by Wolf, Bree
But it was not to be.
Instead, Peter had entrusted him with the care for one he’d loved dearly. Charlaine had been like a sister to Peter and he had doted on her.
Spoiled her, to be precise.
No wonder the girl had opinions, Pierce thought, wondering what she was like today; a young woman, when all he could remember was the little, brown-eyed girl.
As the carriage sloshed through the same puddles on the way back—apparently, the heavens saw fit to drown London this night—Pierce pondered the thought of taking Charlaine into his household. Daphne would adore her, no doubt. But could Charlaine be happy in England? With him? Without those she’d loved? Was there any chance she still remembered him? She had been so young when he’d left.
Sighing, Pierce rested his head against the seat, marveling at the days that shifted the world off its axis and left nothing as it had been.
Albert would be livid.
Pierce chuckled at the thought, holding on to it over the course of the following sennight as London seemed to all but drown in torrents of rain. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the Caribbean. Perhaps Charlie could feel at home here after all.
Chapter Seven
In the Pouring Rain
“Caroline, wake up! Caroline!”
Sarah’s voice, urgent and somewhat anxious, slowly drifted into Caroline’s mind, jerking her from the pleasant oblivion of slumber. Within moments, her eyes flew open, blinking furiously against the almost blinding light from the candle Sarah had set down on her night stand. “What is it?” she murmured, yawning widely, her mind urging her to ignore the intruder and go back to sleep.
“A message arrived from the orphanage,” Sarah rushed to say, her eyes wide and her hands gesturing wildly. “Part of the roof has come down in the storm!”
In an instant, Caroline was wide awake.
Pushing back the blanket, she slipped out of bed and walked over to the windows, pulling back the heavy curtains.
At first, the night seemed like a black wall, shutting out all light before a bright flash zigzagged across the sky like a blade slicing through a dark piece of fabric, cutting it to bits. A moment later, a sharp crack cut through the air, making her eardrums hum with the wave.
Rain pelted her windowpanes, the drumming oddly soothing after the thunderclap a moment earlier. Still, the sight of the raging storm sent goosebumps up and down Caroline’s arms and legs, and she shivered, not because of the cold night air but because of the fear that slowly settled in her bones.
“What are we to do?” Sarah whispered fearfully, casting a tense look over her shoulder at the closed door to Caroline’s chamber.
Caroline’s mind spun. Indeed, what were they to do? If the roof had come down, did that mean someone had gotten hurt? Were the children safe? Somewhere warm and out of the rain? Or was the orphanage uninhabitable now?
“What, exactly, did the note say?” Caroline asked, spinning around to face her friend. She gripped Sarah’s upper arms to keep the young woman focused. “Who sent it?”
“I believe it was one of the nurses.”
Caroline had set up a secure line for her charities to reach her should the need arise. Part of her allowance went to a solicitor, whom they were to contact and who would then send a message in the name of a Miss Rawlings to Caroline so as not to arouse suspicions with her mother and father. At least during the day.
As there was no sensible reason for Caroline to receive any kind of communique during the night, they’d altered their plans accordingly. If any sort of emergency were to arise after dark, a message would be sent to Sarah instead of Caroline, delivered to the servants’ entrance, stating that a cousin had had some sort of accident and required her help.
“Here, see for yourself.”
Taking the note from the pocket of her night robe, Sarah handed it to Caroline, who quickly unfolded it, her hands shaking with adrenaline as she tried to remain calm. “Part of the roof came down. Water is everywhere. We don’t know what to do. Mr. W is unavailable.” Caroline snorted. “Of course, he is. Has that man ever been of any help?”
“What shall we do?”
Closing her eyes, Caroline inhaled a deep breath. “I’ll have to go see for myself. This doesn’t tell us much. We don’t know if the children are in any danger.” Caroline gritted her teeth as a wave of anger caught her off guard. “Blast it! Could this storm not have waited another few weeks?” Only that afternoon, she’d finally received Lady Woodward’s donation. All would have been well in a few weeks!
“Help me get dressed!” Caroline said, rushing toward her wardrobe. “Quickly!”
“I shall come with you.”
“No!” Caroline objected as Sarah helped pull the nightshirt over her head. “You need to stay here and make sure no one notices I’m missing.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. “But you cannot head out on your own. Not at night.”
“It would seem we have no choice. If anyone notices I’ve slipped out, everything we’ve worked for will be lost.” She grabbed Sarah’s hands, her eyes fixed on her friend’s. “We cannot let that happen. I assure you, I’ll be fine!”
Sarah swallowed, then nodded. “Very well.”
Donning a simple day dress, its faded, grey color perfect to blend in at night, Caroline sat down at her vanity, her fingers drumming on the wooden top, while Sarah’s nimble fingers pulled her dark curls into a tight braid. As she was not going out into society, there was no need to powder her hair, to give it that special kind of dullness, nor would she don her spectacles.
After slipping into a sturdy pair of leather boots, Caroline accepted the heavy cloak Sarah was handing to her. She tied it securely before pulling the midnight blue fabric to cover most of her dress. Indeed, glancing in the mirror, Caroline felt assured that she would blend in well and not draw attention.
Taking a deep breath, Caroline pushed all fears aside and tried to focus her mind. “I’d better bring the money,” she whispered, trying to determine how best to proceed. “I’ll go see how bad the damages are, if anyone’s been injured, and then I might stop by Mr. Carpenter’s shop on the way back.” She sighed. “Perhaps he’ll be able to start work on the roof early. Perhaps I can persuade him.”
Sarah nodded, her gaze dropping to the small purse Caroline slipped inside her cloak. “There’s nothing better than coin to convince a man.”
Caroline swallowed. “Wish me luck.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand, then hurried to the door. “And make certain no one is the wiser. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
With a careful glance down the corridor, Caroline slipped out the door, hurrying toward the servants’ stairs in the back. Fortunately, the house slept peacefully at this time of night, and the drumming rain masked all sounds Caroline could not prevent. Only moments later, she found herself slipping out the servants’ entrance into the pouring rain.
Pulling the cloak tighter around her, she hunched over slightly and then ran as fast as she could, out the gate and down the pavement, leaving her father’s house behind. With each step, Caroline felt the fear of being discovered slip away, replaced by another. What would await her at the orphanage?
Quick steps carried her down the street, the long row of trees shielding her from much of the downpour, before she finally spotted a hackney coach. Caroline rushed forward, waving her arm to catch the driver’s attention. Walking the distance in such weather would have, indeed, soaked her through to her skin.
Still, by the time she finally arrived at the orphanage, her hair was a wet mess, tendrils escaping Sarah’s braid in multiple places, and her cloak weighed heavily upon her shoulders, her hem soaked through. However, Caroline barely noticed any of that, her gaze drawn to the building looming above her in the dark.
From where she stood out on the pavement, squinting through the rain, it looked much the same as it always had.
Fearing what she would find inside, Caroline inhaled a fortifying breath before rushing up the few steps and then k
nocking on the doors to be let in. Moments passed, and nothing happened. Again, she knocked and then waited. Caroline prayed that everyone was all right, her fist rising to pound on the heavy door yet again, when she finally heard a key turning in the lock.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a pale-faced young woman. “Mary, what happened? How are the children?”
Relief was palpable on the woman’s face as she ushered Caroline inside. “Oh, Miss Hawkins, I’m so glad you’re here. We don’t know what to do.” She grabbed Caroline’s hand. “Come and see.”
Following Mary, Caroline all but held her breath as they rushed across the front hall, up the staircase and then down a dark corridor toward the western half of the building, the half that she had forced Mr. Wolsey to vacate as it was in serious danger of caving in. “Is this where the roof collapsed?” Caroline asked the moment they came upon a gaping hole in the roof.
Rain poured down unhindered, collecting in a puddle on the floor. The women had already set up buckets and bowls and were rushing to empty the full ones as Caroline came to stand beside them, casting each a tense smile.
“Where are the children?” she asked, glancing at Mary before her gaze once more wandered upward to where a bolt of lightning just flashed across the sky.
“They’re in the east wing.”
“They’re safe?”
Mary nodded. “No one was here when it happened. We heard a loud crash and came running.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Found it like this.” Her hands reached for Caroline’s, grabbing them tightly. “What shall we do? It keeps raining. We don’t have enough buckets to catch it all.”
Caroline sighed, squeezing the young woman’s hands in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “You’re doing all you can do, Mary. We need to wait for the rain to stop before repairs can be made. I’m just glad no one got hurt.” Again, she glanced up at the gaping hole, certain it would increase Mr. Carpenter’s estimate. “I’ll head over to Mr. Carpenter’s office right now and see if I can persuade him to come in sooner.” If this rain continued, who knew what structural damage it would cause.
Relieved she’d asked the driver of the hackney coach to wait for her, Caroline soon found herself rumbling down the street toward Mr. Carpenter’s office. Fortunately, the man lived right above his shop, which made it far easier to track him down considering that, of course, his shop was closed.
Standing out in the rain, Caroline yelled, pounded on the door and then even began throwing pebbles at the upstairs windows.
Huddled in his rain coat, his hat pulled deep into his face, the driver sat up on the box, watching her with amusement, the occasional chuckle leaving his lips.
Caroline gritted her teeth, ignoring the man as best as she could, and was rewarded for her efforts a moment later when lights appeared on the upper floor. Then a window was thrown open and Mr. Carpenter’s head appeared in the opening.
Caroline had never been so relieved to see someone.
After a few more muffled shouts, the man finally came down to open the door and allow her into his shop. “I’ll not be long,” Caroline told him as she pulled off her hood and water from her hem dripped down into a small puddle at her feet. “The roof in the west wing has partially collapsed. A large hole is allowing rain inside. I need you to come first thing in the morning and see to it.”
Hesitant at first, Mr. Carpenter was quickly persuaded when Caroline offered to increase his payment. “I’ll give you the first half now and the second when the roof is fixed. Are we in agreement?”
When all was settled, Caroline stepped back outside, surprised to see that the rain had lessened. Only a fine drizzle was coming down now, and the sky remained dark in the absence of lightning.
A deep sigh left her lips as she thought of Mary and the others, rushing to empty the buckets and keep the rain from seeping farther into the floor. Perhaps now, they’d have a fighting chance. A part of Caroline urged her to return to the orphanage and lend a hand; however, she knew she could not. The longer she stayed out, the more likely it was that she’d be discovered.
Stepping back into the carriage, Caroline instructed the driver to take her back to where she’d first hailed him, not wishing for him to come to any kind of conclusion with regard to her identity. Fortunately, he didn’t seem the least bit interested.
Sitting back in her seat, Caroline exhaled a deep breath as the agitation of that night slowly subsided. She felt her breath come more easily and her pulse slow. As a result, however, she now felt a stark cold seep into her bones, and she began to shiver, unable to find any resemblance of warmth in her sodden clothes. Her hair was still dripping wet, and she felt drops snake their way down her neck and slip under her clothes, adding to the shivers that already assaulted her.
“I’ll be home soon,” Caroline mumbled into the darkened interior as she rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Yes, soon she’d be home. Then she’d shrug out of these clothes and warm up in her cozy bed, under a tall pile of blankets. The thought was heavenly!
“Halt!” a man’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip a moment before the carriage skittered to an abrupt standstill.
Caroline’s eyes flew open, and her pulse once more thudded in her neck. What now?
Chapter Eight
A Masked Man
After the rain had trapped him in the house for the past sennight, Pierce could not deny himself a quick outing even if it was the middle of the night. Who knew when the rain would pick up again? He saw the soft drizzle that currently fell from the skies as a sign to seize this opportunity and make the best of it.
Mounting his black gelding, Pierce pulled the dark cloak tighter around himself, feeling the sting of the wind as it pushed through the deserted streets. His black mask remained safely tucked inside his coat. However, he did not expect to come upon another living soul on a night like this.
The items he’d procured on his last excursion Pierce had already passed along to be sold. Especially the diamond necklace had fetched a nice sum, the entirety of which Pierce had donated—anonymously, of course!—to the Foundling Hospital in Bloomsbury.
As he allowed his steed free rein, Pierce felt his thoughts drawn back to the few moments in his life that had all but upended it; the decision to travel to America, the night he’d found Daphne, Peter’s last request as well as most likely Charlie’s arrival.
Mr. Cameron had promised him to send word immediately upon receiving further information. He’d written to Peter’s solicitor in Kingston, instructing him to buy passage for Charlaine. However, Pierce could not help but wonder if the young woman would even want to leave her home. Despite losing her family, was there something or someone there she would not wish to leave?
The sound of carriage wheels sloshing across wet cobblestone drifted to Pierce’s ears. He blinked, and his gaze focused on the dark outline of a coach up ahead.
A devious grin tugged on the corners of his mouth as he glanced up and down the street, finding it still as deserted as before. Another sign? Reaching inside his coat, Pierce donned the black mask, fastening it securely, before kicking his gelding’s flanks and urging the mount after the vehicle.
In no more than a few of his mount’s large strides, he’d caught up with the hackney coach, then pulled out his pistol, keeping it shielded below his cloak from the soft drizzle that still persisted. “Halt!” he yelled as he pushed his mount into the driver’s line of sight.
As always, the man flinched, then jerked on the reins almost reflexively, pulling the horse to an abrupt stop, his eyes wide and fixed on Pierce. Still, this time, Pierce detected a hint of defiance in the man’s gaze, reminding him to be cautious. Clearly, this man considered being robbed a personal affront. “Down!” Pierce called. “Onto the ground!”
The driver did as instructed, but kept his eyes trained on Pierce, watching with a clenched jaw as Pierce pulled the other pistol from his belt.
“You in the coach,” Pierce addr
essed his peer hiding within as he urged his gelding closer to the door, “step outside! Now!” Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the coachman turn his head to keep Pierce in sight, and he felt his hand clench about the butt, wondering when the man would make his move.
Unlike Lord Huffington, who’d been too drunk to realize what had been happening and thus stuck his head out the window to seek an answer, the door on this coach remained closed. Whoever was inside was clearly debating how to proceed, which tended to rule out an inebriated mind. Of course, someone with a level head was far more dangerous!
Sighing, Pierce threw his right leg over his gelding’s neck and then slid out of the saddle, keeping one pistol trained on the driver at his feet. A part of him wished the man would finally charge him for he disliked the need to split his attention like this.
Approaching the closed door, Pierce intentionally turned away from the driver, his interest seemingly focused on the coach alone. “I said step outside!” he repeated, noting the tension that suddenly gripped the driver’s shoulders.
In the next second, the man kicked out and Pierce barely sidestepped his attack. However, the moment the man pushed to his knees, Pierce flipped the pistol in his right hand and brought its butt down hard on the man’s head.
Instantly, the driver crumpled back down, his eyes closed.
Of course, his head would hurt like hell tomorrow!
Returning one pistol to his belt, Pierce carefully approached the coach. Never before had he known a peer to carry a gun on an outing intended for entertainment and pleasure. However, one could never be too careful.
Standing off to the side, he tried to peek in through the windows, but found the curtains drawn. Annoyed, Pierce huffed out a breath, then as quick as lightning reached for the door, hauling it open.
Everything remained still, and yet, he could have sworn that he heard a sharp intake of breath. In the dim light from the street lamps, however, he saw very little as it seemed the coach’s passenger had retreated to the far corner of the vehicle, the only place where darkness still lingered, hiding him from sight.