himself, that he might not have wished to learn.
“There must be some other place we can go,” she said.
“Not with all they need. Not immediately.”
Struggle was visible in her lovely face. “For a day or two. I suppose. After that we must think of something else.”
“Certainly.”
“You have an annoying way of agreeing with what I say when I know you will actually do whatever you please,” she replied.
“I would do nothing you disapprove of.”
“You have done all sorts of things I disapprove of.”
“Ah, well, I’ve noticed that you are occasionally a bit overparticular.”
She burst out laughing. Under the circumstances, Arthur took it as a triumph and let the subject rest. And when Tom rode closer as they neared London and asked where they were headed, he answered with bland calm. Fortunately, Tom received the information with no sign of disapproval, or surprise.
When they pulled up at the doors of Lord Macklin’s town house some time later, Teresa stepped down from the curricle with a good deal of trepidation. She had informed the earl that she would not require the keys from the housekeeper. She did not want to contemplate the uproar that request would have caused. But she still expected his very superior servants to object to this invasion. And unlike him, she knew quite well what animosity from staff was like.
Tom bid them farewell, saying he would visit the next day. “I’ll see about having their things brought over,” he said as he went.
The earl offered Teresa his arm, and she took it. In the entry hall, the butler, Chirt, received the news that they were to host seven female houseguests with quickly hidden surprise. When the girls began to file in, and their station and battered condition grew obvious, he went utterly expressionless. Stunned, perhaps? Lord Macklin introduced only Teresa, saying she was in charge and should be given anything she asked for.
This earned her a searching look from the majordomo. She must not be cowed. That would be fatal to her future interactions with the staff. But she could assume an air of calm command nearly as well as Macklin. “We must send for the doctor first of all,” she said.
“Have someone fetch Phipps,” the earl confirmed. “Ask him to come as soon as he is able.”
His butler gave one nod and a nearly imperceptible gesture. A footman at the back of the entry leapt forward. “Also Mrs. Garting,” murmured the butler. The younger servant practically saluted before disappearing into the back premises.
The housekeeper appeared so quickly that Teresa wondered if she’d been listening at the door. She was a solid, efficient-looki
ng woman who would no doubt have been welcoming under other circumstances. It would be best to confide in her at the first opportunity, Teresa decided. Not the entire truth, but a version of it. She could frame this visit as…a burst of eccentric philanthropy. And make its temporary nature quite clear.
“We require rooms for our guests,” the earl said. He didn’t make excuses, which was wise.
“Yes, my lord. If the ladies would like to sit in the blue parlor for a bit.” The tiny emphasis on the word ladies was the closest the housekeeper would come to a reproach, Teresa thought.
“The drawing room,” replied Lord Macklin, his tone a mild reprimand.
The housekeeper dropped a curtsy. Message heard and received, it said. But not greatly appreciated.
“We will be happy to do so,” said Teresa, as if she customarily commanded a vast estate. “Except for Odile. She must lie down at once.” She’d noted that Odile was swaying on her feet and looked ready to faint. “And perhaps we might have some tea,” she added, just to show that she could. She wished she’d worn a grander gown. But how anyone could plan an ensemble for breaking into a criminal bordello and visiting an earl’s London town house in the same day, she did not know.
The butler and the housekeeper looked at her, evaluating. They’d taken in her manner and way of speaking. “Yes, ma’am,” the housekeeper said, and Teresa knew that she had established a measure of authority.
By the time the rooms were ready and the girls settled, the doctor had arrived. Teresa stayed with her charges for the examinations, knowing that they should not be left alone with a strange man just now. Afterward she returned to the drawing room and sat with Lord Macklin to hear the man’s opinion.
“Most of the young ladies are merely bruised and weary,” he said.
“Merely?” Teresa could not help but reply.
The doctor accepted the reprimand with a bow of his head. “I beg your pardon. There is nothing ‘mere’ about such treatment. I found no broken bones or serious injuries except for the first. Odile, isn’t it? She has been hit very hard in her midsection.” He touched his own torso to demonstrate the location. “Very hard. Something may have ruptured inside. With complete rest and quiet and proper care, she may heal.”