CHAPTER 30
The fog finally lifted, and a hazy late summer sun warmed and dried the mud and garbage littered the streets near the docks.
Lydia still did not see any of Lord Darke’s men, but she knew they would appear sooner or later. Several of Mr. Simpson’s committee members, dressed like sailors, stood around the street with an easy view of Lydia. Ian, too, wore some sailor’s scruffy clothing and did his best to blend in with the riff-raff.
Numerous men stopped to chat with Lydia while she stood on the street corner. They continually mentioned the cost of her time. At first she was confused, until one man asked about a very specific and degrading form of sexual act. Horrified, Lydia promptly walked down the street away from him, until he gave up on his quest and left the area. At that point she took up her location on the corner again.
She had been there for only about forty-five minutes, when a black carriage with two dapple-gray horses rolled down the street. Pedestrians scurried to the narrow walkways beside the buildings. The carriage stopped briefly to allow some pedestrians who had not made it to the narrow walkways to finish crossing the road. Then a fruit peddler, taking his time and calling out descriptions of his fine produce, ambled into the roadway.
Ian craned his neck to see what was happening. The fruit cart took forever to get through the intersection, which held the large, dark carriage in place. It was just big enough to block his view of Lydia’s side of the street. When the carriage began to move forward again, Ian prepared to flash Lydia a thumb’s up for reassurance all was well. The sound of a loud cracking noise caused the horses with the carriage to spook and take off at a full run. Ian decided it was the whip for the horses. An uneasy, prickly feeling crept down his neck. He searched for Lydia. She was gone!
Ian’s heart sank. He knew somehow she was in the carriage which raced away. Was it Lord Darke? Or, was it someone else with evil plans for his beloved wife?
“Hell,” bellowed Ian. Mr. Simpson and his men, saw a leg pop up in the air inside the carriage and speed off. They all ran to the spot where Lydia had stood, not more than a minute before.
“How could we not have anticipated this?” moaned Ian. “I was so certain Lord Darke’s men would grab her and take her to the cave. Then all we had to do was follow them.”
“Do not despair,” said Mr. Simpson. “You will not believe how many men I have assigned to this effort. If he was Lord Darke, we will know, and we will know where they went. I have a quite a number of men in the majority of the main tunnels and in a few of the minor tunnels. If Lydia was taken down to the tunnel she was originally kept in, we will know in short order. Our job, for now, is to wait.”
“That is easy for you to say sir. But, she is not your wife!” grumbled Ian.
“Tis true,” said Mr. Simpson. “But then, I never would have made a deal with my wife to be an equal partner, either,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ve enough men down here now, so if she turns up anywhere in the Barbary Coast, we will be informed straight away.”
***
The carriage slowed its pace as it neared the business section of San Francisco. Blindfolded, gagged and hands tied, Lydia lurched forward when the carriage stopped sooner than she expected. The man beside her reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair to keep her from being thrown against the opposite seat.
“Sit back, wench. You’ll get to see me real soon, so quit your struggling,” the voice barked.
Lydia recognized the accent as Scottish. It was a thick Scottish brogue. Perhaps her plan had succeeded better than her cohorts knew. Unfortunately, everyone expected Lydia would be dragged off somewhere – on foot, so it would be easy to keep track of her. No one, including Lydia, expected she would be thrown into a carriage.
Despite the adrenalin pumping through her veins she knew somehow either Ian and his men, or Mr. Simpson and his men would find her.
Keep calm and do not panic. Try to be of assistance to the rescuers when they arrive.
She could try to untie her hands, she thought, or at least loosen them enough so when the time was right, she could use her hands. Edgy hysteria chewed on her fragile hold on calmness. The ‘what if’ scenarios kept popping up in her head. What if my rescuers truly did not know what to do after I was thrown into the carriage? Could they actually catch up with the carriage? Did Sing Hee really know the way to the cave where I was held?
On the plus side, Sing Hee had gifted Lydia with his own five-inch knife for protection, along with a leg strap for her to put it in. She was no longer completely helpless or unarmed. Now she understood where Sing Hee had disappeared to shortly after the wedding, not long before she and Ian returned to the ship. He must have gone back to the ship to get his knife for her. He said it was a wedding gift for her. The blade was very sharp and the handle was a work of art with dragons and flowers etched into the handle. Sing Hee gave her a lesson in how to handle the knife and throw it. Then he handed the scabbard and knife to Ian and requested he strap it to Lydia’s right calf.
Despite Ian’s own personal misgivings about Lydia having such a lethal weapon in her hands which could be used against her, Sing Hee explained if any part of their plans did not work out, she had, at a minimum, some form of protection. However, after their harrowing experience in Fuegia at Cape Horn, Ian also knew she was quite capable of using any weapon in the event circumstances called for it.
After sitting in the carriage for what seemed like forever. She heard voices chattering excitedly. The carriage stopped again. This time, someone opened the carriage door and grabbed Lydia roughly from her seat and dragged her out. A hand cuffed the the side of her head. In the distance, she heard sing-song voices and Scottish brogue all mixed together. A garlic filled breath came very close to her nose and whispered, “You bad woman. No trick me now. Chong Fat get much trouble because of you. Now you get sold to Sheik.”
She said nothing in response, but only because she was gagged.
Chong Fat, she presumed, dragged her down some steps, and her feet clunked on each step. He would not let her stand up. She recognized the dank odors of the tunnel system. At least something was going the way it had been planned. She knew Ian and Mr. Simpson’s men, disguised as seamen, would be hanging out in numerous locations throughout the tunnel system. Surely, someone would notice her plight and report back to one of the men immediately. Rescue could not be too far away.
She was anxious for Chong Fat to take off the blindfold. She wanted to learn the identity of the mysterious Lord Darke. Repeatedly she told herself to keep calm and to not let anger and indignation take over common sense. The goal in this entire operation was to capture Lord Darke and to see him punished in such a way he could never again engage in the sale of human beings.
Keeping her temper in check proved to be very difficult for her. It seemed every few minutes Chong Fat found another reason to cuff Lydia on her head – never her face, though. Chong Fat knew if so much as one bruise appeared on her, the Sheik might hesitate to buy her.
The clanging of the washtub being kicked around the floor of the cave rang in Lydia’s ears. The room actually began to warm up. She could hear the soft bubbling of water. Still, no one took off her blindfold, removed her gag, or untied her hands. So she sat where Chong Fat placed her, listened to all the sounds around her, and tried to gauge her situation for her first opportunity to catch the attention of one of the men looking for her.
“In the meantime, get her bathed,” a voice commanded. “I expect a premium price for such a spirited wench, and I will not get that price if she is not clean and presentable. When you get her to bathe, don’t dare to touch her. Untie her hands so she can bathe herself, and I will be back in twenty minutes.”
Absolute silence.
“Do you ken what I am saying, Chong Fat? The same goes for all of you. Give her a rag and some soap to bathe with – but let her do it herself. I don’t want your hands all over her. I may try her out – for size, so to speak. But if any of you
infidels dare to lay a hand on her or to bruise her in any way, you’ll meet the same fate your friend Ling Po met last month. I will give you to my friend the Sheik for his male harem. I hear that Ling Po’s voice is several octaves higher now,” he laughed.
Shuffling noises and meek “yes sirs” filled the air.
The blindfold came untied, and the gag was pulled out of her mouth. Lydia’s lips and tongue were dry as paper. She squinted while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. She was, in fact, back in the same tunnel chamber. Hopefully, Ian and his men heard Lord Darke say he would be back in twenty minutes, so they would not attempt to free her until his return. She suspected Lord Darke may have gone to send a note to the Sheik.
A large washtub sat on the floor about ten feet away from her. Chong Fat and two others filled the tub with hot, steaming water. A chip of soap and a rag lay on the table.
“You. Missy. Get undressed,” ordered Chong Fat, while pointing at her.
She sat there without moving. Chong Fact busied himself with pouring another bucket of warm water into the tub.
He looked up after filling the pan with more water to heat up.
“You! Get undressed. Now. You hear Lord Darke.” He plodded over to Lydia and lifted his hand as though to slap her again. At the last moment he put his hand down and mumbled something in Chinese.
“You, dolt,” growled Lydia. “How can I possibly get undressed when you have left my hands tied behind my back?” Although she had managed to loosen the bindings a little, she knew she needed to play for time to delay the inevitable until Lord Darke returned. She really did not want to be naked and in a tub when Ian and a whole group of men came to her rescue.
His slippers slapped the floor with each step as he waddled over to look behind Lydia’s back. No awards for intelligence would ever come his way; all he understood was brute force. He pulled out his knife from the scabbard attached to his belt and deftly sliced the roping from Lydia’s wrists.
She quickly brought her hands to her lap and began rubbing them together to get circulation back in them.
“Now, take off clothes,” came Chong Fat’s unrelenting phrase.
Very slowly, Lydia fumbled with the back of her dress as though she were undoing the hooks. In reality, she did nothing but make certain they were secure.
Footsteps pounded loudly in the tunnel. Someone was coming. She held her breath and hoped it was not yet Ian. If he came too early, it might ruin their plans to capture Lord Darke.
She need not have worried. She turned just in time to see a tall, portly man enter the room. He was dressed completely in black and wore a black cape, in spite of the fact it was summer. This had to be Lord Darke, she thought. He appeared just as Sing Hee had described him – rather tall, light brown hair, rather portly, and a distinctive mole under his eye on his right cheek.
Fury sparked in his eyes. “Why is she not bathed yet? The Sheik will be here in an hour. Are you all such idiots you cannot follow simple directions?”
He marched over to Lydia, smiled down at her, then reached out, grabbed the bodice of her dress, and ripped it away from her. Her breasts fell naked for all to see. She snatched the torn remnants of cloth to cover herself. Just as she shielded her breasts with the flimsy cloth, Lord Darke, walked behind her and tore away the pieces of satin holding the remainder of the upper part of the dress together. For good measure he gave an extra tug on what was left of her dress fell to her waist.
“I want you completely naked and in that tub in one minute, or I will finish ripping your clothes off for you.”
Lydia gasped in a deep breath. Perhaps she did not have the luxury of waiting for help. No assistance had arrived yet, and the minute she complied with Lord Darke’s order to remove the rest of her clothing, they would see the knife strapped to her leg. Surprise was the only advantage she had going for her right now.
Since Lord Darke shredded the back of her dress, Lydia could no longer fuss with the hooks in the back – and that was the best stall plan she had. She did need a chance to get to her knife. Determination overrode embarrassment. To gain a few more minutes of time, she carefully began stripping off what remained of her emerald ball gown. Thank goodness she was not wearing the hoops she wore the night of the anniversary ball. She was, however, wearing several layers of starchy crinolines. When she got to the last of those, she would have to act fast. Once she removed the last crinoline, she would be down to her chemise, and the knife strapped to her leg would be visible.
Lord Darke sat down at the table, satisfied Lydia was now obeying his order to get into the washtub. He told Chong Fat to go to the tavern near the entrance to the tunnel to get him some beer, bread and cheese. Chong Fat nodded his understanding as Lord Darke flipped him a coin. That meant that only two of Chong Fat’s other buddies remained in the room – and they were both skinny and terrified of Lord Darke.
This was the chance Lydia was waiting for. With Chong Fat out of the cave, she knew she had a chance with Lord Darke. Within seconds the darkness of the tunnel swallowed up the massive figure of Chong Fat.
Lydia fidgeted with her crinolines, talking them all off except the last one.
“Lord Darke, … that is your name, isn’t it?” “For your purposes, yes.”
“I know this may sound silly to you, but would you mind turning around while I take off my last layer of clothing. There is something completely unnerving about the act of taking of my clothes in front of a man. I may be naked in the washtub, but I can deal with that.”
He stared at her and said nothing. His eyes betrayed no emotions or thoughts.
“Please,” whimpered Lydia.
He grinned. “All right, Lass. You have thirty seconds to remove the rest of your clothes and to get into the washtub. After that I turn around, regardless of what state of undress you are in.” He paused and massaged his crotch area. “In fact, I may even wash your back for you.” He turned away from her.
She removed the last crinoline and made a great deal of noise doing so. She removed the small scabbard from her leg, then slipped the knife out of its sheath.
“I’m almost done,” she said sweetly. “Just a couple of more seconds.”
She anticipated Lord Darke would turn around before he was supposed to do so. She was right.
He turned around in response to her tossing her shoe at the tub. The shoe hit the tub with a soft clunk.
But when he turned around, Lydia was still wearing her chemise. But more importantly, her knife was about two inches away from Lord Darke’s Adam’s apple. She inched closer to him and said, “Do not even think about going for your pistol. I am quite good with this knife and you will be dead before you retrieve your pistol.”
The two men who remained behind while Chong Fat went for food, saw what had happened. One of them pointed to Sing Hee’s knife and they talked together quickly. They both turned and ran out of the cave into one of the smaller tunnels.
Lord Darke’s hand continued to move toward the inside pocket of his jacket.
“No! I mean it. Keep your hands right where they are.” Lydia took one last step toward him and kept the knife pointed at his throat. She stepped around behind him and stuck the blade into the side of his neck. A bright red line of liquid trickled down his neck. “It would be a shame for me to have to cut your throat so you could not talk to defend yourself and your conduct to the court.”
Very carefully, he sat down on a nearby chair and smiled.
“Are you quite sure you want to do this, Lass? I don’t have to sell you to the Sheik. I could keep you myself. I am quite generous you know.”
“That would be worse than selling me to the Sheik. Your evil reputation precedes you.”
“Oh. I see. Sing Hee has been talking again. Very well, I will not keep you for myself, I will put you in one of the cribs in Chinatown. I think a week stark naked in a darkened room where there are men willing to pay twenty-five cents for a roll in the hay with you, will take some of the vinegar out of you
r system. The women in the cribs don’t last too long. They age rapidly. Most don’t live a year. Think you’re too good for me, eh? As soon as Chong Fat returns we will see how brave you are.”
“You do not get it, do you?” she screamed. “You are not in charge here, I am.”
Lord Darke folded his arms in front of him and smiled.
“You may think you’re in charge, Lass, but in about another minute, Chong Fat will be back here. He may not be very smart, but he is loyal. I saved his miserable life when the Captain of the junk he was on was about to cut off his hands for stealing some rice wine. What do you propose to do when he returns? You better think fast because the seconds are ticking away. Then, I will take care of you. You will wish you were never born by the time I am done with you. You will be lucky if you can walk. Hah. Maybe I will let Chong Fact have a go at you, too.”
Infuriated that this creepy man dared to speak to her in such a vile manner, Lydia dragged the knife a little further along his neck. The blood began to flow again.
“We will see about that,” she said.
The musical sounds of the Chinese language filled the tunnel. “Your time is up, missy, so why don’t you give me the knife now? I would hate to have to let Chong Fat wrestle you to the floor. The last woman he did that to, died. She suffocated. Terrible temper he has. Does not know his own strength.”
“I would rather die first!”
“That, Lass, we may be able to arrange.”
Lydia swallowed. Her hand trembled slightly. If Chong Fact were coming through the tunnel, then she had to back her words up with action. She could be in serious trouble. Yet, she did not dare to show her concern to Lord Darke. Suddenly, she knew she could kill this man if she had to. He was truly the scum of the earth. How many people’s lives had he ruined? Men, women, children … and their families? This man did not deserve to live.
“Lord Darke, if Chong so much as gets within twenty feet of either you or me, the first person to die will be you. I will ram this knife through your throat. If I will die because of Chong Fat, then so will you. I will enjoy taking you with me. You miserable piece of scum.”
The Emerald Tartan Page 25