Cinders And Ashes
The Cavendish Mysteries
Book Two
By
Rebecca King
REVISED EDITION
29TH APRIL 2013
Cinders And Ashes
Rebecca King
Copyright 2013 by Rebecca King
Smashwords Edition
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOREWORD
PENNY DREADFULS & DEATH MASKS
Penny Dreadfuls
During the 1700s, execution broadsides were sold amongst the crowds who flocked to view hangings of convicted criminals. They would show a drawing of the hanging (or person being hung), and would detail the crime, people involved and sometimes even include a confession from the criminal. Although they weren’t always an accurate depiction of events, the criminal would sign the top with an X (if they couldn’t write their name).
Due to the gruesome nature of the crimes the broadsides detailed, and the fact that they cost a penny each, they were given the nickname ‘Penny Dreadful’ by the crowds who purchased them.
In the Victorian era, Penny Dreadfuls became very popular featuring fiction stories, which were often gory horror stories targeted at young boys. They became an early form of serial magazines.
Death Masks
As artist drawings weren’t always accurate (and there was no photography), death masks were often taken of criminals as an accurate way of taking images of people hung.
Once the convict was dead, they were cut down from the gallows. A cast was taken of the face, which was then bronzed. The body was covered in quicklime; before being buried in a pauper’s grave which the convict had dug themselves the day before their execution.
Although very few death masks still exist, three have been loaned by Derbyshire Constabulary and are currently on display at Derby Gaol.
Original Penny Dreadfuls detailing hangings at Derby Gaol and Friargate, and three death masks of convicts hung at Friargate, are on display at Derby Gaol’s museum.
www.derbygaol.com
My sincere appreciation goes to Edd Felix at Derby Gaol, for his help and assistance. Also, to Pete for his fabulous ghost walks (you got me in the end!).
My thanks also go to the British Library Rare Books Team for their invaluable expertise.
** My sincere appreciation also goes to Julia Gibbs for her professional input on grammar, punctuation, spelling and consistency of this manuscript. ** 29th April 2013
PROLOGUE
Bitter frustration rose within Sebastian Cavendish, as he glanced through the open door of the wildly swaying carriage into the gaping black void beyond. Consciousness, when it had returned moments earlier, had thundered through his head with shockingly brutal speed. He wished it hadn’t. He was about to die, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to prevent it.
Swearing fiercely, he tugged ineffectually against the tight bonds on his wrists. He couldn’t die yet. He simply couldn’t. He hadn’t even scratched the surface of the things he wanted to achieve with his life. Marriage. Children. Old age. Now, it was all going to be denied him by the ruthless actions of the man opposite.
Fighting growing desperation, Sebastian glared across the small space at his kidnapper with hatred in his eyes.
Howling winds drove the rain sideways, lashing the sides of the rocking coach as it sped through the night. Sebastian’s shoulders were soaked as he stared in dread at the brief flashes of hedgerow barely visible through the doorway. He considered the chances of getting out alive. It didn’t look good.
The heavy rumbling of the carriage wheels, together with the banging of the wildly swinging carriage door, was deafening. Accompanied by the rapid thud of horses’ hooves, the volume of noise matched the heavy pounding in his head with equal fervour.
“Stand up!” The low growl of his captor was accompanied by the tightening and jerking of his sodden shirt as he was unceremoniously dragged into a sitting position.
Sebastian’s head swirled in protest. For a brief moment, he thought he would lose the meagre contents of his battered stomach all over the man’s boots. For some godforsaken reason, he had the wild urge to laugh at the absurdity of his captor’s order. His hands were painfully bound behind his back. With the carriage rocking and swaying beneath them, it was an impossible order for a healthy person to carry out. It was a damned near impossible task for someone who had been kidnapped, and starved for days before being beaten unconscious.
Belligerently, Sebastian spat a defiant epithet and watched cynically as Rat staggered left and right as he tried to keep his balance in the wildly swaying carriage. The hand he pushed against the roof of the carriage did little to help him remain upright against the dipping and jostling movement. Once or twice Rat cursed, and pushed himself to his feet, only to fall onto the opposite side of the carriage with another curse.
“Stand up, I say!” Rat ordered. He was clearly unaware of how ridiculous he looked.
Sebastian’s lip curled in arrogant contempt. With slow deliberation, and no small measure of satisfaction, he ignored the myriad of aching bruises along his back and ribs and slumped lower onto the filthy floor. He glared defiantly at his tormentor as he pushed his back against the seat of the decrepit carriage.
The tall, almost cadaverous man staggered over to him. Eventually, he braced his hands on the seat on either side of Sebastian’s broad shoulders, and peered down into his face with a cruel, mocking smile.
“Take a look, my lord.” His tormentor grinned toothily at him, as he pushed his grubby face closer. Cruelly he grabbed a handful of Sebastian’s thick black locks, snapping his head back painfully. Sebastian closed his eyes rather than meet his captor’s stare, only to snap them open again when his head was yanked around to face the open carriage door. He felt the hot putrid breath of his tormentor in his ear.
“Listen to the winds,” Rat whispered tauntingly. “See the ground. With luck, you’ll break your legs and have to wait for the weather to get you.” The glee lacing the whisper was followed by a cold snigger of malicious delight at the prospect of Sebastian’s slow and painful demise.
“Do you really think my brothers will allow you to get away?” Sebastian’s voice was merciless as he studied the open doorway dispassionately for a moment. Slowly he turned to glare directly into the eyes of the man he had nicknamed Rat, cold belligerence in his steady regard. “My brothers will hunt you down. They won’t rest until they have vengeance.”
Sebastian longed to be able to break the bonds, and pound the thin man until the life left his body. He took little consolation from the slight hesitation he could see in Rat’s confident boasting.
“You know who we are, and the connections we have. There is nowhere you can go, and nothing you can do, to hide from your crimes. So far you have committed kidnap, assault and murder.” Sebastian’s voice dropped to a low growl and he took a random guess. “Your boss had better have paid you well, because he has paid you for your life.”
He watched as the smirk left Rat’s face completely; leaving Sebastian in no doubt that there was a mastermind behind his brutal kidnap two days ago. A mastermind who apparently wanted him dead.
“Do your worst.” Sebastian’s deliberately turned his face forwards once more and stared blankly at the seat opposite, waiting for the inevitable.
A groan locked in his throat when Rat’s boot made solid contact
with his already bruised ribs. Sweat beaded his brow, as burning pain lanced through his side with stunning ferocity. Cursing fluidly beneath his breath, it took every ounce of willpower Sebastian possessed to stoically keep his face impassive.
It took several moments before his eyes focused once more on the torn material of the seat opposite, and he could begin to breathe again. Despite the pain, he felt a brief flicker of satisfaction that his cool acceptance of his fate had stymied Rat’s delight.
As a brief moment of silence fell, Sebastian felt the pervading sense of doom thicken as his final moments drew closer. Any moment now, Rat would push him out of the carriage. At the speed they were tearing through the storm-tossed night, if he didn’t hit a tree on his way out, he would certainly hit the ground far too heavily. There would be little chance of surviving the injuries the impact would leave him with. If he didn’t break his neck, as Rat had gleefully pointed out, he would have to lie and wait for death to claim him. It would be a slow and merciless death indeed.
“Time to go.”
Sebastian wondered briefly if he should just take matters into his own hands and jump out, but his fighting instinct wouldn’t allow him to hand himself over to death meekly. He had fought the French, and returned in one piece - almost. He wasn’t going to go at the hands of a little rodent; whoever his boss was.
Digging his heels down and dropping his shoulders, he knew his weight was significantly more than Rat’s. The thinner, lighter man would have to work hard to get him out of the carriage.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on his sodden clothing and the filth on the grimy carriage floor easing his slide towards the door.
Despite his bravado, Sebastian’s stomach lurched as he slid closer to the doorway. Cold winds blew inwards, grasping at his bare skin with icy fingers. The carriage jolted heavily as it lurched through a deep dip in the road. Sebastian swore as his shoulder slammed into the door frame, pushing his head out of the carriage door. Immediately, cold rain pelted down onto his head, soaking his jet black hair. He stared at the myriad of stones and dirt passing too quickly beneath the carriage, and cursed again.
It took every ounce of strength he had to twist his hips around enough to pull himself upright, bringing his sodden head back into the carriage with a shudder. Shaking rainwater out of his eyes, he wondered why Rat hadn’t just pushed him out while he had had the chance. All the man had needed to do was lift his legs up, and Sebastian would have disappeared into the night as planned.
Through the gloom he spied the skinny man braced on the opposite side of the carriage, desperately trying to gain purchase with his feet as the carriage dipped and swayed alarmingly.
“For God’s sake, Danvers, slow down. We’re to kill him, not us!” Rat’s frantic shout was immediately snatched by the howling winds.
His orders made little difference to the coach driver who, Sebastian suspected, had long since left the conveyance. No carriage driver who knew what he was doing would attempt to drive through such a fierce storm, at such breakneck speed, without having a death wish.
As an experienced horseman, Sebastian knew the panicked squealing of the horses indicated the reins were loose, allowing the horses freedom to run wild. They were scared and confused, and would probably run for miles until they fell, or the carriage broke apart behind them.
Despite their desperate situation, Sebastian shot the panicked man a snide grin.
“Looks like you are going to have to join me, Rat. Danvers has departed.” His tone was almost conversational, as he eyed the panic in the smaller man’s eyes. “Death awaits us.”
He watched as Rat paled and gripped the swinging straps tighter, swearing loudly as the carriage lurched onto two wheels. It almost tipped into the night, only to right itself at the last moment, before continuing to bounce along on its breakneck journey.
Feeling no sympathy with the smaller man’s own demise, Sebastian lurched clumsily to his feet. He took several fortifying breaths as he studied the passing swirl of rain and shadows beyond the door. He knew he couldn’t look out of the carriage door to check for trees before jumping.
He had a choice. He could either die within the carriage with Rat, or die on the roadside.
Sebastian had only ever seen a carriage accident once. The sight of the blood-soaked interior was something that had haunted him for many months. He had absolutely no intention of dying the same way.
Without bothering to look back, Sebastian sent a silent prayer heavenwards, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the darkness.
CHAPTER ONE
Amelia pulled the meagre protection of her cloak tight around her shoulders, and glared accusingly at the rain clouds darkening the night sky.
You’re going to be soaked before you get to the edge of the woods, Amelia thought blackly, as she stepped out of the luxurious warmth of the house and into the deluge of rain. The timid light of her lantern was snatched by the ferociously howling winds within seconds, and immediately she was encased in darkness so thick she could barely see her hand before her face.
Sighing deeply in her most put-upon way, she carefully closed the door and turned to look at the black mass of trees in the distance, with a shudder. Her shortest route home was through the woods.
Although the path was uneven, she felt reasonably secure walking through the woods because of the reputation they had among the villagers for being haunted. The rumours and superstition were enough to keep even the bravest away from the area, even during daylight. Luckily, Amelia had never seen the headless highwayman who was supposed to frequent the area. She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t make a guest appearance tonight.
Peering through the gloom, she eyed the dark path before her with a frown and briefly contemplated taking the road; immediately dismissing the notion when she considered the added distance she would have to walk. At three miles, it was a long enough journey when the weather was nice. With the extent of the rain that had fallen throughout the day, the road would be extremely muddy. Even if one didn’t take into account the fact that walking alone at night was simply asking for trouble, it would be at least an hour before she got home. One long hour alone, in the darkness, battling howling winds and icy rain.
Shaking off the growing sense of unease, Amelia stomped through the garden gate and headed toward the looming bulk of Marchland Woods before her. She had walked the same path every day, since her arrival in the small hamlet of Glendowie two and a half years ago. If she kept to the trail, then she should have no problem in getting to the small stone cottage she called home.
“Stop it, you are fine,” Amelia muttered aloud, desperately trying to ignore the imposing darkness that seemed to embrace her. Despite her false bravado, her unease grew with each passing step. She briefly wished she had accepted Sir Hubert’s offer of the housekeeper’s quarters for the night, but the lure of returning home to her tiny cottage was too great. Stark and sparsely furnished it might be, but she had made it her own and was loathe to leave it, even for one night.
“Nearly there,” she chanted softly, stepping over the myriad roots and branches on the forest floor carefully. If you get there without falling on your face, it will be a fine miracle indeed, she thought as she stumbled on a large root.
As the winds swirled around her, she tightened her hold on the swinging lantern. The cold metal hook bit into her work-roughened palm reassuringly. Although useless for lighting her way, it was heavy and would issue a heavy whack to anyone who chose to attack her. She eyed the shifting shadows around her with a shudder. To someone who was easily spooked, one could almost believe that the shifting shadows were people, and she was surrounded. She quickly blanked that unnerving thought out and lengthened her stride, desperately trying to think of something else.
Her mind immediately latched on to the haunting, almost howling noise, created by the ferocious wind howling through the leaves and branches high above.
At least now you know why they call it the haunted woods, Amelia thou
ght with a shiver.
“Great, spook yourself why don’t you!” she snapped aloud, when the cracking of a branch beneath her feet made her squeal in alarm.
With fear nipping at her heels, she broke into a run.
It seemed to take an age before she finally saw the thin road marking the end of her journey.
“Oomph!” The rattling of the lantern hitting the ground was accompanied by her squeal of surprise, as she landed on the ground with a thud.
Stunned, she lay face-down in the dirt for several moments trying to regain her breath. Her heart hammering, she peered through the gloom toward the soft mound her legs were lying on. Whatever it was certainly hadn’t been there at dawn when she had left for work.
Quickly drawing her legs upwards and off the lump, she scanned the trees for signs of anyone who may be lurking.
Desperate to find some security, she began patting the floor in wider circles until she found her precious lantern. She didn’t know why she was so eager to retrieve it now. With the winds being so high it was practically useless, but simply holding it gave her a small degree of comfort. She clutched it tight to her chest as she peered through the driving rain towards the lump. She wished she could see enough to find a stick big enough to protect herself. There was something about the huge mound that rang alarm bells within her.
Giving herself a stern shake, she became aware that with each passing moment she was getting increasingly soaked to the skin. Her fingers were already numb from cold. The rain had long since soaked her thin clothing, drawing the last vestige of warmth from her body. If she remained outside for much longer, she would catch a chill and that would be a dire circumstance indeed.
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