* * *
Hours later, their grisly task completed, Ned and Richard sat hunched by the fire. Josh stood with his back to the men, his heavy face a mixture of worry and fear. “Scarblade should have been back by now. ’Tis almost six hours. He would have been riding alone and making better time on the return trip. ’Tis worried I am,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
Ned and Richard nodded, their own faces creased with worry.
“Tell me now, the two of you. Did ye make a decision as to whether ye’ll sail with the ship on the morrow?”
“Aye, Josh, we sail with ye,” Ned said quietly.
“Good lads. I was hoping that would be your decision. What do ye think, lads? About Scarblade, I mean.”
Richard frowned. “He should have been back hours ago. I suspect that Charles had his finger, if not his whole hand, in the pie somewhere.”
Josh nodded worriedly. “The only thing that will be safe will be the money. Scarblade was right in not telling anyone where the ship is docked or its name. But Scarblade could have been waylaid coming back by either Charles or the authorities—or both, for that matter! I think,” Josh said, rubbing his large hands together, “that Charles will not make mention of the money at all but try to get Scarblade strung up for what he thinks is murder. The Blade will have a hard time trying to prove he had no part in the shooting.”
Hours passed, with Ned and Richard finally giving up their frantic pacing. They now slept in a corner of the room. The door was thrust open, and four burly men entered the inn, pistols drawn.
“Easy does it, lads, what’s the meaning of this intrusion? What we have is yours, there’s no reason for drawn pistols. Step lively, men,” he roared to Ned and Richard. “Get these gentlemen some food and ale!”
“’Tis not food or ale we be lookin’ for, ’tis the band of Scarblade!”
“Why do ye come to my humble inn? There be no henchmen here, as you can see,” Josh said, waving his arms around the room. He affected the speech of the intruders, making himself seem one of them. “What makes ye think they would be here? Nary a soul has set foot in this inn since the snows come yesterday. Sit yourselves down, men, and let’s talk.”
“’Tis not talking we want,” said one of the men, brandishing a pistol.
“Aye lads, I can see tha’. Well then, search if ye want. Whatever it is ye’ll not be findin’ it here. ’Tis nothing here that don’t belong.”
“Search the inn,” the man with the pistol ordered. “Every inch of it, miss nothing!”
“Ye look like a man with a keen mind,” Josh smiled, “tell me what’s the trouble and why are ye here?”
“’Tis a wild tale we heard this day,” the man said, slightly mollified by Josh’s tone. “’Twas a man named Charles Smythe,” he said, “claiming that Scarblade’s men and Scarblade killed his brother, and the innkeeper, too.”
“Scarblade, is it?” Josh roared with laughter. “And why would he be making use of my humble inn? And I’m the innkeeper, as you can see. Methinks this man Charles was havin’ a bit o’ sport wi’ ye. ’Tis a shame makin’ ye ride in this foul weather for a jest. I hope ye find him and string him high,” Josh said virtuously.
The three men came back. “There’s nothing, sir, no sign. I think tha’ scoundrel was makin’ sport wi’ us.”
The first man nodded slightly. “Then,” he said, fixing his eyes on Josh, “ye’ll be tellin’ me yer name as innkeeper.”
Josh roared with laughter. It was lucky he had seen the small wooden sign in the taproom that proclaimed one Andrew Simpson was the innkeeper. “’Tis Andrew Simpson, lad. Tha’ me name, the same one me old mum stuck on me the day I crawled from ’er belly.”
“And who is the lass by the fire?”
“’Tis only me sister, dim-witted at that,” he said, tapping his forehead. “’Tis only Nellie. Look smart, lass!”
Tori gasped. Dim-witted! A sharp retort came to her lips, but she bit her tongue and the pain brought tears to her eyes. She then let the eyes roll back in her head and made a small mewing sound.
“’Tis worse than most I’ve seen,” the stranger said in sympathy. “They should be locked away someplace or shot.”
“Aye,” Josh laughed. “She fair saps the strength of even me. I’ve been thinkin’ of late she gets worse. There be days she just muses and rolls her eyes. I tell you it makes me fair sick. Still, she is me own sister.”
On cue, Tori rolled her eyes again and made the same catlike noises. She worked the saliva in her mouth with her tongue and let it trickle from her mouth.
“’Tis sickening,” the man said righteously.
“Pay her no heed, man. Sit with your back to the fire if she offends you.”
Josh ordered Richard and Ned to fetch some food and ale, then sat down at the rough table, his eyes alert. The man was no fool and for the moment he was satisfied, but what about after? He had to convince him and get him out of the inn.
“’Tis some blizzard we had yesterday,” Josh said conversationally.
“Aye,” the man agreed. “There’s armed guards crawling the area from here to the fork down by the Cutters’ farm,” he said, watching Josh carefully.
Josh looked properly blank. “Why?” he asked bluntly.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Josh. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you; sooner or later the men will be here for some food and ale. The convoy of wagons with the tax money did not reach its destination.”
“What?” Josh barked, a look of shock on his face.
Satisfied that the shock was genuine, the man, who said his name was Simon, continued. “They say that Scarblade and his men robbed it.”
“In that blizzard?” Josh asked, his voice incredulous.
“Aye, that be about the right of it, man.”
“More likely, the wagons got stuck in the heavy snow,” Josh scoffed.
“Not that convoy. They had the best horses to be had, and those were special wagons. A blizzard wouldn’t have stopped them. No, they were probably held up by the highwayman.”
“If what ye say is true, man, I wouldn’t give ye a hair for the life o’ that madman, Scarblade.”
“Have no fear, the man has been caught.”
“What?” Josh barked, a look of shock on his face. “They actually caught the scoundrel . . . Scarblade?” he asked, his voice shaking.
“’Tis true he was empty-handed and denied the knowledge of the robbery. But they have him for the other crimes. ’Tis just a matter of time before we have knowledge of the tax money.”
“If what you say is true, what did he do with the gold if he was empty-handed?”
“Who knows? Probably passed it to some accomplice.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Josh said incredulously. “They captured Scarblade, did you hear, men?” Ned and Richard nodded, their faces unreadable.
“Did they hang him?” Josh asked him, his voice suddenly cold.
“Not yet, but they will,” Simon laughed.
“And you say he had no money on him. Perhaps he didn’t rob the tax convoy?”
“’Tis no matter at this time.” Simon smiled wickedly. “He’ll hang for the other robberies. Well,” he said, wiping his plate clean, “we’ll be thanking you for the food and the ale. Best be getting on the road. If ye see or hear of anyone looking like Scarblade’s henchmen, notify the authorities. And,” he said, looking in Tori’s direction, “best see about the dimwit.”
As soon as the men left, Josh slammed the heavy bolt on the door and looked around the bare room. He resembled a stallion held at bay.
“You heard, lads. We best be making plans right quick, too.”
Tori struggled to her feet. “What can we do, Josh? They’ll hang him!” she almost wept.
“Not yet, they haven’t. And until that day we have hope.”
“We’ll stay with you, Josh,” Ned said softly. “We’ll be back.”
Josh once again slammed the bolt. He looked at Tori an
d frowned, saying nothing.
“Where will they have taken him? Do you have any idea?”
Josh shook his head. “Wherever it is he has no hope of escaping. Someplace where only the most trusted can get to see him.”
“Like who, Josh? What do you mean, ‘the most trusted.’ ”
“For instance, Lord Whimsey, Lord Starling, and Lord Barclane, probably Lord Fowler-Greene.”
“Who?” Tori gasped. “Lord Fowler-Greene, did you say?” Tori’s eyes held shock and disbelief at the name. “Are you saying that they are the only men who would have access to Marcus?”
“’Tis safe to assume so, lass. Why do ye ask?”
“Oh, no,” Tori wailed, “oh, no!” She lowered her shaking body to the rough plank bench and looked at Josh with tear-filled eyes. “Of all the people in this whole world!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A loud, insistent knock on the door startled them both. Tori glanced at Josh with a question in her eyes. “It’s dim-witted ye be, lass, remember that,” he said as he went to throw open the bolt.
A man entered, his hat low over his eyes and the collar of his cloak turned up against the cold. He stomped his feet and rubbed his hands briskly. “I seek shelter and food,” he stated in a breathless voice. “I’ve been riding for days and am fair near to death for hunger.” Slowly he removed his hat and threw the cloak to the floor.
Tori gasped, “Granger! Is that you, Granger? Merciful God,” she said, rushing over to him and throwing her good arm around him. Abruptly she pulled back. “Damn your very soul, Granger, why didn’t you come for me to Dolly’s? Where have you been?” she demanded of him.
“Tori, is it really you? Do my eyes deceive me? Tell me it’s you!”
Josh stood to the side, eying the tableau. So this was Granger! “Darling” Granger of the girl’s delirium. He snorted in disgust. A poor specimen of a man if he ever saw one! Tori must be dim-witted!
“’Tis I, Granger. Oh, Granger, what has happened? How are my parents? Come sit, you look ill. Are you ill?”
“Well, if I’m not I will be if you don’t shut up, Tori. That mouth of yours never stops! My head throbs,” he said pitifully, “and I’m so hungry I could chew this tankard.”
“Josh, fetch me some food. Granger is hungry,” Tori commanded.
“Is he now?” Josh smirked. And that’s not all he is, Josh thought, wrinkling his nose. He wondered when this dandy had last had a bath. Tori must have wondered the same, for she blurted, “You smell, Granger!”
“You’d smell too if you’d slept with a herd of goats,” Granger snapped defensively. “Fearing a stranger, no one would give me a place to roost. Being penniless, a goat herd was the only place I could find to keep warm!”
“Oh, Granger, you didn’t?” she said with a tinkling laugh.
“I had too much to drink at your wedding,” Granger admitted shamefaced. “I went off with Lord Fowler-Greene’s sister, Lady Helen, and I might add, when I had tired of her she held me a virtual prisoner!” Granger shivered slightly, remembering those few days in Lady Helen’s service. “Then, when I had more time to think of what Lord Fowler-Greene would do when he discovered Dolly in your place, I . . . I was afraid of what he might do. You know, Tori,” Granger admonished hotly, “you never gave one little thought to me in your little plan! You were off safely somewhere and I was left holding the bag!”
“Safely somewhere! Why, you ungrateful . . . lily-livered. . . stupid . . . safe!” Tori shrieked. “Let me tell you something, you . . .” Tori stopped in midspeech, noting the glitter in Granger’s eyes. The glitter became a gleam and they both broke out in rollicking laughter. “You tease!”
Abating his laughter, Granger went on with his story. “I set out at last to find you at Dolly’s rooms. When I didn’t, I struck out on my own, following my ever erroneous instincts. One evening shortly afterward, I was accosted and left penniless, which is to say near to death in this uncaring world. When I appealed to your father he told me this was the perfect time for me to begin to fend for myself. I was on my way to throw myself on the mercies of an old school chum. Then I happened here.”
Josh came back into the room and plunked down a heavy plate piled high with food. Granger tore at the meat like a starving man. Over his head Josh looked questioningly at Tori.
“He’s the answer to our prayers,” she said with a glance toward Granger. At Josh’s doubtful look she hastened to explain. Quickly, while Granger devoured his food, Tori told the story of her near-wedding and the deception, and the following events. Josh now looked at Granger with a glimmer of an idea. “Let me finish our story, Josh,” Tori said, “then we can tell him what he must do for us.”
“Whatever it is, the answer is no!” Granger said between mouthfuls. “I wouldn’t be sitting here now if it weren’t for you, Tori. And I wouldn’t be smelling like a herd of goats, either!”
“Tell me of my parents, are they well?” she asked to divert his attention. Swallowing a great mouthful of food, Granger threw Tori a considering look. Noting his reaction to her question, she pressed further: “Tell me, Granger, are they well?”
“For a moment I forgot you didn’t know,” Granger said softly. “They sailed for America a month past. It appeared due to some mysterious influence; your father regained favor with the Crown and was offered the opportunity to take the mayoralty of a new settlement in America.”
“They have really gone, gone to America?” Tears rolled down Tori’s cheeks at the thought of never seeing her parents again. “Did you tell them, Granger? Do they know of the deception I played?”
“No, Tori. I think Lord Fowler-Greene was the mysterious source that helped your father gain favor. They left with the thought that you were all married and happy,” Granger said quietly. “But they didn’t know you’re with child,” he said, grinning.
“What?” Tori gasped.
Granger nodded. “Our mutual friend Dolly has been instrumental in making Lord Fowler-Greene very happy.”
* * *
Marcus awoke hearing a steady drip-drip somewhere close to his head. At first he had no recollection of where he was or how he came to be here in this dark, stinking hole. Slowly, the past came back to him, each memory flashing through the cold facts of reality.
On examination, he accepted the fact that there was not much to remember. He had been discovered, pursued, and captured, and thrown into this stinking dungeon somewhere in the bowels of Newgate.
He could feel the oozing slime on the stone walls and the scratches cut into the mortar between the stone blocks. He pushed back thoughts of the hair-raising stories of men gone mad, left to rot here in the dungeons. He wondered what human hand had etched those scratches, clawed in desperation into the imprisoning walls.
His cell was furnished with a long plank along the back wall. It was here he had found himself when he awakened from resting his weary bones. There were no windows or portals to the outside; and the only air he breathed filtered through the bars in the door. The stench was sickening—rotting flesh, decayed food, bad water, sewage, and human offal assaulted his nostrils.
A light scraping sound caught his attention and he sought out its source. A young rat crept out from a crevice in the wall. It scurried by in panic, as though it, too, desperately sought release from this wretched hole. It ran from one side to the other attempting to climb its way free, but the walls were so slimy the animal could not get a grip. Finally, as though dreading the thought and resigning itself, it scurried back through the crack from which it came.
Marcus sat on the edge of the plank, despair weighing down upon his broad chest.
An echo of tinkling laughter struck a chord in his reverie, and the image of yellow-green eyes danced before him. He lay down on the thin plank, the splinters of the chewed wood biting into him.
He laughed, at first shortly then more rollickingly. How ironic! He thought back to the quiet evening in Chancelor’s Valley when his father first announced that Mar
cus was to go to England to beseech the King. It was then that he first promised that if he should find a woman who offered a great personal sacrifice he would snatch her up and carry her back.
And hadn’t Tori done just that? Offered her life by going among the King’s guard where she was shot and, further, knocked the innkeeper with the fire tongs, thereby committing a murder to save him? Beauty, compassion, spirit, and courage, and now that he had at last found the woman he wanted, he was powerless to claim her. Instead of snatching her off to Chancelor’s Valley he would rot in the stinking bowels of Newgate and the next bit of sky he saw would be from the long end of a rope on Tyburn Hill.
* * *
Tori watched Granger sitting nonchalantly on the rough bench opposite her. “You’ll help us, won’t you, Granger?”
He nodded wearily. He had searched these many days for Tori. Now that he had found her he almost wished he hadn’t. He should have known that she would be in trouble. “It’s a wild tale you spin, cousin. Unfortunately, I believe every word of it. Nothing else would make sense, knowing you. You actually participated in the tax robbery? I’ll wager the whole scheme was your idea, wasn’t it?” he asked suspiciously.
“Say anything, think anything, I don’t care. I’m that happy to see you. Are you warm enough?” she asked solicitously. “You are? Good! Get his cloak, Josh, he must ride now! This minute! You’ll go to Lord Fowler-Greene.”
Granger nodded from time to time as he listened to her instructions. Josh, too, added what he thought should be said and done. “Get back as soon as ye can, lad. We’ll do what we can from here.”
After Granger’s departure, Tori and Josh sat at a table, each busy with private thoughts, Josh moving only to replenish the fire. Tori sat huddled, her mind in a turmoil. What would become of her, she wondered. With her parents gone to America and Granger, at best, good for nothing, how could the two of them survive?
“Why not come to America with us, lass? ’Tis the least we can do for ye.”
Fate & Fortune Page 19