Silent Revenge

by Laura Landon

  They both crouched down behind a wide stack of crates and watched Tanhill maneuver his boat away from the violence and mayhem. In the darkness and the shadows, Simon and James kept close enough not to lose him, yet far enough away not to be seen.

  Simon held up his hand and James stopped. “He’s mine, James. I want him.”

  James nodded and stayed hidden in the shadows. “Be careful, Simon. He’s dangerous.”

  “He’s always been dangerous,” Simon answered, watching Tanhill move his small boat between two docked ships. Simon moved closer, keeping his head down and his pistol in his hand. When Tanhill took the first step onto the dock, Simon lunged forward. “That’s far enough, Tanhill.”

  Tanhill turned and lifted his hand. He aimed the barrel of his pistol at Simon’s chest, but Simon ducked before Tanhill fired. He heard the bullet strike somewhere behind him. Before Tanhill had time to fire again, Simon leaped through the air, knocking him to the ground.

  They rolled on the hard wooden boards. Tanhill kicked Simon hard in the stomach, then jumped to his feet. He swung his fist, connecting with Simon’s jaw. Simon returned the punch, slamming his fist into Tanhill’s face. The crunch of bones beneath Simon’s hand helped to ease some of the loathing, but it did nothing to soothe the anger boiling within him. He was not absolved of any of the guilt and furor he felt, and his anger was soon replaced by a deeper hatred. Jessica’s loving face flashed before his eyes, and he pummeled his fist into Tanhill’s face again. Then again. And again. And again.

  “Simon!”

  James’s voice snapped him to the present and he stopped. “Where have you taken her?” Simon bellowed, wrapping his hands around Tanhill’s cravat and pulling him toward him.

  Tanhill stumbled wearily when Simon let go and fell back against a large wooden barrel.

  Simon lunged for him again, grabbing the front of his tailored topcoat and pulling him through the air. “Where have you taken her?”

  Blood streamed from Tanhill’s nose and a deep cut above his brow, but the glint in his eyes revealed a defiance that sent a wave of uncontrollable violence through Simon’s body. “Where is she?!”

  Tanhill dropped his head back on his shoulders and laughed. The laugh was cold, heartless. Evil. “She fights almost as well as you, Northcote,” Tanhill said, wiping the blood from his nose on the sleeve of his coat. “Although, she doesn’t have near your strength.”

  Blind, raging fury erupted within Simon. Blood thundered in his head, and a bright whiteness flashed before his eyes. He lost control. He’d lost Jessica. He hadn’t protected her. He slammed his fist into Tanhill’s face again. “Tell me where you’ve taken her,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

  “No, you won’t, Northcote. You won’t kill me until you know what I’ve done with her. She’s gone. I’ve got her hidden somewhere so remote you’ll never find her.”

  “Where!”

  “Where you’ll never find her. She’ll wallow in the filth and darkness until she no longer has the strength to survive while you search for her.” Tanhill laughed his vile, evil laugh. “Do you know what else? I’ve left instructions that she’s not to be given food or water until I give the order. Think of that while you’re searching for her, Northcote.”

  Rage exploded within him, and Simon drew back his fist and struck Tanhill again and again. His blows were wild and damaging. Simon would have killed Tanhill if James hadn’t stopped him.

  “Where is she?” the Duke of Collingsworth demanded, pushing Simon away and supporting Tanhill’s limp body himself. “You have nothing to gain by keeping Lady Northcote’s whereabouts secret. The authorities know about your smuggling operation and have seized your drug shipment. It’s all over. There is no need to add kidnapping to your list of crimes.”

  “Isn’t there?” Tanhill said, lifting his swollen lip to form a malicious grin. “I should have made sure he was dead when I had the chance in India.” Tanhill focused his gaze on Simon. “He married the freak just to get his hands on the money. It should have been mine. It would have been, too, if he hadn’t interfered. All I had to do was have her committed, and any court in the land would have given me control of her wealth. He ruined it.” Tanhill turned his gaze to Simon. The look in his eyes brimmed with hatred. “You’ll pay. You’ll both pay. And you can live with her death for the rest of your lives.”

  A long, deafening silence stretched in the darkness, and then Simon stepped over to Tanhill and grabbed him by the front of his bloodstained white shirt. He slammed him up against a stack of wooden crates and shoved the barrel of the pistol he carried in his pocket at Tanhill’s head. When Simon spoke, his soft words held the sharpness of a sword. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll kill you right now.” A loud click echoed in the stillness as Simon cocked the pistol.

  Tanhill choked out a strangled sound, fear and deliberation clearly written on his face. “Do you know how long I have hated her? Jessica with her stubborn pride and superior attitude. She doesn’t deserve to live. You could be rid of her. Why would you want to save her?”

  Simon tightened his grip. “Tell me where she is!”

  Tanhill raised one brow, a sinister grin lifting the corners of his swollen mouth. “I don’t believe it. You’ve fallen in love with her.”

  Simon stepped back and fisted his hands at his side, fighting to keep from slamming them into Tanhill’s face again. The only emotion stronger than his hatred for Tanhill was his love for Jessica. “Tell me where you’ve taken her,” he repeated, his voice menacing. “If you don’t, I will take great pleasure in killing you now and finding her myself.”

  Tanhill lifted his shoulders and stood straight. He still had to anchor a hand against a nearby barrel, but the grin of satisfaction on his face belied any weakness. Simon wanted to strangle him.

  Tanhill shrugged free. “Very well. I will tell you where she is—for a price.”

  Simon glared at his enemy, wishing he could put a bullet through his brain now. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know where to find Jessica.

  “One hundred thousand pounds, Northcote, and my freedom.”

  “You bloody bastard,” Simon hissed.

  “Do you want to find her or not?”

  Simon ground his teeth in anger. What choice did he have? “Where is she?”

  “Your promise first.”

  Simon stepped back in concession, but kept his pistol aimed at Tanhill’s head. “You have my promise. Now tell me where you took her.”

  A slight grin turned Tanhill’s lips. “You will find your wife at—”

  A loud explosion shattered the air around them. Simon turned toward the direction of the noise, to where Baron Carver stood with a gun in his hand, then back to Tanhill.

  Tanhill’s face opened in wide disbelief as a small crimson circle spread across his chest. In slow motion, he sank to his knees, then crumpled on the slabs of wood beneath him.

  “No!” Simon reached for Tanhill, praying it was not too late. Praying he wasn’t dead.

  Simon lifted his enemy’s head. A small trickle of blood ran from the side of his mouth, another from his nose. “Where is she, Tanhill? Where did you take Jessica?”

  Tanhill opened his mouth to speak. He turned his head, choking on the blood in his mouth, then clutched his hands to his chest. His body stiffened. “It’s…too…late.”

  “Damn you to hell, Tanhill. Don’t you dare die!”

  Simon looked at Tanhill’s face. His lips curled into a sardonic grin, and he choked out a bitter laugh. “You’ll never…find…her. Never.”

  Tanhill sighed, then turned his face to the side and went limp in Simon’s arms.

  Simon stared in horror at Tanhill’s lifeless body. How was he going to find where he’d taken Jessica? How could he take care of her?

  Every muscle in his body trembled. A part of him died. Jessica was locked in an asylum somewhere with orders not to be given food or water. God help him. Jessica was living her
worst nightmare because he hadn’t protected her.

  Simon lifted his gaze as Baron Carver stepped forward. Simon wanted to kill him. He’d destroyed any chance of finding Jessica. He’d robbed him of any hope to get her out of the hellhole into which Tanhill had put her.

  Simon bolted to his feet, his hands reaching out to wrap around the older man’s neck. He stopped. The hollow look in the baron’s eyes as he stared at Tanhill’s inert body took the wind from Simon’s lungs. “He killed my son, Northcote. My boy. He shot Sydney in the back and dumped his body in the river. They found him floating there this morning.”

  Simon dropped his head back on his shoulders and closed his eyes. How much more pain would Tanhill cause? How many more innocent people would suffer because of his cruelty?

  Simon walked away from the gathering crowd. The authorities were there, and he had no desire to waste his time explaining anything to them. Let them conclude what they wanted. What the baron would tell them.

  The tightness in his chest ached painfully. He’d failed to protect her.

  “We’ll find her, Simon.” Collingsworth walked beside him, matching his long strides with equal determination. “We’ll have her home by morning.”

  Simon made his way to his carriage, knowing this would be the longest night of his life.

  Chapter 27

  The next day of searching without finding Jessica bordered on eternal. And the next day just short of sending him to the brink of madness.

  He and James and Ira followed a dozen false leads and sent scores of runners looking for any clue that might lead them to where Jessica was.

  They’d been to each hospital for the mentally insane in London—St. Luke’s, Bedlam, and more—knowing the obvious places would leave them empty-handed. Tanhill would not have taken her where he could find her so easily.

  Each institution they entered was crowded and frightening and depressing at best. Some they searched were harsh and inhumane. Filth and neglect and cruelty seemed the rule, the conditions a foul abomination to human decency. The blood thundered in Simon’s head whenever he thought of the torture Jessica was enduring.

  Day and night they searched, and still there were no solid leads. “Get some rest, Simon,” James said when the carriage stopped in front of his town house. “And eat something, for heaven’s sake. You’re going to fall on your face if you don’t take care of yourself. You won’t do Jessica any good if you get sick.”

  Simon raked his fingers through his hair and then dismounted from the carriage with James beside him. He hesitated as a wave of defeat pummeled him. He didn’t want to enter the house. He didn’t want to stare into the hopeful, tear-stained faces of the staff as they waited expectantly for good news. He didn’t want to see their expressions crumble when they realized he’d come home empty-handed.

  “Where can she be, James? We’ve looked everywhere, and I’m out of leads. There are no more places for us to look.” Simon fought the fear eating his gut. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such terror.

  “Something will come up, Simon. Perhaps we missed her. We can search the places here in London again tomorrow and—”

  “No. She isn’t in London. Tanhill took her somewhere out of the city. I know it. It took him too long to get back to the docks.”

  “Then maybe—”

  “Master! Master!” Sanjay ran through the open front door waving a paper in his hand. “Come quick! Come quick!”

  Simon raced up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe she’d come home. Maybe someone had found her. Maybe…

  “A message. I found it slid under the door. No one there. Only the paper.”

  Simon grabbed the paper and ran to the nearest light. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the words. His heart stopped in his chest.

  Yer lordship,

  If you want to have your wife back, bring five thousand pounds tonight with you to Marberry’s Park. Leave the money on the third stone bench from the front gate. The place where you can find her will be written on the paper you’ll find under the rock.

  This aren’t no trick. I got proof.

  A scrap of material fell to the table, and Simon picked it up. The air caught in his throat.

  “I got your carriage waiting, Master,” Sanjay said. “I think in my next life I will come back as an eagle so I can carry you where you need to go.”

  Simon handed James the note, then ran to his study. He opened the safe behind his desk and counted out five thousand pounds before putting the notes into a black leather bag.

  “Are you sure, Simon?”

  Simon handed him the scrap of material. “It’s material from the dress Jessica was wearing the day Tanhill took her.”

  Collingsworth nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Follow me to the park and wait to see who picks up the money. Don’t stop him. Just see where he goes. If it’s a trick, we’ll find him later.”

  Simon ran out the door with Collingsworth close behind and raced to his carriage. “Don’t let him see you, James,” Simon warned, then closed the door and raced to Marberry Park. His heart stuttered. This was it. He knew whatever he found would lead him to Jessica. In his heart he knew it would.

  The carriage turned in the entrance to the park, and Simon fingered the leather bag with the money. He’d give a hundred times—no, every pound he had—to get her back and not regret it. He’d give his life to get her back and not regret it. A lump formed in his throat, and he tried to swallow past it, but failed. Dear God, he’d give anything to have her with him now. To hold her in his arms and feel her against him. To show her how much he loved her. Simon blinked back the wetness that threatened to fill his eyes. He wanted her with him always.

  The carriage slowed, and Simon counted the stone benches along the path. One. Two. “Stop,” he ordered his driver and jumped to the ground and ran to the stone bench. He set the leather bag on the slab and lifted the rock. He picked up the paper beneath it and ran back to the street to read the message beneath one of the lanterns that hung on the side of the carriage. It was the same writing.

  Simon showed the note to his driver, and after his driver assured him he knew the location, Simon jumped back in the carriage and they left.

  The night sky was starless with a light mist falling in the darkness, blanketing the night in an even gloomier cloak. Each mile stretched on forever, and with every drum of the horses’ hooves, Simon thought of finding Jessica.

  He prayed that Tanhill had not hurt her. That Tanhill had lied, and hadn’t left orders for her not to be given food or water. His heart pounded against his ribs. It had been three days. He prayed that someone had been kind to her and had taken care of her.

  He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants and suddenly stilled when the carriage slowed. Lights glowed from the windows of a massive stone mansion up ahead, its gloomy presence made even more oppressive by the drizzling rain.

  The carriage stopped and Simon jumped to the ground. “Come with me, George,” he said to the driver, and they ran to the door. Simon pounded on the rusted metal knocker in the center and waited.

  A woman wearing a stained dress and an even filthier apron answered on the second knock.

  “Where is she?” Simon roared.

  The woman clamped her hand over her brown, rotted teeth in surprise when Simon and his driver burst uninvited through the door. She recovered soon enough, and found her voice.

  “They’re gone, my lord. Frish and the others took off this afternoon, leaving Frieda and me all alone to care for all these people.”

  Simon scanned the area. A score or more of the residents sat in squalor and their own refuse. His stomach turned.

  “We didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. Frieda and me didn’t know nothin’ about the lady until they brought her.”

  “Where is she?” he demanded again, closing his senses to the filth and the stench and the atrocious human conditions all around him. This place was by far the worst of any he�
�d been forced to enter in the last three days. He willed his heart to keep beating. “Where is she!”

  “In there, my lord. They put her down there.” The woman pointed to a door at the far end of the room. “The key is here on this ring.”

  She held out her arm and handed him a ring with several large brass keys on it.

  Simon took them and ran across the room. The second key fit, and the door opened to a set of steep stairs that seemed to be swallowed by pitch blackness. Simon reached around the corner and grabbed a lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. “Find another lantern and follow, George.”

  Simon held the light high and climbed down the stairs. The air was heavy and dank, and the odor was not as bad as above. But there was no light. Oh, how Jessica hated being in the dark.

  Simon lifted the lantern and looked. There was no sign of her, only another locked door in this dungeon of horrors. He raced toward it and put the key in the lock. He turned and the loud click echoed in the darkness. He threw the door open and stepped inside.

  There was nothing in the room—no cot, no bench, not even a chair to sit on. Only the cold, hard stone floor and the frantic scurrying of rats to their holes. A lump formed in Simon’s throat that he couldn’t work past. He lifted his lantern higher.

  She was there.

  Jessica’s small, fragile body lay huddled in the corner. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, and her knees were tucked tight against her chest. She kept her eyes closed to all around her as if she could close out the world by doing so.

  Simon set the lantern on the floor and walked to her. He slowly reached out his trembling hand and touched her shoulder ever so softly.

  “Jessica, sweetheart,” Simon whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him. “It’s me. I’ve come to take you home.”

  He touched her again, then reached up to brush the hair from her face. The air stuck in his throat, a gnarled hand twisting his heart in his chest. The bruises on her face were purple and green, the cuts on her hands and wrists and fingers caked with dried blood.