Alice’s hand pressed to her chest. “Yes, me, as well. Perhaps you can send for Doctor Hanson around two this morning, so he is at hand when Mother arrives.”
“Perhaps we can invite him to dinner, tell him what is happening and ask him to stay the night. Thus, he can get a good night’s sleep before he is needed.”
She kissed Thomas on his cheek. “A much better idea. Thank you for suggesting it.”
***
The afternoon crawled by with unbearable slowness. She tried to work on her ledgers; only her mind could not add a column of numbers to save her life. All she could think of was her mother, locked away in some cellar, chained to the wall with her back shredded from the beatings.
How had Victor found her so soon? How would he break in and get her out? Did he have help? She hoped so. Yes, she pictured him leading a mob of street toughs, breaking through the door, and tackling the footmen to save her mother.
By the constant fresh tea Thomas brought her, she gathered he also struggled to pass the interminable minutes.
She gave up on her ledgers upon the arrival of a new pot of tea. Moving to the couch, she broached unchartered territory. “Thomas, tell me about life when my father was alive.”
Thomas frowned as he stood stiff as a washboard. “What do you want to know?”
“Stop being my butler and sit down. Neither of us is fit for duty just now. I want to hear your memories. I only have one with me sitting on his lap at this desk.”
Her eyes watered, and she stared up at the ceiling to prevent tears from falling. Thomas pressed his handkerchief upon her hand and sat down across from her.
“I’m not surprised you’d remember that. You were in his lap half of every day. Mrs. Collins, as your mother was then called, would offer to take you off his hands so he could work, but he insisted you were no impediment. In fact, you helped remind him why he needed to properly add all the columns of numbers.”
Alice smiled in understanding. She was his future and he wanted to leave her a prosperous estate.
The butler rubbed his hands upon his knees. “I expect the reason the tenants had so little objection when you first took over management is because they recalled all those years you sat upon his lap when they’d come to speak to him. You were a charmer. The angriest supplier would soften when he set eyes upon you, staring up so intently.”
“And Mother, was she happy back then? Were they madly in love?”
Thomas frowned as he considered her question. “She was barely more than a girl, only fifteen when they married, and sixteen when you were born. The age difference meant they had little in common except for you. However, she brought laughter to the house, and Mr. Collins seemed most gentle and tender towards her.”
As he spoke, Alice had poured him a cup of tea, which she now handed him.
He smiled and took it. “I would not say they were madly in love, but I believe Master Collins cherished your mother, and I suspect she was in awe of him.”
Alice was shocked at Thomas’ forthright answers, so she decided to ask a few more questions. “How did he die?”
His eyes saddened. “He died at his desk. The doctor said his heart gave up.”
“How old was he?”
“He was sixty-five.”
Alice frowned as she did the math in her head. “That means he was sixty-one when I was born.”
Thomas nodded. “He was sixty when he married your mother. The first Mrs. Collins, God rest her soul, had not borne him children, so two years after her death, he remarried.”
“A girl of fifteen?”
“He hoped her youth would enable him to still provide an heir for Litchfield.”
“So Mother was nothing more than a breed cow?” This was so different from the few comments her mother had shared. She had led Alice to believe the forty-five years age difference didn’t matter since the marriage had been one of love.
“You have endured too much to believe life is so simple. Do not make me regret I’ve spoken out of turn.”
Alice moved to his couch and sat next to him, securing his hand before he could stand and resume his position as butler. “I needed to know the truth. If I am ever to marry, I need to separate fairy tales from fact, and set my expectations accordingly. Mother led me to believe they had a great love.”
Thomas shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms upward. “Perhaps she thought so. I must confess, I could not make heads or tails of what she was thinking those first few years. Always laughing, running about, and twirling her skirts.”
Alice’s mouth fell open. “Mother?”
He nodded. “She was very different when your father was alive.” He frowned. “His death changed her dramatically, so perhaps she has known both a great love and a great loss.”
“How did she change?”
“She was only twenty when your father died, so a distant aunt came and stayed with her during her year of mourning. Dour old biddy. I thought it was the aunt who turned your mother so quiet and solemn, but perhaps her heart had broken.”
Her mother had once whispered she had loved her father with all her heart. Alice desperately wanted it to be true.
“How did she come to marry Mr. Carson?”
“The aunt introduced them and encouraged the marriage. When the vows were taken, I heard the woman ‘came into a small fortune’ and moved to Scotland. Bought off, if you ask me.”
Alice tensed. “Then you saw through Mr. Carson from the first?”
Thomas shook his head. “I did not. I thought him a jolly fool. I had no idea of the monster lurking beneath. If I had, I might have tried…” Thomas sighed. “I only thought several of the other gentlemen who courted your mother better catches. One of them she seemed most fond of, but then the aunt convinced her to choose Mr. Carson.”
Rage roiled within her towards this woman. “Do you remember my aunt’s full name?
Thomas tilted his head in concern. “Why?”
“I want to ask Victor if he can think of some clever way to make her life hell. That is, if she’s still alive.”
He chuckled at the thought. “Now that I believe the scamp well-suited to do. Her name was Agnes Billings and she moved to Aberdeen, Scotland the week after your mother married Mr. Carson.”
***
Dr. Hanson arrived at seven and enjoyed a fine leg of lamb with Alice. Once dinner was over, they retired to the library, where Thomas poured the man his favorite double malted whiskey.
Alice then asked Thomas to sit as well.
Dr. Hanson sipped his drink and laughed softly. “So time has come to reveal why I have packed an overnight bag?”
Alice nodded and explained how her mother had gone missing two months ago. She then told him about the notice in the paper. “You have seen my scars, so you know what Mr. Carson is capable of doing.”
Dr. Hanson frowned. “I have, and I’ve cared for your mother, as well. He is a foul beast beneath a thin veneer of gentility.” He looked into Alice’s eyes. “Alice, he might have very well killed your mother for this.”
“But he hasn’t, not yet.” She handed over Vic’s letter. “I went to the office of Xavier Thorn. Have you heard of him?”
“Yes, of course. He’s reputed to be the finest sleuth in the world. Has he found your mother?” He read the letter she handed him. “Who is Victor Hamilton?”
“His partner and a dear friend of mine. We expect my mother sometime early tomorrow morning, but as you read, we have reason to believe she might be hurt.”
He nodded. “I am thankful you have called me.”
“Well, be thankful to Thomas. I had thought to call you at two in the morning. Thomas rightly observed you’d be happier with a good meal and most of a night’s sleep.”
Dr. Hanson laughed and toasted Thomas.
He then looked at Alice. “I am not certain how much sleep I will get, but I will be prepared for any situation by tomorrow morning. May I borrow a few of your maids to help in the preparations of poultices
and bandages?”
Alice shook her head. “The servants do not know. May Thomas and I help you?”
“But should you not get some sleep?”
Alice stared at him in shock. “Sleep? I will not sleep until my mother rests here in my home. So allow me to help you prepare for the worst, or else I shall go mad with worry.”
Chapter 4
Jacko opened the carriage door and frowned. “Davy, where is Vic?”
Davy glanced down from the driver’s seat. “Can’t you do this without him?”
“No. He’s got an important, but non-life-threatening job to do. Now let’s pick him up and get this done!”
When they picked up Vic, she commented on Jacko’s clothes. He hated the coarse black cloth he had bought from a street vendor this afternoon. It reminded him of his childhood poverty. “Work clothes. Can’t risk light reflecting off the silk.”
Her intense eyes studied his face, no doubt objecting to the soot he’d used to darkened his skin. However, if a guard caught sight of him, he hoped they’d report him as a Moor rather than a gypsy.
“You do have your letter of introduction, I hope. Mrs. Carson won’t go anywhere with you otherwise.”
He laughed at the thought of a sane person refusing rescue due to his appearance. It just proved the pup still didn’t grasp the hell the woman was in.
When they arrived at the Bedlam Asylum, Davy let Jacko out on the backside of the building and then drove off. According to their plan, Davy would drop Vic off at the front entrance and return the carriage to the road behind the building. Then he’d find a cab for hire and wait for Vic on the other side.
Jacko had no doubt Davy would do his part of the plan. The man was as reliable as they came. Vic remained an unknown. The pup had successfully prepared Lady Anne for rescue the year before, but her part in tonight’s game was far more difficult. If she failed to distract the guards, the rescue could fail and they might move the woman to a higher security ward.
Pushing thoughts of failure from his mind, Jacko focused on his part of the plan. Even in the back, guards stood on both corners of the expansive grey stone building. While the fence in the front was impenetrable stone, in the back it was a twelve-foot tall, wrought-iron, spiked fence. Fortunately, large dogs constantly dug beneath the barrier, and the yardmen had long ago given up filling the holes.
Jacko swiftly slid beneath the wrought iron and studied the guards. They looked to be asleep, but he could not be certain. A man running across the greens was all too easy to spot. He remained on his hands and knees and moved forward in a low lumbering fashion, hoping if the guards noticed him, they would think him one of the mastiffs that frequently ran upon the grounds.
Once across the expansive grounds, Jacko stood and pressed against the maintenance shed attached to the back of the main stone building. He extracted an eighteen-inch cylinder tube of metal from inside his shirt and pulled out three, consecutively smaller metal pieces until he had a six-foot pole narrowing down to a metal rod with a pointed tip.
Upon using his device to shift over two of the boards of the roof overhang, he poked the pole into the space created. After a few seconds of effort, a rope tumbled down. He put away his scope pole and climbed up onto the eaves of the building.
Once inside, he pulled up the rope and replaced the boards. Next, he began a dark but familiar journey to a removable ceiling tile in the storage room.
Using sturdy shelving directly beneath his entrance hole, he climbed down and eased the door open to the storage room of the main building. The piercing scream of a guard’s whistle screamed, followed by additional alarms.
The speed in which Victor had set free a riot amazed and impressed Jacko. However, as he continued to Ward 3, he grew concerned. By the screams and chaos echoing in the halls, the pup may have over-achieved his objective. This sounded serious enough to rally the police.
He wasted no time making his way to Mrs. Carson’s cell. They frequently moved the inmates around so he could only hope she still resided where Vic last saw her.
His hope increased when he arrived at cell 46 in Ward 3. The woman inside had the demeanor of a lady. Her clothes no longer fit her due to two months of poor food. But she appeared calm and rational.
“What is your name?” he demanded as he worked the cell door lock.
“I’m Victoria Carson. And who are you?”
“A friend of Victor’s.” He swung open the door.
She hurried from her cell. “Excellent, let’s go.”
Jacko laughed at Vic’s insistence he’d need a letter of introduction. He led the woman to the maintenance shed. Never once did Mrs. Carson speak or demand to know where they were going.
When they arrived in the furthest corner of the supply room, he pointed to the shelves and then climbed them, and pushed up on the tile, revealing their path. When he turned to see if Mrs. Carson was following, she was fighting with her skirt. He had never rescued a woman before and had not considered she would have trouble climbing. Trusting the lady not to shriek and carry on about improprieties, he hurried down, tossed the eighty-pound woman over his shoulder and climbed the shelves.
Upon reaching the top, he slid her off his shoulder, and assisted her into the ceiling. Her skirt slowed her progress forward, but eventually she moved in enough to let him follow. He pulled himself up and before replacing the tile, he noticed she had tucked the hems of her skirt into her waistband so they no longer impeded her legs’ movement. He squeezed around her and led the way.
She might be old and a woman, but she was the quietest, quickest, and most obliging inmate he had ever rescued.
***
Five minutes later, with the riot still going strong, Jacko quietly moved the carriage away from the Bedlam Asylum, as he wiped the soot from his face.
They had not traveled more than two blocks when police paddies, filled with officers, passed them. Vic had indeed performed her task a bit too well.
“Excuse me, young man, but may I see your letter of introduction?” Mrs. Carson called out from the carriage window.
“Now?” Jacko asked in shock.
“Yes, now.”
While tempted to ignore her and ride on, he did not dare with so many wagons of police driving by. Jacko stopped the carriage, climbed down, and handed her the letter. Up ‘til now, Mrs. Carson had been his best behaving rescued victim. He dearly hoped her temperament wasn’t going to change.
She took the letter. “Thank you. Could you pull up to the street lamp so I might read it?”
Jacko shook his head and walked the horse to a nearby lamp. Perhaps the woman was mad after all. He watched as wagons of police continued to pass by without interest in his carriage. However, as more wagons passed, he worried about Vic. In the future, he would have to put limits on exactly how much trouble the imp could create.
After a minute, Mrs. Carson leaned out the window. “Thank you, you may proceed.”
He climbed upon the carriage and gently snapped the reins to get the horse moving. This had been his best abduction yet. His gypsy blood surged through his veins, making his skin tingle and renewing his strength for the long drive ahead of them.
***
Alice stared out the window, praying Vic had been successful. She glanced at the clock for the hundredth time in the last few hours. Where were they?
A beautiful pink sunrise adorned the sky but it gave her no comfort. Only the sight of her mother could quell the fear in her heart. What if Vic had failed in the rescue and now needed rescue himself?
Before she could deal with her new nightmare, a carriage appeared on the horizon, traveling slowly, as if the single horse had tired from a long journey. “Thomas, Dr. Hanson, they’re here!” She ran outside and anxiously awaited they’re arrival.
The man driving had long hair tied at the back of his neck, only several strands had broken free. He wore a cheap black cotton shirt. Exhaustion shone from his drooping lids. The moment he stopped the carriage, Alice rushed
forward and pulled open the door.
“Mother?” She stared at the frail old woman reaching out to her and her heart swelled with happiness and relief. “Mother! Can you walk?”
“Just give me your hand,” her mother said. Gripping Alice’s hand, she pulled herself from the seat and made her way out of the carriage.
“I feared…never mind. You are here and I’m never letting you go.” They clung fiercely to each other as Alice cried tears of happiness. When she looked up, she saw Thomas coming to assist.
“Are you hurt? Dr. Hanson stayed the night so he could take care of you when you arrived,” Alice said.
“I am fine. More than fine. I am here with you.” Then she focused on the smudged face driver.
“Jacko, would you step down here please?”
After a tilt of his head, he tied off the horse and climbed down.
Her mother grabbed both of his hands into hers. “I owe you a great debt for saving my life. If I can ever be of assistance to you, please do not hesitate to ask. You look anxious to return to London, but may I offer you food and drink before you go?”
Jacko smiled. “I’d appreciate that. Could you pack me a basket? I’ll not rest easy until I’m certain Vic arrived home safely.”
His words surprised her mother. “Vic? Was Victor there?”
“Yes. He incited the riot that distracted the guards.”
Alice burst into laughter and her mother quickly joined. “Well, from the great number of police who passed us, I believe he excelled in his task.”
Jacko nodded. “May I ask why you chose that moment to read your letter?”
Alice’s mother met his gaze. “There was a small chance my husband had sent you, deciding I had been punished long enough and now should die. If you had no letter, I intended to call to the passing police for help.”
“But that would get you thrown back in the asylum.”
“Worst case‒yes. However, I felt I had a good chance of convincing the police you had knocked off my driver and abducted me. I, of course, would declare myself to be Victoria Collins, presently visiting my daughter, Alice Collins.”
A Right to Love: Romantic Spinoff From The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 2.5 Page 4