He immediately refused, insistent and tense. Of course, he wouldn’t want the Metropolitan Police involved. He was a known criminal. It was the reason she suggested it. He would leave quickly if he knew she meant to send for the police.
“I need to go find the boy.”
“Your concern is commendable.” How she hoped she kept the dryness entirely out of her voice.
He grumbled something as he snatched up his brushes. “I’ll find him.” That bit was said clearly enough for her to understand, as was his angry tone.
Please, please, Janey. Get Daniel to Fletcher safely.
Mr. Allen stormed toward the parlor door.
“What about your furniture cloths?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’ll come back for ’em.”
He most certainly would not. “I’ll have the housekeeper fold them and place them on the back step. You can pick them up there when you are next nearby.”
He watched her a moment through narrowed eyes. Had she pressed her luck beyond bearing? His glare hadn’t softened by the time he stormed from the house—out the front door, something tradesmen did not do—and she felt absolutely certain he said, as he left, “I’ll find ’im. And I’ll find out how he slipped away.”
Fletcher bound the pages of the latest installment of his penny dreadful. He would be delivering it to his publisher the next day. It had been difficult to do his work with so much weighing on his mind. Elizabeth. Daniel. Hogg’s school. Elizabeth. Mr. King. Elizabeth. Mostly Elizabeth.
A lot stood between them, but a great deal pulled them together as well. Could she overlook the fact that he would reflect poorly on her when she needed to impress the wealthy and influential in society so they would support her school? What if she never told him who Mr. King was? Or what connection she had to him?
He wasn’t overly bothered any longer that King outsold him. He, himself, was enjoying King’s story and understood its success. But the parallels between his and Elizabeth’s interactions and the events of The Lady and the Highwayman continued. She had to be telling King about their time together, which meant they must be very close. But how close? And in what way?
He kicked into the fireplace a bit of ash that had settled on the stone front. His rooms in Charing Cross were generally quiet during the day. Sometimes too quiet. A suspicion had entered his mind in the last couple of days that he couldn’t shake. He’d been falling for Elizabeth. Was Mr. King in love with her, too? Did she return that regard? Did he, Fletcher, have claim to any of her heart?
He looked over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. Only his valet-cum-butler-cum-cook was there. Fletcher knew who he would see.
“Herbert,” he acknowledged.
In response, Herbert tossed him a penny.
Fletcher caught it easily in the air. He flipped it over and saw the tiny J etched onto the back. Janey.
“Send her in without delay.”
Had something happened at Thurloe? Was something the matter with Elizabeth?
He moved toward the door just as Janey arrived. Before he could say a word, a little shadow appeared beside her.
“Daniel.” He dropped onto his knees in front of the boy. Bruises all over his face. A split lip. The boy’d been beaten. “Any injuries I cain’t see, boy?”
He didn’t answer but clung to Janey’s arm, clearly terrified.
Fletcher looked to Janey. “Where’d you find him?”
“Miss Black found ’im. Sorted out a trap, set it, and slipped him away from that horrid man.”
He turned to Daniel once more. “She rescued you?”
The boy nodded, the movement tiny and uncertain. He oughtn’t be pressed further. Janey would tell Fletcher the details.
“Was the sweep angry?” he asked her.
“Miss Black got the lad away without him realizing. We were out the house and on our way here without him having noted.”
The man surely knew by now. Did he suspect Elizabeth’s role? She might be in danger.
He gave Janey back her penny. “Take Daniel to the kitchen. Herbert’ll fetch you both a spot to eat.” He looked to Daniel again. “Joe’s been tearing the city apart looking for you. I’m sending word to him that you’ve been found.”
His chin quivered, but he kept himself quiet and composed.
“Stay here with Janey and Herbert. They’ll keep you safe.”
“Where’re you going, sir?” Janey asked.
“To make certain Miss Black hasn’t landed herself in trouble.”
Janey smiled. “I think you like her.”
“I think I do.” He pulled his hat from the rack in the entryway, plopping it on his head. “Thank you for seeing the boy safely here.”
“You and your friends saved m’ sister and me from Mrs. George. Miss Black saved Daniel from Mr. Allen. That’s how we survive, us poor folk. We help each other.”
Did Elizabeth realize that by helping Daniel and Joe and, in so doing, miffing the likes of Mrs. George and Mr. Allen, she was putting herself and her school in danger?
All seemed well at Thurloe as Fletcher clandestinely approached. He slipped around the side of the large building that housed the school. No windows appeared to have been jimmied or broken. He saw no signs of violence or shady characters loitering about the place. He ought to have felt relieved. But he knew Allen’s type too well to be put at ease. That Allen was connected to the Mastiff, a shadowy figure even Parkington seemed terrified of, only added to the worry.
Fanny stood in the back garden, beating the dust from a rug.
“Is Miss Black here?” he asked.
“She is and all.” Fanny leaned her beater against the clothesline pole and nodded toward the school. “I’ll show you in. Mrs. Hale’s up to her eyeballs in work. Had a bit of a kerfuffle earlier.”
She hadn’t asked after her sister. Did she not know Janey had been headed for his flat?
She showed him to Elizabeth’s office, but turned back before he’d even stepped inside. He entered the room alone.
Elizabeth stood at the window, her back to the room. Tension filled her posture.
“Janey and Daniel arrived whole.”
She spun when he spoke. Her surprise gave way to utter relief. That look must have been echoed in his own face.
“Allen ain’t a safe man, dove. Tangling with him was a quite a risk.”
She smiled a bit, though her pallor remained. “I have become a risk-taker.”
“If you get yourself killed, I’ll be very put out.”
Her smile grew. Heavens, he loved that smile. He crossed the rest of the way to her. She held her hand out to him. He slipped his fingers around hers and pulled her to him. Surely King couldn’t be too much of a rival if she was allowing this familiarity.
“When Janey came inside the flat, I feared the worst, thinking something might’ve happened to you.”
With a saucy tilt to her head, she said, “And if it had, you would have been very put out.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s a very odd thing, worrying about someone but knowing you don’t need to.”
“Is that your way of saying you find me competent?”
Fletcher leaned in close and whispered, “I find you far more than that.”
“Tempting, perhaps?”
“Immensely.” He brushed his lips over her cheek, not a kiss or a caress but a mere touch. He wanted her to have time enough to let him know if she objected.
Her fingertips whispered along his jaw. “Fletcher?” Her uncertain tone caught him up short. Had he pushed things too far? Was he comparing unfavorably to King?
He leaned back enough to look in her deep-gray eyes. Her expression matched her voice. “What’s weighing on you, dove?”
“Where have you been?” she asked quietly. “Days and days have passed withou
t even a word from you. You seemed . . . but then you didn’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you grew so scarce.”
“I thought it best.” How was it that every time he tried to make the right decision where she was concerned, he only managed to hurt her? “I’m an urchin, Elizabeth. Certainly, on the outside, I’m better fed now, better togged and housed, but inside, I’m a child of the gutters.”
He began to step away, but she slipped her hand to the back of his neck, keeping him there with that simple, tender, very personal touch.
“Did you think I would be ashamed of you?”
“I was more worried you wouldn’t be.”
“I don’t understand.”
His justified concerns were quickly easing the temptation he felt to kiss her deeply and well. He dropped his arms, then took her hand in his. “I know enough of this world to realize that keeping your school afloat depends a great deal on what the fine and proper think of you. I know perfectly well what they think of me.” He kissed her hand. “I’m reminding myself of that again.”
“You’re staying away in order to help me and my school?” she pressed.
He stepped back toward the door. “I’ll not destroy your dreams, dove.”
King, being a penny dreadful author as well, and quite possibly as low a fellow as he, no matter that he wrote using finer words, was likely as ill-suited a match as he was. King might be willing to risk everything Elizabeth had worked for. Fletcher wasn’t.
He offered a bow and a farewell. It was the right thing, but blast it all, it wasn’t easy.
by Mr. King
Installment V,
in which our Heroine and her Young Charge take refuge with Sir Frederick and discover a horrifying Secret!
Hilltop House was the very picture of an estate where a gentleman like Sir Frederick would live. The grounds were immaculate, yet somehow still inviting. The home itself was regal, stalwart, and elegant, yet Lucinda did not find the estate intimidating.
She and Nanette did not see the baronet upon their arrival the night of the fire. His housekeeper relayed his instructions that they should seek their beds and rest, as he was certain they were thoroughly exhausted. He also expressed his wish that they consider themselves at home at Hilltop House for as long as was necessary, insisting he was honored to have them to stay.
Lucinda was, indeed, exhausted, weary to her very bones. She was also deeply confused. The highwayman, an apparent thief and a man living outside the law, had touched her with his kindness, something she’d not been expecting. Sir Frederick, who had mere days earlier rejected her so publicly, had also offered hospitality with no apparent hesitation. How did one reconcile such contradictory behavior?
The next morning, Lucinda woke, dressed, and slipped from her borrowed bedchamber to the public rooms below. She approached the sitting room, but hesitated outside the door. Inside the room, Nanette sat with Sir Frederick on a cozy window seat, the morning sun illuminating them both. The girl still wore a shirt of Sir Frederick’s that had acted as an oversized nightdress from the previous evening.
Just as she was about to enter, she heard Nanette say her name, and Lucinda lingered, listening.
“Miss Ledford was very brave,” Nanette said to Sir Frederick. “She walked straight into the forest, even though I told her about the monster. I would not be so brave.”
Sir Frederick chucked her under the chin. “I suspect, my little Nanette, you are quite, quite brave.”
“You go into the forest, too,” Nanette said. “We are all brave, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are.”
Nanette smiled up at him, her look both pleased and a bit besotted. He hadn’t the highwayman’s breath-snatching smile nor heart-fluttering laugh, but Sir Frederick was kind and handsome, thoughtful and good.
“Miss Ledford says that you think poorly of her.” Nanette’s declaration, offered with the frank innocence only a child could manage, sent waves of heat over Lucinda’s face. “I tried to tell her that you smile when you talk about her, but I do not think she believed me.”
“Not many people believe that I ever smile,” Sir Frederick replied. “I cannot fault her for feeling that way.” He made no mention of Nanette’s assertion that his fondness for Lucinda had met with disbelief as well.
“Do you like her?” the girl asked.
“Of course I do,” he said. “You have seen for yourself that she is good and kind.”
Nanette slipped closer to him and leaned her head against his gray-striped waistcoat. “She hugs me tightly when I am afraid. I like that.”
Sir Frederick set his arms around the sweet girl. “I knew she would. That is why I brought you to her. I knew you would be safe and cared for.”
“Would I not have been safe and cared for here with you?”
He actually laughed, not loudly and not long, but a short, deep, rumbling laugh.
Heavens, he might have challenged the highwayman in that moment for the warmth his laughter roused within her.
“You would have been cherished here, darling,” Sir Frederick said.
“Then why did you not keep me?”
Sir Frederick’s embrace appeared to tighten around the girl. “Because I could not keep you as safe as I wished to. And I want you to be safe.”
“I was not safe in the forest before you found me.”
“I know, dear. I know.”
The two sat a moment. Lucinda could not help but be touched by the scene. It reminded her quite forcibly of the way the little child had clung to the highwayman the night before. How could these two very disparate men, men who openly disliked each other, be so very similar? Heavens, but Lucinda was confused.
She stepped back into the corridor for the briefest of moments, not wishing to be caught out eavesdropping or lost in thought. With her open palm pressed to her heart, she forced back her rising emotions. Focusing her mind once more, she walked through the doorway, this time making her presence known.
“Good morning,” she said.
They turned toward her. Nanette smiled broadly, sliding from the window seat to rush to her. Sir Frederick rose with his usual formal grace and offered a bow but no smile. It was little wonder everyone, Lucinda included, doubted he ever smiled.
Nanette threw her arms around Lucinda’s legs. “You are awake.”
“As you see.” She brushed her fingers over the girl’s hair, unable to hide her amusement at Nanette’s haphazard appearance.
“You’re wearing your necklace,” Nanette said.
“And you are wearing your bedclothes.” Lucinda shook her head with a smile. “Let’s have you run back up to the nursery and ask the nursemaid to comb your hair and see you dressed for the day.”
A nod of agreement precipitated the girl’s skipping departure.
Alone with the confounding Sir Frederick, Lucinda asked the question she could no longer ignore. “Why did you refuse to converse with me when we spoke in town? You seemed reluctant to even acknowledge you knew me.”
“I regretted that then. I regret it now. But, I assure you, it could not be avoided.” He spoke with such earnestness that she could not doubt him.
“Why could it not be avoided?” She was being far bolder than she’d once been. Had coming to this area of the kingdom changed her so wholly? Or had she simply discovered a part of herself she’d not before known?
He approached her with a mien of humility she’d not have thought to see in him. “I cannot tell you all. There are secrets in this corner of the world that cannot be shared. In that moment when I saw you, it was imperative, for your safety as much as anything else, that you not linger long. My behavior was intended to see you on your way quickly—not to injure you.”
“Was there danger?” She had certainly not sensed any on that quiet street corner.
“There is always danger,
Miss Ledford.”
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “Nanette has spoken of a monster in the forest, as has the highwayman.”
Sir Frederick rested a gentle hand on her arm. “Our highwayman is not the only one searching for a means of ridding our forest of the threat that hides in its shadows. So long as the horrid creature remains nearby, none of us are safe. Especially the children.”
Lucinda pressed her fingertips to her lips, holding back the words of worry that lingered there. “Why are the children particularly at risk?”
“Has no one told you anything of our monster?”
She shook her head.
He held out his hand to her. She accepted it, soothed by the feel of his strong hand around hers. They walked from the sitting room, down the corridor, and into the vast expanse of the portrait hall. On all sides of them, images of gentlemen who resembled Sir Frederick and ladies who also shared a few of his features filled the walls.
They stopped beneath the visage of a kind-eyed man in the fashions of a half-century past. “My grandfather,” Sir Frederick said. “The monster first arrived in his time. Few saw it, and fewer still understood it.” He motioned to another gentleman a bit farther down the line of frames. “My father encountered the beast more than once. He, you understand, sought it out.”
“Good heavens, why?” She could not imagine going in search of a monster.
“To understand it, to separate myth from truth.”
“What did he discover?”
Sir Frederick’s gaze did not leave his late father’s face. “That the monster was, in fact, real, and we had reason to fear it. The beast craves our fears, you see. Takes strength from our terror. Children are less likely to attempt to explain it away as mere imagination or hallucination and, thus, are more likely to be terrified at the very thought of the monster lurking in the dark.”
“Does the beast hurt the children? Beyond frightening them, I mean.”
“Oh, yes. We have lost a great many these past decades. Far too many.” A sadness touched his words as he spoke of children he once knew, children he had not been able to save.
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