by Cari Hislop
“Stop talking and put on the dress. You’re going to be my ward and you’re going to like it.”
“Never!”
“Put it on.”
“I’d rather die than have the stink of your house touching my skin.”
“Put it on or I’ll put it on you.”
“Fine…put it on me. The minute you walk out of the room I’ll take it off, tear it to shreds and throw it out the window.”
“Just put it and wear it or else…”
“Or else what, you’ll beat an innocent woman? It’s just gone eleven; I should be married to Mr Smirke. I should be in his arms enjoying his kisses, but I’m locked up like a criminal by a great ugly lump.”
“Just do as you’re told and put it on before I forget I’m a gentleman.” Neilson’s angry roar was ineffectual in persuading Joan to do his bidding. Her answer was to bite his good hand drawing blood. “You blasted shrew…I’m trying to save you. Ahhhh…stop biting me!”
“Let me go and I’ll never bite you again. I want Mr Smirke.”
“You want to dance with the devil? I’ll show you how he dances…” Joan screamed as she was pushed to the floor and pinned down under Neilson’s weight. “Are you afraid? You should be. If only half the rumours are true about your beloved Mr Smirke, you should be terrified.”
“Help! Someone help me!”
“I am helping you. If you promise to stop acting like a hoyden I can give you a home, money, clothes…” Neilson panted in between words as he struggled to keep her down.
“Get off me…let go of me.”
Looking down at writhing porcelain flesh, Neilson was suddenly absorbed in ungentlemanly thoughts, his body throbbing with excitement. The vile John Smirke could never engender besotted devotion; the girl was clearly playing hard to get. “Relax; I’m not going to hurt you…” He swallowed his common sense and leant over to kiss her. Distracted by flawless skin he loosened his grip. Joan wrenched a hand free and shoved two fingers deep up his sore nose and then stabbed at his sore eye. She rolled free as Neilson jerked up onto one knee, roaring in pain as a puddle of blood formed on the parquet floor.
“What have you done to me?” Joan ignored Neilson’s question and crawled towards the closest object she could turn into a weapon; a glass vase she’d considered far too pretty to throw out the window. She retreated to a corner of the room behind a chair holding glass shards to use as knives. If the giant came near her again, he’d be nursing more than a bloody nose and a sore eye.
Neilson bent forward; the pain in his nasal cavity almost bearable compared to the agonising realization that he’d nearly ravished an innocent girl, a girl he’d tried to save from a devil. The thought made his stomach heave. He was the hero not the villain. He pummelled men who hurt women. The sounds of Joan sobbing for her beloved Smirke in between angry ear splitting screams made him feel sick. When had he become a monster? The question didn’t bear answering. He had to get rid of the girl as soon as possible, if only to ease his self-disgust. He stumbled from the room leaving the door wide open behind him. A trail of blood followed him past white faced servants to his study where he fell into his chair. Neilson’s hand shook as he dipped his pen in his ink well. He’d throw her back into Smirke’s arms before the devil came to his senses and decided he didn’t want the harpy. He didn’t get farther than the first word before a wave of guilt paralysed him.
Chapter 20
The carriage carrying the three Smirke brothers was half way back to James’s house when John uncovered his wet eyes with his sleeve to wipe his nose and found his Probationary Agent sitting opposite with an expression that filled John’s mind with fear, “What’s happened? Something’s happened…tell me!”
James and Peter looked at each other and then at their little brother apparently addressing the empty corner of the carriage, “We’ve got to find that girl before John loses all reason. I can’t bear to see him talking to himself. It makes the hair on my neck stand on end.”
“Say something you wretch. You can’t just sit there and look at me like that. Is something wrong with my Joan?”
“I can’t tell you, but if she were my wife I’d be loading my pistol.”
John leapt off his seat and hammered on the roof, “Turn this thing around. Take me back. Oh God please help me…Joan!”
James and Peter looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders before James let down the window and shouted to the driver, “Take us back to Neilson’s, my brother forgot something.”
“Sit down John, overturning the carriage will only get us killed faster.”
“Give me a pistol.” John fell back in his seat and held out his hand. “Now!”
James put his hands in his pockets and left them there, “That would be unwise. Shooting Neilson will solve nothing, but your sartorial expenses. After you’ve swung from a rope they’ll sew you into a woollen sack. You’ve died enough this week. I’ll hold the pistols; you’ll hold the girl…when we find her.”
“I should have gone home months ago. I should have carried her off to Scotland. She’d be safe in my arms. I can’t bear this Peter…it hurts.”
“Keep b-breathing and try counting backwards. It helps…”
“Counting isn’t going to save Joan. Something bad is happening to her…I know it.”
James met Peter’s raised eye and then glanced back at John, “We don’t know that. Stay calm; we’ll do what we can.”
“How can I be calm when my lark is being ravished? Oh God I need my Joan. Help me.”
“We don’t know anything. Sit down and take a deep breath.”
“Would you be calm if Agnes was in the clutches of a fiend?”
“No, but then I’d be more worried for the fiend. You’ve never seen Agnes cornered.”
“Can’t they make your nags go any faster? We’re crawling; I could run faster than this.”
“Not with your sore rump you c-couldn’t, sit d-down.” John reluctantly obeyed his brother and muttered a garbled prayer into his sleeve as he was jostled back and forth by the cobblestones.
Reaching Neilson’s door John jumped free and ran to vent his fear on the doorknocker. He pushed his way in past the bandaged footman and looked about with clenched fists, “Neilson?” John’s anguished shout defied the hovering servants who looked oddly reticent to stop him.
“Master Neilson is in his study, Sir.” The footman studiously looked away as John jogged full speed to the study and tried the doorknob with a vicious twist. The door flew inward. Robert Neilson was sitting behind his desk staring blankly at nothing, his lower face and dressing gown spattered with blood.
“I know she’s here and I know what you’ve done. Give me my ward.”
Neilson’s empty stare slowly shifted towards the door, “She’s upstairs…in the gold salon. Take her away…I beg you. I pray I never see her again.”
“You bastard…I’m going to tear out your lying tongue and shove it…”
“John…” Blinded by tears, John couldn’t see his brother Peter stop beside him, “…rescue Joan while James and I have a chat with Mr Neilson.” John spun on his heels and jogged back towards the ornate staircase as his brothers stepped into the study and quietly closed the door.
Neilson stood up and stepped around to the front of his desk, “She bit me and my servants. She destroyed irreplaceable family heirlooms. She tried to burn down my house. I was so angry. I…I forgot I was a gentleman. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never hurt a woman; I’m not a monster…” Neilson fell to his knees and looked up at his unwanted guests with pleading eyes, “Pummel me…kick me…shoot me. Chastise me!”
James put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Beating him to a pulp would be too kind, it might ease his conscious. I say we let him stew like an apple. Maybe he’ll think twice before trying to save another young woman.”
“No…please don’t leave, you must punish me. You can’t leave me feeling like this. Come back here and punish me!” The door quietl
y closed leaving Neilson moaning in despair.
John jogged up the stairs cursing each step as he slowed the closer he got to the top, “Joan? Where are you?” Servants silently pointed him in the direction of an open door with the key still in the lock. John tensed as he stepped inside, his heart flailing in his chest like a fish out of water. His eyes took in the naked open windows, cold empty grate, broken furniture and shards of expensive porcelain. The room was empty.
“Joan?” John’s voice cracked as his vision blurred with fear. He turned and shouted down the hall, “Joan?” There was no answering call. Rushing back to the stairs he stumbled near the bottom and fell rolling into Peter’s arms. Pulled to his feet, his wet blinking eyes testified he was still alive.
“Breaking your neck won’t help Joan.”
“Joan’s gone! He’s sold her to some vile sea captain sailing for Antigua. I’ll never see her again.”
James pulled a pistol out of his pocket. “Neilson will tell us where she is or I’ll unman him.”
Smirke tore himself from his brother’s comforting arms and jogged back to face Neilson who was still kneeling on the floor. He looked up with hope as John kicked open the door. “Where’s my bride?”
“In the gold salon.”
“She isn’t in the gold salon; where is she?”
“She must have slipped away…”
“Slipped where?”
“She kept trying to escape…she wanted to get to the church in time to marry you today. She tried to climb out a window…”
“If you’ve hurt my Joan I’ll have you prosecuted for kidnapping. I won’t have to kill you; the scandal will ruin you.”
James cocked his pistol in the doorway, “Where is the girl?”
Neilson looked at the three brothers through one dazed eye,” She’s heading for the church.”
“Are you sure? She’s a woman. She might want to redo her hair.”
John flapped his hands at door, “Take me to the church. We’ll look out for her on the way.”
“We won’t find her if she takes a short cut through the passage ways or lanes.”
“She won’t take any dark lanes. Every villain worth his salt haunts those filthy passages hoping some pretty idiot… Oh no, she wouldn’t…you’ve got to help me find her before she’s ravished by some drunken sod who hates me. She’ll tell them she’s my ward and they’ll hurt her…we’ve got to find her.”
“Calm down John, she’s not completely senseless; she’ll go the long way round to the church.”
“Joan? Sensible? She’s a trouble lodestone; if there’s trouble nearby she’ll find it.”
“We’ll go to the church and if she isn’t there Peter’s boys can help us.”
“She won’t be at the church; she’ll be in some dark lane being ravished. I can’t bear this…”
“We’ll find her at the church.” James hoped he sounded more hopeful then he felt.
John’s fertile imagination was reeling off horrific possibilities in full colour, “You don’t know that. Oh my sweet lovely lark…I don’t like being love. If I wanted to feel like this I’d have stayed in Hell.”
James rolled his eyes at Peter, “It’s the price of love. When she next steps into your arms you’ll feel so elated you’ll think you’ve died and…just get in the carriage.” Once seated, John tried to convince himself that his Joan would be at the church waiting for him, but he knew he didn’t deserve a miracle.
Chapter 21
Her teeth chattering, Joan stopped to warm her hands and pull the sleeves of her borrowed yellow dress back up over her shoulders as she pondered her options. She could either take the passage to her left or go the long way round to the right. The long way was safer, but longer. It was about twenty past eleven. She rubbed her nose and muttered under her breath, “What I need is a fairy-godmother to wave a magic wand and transport me to the church. If I was Cinderella this hideous dress would fit and I’d be running away from my prince; no I’m being senseless again. I’m not going to cry, sniff. I’m going to be brave. Oh why can’t my Mr Smirke appear around the corner in a coach and…sniff.” She looked about for a yellow and black carriage, but the only equipage in sight was a water cart. Impulsively she turned and hurried towards the narrow passage that would be the best hope of reaching the church in time. Lifting her skirts above her ankles, she ran into the shadowed lane past the occasional dingy window and painted door. Having safely dodged several unsteady leering gentlemen she bravely rushed headlong into a dark narrow lane. She was feeling hopeful until a door opened and several laughing men blocked her path. Joan slid over slimy cobblestones, abruptly halted by a wall. “Excuse me gentlemen, I’m in a hurry.”
“What luck, we’re in need of female amusement in a hurry.”
“Let’s pull her inside and see if she’s comely…”
“The last time I saw your mistress I thought you’d gone blind. Who cares what she looks like?” Joan turned to run back the way she came, but a strong hand reached out and took possession of her arm. “Not so fast little bird. We wish to put you in a cage for a few minutes and admire your plumage.”
“Don’t you mean we want to look up her plumage?”
“Pedant; help me pull her inside…” Joan screamed and clawed the man holding her arm filling the air with angry oaths. “Grab the chit’s arm before I lose an eye.”
“Let go of me you rats or my guardian will hunt you down and whip you.”
“She’s a feisty wench…”
“We’ll play with her for a few hours…ouch. The jade bit me.”
“Let me go. I’m the legal dependant of Mr John Smirke and he loves me. When he learns you’ve touched me he’ll kill you and then I shall cry because he’ll end up in hell and I’ll miss him. Though I might kill you and end up in hell…”
“We’ve caged Smirke’s little lark; the wench he wouldn’t sell for one hundred thousand pounds? What a piece of luck. I owe that slug for putting a leg over my sister. I never realised revenge could be so sweet.” Joan shivered as both men barked their mirth. “We’ll eat Smirke’s bird and then send her back with a note tell him we had a feast.” They laughed again as Joan was pulled and pushed through the doorway and into a large smoky room filled with men sitting at gaming tables puffing on long pipes.
“Someone help me!” Bored hazy faces turned to see the female speaker and then looked away. The two rakehells continued to pull Joan towards the back of the room towards a closed door, swearing loudly as their unwilling toy resisted with vicious force. Neither libertine noticed the tall slender man bent over speaking to several seated men. On hearing Joan’s screams, the man straightened to his full height and fingered his swordstick. Stepping sharply up to the writhing threesome he whipped out his blade and viciously poked one of the men holding Joan. A male scream of pain drew the room’s rapt attention. Did the Duke of Lyndhurst intend to rescue the girl or steal her away for himself? The novelty pulled the smoking men from their chairs to get a better view.
“The young lady does not appear to desire your company.”
“We saw her first.”
“Yeah…what’s the idea Lyndhurst? Get your own bird. Ouch. You can have her when we’re done if you’re so desperate.”
Lyndhurst raised his sword at eye level, “I’ll have her now and the two of you will go to the devil or go blind. Just so there’s no misunderstanding, the latter would give me greater satisfaction.”
One of the rakes holding Joan screamed in pain as Joan kneed him in a tender spot, “Take me to my guardian John Sebastian Smirke I beg you Sir.” Barking laughter made Jane’s ears pop. “We’re to marry this morning…please help me. Mr Smirke will be eternally in your debt.”