The Traitor's Club: Caleb

by Landon, Laura

  “Somethin’s happening, sir.”

  Eleanor heard the alarm in Willie’s voice and whipped her head around in time to see him slip off the bench to crouch with his back to Carruthers so he had a clear view across the top of the carriage.

  “Ma’am, you’d best—”

  A shot rang out, silencing his warning.

  “Willie!”

  The boy dropped low behind the driver’s bench, checking his cheek where a thin scar of blood was beginning to ooze.

  “Willie, are you—”

  “Yes’m, I—”

  The wheels growled as the old Clarence leaped forward. But above the noise she heard a sound more ominous. Their pursuers were closing in.

  “Carruthers! They’re coming! Hurry!”

  “Right, ma’am! I’ll take the old Limehouse Cut…straightaway along the canal. No room for them to come alongside.”

  “And hurry!”

  As she called out, the carriage lurched, pulled sideways by a man jumping from his horse to cling to the old-fashioned running board affixed to the backside of the barouche. She swung her arms hard to fend off the hand that thrust through the small opening. His arm flailed about, searching for her, and just as his fingers grabbed hold of her hair, the carriage made the wide swing into Limehouse Cut. He dragged her with him as gravity swung him sideways.

  She shrieked, the pain of it nearly more than she could bear.

  The man righted himself, but not in time, and with one last excruciating pull on her hair, he tumbled away and rolled beneath the feet of the horses who pulled the hackney in close pursuit.

  “Faster, Carruthers! They’re gaining!”

  “The team, ma’am. They’re nearly spent!”

  Both carriages thundered along the canal road now, the second one gaining on the first as Eleanor dared to take another look. She shrank from the window, horrified as another of Blackboot’s men charged his horse alongside her carriage, sending rocks skittering from beneath his horse's hooves and into the canal. Willie pulled a gun from somewhere and took a wild shot. But the man came on.

  He jumped from his horse onto the lead horse of Eleanor’s team, seemingly oblivious to the beating he was taking from Carruthers’ whip.

  They were going to be stopped. Here in the black emptiness of the canal with no help in sight.

  Shouts from the pursuing carriage rang sharply in her ear, then two more shots were heard.

  Instantly the pursuing carriage fell back.

  Next to Carruthers, Willie worked feverishly to reload his old pistol. Once, twice, three times he lost his grip on the wadding, unable to reload as the Clarence careened along the dark, narrow road.

  The man who’d leaped onto their lead carriage horse was standing on the traces now, and with a great heaving jump he landed between Willie and Carruthers. With one elbow he shoved Willie off to go tumbling down the canal embankment. His left elbow did the same to Carruthers, sending him into the hard stone wall that ran the length of Limehouse Cut.

  Eleanor was unable to stop a scream that split the night. It was up to her now. If she stayed in the carriage she’d be driven right into the very arms of Blackboot himself. What he would do to her she had no idea. But it would be horrific. The tales her children told assured her of that.

  She flung the door open hoping she’d find the courage to jump.

  . . .

  Caleb urged his horse faster. He’d been seriously waylaid by three of Blackboot’s men, but not before he’d seen the old barouche a half-mile ahead careening into Limehouse Cut. Then Willie and Carruthers came stumbling out of the black, having been pitched off Eleanor’s carriage by one of the blackguard’s ruffians. He reeled Apollo in a prancing circle as he shouted for the two to find their way to Southern Oaks if he wasn’t back to get them in ten minutes.

  And then he flew into the night, chasing down a racing carriage that bore a helpless noblewoman into the bowels of Saint Giles. And into the lair of a man he knew would never again let her see the light of day.

  Chapter 4

  It had been hours now, but it seemed as though her breathing would never find its normal ebb and flow. From the moment the man in black had come racing out of the night and leaped from his horse onto her carriage she’d been sure she’d drawn her last breath.

  And then he’d begun to pummel Blackboot’s man. The answering flurry of fists had left the carriage reins flapping wildly as the ruffian toppled the man in black onto the roof, and as the thin leather split they plummeted into the carriage. The man in black threw one more brutal blow, knocking the ruffian sideways and out of the carriage to disappear down into the canal.

  Only then had she realized who he was.

  Eleanor forced herself to count steadily as she drew in a calming breath. Even now—in the light of day, standing here in her own drawing room—remembering the whole ordeal set her trembling. They’d circled back to collect Carruthers and Willie. But not before Captain Parker had taken her hands, swept her hair back from her face, and asked if she was alright.

  Not before she’d thrown herself into his arms and wept.

  . . .

  Caleb walked slowly, savoring the sun on his aching muscles as he worked the kinks from his bruised shoulders and arms. Last night he’d felt nothing but relief. Today he wasn’t so sure. The Countess of Grattling had flung herself into his arms and clung to him as if he were more than just a man who’d saved her from the jaws of hell. And that would never do.

  Even worse was his own reaction. When he had seen the old Clarence careening down Limehouse Cut, whipping from side to side on the narrow roadway, he’d been certain it would crash before he could get to her. Closer and closer he’d come, even as his heart drew tighter and tighter in his chest. She would be thrown into the freezing, filthy canal waters, or dashed against the stone wall on the other side. Either way, she wouldn’t survive.

  He’d felt more than a rescuer who feared he might fail his damsel. He’d felt the incredible loss the world would suffer if this good woman didn’t survive. The loss to the children. The loss to him.

  The horror of it had spurred him on, urging Apollo mercilessly to draw close enough that he could jump onto the carriage. In a flash of fists she was safe.

  He needed to see her now, to know she’d recovered from the night’s misadventure. But he feared that would be a misadventure of another sort and kept himself and his dithering emotions far from the beautiful Lady Eleanor. Of necessity he had avoided her at breakfast, leaving word that he was making a thorough inspection of the grounds. Carruthers was adequate to give him all the information he needed. Now he was glad he’d chosen that route. A little distance was beginning to restore him.

  Southern Oaks was a sprawling estate that was perfect to house more than fifty children, as well as a staff nearly half that size. The gray stone manor house was built on four floors and boasted two matching wings with twenty bedrooms in each wing. The ground floor of the east wing included a study, a massive library, several receiving rooms, an enormous dining area, as well as a small breakfast room. The second floor of the west wing included Lady Eleanor’s private suites.

  The third floor of the manor house was devoted to school rooms, a colorful play area with more toys and games than Caleb was sure any of the children had ever seen prior to coming to Southern Oaks, and a nursery. There were also designated bedrooms for several of the staff so they would always be close to the children.

  Caleb was impressed by the obvious planning that had converted a country estate into a home for children. In fact, he was impressed by everything about Southern Oaks. And its mistress.

  “Have you found everything to your satisfaction?” Lady Eleanor asked, having sought him out when he returned from his tour of the house.

  “A couple of locks need to be replaced, but other than that it’s more than satisfactory, my lady. You’ve made a paradise for children. I doubt they’ll ever want to leave.”

  She smiled. “Did you see Robby?
”

  Caleb grinned. “I did. Your choice of bunkmates was perfect.”

  “And has Carruthers shown you your quarters?”

  “He would have, but I’m perfectly fine with sleeping in the back room of the stable, my lady.”

  “I’ll not have you sleep in the stable, Captain. There are enough rooms at Southern Oaks for each of the children to have their own rooms, if that would be best for them. But we find they adjust better and form friendships easier if they room together. You, however, require adequate quarters. A bedroom, of course, and a sitting room with a desk for conducting business. Follow me,” she said, leading the way to the back part of the main floor.

  Caleb followed her to the rear of the foyer, then down a hallway that he already knew led to the kitchen stairs. A cot in the scullery would be more than adequate.

  But Lady Eleanor didn’t proceed down the long hall. Instead she opened a door, and Caleb followed her into the room that she evidently intended to be his. It was the grandest room he’d ever occupied except when he’d stayed with Ford, or Hugh, or Jeb. Even with its massive bed, the room was still large. And the bed would clearly accommodate his six-foot, four-inch frame. An alcove near a large armoire held a washstand, mirror and towel rack. A door finished in the same manner as the wall led to a small anteroom complete with desk, four side chairs, and a well-stocked sideboard.

  “Will this meet your needs?” she asked. Her voice was tense, unnatural, not the warm, dulcet tones of yesterday. Perhaps the night’s escapade still rested harshly on her. Caleb turned to look at her. The simple memory of the desperate rescue showed him the source of her agitation. It had begun the moment she’d drawn herself out of his arms.

  She was embarrassed.

  “It will more than meet my needs,” he answered her quietly.

  “Very good,” she said, then backed toward the door. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you require.”

  “Where does this door lead?” Caleb pointed to the door in a recess set between two windows.

  Lady Eleanor stepped past him and opened it, then led him out onto a private veranda. He was pleased that he would have easy access to and from the outside.

  “Those steps lead down to the larder and kitchens.” She pointed to a half-cellar entrance, then swept her hand up to indicate a second floor balcony. “My room is there.”

  And there was that blush again.

  She swept back past him. “Well then, if there’s nothing else I’ll just—”

  He reached a hand to stop her. “Actually, there is.” The morning gown she wore had long, billowing lace sleeves, but somehow his hand connected with her flesh. It was warm, soft. Lovely.

  She turned and broke their brief contact.

  He grinned and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, duchess.” Her look of consternation confirmed that she was about to give him a good lecture, so he spoke before she had the chance.

  “What men do you have available to guard the children and the house?”

  She thought for a moment. “There’s Willie, of course. And Carruthers. Then there are Frank and Jamie. They work in the stables. And George and Cyril. They care for the lawns.”

  “I’d like to meet with them if you don’t mind,” Caleb said.

  “Of course not. May I ask why?”

  “Considering what happened last night, and the threat Blackboot’s henchman brought right to your doorstep, I consider it wise to be on the alert. I intend to use the men to keep watch for anything unusual.”

  “I see. You think the children might be in danger.”

  Even after last night she still didn’t realize her own peril. She only thought of the children.

  “It never hurts to be prepared,” he answered.

  “Yes of course. I would be grateful to have a plan in place.”

  She turned to leave, but Caleb stopped her yet again. “Thank you for the room. It was very thoughtful of you.”

  Her smile seemed a bit brittle. “I’ll have someone bring your belongings in from the stable. Then I’ll tell Carruthers to gather the men. You can meet with them in your sitting room, or in the room next to the study, if you prefer.”

  She reached for the door, then turned back. “You do know there’s a difference between a duchess and a countess, don’t you?”

  Caleb laughed. “I do indeed, my lady, and yet on occasion it seems to me that my duchess and my countess have more in common than one might think.”

  He’d clearly caught her off guard with his answer, and after a moment’s hesitation she swept out of the room, leaving him to wonder just exactly what she thought of his mischievous remark.

  Chapter 5

  Over the next few days, the men grew accustomed to the schedule he’d set up for them and proved to be able recruits for his purpose. They worked in four-hour watches. Caleb made sure both the manor house and the grounds were covered, and he made unscheduled rounds himself to verify everything was safe. He’d also sent a note to Ford Remington to ask him to send out at least a dozen men, preferably former soldiers, who could be trusted to serve as guards. Between Ford and the other fellows in the Traitor’s Club he felt sure they’d find enough men.

  Fifteen men arrived within the week, reassuring Caleb that he had rendered the children—and Lady Eleanor—as safe as possible here at home. It had turned out to be rather more challenging to convince Lady Eleanor to let them stay than it had been to acquire them in the first place. Food and lodging for fifteen additional adults was no small matter. But the men insinuated themselves rather seamlessly into the environment, and the individual skills they brought in carpentry, gardening, and rodent trapping soon had the lady quietly accepting their presence.

  He’d caught Lady Eleanor in an unguarded moment at breakfast that morning and proceeded to draw her into an explanation of how her Monday night rescues usually went.

  “The ones where I rescue the children? Or you rescue me?”

  Caleb smiled at her quip. It was a good sign, one that said she might be feeling a bit easier around him.

  “Do you always come back with children?”

  “No, not always. Sometimes we return empty-handed, and sometimes we return with up to three or four.”

  “What ages?”

  “From a few days old to ten or twelve.”

  “Why must they be younger than ten or twelve? Aren’t there children who need to be cared for who are older than twelve?”

  She was quiet a moment, and when her words came, he heard the regret behind them. “The older ones are harder, more set in their wayward ways. They find it difficult to . . . trust.”

  Caleb stared at a fragile Italian figurine of two pauper children that sat just inches away on a round three-legged table of inlaid wood. He wondered how it was that he’d never realized how dangerous it was for the children who were left helpless due to no fault of their own. He wondered how the citizens of London had allowed so many children to die without lifting a hand to help them.

  “What happens to the children when they reach twelve?”

  “Our staff knows by then what each child enjoys doing. If they like working with horses, we find a place for them where they can work in the stables. If they enjoy farming, we find a tenant farm where they can live and work. Some of the girls learn to make lace or apprentice to one of the smaller modistes or milliners. I use my name and my grandmother’s influence to find places for them.”

  “Your grandmother’s influence?”

  “Yes. My grandmother is the Duchess of Hampstam.”

  Caleb fought the pressure inside his chest. Lady Eleanor wasn’t only a countess—she was the granddaughter of a duke. He suddenly felt the vastness of the world that lay between his rough muslin shirt and her pretty damask gown. It was a stabbing realization that jarred his common bones and put him soundly in his place.

  It reminded Caleb why he was actually in this beautiful, elegant, noblewoman’s drawing room. And he reminded himself not to get too comforta
ble with it.

  “Where will we go first?” he asked.

  “The first stop will be at Mary Warren’s in upper Saint Giles. We stop only if there’s a light in the window. A light signals she has a child for us.”

  Caleb shifted in his chair, letting his displeasure show. “A light in the window. That’s it? You see a light in the window of a seedy London back-alley tumbledown and that’s all it takes for you to stop your carriage and walk right in?”

  Now it was Lady Eleanor’s turn to squirm. “Well, we’re careful of course. We do check the area before we get out, you know.”

  “Ah,” Caleb nodded. “Of course.” He was fairly certain his sarcasm was not lost on her. But she continued outlining the night’s route.

  “The next stop will be Granny Carver’s. She lives on the second floor above the rag shop at the end of High Holburn. It’s just five or six minutes beyond Mary’s.”

  Caleb looked up. “Same thing? Light in the window?”

  She cleared her throat and nodded.

  “And then?”

  “If there’s room in the carriage, the last stop will be Dora Stafford’s. She lives behind the graveyard.”

  She fell silent.

  “That’s it, then? Mary’s, Granny’s, and Dora’s, then home with the kiddies?”

  Lady Eleanor pursed her pretty lips and lifted her chin. “How many children have you seen here, Captain? How many years have I been doing this, Captain? What would you have me do? Dig a tunnel from here to there? I have a scheme that works, sir. Those children you see beyond the window are here because it works.” She stood. “We leave at midnight Monday. No sooner, no later. You’ll ride in the carriage. And you’ll most likely have a child or two on your lap for the ride home. I expect you to be nice.”

  She walked to the door and he followed suit. “Indeed, ma’am. I shall be sweet as honey.” He turned to leave. “But after this it will be two candles in the window. One tall, one short. Anything other and we won’t be stopping. Be sure to tell your ladies. And we go Thursday. Not Monday.”