Worlds Apart

by Stein Willard

  Oasis wasn’t sure how the nun would take it, but there was a question she had been aching to ask since the nun entered her room almost an hour ago.

  “Will Lady Tia be doing some rounds later?” She saw the nun’s eyes tighten at the corners, but she held the older woman’s gaze. If there was one thing, she wasn’t embarrassed about, it was her attraction to the beautiful duchess. No one except Tia herself was going to make her back down.

  Sister Madeline lifted her head gently and pressed the glass against Oasis’s lips, which were compressed tightly. The woman sighed after a while. “I know you have pain.”

  Oasis stubbornly kept her lips pursed as she watched the nun. They stared at each other, none of them ready to give ground.

  “Fine,” Sister Madeline hissed and stepped away. “Tell me what your intentions are towards her Grace?”

  Not sure what had shocked her most, the question or fact that the nun backed down first, Oasis could only stare at the other woman.

  “Now is your chance to be heard, milord.”

  Oasis looked at the glass in the nun’s hand. Maybe she should simply take the medication and welcome the oblivion that came with it. It had been easier to admit her own feelings to herself, but she didn’t think she would be able to admit it to someone else. She wasn’t ready for the ridicule she knew that would follow. The bastard daughter of a gypsy and a nobleman, who considered herself worthy enough for the attention of a duchess. The darling of the English Court and confidant of the queen. She felt herself deflate as realisation struck and she held out her hand for the medication. That was what the nun had wanted to make her understand all those weeks ago.

  Sister Madeline gently helped her to swallow the laudanum. Oasis closed her eyes, waiting for the weightlessness and, finally, drowsiness from the drug to set in. She felt a gentle hand against her cheek and she reluctantly opened her eyes. The nun’s eyes were tender as she looked at Oasis.

  “Remember, she didn’t have to come when I called for her, but she did. And she stayed through the operation and sat with you until she was near comatose from exhaustion when I ordered her to go home.”

  The nun quietly left the room and Oasis lay there, blinking at the white ceiling. She sat by my bed until she was almost too exhausted to move. A slow smile broke over her face. She sat with me! Even though… I wasn’t wearing my mask!

  The tentacles of sleep began to tug at her consciousness and Oasis called herself all kinds of names for falling for the nun’s ploy. Now she couldn’t daydream any further about Tia.

  “Well played, Sister, well played,” she muttered before she gave in to the weightlessness of sleep.

  ***

  Tia kept her eyes on the small boy as he wove his way through the throng of bodies and horse-drawn carriages. In her disguise she resembled many of the young teenage boys milling in the streets. She was flattered to find that she had caught the eye of a few young girls, who giggled prettily as she passed them. Maybe her disguise was not as ineffective as she had thought. A neighing horse next to her made her move out of the way of the animal. She looked around and caught sight of Burton. He was driving an unmarked carriage not far behind. The perch giving him a better vantage than Tia had on the ground. She had a note delivered to Pope’s groom, as per his instruction. The groom would make sure that the note was forwarded to Caleb post-haste. All they had to do was follow the delivery boy and they would find Caleb.

  The boy suddenly disappeared from sight and Tia reminded herself just in time that her mother had raised a lady just as she was about to let out a curse. She looked around and caught sight of Burton who pointed to the left. The little rascal had slipped down an alley. She ran the few paces to the alley and was lucky to catch the jaunty hat of the boy just as he took a turn further up the alley. She made a mad dash to keep up with him and as she turned the corner, she came up short.

  The extreme close-up of the barrel of a pistol filled her vision and she swallowed hard.

  “Why are you following him?” a gruff voice demanded. Tia peered passed the gaping hole of the barrel and met cold grey eyes. She sighed in relief. He fitted the description Pope had given her.

  “I was sent to find you,” she said quickly. Her heart skipped a beat when the pistol was cocked.

  “Who sent you and why?”

  Tia looked around. They were alone. The alleyway that had only a few moments ago been filled with people, was strangely deserted.

  “By The Maverick. He gave me some instructions.” She slowly held up her hands when the pistol’s aim didn’t change. “He said to tell you that the name Gentle Dove would mean something to you.”

  She saw the grey eyes narrow slightly before the pistol was lowered. “Who are you?”

  How to answer that? Did Caleb even know that she was working with The Maverick? She could try. At least the code name made him lower his pistol. “I’m his partner from Park Lane.” If he was Pope’s right-hand and if Pope was indeed having her followed, then her address should mean something to him.

  The grey eyes widened in shock and he quickly holstered his pistol. So, he knew of her. “Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous it is to be on the streets now?” He took her by the arm. “We need to get off the street…now.” Tia allowed herself to be led down an intricate network of back alleys and roofs before they ended up in some sort of a deserted factory. Caleb gestured for her to take the only chair at a rickety table. “Why didn’t he call for me, milady?” The concern in the grey eyes drew her to the man. This was someone who cared about Pope deeply. “Is he doing well?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly, feeling the need to reassure the man. “Sister Madeline didn’t want him to ruin his chances at a full recovery by overexerting himself. But he is doing much better and getting stronger every day.”

  The man’s handsome face pulled into a wide smile. “I’m happy to hear that. Now, tell me what he wants me to do.”

  “What he wants us to do,” she corrected him quickly and watched as a frown replaced the smile. “You, me and my manservant.”

  Caleb held up his hand. “There is no way that I’m going to work with you two. You don’t even fit in here.”

  Tia shrugged and climbed to her feet. She had enough of this manly attitude. “In that case, good luck getting to see Pope then.” Caleb’s jaw dropped as he stared at her in mute shock. “What?”

  “You…you know his identity?” Caleb asked slowly.

  “Yes, I do.” She threw her arms wide. “Now, take me back to where you found me. I have some silly society lunch to prepare for.”

  Caleb blinked at her for a moment, before he burst out in loud guffaws. Tia sighed as she watched the man laughing so hard that he had to cradle his belly. She’ll just have to find her own way back. She turned and made for the door only to be stopped by Caleb’s hand on her shoulder. When she looked at him, his eyes were still dancing with amusement, but there was something else in their grey depths.

  “Please, wait, Your Grace. Let’s start over.” He bowed his head respectfully. “My name’s Caleb Blue, right-hand man and childhood friend of Ben Pope.”

  Childhood friend? Tia studied the man more closely. His skin tone was a shade darker than Pope’s. A slightly broader nose and forehead. She couldn’t place his heritage, but she wasn’t going to be rude and ask him. Instead, good manners dictated her next move.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Blue.”

  “Please call me Caleb. Shall we get down to business, ma’am?”

  Aha, American. But what would an American and a British nobleman have in common? Lord Pope was becoming more interesting.

  “Yes, Caleb, let’s talk business.” She smiled when he grinned at her. “I’ve met a few American authors on my travels to Europe.”

  “That’s great news. I find that I’m ofttimes misunderstood in this country.”

  “Hopefully that will not be the case between us.”

  Caleb grinned and Tia made her way
over to the chair. She couldn’t wait to get all this behind them so she could delve deeper into the mystery that was Benedict Pope.

  ***

  Jack Durham was a patient man. His father told him once, in a moment of rare sobriety, that patience was the one power many people underestimated. So, for what Jack lacked in the smarts department, he made up for with plenty of patience. Patience accorded one the chance to plan and plan well. That was what Jack had done for the past decade. He waited his turn patiently and when it came, he had set his plan in motion.

  And what a plan it was!

  He walked over to the fireplace, a glass of expensive brandy in his hand. If only his father had heeded his own advice, he would’ve been here right now, sipping on a well-aged French brandy, instead of the rotgut gin they served at the tavern on the docks. A young Jack had begged him to wait only a while longer as his plans were being finalized. Instead, his father fell into a con of quick and easy money that ended with him being buried next to Jack’s mum; half his face blown away by one of their con victims. Jack sipped from the glass, savouring the full flavour. His eyes scanned the room and he smiled.

  Not bad for the son of a drunk and a reformed prostitute. A loud knocking made him grimace. All he asked for were a few moments alone. He curtly called ‘enter’. A tall and frightfully thin man, with a jagged scar running from his left cheek to the corner of the lip, entered the room. Jack waved the man closer. This was the man who made everything possible.

  “What’s wrong, Percy?”

  “News came through from the hospice. The Maverick’s dead.”

  Jack suppressed the smile that threatened to break over his face. “Are you sure?” The Maverick had proven himself a force to be reckoned with, when he ousted Big Jim Pearson, Larry Mensah and Gregory Smiles from the East End five years ago. Those three were the most bloodthirsty men Jack had ever encountered and The Maverick had chased them out of the slums like toothless dogs. Such a man didn’t die easily.

  “One of our men managed to slip inside and overheard some of the nuns talking.”

  “I want someone to go down to the morgue and identify the body.”

  “Do you have someone specific in mind?”

  Jack liked Percy Leland because the man knew how the command structure worked. He knew when to ask for Jack’s input and when to be proactive.

  “Someone who can blend in. Put a body in the morgue that needs to be identified, if you have to.”

  XI

  ‘Sir Rob ‘n Loot’

  Tia looked from the townhouse to the man next to her. “What are we doing here?” There was a slight movement in the shadows leading up to the stairs of the opulent townhouse. The slight figure of a woman flitted under the weak light of an oil lamp before it disappeared around the house and into the garden. “Whose house is this, Caleb?”

  Caleb flicked the butt of his cigarette away. “Lord Robert Luton, eighth Earl of Moorhouse.”

  The vague image of a rotund, middle-aged man flashed before Tia. She didn’t know much about him. All she could recall of the man, was that he mostly favoured the gambling tables at events and rarely ventured near where the women congregated.

  “Why are we here then?”

  “This was the last project Ben worked on before he got… injured.”

  Tia turned to look at Caleb. His eyes glittered eerily in the ambient glow of a nearby streetlight. What’s strange, was that Tia knew the man for all of two days and yet she didn’t feel scared at all. He reminded her so much of Pope and Tia was totally convinced that Pope, even in his Maverick persona, would never hurt her.

  “Why is it important now? I don’t think that Luton had anything to do with Pope’s situation.”

  “He doesn’t.” Caleb slipped a flask from his jacket pocket and after unscrewing it, held it out to her. Tia looked at the flask. Yesterday, after they had spent hours setting their plan in motion, Caleb had offered her the flask. The challenge in his eyes was what had made her reach for it and taking a deep drink. She had regretted it almost immediately. Whatever it was she had imbibed, had almost melted her insides and made her spit out flames. An amused Caleb had slapped her on the back, nearly displacing her spine. She wasn’t going to willing put herself through that again.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather drink acid,” she said coolly. “I’m sure it’s much more palatable than that.”

  Caleb chuckled. “I’ll have you know, that this here’s the finest American whiskey money can buy.”

  Tia snorted. “Must be American money. No self-respecting Englishman would defile the king’s currency in such a way.”

  The grey eyes twinkled merrily as Caleb drank deeply from the flask. “You, milady, are a rare find.” Tia blushed at the compliment. She found that she quite liked her new American friend. He was honest, obviously dangerous and made her laugh.

  “Now tell me why we are outside Lord Luton’s home?”

  “He recruits girls and have them apply for positions in the homes of the rich. They are to rob these homes and bring the loot to him.” He watched her closely for her reaction, when Tia only stared at him, he continued. “He pawns the items and uses the money to fund his gambling habit.” Caleb frowned at her. “You don’t seem shocked.”

  She was shocked that someone of the peerage would be the mastermind behind a syndicate that robbed his own friends and associates. Tia had heard snippets about the robberies in passing, but had never really paid attention to them. Lord Luton deserved to be brought to task, but what of the women he enlisted to commit these acts? What would happen to them? She directed the question at Caleb.

  “If they are identified by their victims, then there is nothing we can do about it. Unless you know of a way they can be exonerated.”

  “I’ll need more information, like how do they benefit from the robberies. If they get a cut of the loot, then they are beyond help.” She looked at the house. “We’ll need to find someone who’ll be willing to talk to us.”

  “Consider it done.” Caleb lit another cigarette. “Now, let’s move on to our other project.”

  Tia nodded as she followed Caleb to where Burton had parked the carriage. She hoped she could ask him more about Pope, especially after the latter’s odd behaviour last night.

  ***

  Oasis was getting antsy.

  She was cold and wished to be anywhere else, but here. If it wasn’t so uncomfortable down here, she would’ve already called the orderlies to return her to her room. But the plan was great and if it worked, it would put an end to the bloodshed even before the new crime lord had enough time to warm the seat of his new throne. Above all, she wanted the plan to work so she could get out of here and see Tia whenever she felt the need to do so. She sighed. There was one other reason, too. When Tia came by last night, after having tracked down Caleb, she had been different.

  Alive. Excited, even.

  Her eyes had glowed as she had relayed her meeting with Caleb and the plan they had devised. But there had been a smidgen of red in her cheeks every time she had spoken Caleb’s name. At first, she thought she had imagined it, but when she had purposely steered the conversation towards Caleb’s input, the hint of red had appeared. The rest of the conversation after that had been background noise to Oasis. It had taken Sister Madeline an hour afterwards, in between changing Oasis’ bandages, to extract the details of the plan. Oasis had spent the night staring at the ceiling, after she had been rudely awakened by a dream filled with images of Caleb and Tia. No matter how hard she had tried, Oasis couldn’t find a way to hate her friend for getting the girl. She loved Caleb too much.

  The sound of footsteps pulled her back to the present. She listened as two pairs stopped outside the door. A muffled conversation ensued before the door opened and the footsteps entered. For a moment it was quiet before soft sniffling reached her ears.

  “Is this your bother, Miss Smith?” a male voice asked gently.

  “Y…Yes.”

  “I’m sorry for your los
s, Miss Smith. If you like, you could spend a few minutes with him. I’ll be over there.”

  “Thank…thank you.”

  One set of footsteps moved away to come to a stop near where Oasis was in the corner of the room. Some minutes passed as the woman cried over her brother’s body. Since she was the only person who had come down to the morgue today, Oasis had hoped that she would be the spy, but as she woman continued to cry over the body of the young man, Oasis felt her hopes dwindling. Their trap had not worked and Oasis was not looking forward to spending another day down in the morgue tomorrow.

  “Done?” The man moved away. “Please accept my condolence, Miss Smith. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back to the…”

  Oasis suppressed the sigh of disappointment. At least now she could return to her room that didn’t smell like death.

  “Wait a minute, there was something else,” the woman began. “Rumours are that The Maverick has died. Is it true?”

  There was a short silence, in which Oasis was holding her breath.

  “I’m not supposed…” He stopped. When he spoke again, his voice held a slight tone of panic. “I can lose my position over this, but what I can tell you, is that his next of kin has not been informed yet.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s just that with everything going on, he had been the hope of the people. It’s sad that he had to die like that.”

  “Well, he did what he could, but for now, the people will have to learn to fend for themselves. Hell, I doubt his kin even knew he was The Maverick.” The orderly walked over to Oasis’ gurney and lifted the corner of the sheet. “He had been wearing this mask when they brought him in. The nuns felt that it would only be right to either return it to his kin or to bury him with it.”

  “Do you mean to tell me, that you didn’t recognize him when they removed the mask?” The woman’s voice was sharp and Oasis could hear the interest in her tone. “How did they know that it was him?”