The House in Grosvenor Square

by Linore Rose Burkard

  “He’ll manage.” Wingate snickered and turned to go. Spying the two bottles on the steps he stopped, whisked them up and then disappeared up the stairs.

  Mr. Mornay had slowed to a cautious walk before entering the dark alley. It was strewn with filth and waste, garbage and darting rodents. He cocked his pistol, kept it close, and then stopped to listen. He heard a sound ahead.

  “There’s no way out, Chesley, except by me.” This was a guess but he hoped it was true.

  No answer.

  “If you force me to search you out, I must warn you my pistol is at the ready.”

  Again there was no answer. The stench of the place was unbearable, and nothing other than the gravity of the present situation would have made Mr. Mornay endure it for another second.

  “Mr. Chesley, I’ll offer you one more chance. You’re not wanted for murder, so what have you to fear? I need to talk to you, that’s all.”

  A faint sound came from the end of the alley, and Mr. Mornay inched forward. He had to go slowly for the darkness was that thick. “Come, I know you’re there. The longer you wait, the more of my time you waste!” At first he heard only the sounds of voices shouting angrily far off, and raucous laughter, closer by. Then from a window, a woman’s voice in St. Gile’s Greek so thick it was unintelligible. He took another step forward, but heard, “I’m coming! Don’t shoot, for heaven’s sake!”

  Mornay waited as he approached. He could hear, more than see him, but he got ready so that when Chesley was close enough, he grabbed him and quickly felt to see if he had a weapon. Taking him by the collar, he pushed him forward. “Move!”

  Once they cleared the alley, a dim street lamp offered sight of each other. Chesley looked relieved. “Thought I was apt to swoon like a woman from that stink!” He took his handkerchief, wiped his face and mouth, and blew his nose heartily.

  “Why the deuce did you run from me?”

  “You looked devilish angry! Couldn’t think! Didn’t know! I just ran!”

  “What are you doing in this neighbourhood?”

  “Oh, come! We can’t all afford Boodle’s for our supper, and there’s plenty friendliness of the petticoat sort in these parts. You can understand that, surely!”

  Mr. Mornay watched him keenly as he spoke; and he was not convinced. “You saw her. You saw Miss Forsythe, didn’t you?”

  “What? No, I haven’t seen her! She wouldn’t be around here!”

  “I don’t believe you!” He pulled Chesley up by the lapels of his coat. The watchman joined them at that moment and stood back, watching. Chesley saw him, and choked out, “Help me, sir! Get this man’s hands off o’ me! I ain’t done nothing!”

  He was ignored.

  “Tell me, Mr. Chesley, where did you see her?” Mornay was beginning to speak through gritted teeth. Chesley tried to kick him away, but Mornay brandished his pistol and stuck it against his side.

  “Sir—” the watchman said. “He does look a gentleman. I say, is that necessary?”

  “I only, ever, do what is necessary,” he replied, with the feeling that he had said such before. “I shouldn’t like to kill you, Chesley. I know your parents. So tell me where you saw her, or I’ll have to inform your family of the tragic death you suffered in the East End, where you were found cavorting with light-skirts and drunkards. Doesn’t your father wish you to enter the church? It will break his heart, poor soul.”

  “Put me down!” he gasped. “And I’ll tell you!”

  He was put down, and more gently than he deserved. His face had grown exceedingly red, and he was sweating profusely. He looked up with an evil eye at his tormentor and hissed, “I shall tell you what I know, not because I fear you! I don’t think you’d have the nerve to kill me! Not when you know I haven’t done anything!”

  Mornay took a breath, forcing himself to be patient. “Go on.”

  Chesley took a deep breath, gathering his wits. “I didn’t see Miss Forsythe. I saw Wingate. He had a lady with him, but I couldn’t tell who she was.”

  “Only one lady?”

  Chesley caught the note of surprise. “Only one.”

  “Where, and when?” he demanded.

  “The house we were just in.”

  “Do you have an idea where she might be in the house?”

  Chesley was silent.

  “Do not trifle with me, Mr. Chesley!”

  “I don’t know for certain!”

  “Show us.” Mornay motioned with his pistol for the young man to lead the way.

  Ariana had sat in the dark since Wingate left her. She didn’t mind the darkness in and of itself. It was the sound of little rodent feet that bothered her, and she had tried to scream out twice when the sounds came too close, only to find that her heavily muffled tones, which was all she could make with the cloth filling her mouth, did little to deter the beasts.

  Yet so far they hadn’t actually touched her, even though they’d come close. She prayed they never would. With alarm—mingled with hope—she heard sounds from outside the door, and then a key turning in the lock. Her heart sank. It had to be Wingate. He had the key.

  He came in, saying, “I left you in the dark, did I? Beastly of me.” He sounded short of breath. He brought a candle in with him, and suddenly all the shadows—and the mice, for that’s all they were—fled.

  Her eyes were filled with accusations. He studied her and said, “It shan’t be long, now. Mornay knows what I want. If he is willing to pay, you’ll be safe—and in his arms, I have no doubt—in two hours, more or less.”

  She couldn’t help but feel relief, though something told her Mr. Mornay would never pay for her release. Not because he didn’t value her, or couldn’t afford it, but because he would much rather find her and nab Wingate. She didn’t know if it was male pride or a sense of justice, but she would be shocked if he met Lord Wingate’s demands.

  Wingate checked the knots keeping her tied to the chair. She made sounds sufficiently to let him know she wished to say something.

  “You need to speak,” he said, acknowledging her efforts. “Very well; I shall give you the opportunity, but—” and here he paused and looked her point blank in the eye, “If you scream or call for help, I’ll do my worst with you, do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He untied her and waited to hear what she would say.

  “You mustn’t leave me in the dark like that again. Those horrid mice! It was too unkind.”

  He seemed amused. He scratched his head and then looked at her wryly. “If I leave you with a light it could cause a fire, and then you’d end up dead. That wouldn’t be good for either one of us, now, would it?”

  She didn’t want to admit that he was right, so she said nothing. “May I have a drink? My throat aches.”

  “Now there I can help you,” he answered, as if pleased to be of service. He had placed the bottles on the floor, but he passed them and went to a coat that he’d left lying there earlier. He dug into a pocket and pulled out a flask. He brought it to her, opened it and held it up to her lips. “Here,” he said. As soon as the liquid hit her throat, she began to cough and splutter.

  He took a sip himself, watching her. “Don’t care for brandy, then?”

  She didn’t bother to answer.

  The soldiers were back at Mornay’s coach, looking around, not having turned up anything of the two women they were searching for or of Wingate.

  “There, isn’t that Mornay?” said one.

  “He’s got someone,” said the other. In tandem, they came hurrying towards the threesome, ready to take Chesley into custody.

  “This isn’t your man, gentlemen,” said Mornay, when they reached them. “But do come along, as we should be running into him shortly.

  Holliwell came out of the house at that moment. He’d spent the last few minutes going around the first floor rooms, but all he’d found was various couples, most of whom cursed at him heartily until he’d shut the door on them. There was no sign of either lady on that sto
rey.

  He hoped that Julian hadn’t been serious about the women being in secret rooms. He had to admit it was a good idea on his brother’s part from a criminals’ point of view, but it could take some time for the women to be found, during which they’d suffer. Mornay would have houses torn down sooner than give up looking, but still he hoped it wasn’t true.

  He joined the men in front of the house and gave his report.

  “Your brother is in this house?” Mornay was already checking his weapon.

  Holliwell turned to Chesley. “What made you run like a rabbit? Knowing my brother isn’t a crime, you know!”

  Chesley glowered at him. “Lost my head, that’s all.”

  Holliwell added, “What room was Julian using? Do you know?”

  “Top storey, top o’ the stairs. I was going to see if—” But all the men turned as one to enter the house. Mr. Chesley’s last words were muttered mostly to himself, though Mornay grabbed him by the coat lapel and dragged him along. “If he had Miss Herley.”

  The men started up the wooden stairs, which creaked very much. Try as they might to keep the noise down, anyone listening for sounds would have heard them. Mornay said, “One of you must stay downstairs—Antoine it will have to be you.”

  “Why?” he asked indignantly.

  “Because you know the ladies and can recognize them if anyone tries to smuggle them out while we search upstairs.”

  “So does Chesley.”

  “I need Chesley,” he returned.

  Unhappily Holliwell said, “Very well.” He was hoping to be Miss Herely’s hero again, but having to remain behind did not bode well for that plan.

  As they neared the upper storey, the soldiers turned to Mornay. “We should go first. Remain on the stairwell until you see one of us, or if he comes out.”

  “No.” Mornay spoke. “The safety of the ladies is our paramount aim here. I have a better idea.”

  Lavinia was straining her ears to listen to the sounds from the hall. There were people on the steps, of that she was sure. But what kind of people? Would they help her? Or would it be worse for her, tied up as she was, to draw in the wrong sort of people while she was in such a helpless condition? The man who had brought her to the room had fallen asleep on the floor near the door. He was not far from a candle that was burning low. She almost wished it would burn him.

  Wingate sat down tiredly against the wall, as he’d done, earlier. He soon sat up with a start, however, listening intently.

  “Not a word! Not a sound! Or I’ll make you sorry for it!” After listening with his ear close to the door for a moment, he stood back and bolted it.

  Moments later a knock sounded. First one, then another. Wingate said nothing and kept his eyes fixed on her with a warning glare in them. Then, they both heard, “Wingate! Open the door, man! It’s me, Chesley! I’ve brought you a bottle of sherry!”

  He flew to the door, but did not open it. “I don’t want it. Where the deuce have you been? And, don’t you know better than to find a man when he doesn’t want to be found?”

  “I’ve got news from your brother! It’s about Mornay! Open the door, sir!” Wingate was thinking. Ariana was horrified. It sounded again as if Mr. Chesley was in league with Lord Wingate. And had something happened to Mr. Mornay? Her heart froze, and she listened intently. Chesley banged again.

  “Be silent, you fool!” Wingate hissed.

  “You’re the fool if you don’t let me in!” he returned, just as forcefully. “Do you want your dashed money, or don’t ya?”

  “So soon?” Wingate asked, but his face had taken on an aura of hope, and he gripped the door handle in readiness to open it.

  “Mornay came stuffed as a holiday pig, sir. Heavy in the pockets. Knew you’d want the blunt.”

  At this Lord Wingate unbolted the door, then turned the key in the lock. The door flew open, and two soldiers in uniform with weapons drawn immediately accosted the man, who attempted to fire at them, but was foiled. Mr. Mornay was right behind the soldiers, and his eyes searched the room, spotted Ariana, and he rushed to her as though no force on earth could stop him.

  “My dearest!” she cried, her eyes suddenly welling up into tears. He kissed her face, her cheeks, all the while undoing the knots on her hands. Meanwhile the officer of the law was undoing the ropes which kept her fastened to the chair. When her hands were free, she wrapped them around Mr. Mornay’s neck and cried. She was happy and exhausted, and she couldn’t let him go. Thankfully he did not require it of her. He lifted her in his arms and held her up against him tightly. With closed eyes, he continued to hold her, feeling much of the awful tension he’d been experiencing slowly drain away. He was so, so sorry that she had been forced to endure such brutality.

  The soldiers had Wingate’s hands in cuffs, and each one took an arm to lead him down the stairs. The man was in a fury, cursing at Chesley and promising to be revenged on him, on Mornay, and on his brother. He was trying to free his arms from the soldiers, though it was hopeless.

  “The other lady isn’t here, sir,” said the watchman.

  “She was brought with me into this house, but another man walked off with her on the storey beneath this one!” exclaimed Ariana.

  “We’ll get her,” Mornay said.

  Wingate was hauled down the steps, cursing and complaining all the way, while the others stopped to search the next lower floor. Mr. Mornay would have liked to help find Lavinia but he had Ariana in his arms—and didn’t want it any other way.

  In minutes, the sound of a scuffle came from a room not too far down the corridor, and then a loud report! In the next minute, Antoine came running up the steps, all aflutter with concern. “Have you found her?” he asked, not even stopping to hear the answer. He continued down the corridor, listening and looking and found the room with the commotion.

  Not a minute later he came back out the door triumphantly holding a smiling, though tearful Miss Herley in his arms. “Oh, thank God!” Ariana said. She gave her beloved an impulsive kiss of joy. After returning it, he nodded at Holliwell to go first and followed him down the stairs. The soldiers held Wingate back though he grew violent when he saw first his brother with his lady, and then Mornay with his.

  Ariana stared at the man as they approached him. He actually grew quiet when he saw her watching him

  “Stop!” she cried, when they could have passed him. Mr. Mornay was puzzled, but he did as she asked. Ariana’s gaze was level with Lord Wingate’s since she was in the arms of her beloved. The prisoner’s expression was surly, but she said, “May God have mercy upon you.” When he just stared at her sullenly, she added, “And upon your soul.”

  There was a flicker of something in the steely glint of his eyes at her words—surprise, perhaps. But he said nothing, and then they were out of the house and heading toward the coach.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  By the time Mr. Mornay’s carriage entered Mayfair it was nigh three o’clock in the morning, and every occupant in the carriage was more than ready for “Bedfordshire.” The night had been exhausting. Despite the fact that evening entertainments often lasted until the early morning hours, Mr. Mornay was feeling his lack of sleep for the past few days.

  “Lavinia, will you stay at Hanover Square?” Ariana asked.

  “As my parents believe I am with you, and have not had a word, I am sure, about my abduction, yes, I’ll accompany you.” She shuddered against Lord Antoine, who had his arm wrapped around her. “I fear they will be bound to believe Lord Antoine had a hand in it, if they hear of it.” She turned to Mr. Mornay. “You, sir, will write to my parents? In favor of his lordship?”

  He nodded. One more thing he had to do. Bother.

  “Thank you, sir!”

  Holliwell echoed the thought.

  It was strange to realize that the threat from Lord Wingate was truly in the past and that now Ariana was safe at Hanover Square. His instinctive response to the day’s events—indeed, to the events of the past three d
ays—was to keep Ariana with him. However, the facts had changed. Her family was expected the following day. Wingate was in custody. And with dawn it would mean only three days until the wedding.

  Lavinia interrupted his thoughts, asking Holliwell, “Where are you staying, my lord?” The young man looked helplessly to Mornay.

  Bother. “Where are your possessions?” Mornay asked him.

  “What little I have, sir, is in the apartment I took you to earlier.” There was a pause. “I ought to have stayed in the East End, I suppose.”

  “I will offer you a guest bedchamber for the night. Tomorrow we’ll go to Miss Herley’s family and I’ll speak for you.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “Yes, thank you, sir!” Lavinia repeated.

  Ariana squeezed his hand and quipped, “Yes, thank you, sir!” with a little grin.

  When Haines saw the coach arrive, he sent a sleepy footman to summon the mistress immediately, as she had ordered. She was prodigiously indignant that Mornay had ignored her wish to speak to him earlier. Thus, her eyes popped open instantly. She had been unable to sleep but was resting on a sofa. Mr. Pellham was doing likewise in a wing chair.

  She hurried out to the hall while Mr. Pellham scurried to follow.

  Ah! The lady caught Ariana and Mornay saying good-night at the door. His head was just coming up from planting a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Oh, thank God! Ariana! Upon my soul! Oh, Miss Herley, thank God! Thank God! You are both returned! Oh, look, Mr. Pellham! The gels are safe!”

  “Yes, yes!” he said, happily. He went and shook Mr. Mornay’s hand.

  Mr. Mornay, do not leave, yet, sir!” Mrs. Bentley’s strident tone, at this hour of the morning, made him look up with a pained expression.

  Mrs. Bentley gave her niece a heartfelt embrace—it seemed so natural a thing for her to do now. Ariana accepted it gladly, appreciative to find her aunt had become an affectionate old soul. Mrs. Bentley had grown to love her, she felt. And she loved the older woman—that was certain.