by Joan Smith
And what would be the point of that — unless he meant to keep it, sell it and disappear somewhere? He had mentioned America. Or was he planning to open a gambling hell? He seemed to know a good deal about them. And what of Miss Cousens? Did she even exist, did Cousens have a daughter, or had Tommy chosen a rich, well-known name and invented the daughter to give an excuse for treating Elizabeth so shabbily?
“Is there anything I can do, milord?” the butler asked, calling Nicholas back to attention.
When Nick looked around the room and saw the pistol was missing he said, “Call my carriage, at once — and tell them to hurry.”
“And if Mr. Gower should return —”
“He knows where he should be,” Nicholas growled. The butler hastened off to do as he was bid and Nick ran upstairs to search Tommy’s room. The pistol was not there, so wherever he went, and whatever he was doing, he was armed. He looked all around the room for any clue that would give him an idea where Tommy had gone. There was no note on the desk, no letters received or replies partially written, no bills or lOU’s. All that sort of thing would be at his flat.
Anything of a personal nature in the room had been borrowed from himself, or taken without asking permission. A bottle of his best wine, a few rather rare books from the library, one with a wine stain on the leather cover. The boy was a heedless, careless ne’er-do-well. Pray God he was not worse.
Nicholas returned belowstairs where he paced, fretted, imagined all manner of impossible variations on why Tommy had left, and finally snatched up his own pistol and went outside to await the arrival of his carriage. He dashed down the stairs the minute he saw it in the distance and was waiting on the side of the road when it drove up. He hollered up Elizabeth’s address, added, “Spring ‘em,” and hopped in.
Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding. Perhaps Tommy had gone off early to spend the evening with Elizabeth. But why go alone? Why not tell him? Were they laughing together at Tommy’s having gulled him with that story of Miss Cousens?
On Hanover Square, Elizabeth was passing an extremely irritating evening alone, heartily wishing she had asked Nick and Tommy to come earlier. She cast aside a novel she had been trying to read. She had outfitted herself in her working clothes, a round bonnet, a dark suit and sensible walking shoes. Her aunt had retired early for a rare night of catching up on her sleep.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she said, as Nicholas came pelting in. She looked behind him, and asked, “Where is Tommy?”
“Sit down, Elizabeth,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to a sofa. He sat beside her and took her hand to comfort her. He hardly knew whether he was relieved or angry or simply worried that Tommy was not with her.
She squeezed his fingers and asked, “Nick, what is it? Has something happened to Tommy? He hasn’t been arrested!”
“No, he’s shabbed off on us, Lizzie. Gone, sneaked out without a word to me, and took a pistol with him. I hardly know what to think.”
“What? What on earth are you talking about?”
He briefly outlined what had happened, what the butler had told him, finishing up with, “It’s pretty clear he’s going to try his hand at getting the rubies and bolting. And I even lent him a pistol.”
“Nonsense!” she said angrily. “How can you think such a thing of your own cousin, Nicholas?”
“What else am I to think? What possible excuse is there for his sneaking out at this time without telling me? He knows how important this meeting is. This is how he treats us, after all we — especially you, have done for him. Now I shall have to go alone to tackle Hanson, and heaven knows how many men he’ll have with him, or whether Tommy has already got the rubies from Sara and taken off.”
“You cannot go alone. I’ll go with you,” she said at once.
“No, you’re a lady, and have that wounded arm as well. For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t already weaseled the necklace out of Sara with some excuse.”
“I don’t believe for one minute that Tommy has run off for the reason you think.”
“Be realistic, Elizabeth. What other possible reason could there be?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. He always has some rig running, but I know Tommy would not treat me this shabbily. He is reckless and careless to be sure, but he is not bad, Nicholas. It is his manners, not his morals that are at fault. Underneath his bad manners he is kind and thoughtful. Surely you know that. He has had a harder life than you or I, with his mother dying when he was young, and his papa not taking proper care of him. He practically raised himself.”
“I’m afraid you are blind to his faults. His Uncle Alfred tried to raise him properly. The question is, what do we do about it?”
“First, I arrange for a couple of footmen to go with you. You cannot go alone, and I would be little enough help.”
“I think we ought to visit Sara, and see if Tommy has been there.”
“No, if he planned to masquerade as her to meet Hanson, he would have told us.”
“You know that is not my meaning. He might have tried his hand at getting the necklace —”
“I do know it. I also know Tommy better than you do, and I must follow my own feelings. Oh what is the wretched boy up to!”
When the door knocker sounded, they looked at each other, frightened to consider who could be there. “Bow Street,” Nick said in a hollow voice.
“Nonsense, he’s run into trouble and had the sense to send to me for help.”
They were not long in doubt. It was Tommy himself who came pouncing into the room, complaining. “Nick, you dog, why did you come without me?”
Nick was so relieved he didn’t deliver the tirade Elizabeth expected. “Because you weren’t at home, cawker,” he said.
“We agreed to leave around one. I had a little important business to settle first, that’s all.”
“What business?”
“Personal business,” Tommy replied, with a wink behind Elizabeth’s back. “I was at your place in plenty of time. Imagine my shock when old Beazley told me you had left.”
Elizabeth said, “That was extremely inconsiderate of you, Tommy. You should have told Nick where you were going. Where were you? What was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“It’s a long story, but nothing to my discredit I promise you. There’s this girl —”
“I might have known. As long as you weren’t misbehaving, the story can wait for now. We must be leaving, but we’ll expect a full account when we return.”
“It’s really not necessary for you to come at all, Lizzie,” said Nick, who had no intention of waiting hours to learn what his cousin had been up to. “I don’t like to think of you lurking alone on a dark street corner at night.”
“I’ve been worse places,” she reminded him.
“She’ll love it, Nick,” Tommy said.
“You should at least take a footman with you.”
“I have you two,” she reminded him. “Gracious I’m going to be within yards of you. What can happen? I’ll holler if I am attacked by a pack of mad dogs.”
“Lizzie can take care of herself,” Tommy said, smiling at what he considered Nick’s old-maidish idea.
“That’s what she told me the night Sara shot her,” Nick replied angrily.
Elizabeth made little of any danger to herself, but she was insensibly pleased that Nick showed concern for her safety. Unlike that wretch of a Tommy. What new scrape had the scoundrel got himself into, that he had to run off at such a crucial time? Naturally it involved a woman. She was relieved that she would not have to offer to marry him. He was amusing, not really a bad fellow, but totally unreliable. Hardly good husband material. She would always be worrying about what he was up to. Nick, on the other hand ... No, best not to re-open that old wound.
“I shall take Auntie’s silver-knobbed walking stick,” she said. “She only uses it when her bunion acts up. It’s heavy enough to knock a man senseless. Would you like
a glass of wine before we go, or have you already been drinking?” she asked them. “We don’t want you bosky. You’ll need all your wits.”
Chapter Seventeen
The carriage wended its way at a stately pace through the fog-shrouded streets to Grosvenor Square. The regular clip-clop of the team and muted rumble of wheels lent an air of normalcy to the trip. “We’ll talk later,” Tommy said firmly, when Elizabeth, unable to contain her curiosity, asked him to explain his vanishing act. “I want to concentrate now.” His satisfied smile was invisible in the carriage.
The yellow light of street lamps was diffused to a dull glow by fog in the surrounding darkness. The squares of lit windows along the streets were little more than a lightening in the darkness. Traffic was nearly non-existent. It was that hour when guests had already arrived at parties and were not yet leaving. When they were within a block of their destination, the carriage stopped. It had been agreed that they would walk the last block.
The surrounding fog enshrouded them in cold mist as they alit. The three dark forms hurried along the street, the smaller one with a taller form on either side protecting her. “Poor Sara,” Lizzie said. “She’ll be frightened, going alone to meet Hanson, but he insisted she come alone.”
“She has only to go a block and a half,” Tommy pointed out.
“But it’s so dark. I shall hide behind those bushes at Sir George Herring’s house. Where will you two hide?”
“There are no concealing trees or bushes on the north-east corner,” Nick said. “We’ll have to lurk around the side of the house on the other side of the street. He won’t see us looking around the corner in the darkness.”
“Of course you both brought pistols?” was her next worry. Tommy already had his in his hand and showed her. “Try not to use it,” she said, in a motherly way.
“I won’t shoot first,” was his unsatisfactory reply.
“We wait until we see Sara examine the letters and give him the necklace, then we make a run for him,” Nick reminded him. They had discussed all this, but it seemed best to remind Tommy.
“If we can see anything in this demmed fog,” Tommy muttered.
“He’s right,” Lizzie said. “Perhaps it would be best to wait till we see Sara turn to leave him. We can assume then that the exchange has been made. I wonder if she will have the sense to bring a lantern to check her billets doux. I should have told her to. I told her to watch out for us from inside her house when she gets home. She’s to come out and let us know she got her letters.”
When they reached Sir George Herring’s house, Lizzie quietly slipped away and was swallowed up in the fog. She watched the men continue across the street to the corner and disappear from view. She settled down to wait. Half an hour — that wasn’t very long. How eerie London was at night, shrouded by the fog’s mysterious shadows. It was enough to make one believe Nanny’s hobgoblins from one’s youth. She heard an occasional carriage rumble past but could hardly even discern the bulk of its outline. It could be Hanson for all she knew. She peered at her watch, but could not read it. The fog moistened her hair and gown, leaving her chilly, and no doubt turning her hair into a mop of frizz.
After what seemed an age she felt cramped and did a few careful bends and twists to ensure being able to move quickly when the time came, smiling to herself to consider what anyone would think should they happen to see her. Goodness, how long a half-hour seemed when you were waiting on pins and needles for something to happen. She wasn’t aware the climax was close at hand.
* * *
Sara slipped silently past, trembling in her patent slippers and peering from side to side. She was not carrying a lantern, but did have her pistol in her pocket. What if Lizzie’s helpers didn’t come? There was no reason to fear Hanson would hurt her, and at least she would have her letters — but could she even see they were the originals, and not copies? She should have brought a lantern.
There! Was that dark form in the distance him? Impossible to tell. It might be anyone, almost any thing. What if it was a footpad, come to steal Auntie’s rubies? She would never get her letters; horrid Hanson would show them to Buckner and he would not marry her. She stopped, waiting, her heart hammering in her throat. If it was indeed Hanson, surely he would come to her. This was the corner where she was supposed to meet him.
Nick and Tommy also saw the dark, amorphous form on the corner. They were close enough to determine at least that it was a man, and from the way he loitered, looking in all directions, they decided it was Hanson.
“This will be easy,” Tommy said. “The gudgeon’s come alone. Well, who could he get to help him? He could hardly tell a friend what he was up to, the bounder.”
Hanson saw Sara, hesitating on the corner, and hastened across the road to her while her protectors watched. When Hanson opened the window of a dark lantern to examine the necklace, the light shone up on his face to confirm that it was indeed him. Then he shone it on Sara’s letters. Tommy trained his pistol on Hanson while the exchange was made. Nick watched Sara examine the letters. Apparently she was satisfied as she handed the necklace over before turning and dashing away. “Now!” Nick said, and he and Tommy pelted forward to attack Hanson.
Their pistols were in their pockets. The two of them against Hanson, they wouldn’t need pistols and preferred not to use them. Before they reached him two men came leaping forward out of the shadows. One was a huge bruiser, the other a smaller, wiry fellow. The smaller one went after Tommy, the other after Nick. To judge by their attack, they were accustomed to this sort of brawl. Hired thugs, in other words.
Caught off-guard, Nick was knocked flat by the bruiser wielding a club. It felt like the kick of a mule when it caught him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He saw as he fell that the smaller one had got Tommy from behind. He was on Tommy’s back, with his hands around his throat. The big bruiser, having felled Nick, was running towards them.
As Nick struggled up, gasping, to try to help he saw Tommy fall forward, and feared he had been choked to death. He underestimated his friend. Tommy was no stranger to a street brawl. He hadn’t fallen, he’d merely lunged forward to throw his attacker off his back. He managed to roll out from under him and rammed his elbow into his attacker’s throat. As the man fell and rolled over, Tommy jumped up.
Elizabeth couldn’t see a thing, but she darted forward, clutching her silver-headed walking stick, when she heard the grunts and thumps of the battle. As she drew closer she was in time to see the big bruiser swinging his club at Tommy’s head and Nick lurching forward to try to stop him. She was relieved to see no one had drawn a pistol, and therefore it was unlikely that anyone would be killed.
What she did not see was Hanson! Had he got away with the necklace after all their work? No, there was a dark form loitering across the street. Hanson, just watching, like the coward he was. Very likely he wanted to see who Sara had got to help her. He hadn’t even the sense to run while he could. He was not looking in her direction, thank goodness.
She stood a moment, undecided. Her instinct was to help Nick and Tommy, but her duty was to get the rubies from Hanson, or all their efforts thus far had been in vain. Oh dear, if only she had a pistol! She really must get one. She scanned the street to see if a pistol had got knocked out of anyone’s hand, but if there was one there she could not see it. She would have to sneak up behind Hanson and knock him out. Thank goodness for Auntie’s stout walking stick. And thank goodness for the fog too. Hanson was watching the brawl. In the fog he wouldn’t see her darting across the street. She stopped a few yards beyond the fight to avoid his detection, then crossed the street.
She made a wide circle behind him before quietly approaching from the rear with stick raised to strike. Pity he was wearing a hat. That would lessen the force of the blow. She would have to put all her strength into it. He wore his curled beaver at a cocky angle, tilted over one eye like a race track tout. She’d go for the other side of his head. She took aim and swung the walking st
ick. The silver knob hit the back of his head with a dull thud, his hat flew off, he lurched forward but did not fall to the ground. She re-aimed and hit his uncovered head before he had time to look around. That did it. She watched him fall forward on his face, just as he had when she hit him with the vase in his flat. She succeeded this time without the assistance of a table for him to knock his head on. She was then confronted with the job of rolling him over, and he was a heavyset man.
He might come to before she got the rubies. He might even try to kill her. Oh dear, what to do? She had to set down her waking stick to get her two hands under his shoulders and try to roll him over, but she kept it within easy reach. His body didn’t budge an inch, but one arm rolled into view. Luck was with her. He had the necklace clutched in his fingers. She snatched it, put it in her pocket, picked up the walking stick and ran like the wind back across the street to help Nick and Tommy. She saw at once that they didn’t need her help. The big bruiser was lying on the ground and the smaller one was just taking to his heels.
She was about to join them when an elegant crested carriage approached and drew to a stop. The door opened and a gentleman stepped out. Lord Tomson! Oh dear, she mustn’t let that old gossip see her. There was Hanson to worry about as well. He might come to at any moment and try to get the rubies from her. Best to take them to the carriage and wait there.
“Tommy! Tommy Gower, is that you?” Tomson called. “What mischief are you up to now? Is there some trouble? Ah, and Carbury! What the deuce happened?”
“We’re fine,” Nick called back. “Just a footpad. He tried to relieve me of my purse.” He watched in satisfaction as the big bruiser darted away.
“Shocking!” Tomson said. “I saw two of them. They’re traveling in pairs now. What next? Gangs of ruffians out terrorizing decent people. I shall write a letter to the Times. Can I give you a lift?”