Shattered Dreams

by King, Rebecca

  She immediately felt cold and clammy. The world swirled, and her sickness increased as her fingers trembled with a mixture of fear, worry and shock.

  “Tilly?”

  She jumped to her feet and hurried toward the house. She couldn’t go in through the back door because the kitchen was rendered useless, but desperately needed a few moments to herself before she humiliated herself thoroughly.

  “I will be back in a moment,” she gasped before she clamped a hand over her mouth, and raced around to the front of the house.

  Harry followed her, a dark frown of concern on his face. At the sound of her retching he froze.

  “Are you alright darling?” He called from the study door.

  “I will be back out in a minute,” Tilly gasped, and silently prayed that he wouldn’t follow her.

  “Are you sure? Do you want a glass of water, or something?”

  “Yes, please,” Tilly replied but then realised that he would have to bring it to her. “But I will come out for it. I won’t be a moment.”

  Harry stayed where he was. He wanted to go to her and see for himself that she really was alright, but she clearly wanted to be by herself for a few minutes.

  There really was no danger now. He suspected that Johnson was already miles away or, at the very least, at the house across the other side of town. With everyone else tied up and under heavy guard, Tilly really was perfectly safe, and could be given what she so desperately needed; some privacy.

  He reluctantly decided to give her some time to herself, and quietly left to fetch her a glass of water.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tilly stepped out from behind the retiring screen, relieved that the last of the sickness had finally faded. To her utter horror, she walked straight into a middle aged woman whom she knew only as Mrs Bolsworthy.

  “Do exactly as you are told and you will not be hurt,” the woman whispered. She stared hard into Tilly’s eyes at the same time that she pointed her gun at Tilly’s temple.

  Tilly shivered and felt the cold bite of metal dig painfully into her tender skin. She closed her eyes and began to pray, and now fervently wished that she had accepted Harry’s support, and that he was there with her now.

  “Turn around,” the woman, Johnson, growled.

  “No,” Tilly declared flatly. She was sick of being pushed around and threatened by these people. She looked at the woman accusingly. “You lied to me.”

  Johnson snorted. “You were nothing more than a mere pawn.”

  “I trusted you, and you lied about there being a job here,” Tilly whispered, her voice heavy with betrayal. “God, you hateful creature.”

  “Turn around.”

  “No.”

  Johnson cocked the gun. The click was loud in the silence of the room.

  Tilly slowly turned around.

  The woman suddenly yanked her backward, and slid one arm across her shoulders while her other hand pointed the gun at her temple.

  “You are coming with me.”

  Tilly had no choice really because she was dragged awkwardly toward the door. Words were not possible because of the tight pressure across her throat, but she wasn’t sure what she would say if she could take a breath to speak.

  As she was dragged toward the front door, she could hear Zack and Suzanna chatting just around the corner, and the men discussing the prisoners in the back garden, but couldn’t call out.

  She wanted to struggle; to wriggle, twist and writhe, but she daren’t do anything that might cause the woman behind her to pull the trigger. The small circle of metal that pressed so cruelly against her flesh was a constant reminder that this was no game; this was a fight – a fight for survival.

  Unfortunately for Johnson, she was unable to keep the pressure on Tilly, handle the gun, and drag her captive toward the door, all at the same time.

  Tilly finally managed to ease the pressure on her throat enough to draw a proper breath.

  “You were inside the house all the time,” Tilly gasped in dismay.

  “When everyone disappeared around the back, it was easy to get in because the idiots left the door wide open. I have been waiting for you,” Johnson sing-songed as they stepped outside.

  “You lied to me,” Tilly accused. “You lured me here so you could sell me to your highest bidder,” she gasped.

  “I don’t have any bidders,” Mavis Johnson snapped. “I am my own boss.”

  The triumph in her voice warned Tilly that the woman was either completely ruthless, or a little unstable.

  She had no option but to back-step in the direction that Johnson wanted. However, she began to pray that someone – anyone – would come to see what was taking her so long.

  Where was Harry with that water? She thought desperately, and almost groaned aloud when she remembered that she had told him that she would go to him.

  Her mind latched onto Harry, and she felt an almost overwhelming feeling of love sweep through her. To her amazement, with that love came such considerable strength that Tilly started to win the battle against the panic that had begun to build within her. What she had shared with Harry last night had been indescribable, and had changed her in many ways, not just physically. She belonged to him now, and that thought alone gave her the confidence to face what she had to do to regain her freedom, and get back to him.

  With that thought forefront in her mind, anger began to build at the deviousness of the woman behind her, and it fuelled her determination not to let Johnson get her own way. She had only just found the man of her dreams. Someone like Johnson was definitely not going to deny her happiness now.

  Unfortunately, in spite of her bravado, they were unchallenged as they walked down the front steps toward the driveway. Tilly’s gaze turned to the side of the house and, as she was dragged down the drive toward the main road, she began to pray that someone would come and look for her.

  Although she tried to reassure herself that Harry and his friends were just around the corner, by the time she had been dragged almost half-way down the drive, panic began to take hold.

  Determined not to be left at the mercy of the odious creature any longer, Tilly deliberately went limp in a desperate attempt to slow Johnson down and unbalance her enough to make walking anywhere difficult.

  Behind her she could hear the soft snort of a horse, and was busy thinking of ways to alert everyone to her problem when Johnson suddenly spoke.

  “I am going to shoot her if you don’t get out of my way.”

  “You are going to have to get through me if you want to take her anywhere,” Harry snarled.

  It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but he carefully ignored Tilly’s pained whimper. He stared at the carriage Johnson had parked at the end of the driveway, and cursed his own stupidity. Given how many people Johnson had working for her, and how they needed to move themselves, and their captives around the county, it was inevitable that they would need more than one carriage.

  He hadn’t stopped to think about it before, but there had been a carriage in the barn when he had searched Johnson’s house with Joseph the other day. Johnson had arrived in a second carriage while they had been inside. He had no doubt that if he went to the top road on the other side of the woods, a second carriage would be waiting to take the victims to Stepney Mallet.

  Tilly felt tears well at the wonderfully reassuring sound of his voice. Those rich, husky tones were so calm and controlled that she immediately began to feel some of her tension wane. The need to turn around and see him was desperate, but the tight hold Johnson had on her prevented her from doing anything apart from follow her captor.

  “You are not going to trade her, I can promise you that,” Harry reported firmly. “You die too if you hurt her, only yours will be a slow and painful death, I can assure you.”

  His eyes met and held Johnson’s. She read the cool authority in his stance and studied each of the men around them belligerently, but gave no indication that she was prepared to accept defeat.
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  “You see, we know all about you,” Harry challenged, when Johnson didn’t immediately reply. “Not only do we have Suzanna and Zack, but the other two young girls you effectively snatched off the streets as well. Abduction, false imprisonment, theft, people smuggling, arson, are all crimes that warrant the ultimate prison sentence.”

  “I am not people smuggling,” Johnson declared with an arrogant toss of her head.

  In her youth Mavis Johnson, aka Mrs Bolsworthy, would have been fairly pretty. Unfortunately, the ravages of time had not been kind. There was a jaded wisdom about her that was deeply disturbing because Harry knew from past experience that people; hardened criminals like her, didn’t usually have much left in life to lose, and did whatever desperate deeds they needed to do in order to maintain their freedom.

  “Taking people to sell them is people smuggling,” Harry snarled.

  “I don’t people smuggle,” Johnson declared flatly.

  “You are abducting people, confining them against their will, and selling them. That is people smuggling.”

  “I am not selling them,” Johnson snapped with a sigh.

  “Do you really expect me to believe that you give them away?” Harry challenged.

  “Of course I don’t give them away, you stupid man,” Johnson declared with a toss of her head. “I use them myself.”

  Harry stared at her. Suddenly, the penny dropped.

  “You snatch them and force them to work for you, in your brothels. You are forcing these young women and boys to prostitute themselves for you. You render them destitute, and then leave them to suffer the indignities of the poor house so that they understand just how bad their lies have become. Then you take them and offer them lodgings, as long as they sell themselves for you. They get pittance in the way of wages, if any, and have no hope of ever finding their way home. It is perfect for you, isn’t it? I mean, by the time they have worked at your brothel, even if they could leave, none of them would want to go, would they? They are whores. Shame stops them from making a desperate bid for freedom, and trying to go back to their families.”

  “Jesus,” Barnaby growled. “You madam, are the scourge of society.”

  “Just tell me one thing?” Harry growled but didn’t stop talking to give her the time to answer. “How did you get access to the people?”

  “It was easy,” Johnson declared arrogantly. “I have a brothel in London. Some of my regulars are high society. It is easy to use them, and their acquaintances, to find the right servants; scullery maids and the like. I visit them in their houses and ask about the staff they have available who might serve our purposes.”

  Tilly scoffed at that. “Lady Attingham would have never associated with a common whore. She wasn’t that kind of person.”

  Johnson snorted disparagingly. “Lady Attingham didn’t, but her husband certainly did. He was a regular of mine, as a matter of fact.”

  Tilly felt her stomach churn again.

  “How did you get to Tilly though?”

  “I visited Lady Attingham to blackmail her. Once it gets out into society that certain people use my whore house, they are socially ruined. Especially if people in society find out about their somewhat risqué tastes.” She glanced meaningfully at Zack. “It is easy to blackmail them, and get them to provide me with people like her.”

  Tilly felt sick at the worst betrayal she had ever suffered in her entire life. Although she was a servant, she had trusted Lady Attingham with her life. It was horrifying to think that the woman had put Tilly’s name forward in an attempt to make sure that her own name remained unsullied.

  “Did you kill Attingham?” Harry growled with a frown.

  “Of course not. The daft old bat was already half off her rocker, but I managed to convince her that her adored husband had been visiting me. She asked me what I wanted. I told her that I needed someone to join my erm – services. She told me she had a young girl, her housekeeper, without family. It was perfect.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Oh, various ways. I have been at this business for many a good year. I can confidently say that there is nobody I don’t know in the upper echelons of society.”

  “God, you are sickening,” Tilly whispered. It was truly horrifying to hear the casual way the woman spoke about destroying numerous people’s lives, and she felt nothing but revulsion toward her captor.

  Harry turned to Barnaby. “How long should Joseph be?”

  Barnaby studied his fob watch. “About half an hour.”

  “When the jailers arrive, they can take you too,” he snarled contemptuously at Johnson.

  “Ha! You are going to get out of my way. We are going to leave here.”

  “If you shoot her, you have four heavily armed men to face. I don’t stand your chances much,” Harry challenged dismissively.

  “I am not going to kill her. I am going to take her with me for collateral,” Johnson declared coldly.

  “I am not going anywhere with you. Shoot me,” Tilly snapped, suddenly fiercely angry at the woman’s audacity. She started to tug on the arm that held her still, and squirm against the tight hold. Although the woman was heavy, she was also decidedly older, and Tilly had youth and agility on her side.

  “Tilly,” Harry murmured carefully, but couldn’t look into her eyes to warn her not to antagonise her captor.

  Tilly immediately became still. However, sudden movement to her left caught her attention and her eyes widened as she saw Marcus take aim.

  “So, Johnson, what do you plan to do?” Harry asked conversationally. As he spoke, he shifted to one side so that he wasn’t caught if Marcus’s shot went wide. “What will you do with Tilly if you do succeed in getting her away from here? You can hardly take her to one of your brothels. We will follow you. Once we are there, we will ask the people in the brothel how they came to work for you. The extent of your crimes will become clear. No wonder you can afford the luxurious lifestyle you enjoy. Unfortunately for you, Johnson, your little empire is set to crumble, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  He got the reaction he wanted, and saw the flash of fire in Johnson’s eyes as glared spitefully at him.

  Tilly watched as Marcus held three fingers up and motion for her to drop to the ground on the count of three. She didn’t dare nod, but used her free hand to copy him as he began to count.

  Her heart pounded in her ears while she counted. Marcus took aim.

  The loud retort of the gun echoed in her ears so loudly that, for a moment, she couldn’t hear anything else. She landed on the floor with a heavy thump and lay dazed on the grass for several long moments. Before she could open her mouth to take a say anything to anyone, desperate hands rolled her over, and she was wrapped in the safety of Harry’s arms.

  He peppered her face with kisses while he willed his trembling to stop. The wild screams of the banshee type woman behind them as she was restrained faded into the background as he looked deeply into Tilly’s eyes.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “God, I adore you,” he replied gently, and captured her lips in a tender kiss. “I don’t know about you,” he sighed when he finally lifted his head. “But I have had enough of Tooting Mallow to last me a lifetime.”

  In spite of the morning’s traumas, Tilly smiled. “I have to admit that I shall not be sorry to see the back of it.”

  They both watched as Johnson was restrained, and had her flesh wound padded before she was dragged around to the side of the house. Rather than sit her with her co-conspirators, they sat her by herself, and pointedly ignored her hissing curses and foul epithets while everyone waited for Joseph and the jailer’s cart.

  “What happens to them now?” She nodded to the garden that now contained four captives.

  “They are off to Battlington jail. They have many crimes to account for, and will undoubtedly remain there for many, many years to come.”

  She smiled at the satisfaction in his eyes and, for the first time that day, sl
owly began to relax.

  “What happens now?” Although she asked the question, she wasn’t sure whether she was asking him about her situation; their relationship; or his investigation into the captives at the back of the house.

  Professional to the core, Harry replied. “The people in the poor house will be interviewed by Sir Hugo when he arrives. Those who genuinely have nowhere to go will be looked after by the new interim governor. The place is being staffed by guards from the prison for the time being. The local magistrate is the temporary custodian upon instruction from Sir Hugo. Whoever the new governor is, it is safe to say that the people who remain at the poor house will be considerably better fed, free to go whenever they please, and won’t need to do meaningless tasks for any of the warden’s enjoyment.”

  “What about the people who have been kidnapped before?”

  Harry wrinkled his nose up. “There is nothing we can do to change their situation, obviously. However, if they have families they want to go back to, Sir Hugo will ensure they receive assistance to get home. They don’t have to tell anyone what has happened to them while they have been away.”

  “What about those who don’t have homes, like Zack?”

  Harry opened his mouth to reply only to stop to watch the jailer’s cart turn into the road. Satisfied that the end was near, he turned his attention to answering her.

  “Now that the owner is off to jail, the brothels will now be closed down. Her workers will, unfortunately, have to move on. Some of the workers will undoubtedly make their way to their local poor house. However, there will be some who will want to continue to ply their trade. It’s their decision really, not ours.”

  “I meant to talk to you about Zack,” Tilly sighed. She flicked the laces of his shirt for several moments while she tried to find a way to broach the subject.

  Eventually he tipped her head up and looked deeply into her eyes. “He has to come with us to Cumbria, but not as a servant,” Harry said firmly. “I don’t want him to work for me. He needs an education, and will enjoy playing in the hills and moors around there. It will be ideal for him.”