She entrusted Michael to God’s care as well.
Entering the carriage, the next morning, she gave Marcus a peck on the cheek and a hug to Josie. A maid would journey with her. Fidget was in a basket at her feet.
The carriage ride back to Rose Hill was uneventful. Katrina enjoyed the quiet and spent some time reading her Bible. So often she set it down and brushed away a tear as she remembered the moments spent reading it with Michael. She slept in her old room at Rose Hill and arose early the next morning to take a gig over to a smaller Tudor style home with several bedrooms upstairs, all fully furnished from the previous owners.
Katrina walked through the manor, gently touching the furniture and gazing at old photographs of the families that had previously resided there. But now, the house was hers. It was also Michael’s, should he choose to exert his rights. Maybe it was a whimsy that made her purchase this home with its particular ghosts. Those were not her ghosts and she feared nothing. But if she was to bring their child into the world it would only make sense that she gave that child a warm home filled with love. Even if only from her.
She selected a room to make her own. She compiled a list of the help she needed and any other items she could ask Josie to purchase for her to send to her new home. She found an old rocking chair in the nursery and sat down. How many babies had been rocked in this very chair? She took out a red leather bound journal and jotted down her first letter to her unborn child.
Hi Little One,
You are not even here yet and I feel compelled to tell you that you were conceived in love and you are a wanted and desired blessing. Your father doesn’t know about you, but hopefully, he will soon and be as thrilled as I am at your impending arrival. Grow now and delight my heart with your presence. I love you,
Your Mother
The next day, Katrina moved into her new home with a handful of servants from the local village of Didcot. She began to settle into a routine with her days of rearranging furniture and cleaning the house from top to bottom, taking breaks for naps. She brought furniture out of storage in the attics and put other items away. Fall had come in full force and many nights found her sitting by the fireplace, embroidering, and humming a tune.
Several weeks after she moved in, a letter arrived with a distinctive scrawl. It had been forwarded from the Remington home in London.
Mouse,
Rumors have reached me of your wonton behavior in town. As long as you are my wife, even if in name only, I would appreciate you acting in a more circumspect manner.
Michael
No return address. No news on how to contact him. But at least her husband was alive. She touched the paper and a tear ran down her cheek. Mouse. During their two months of marriage he had banned the use of that name. He had called her beautiful or Katrina then. She sighed and put the paper away in the desk. He was alive. God could knit her broken family back together again.
~*~
Michael grew irritable. The Black Diamond proved elusive. Michael lived in the slums and his only consolation in all of this was his Bible. He still carried the little book Marcus gave him in his bag, but had a new one with him to read as the bullet had made most of the other book unusable. He carried that close to his heart, almost as an act of superstition. As if God was obligated to protect him again should the need arise. That was not really the case, however, he still drew comfort having that book near him at all times and so he kept it there.
Two months had passed and it was now October. Michael wore a beard and his hair was unfashionably long. He’d been working at the docks in an effort to glean more information. He had developed more muscle. His hands were calloused, and he sported a few more scars from those who dared tangle with him. He doubted his friends would even recognize him now.
One cold October night, he was sitting at the local pub enjoying a pint of brew along with some stew when a rough looking man came to sit down next to him. Michael sized the man up and down, but did not perceive him to be a threat.
“The Cat is no longer playing with the Mouse?” the man said at a voice just above a whisper.
Michael leaned back, took a long drink, and watched the man across from him. “The Cat is history.”
“Ah, but the Mouse, she lives and grows larger.”
“I know naught of what you speak.”
The man nodded and rose to leave.
Michael finished his ale. He slowly meandered to the back of the pub where the man awaited.
“What news have you for me?”
“Bow Street is looking for you.”
“Who hired them?”
“Remington.”
One eyebrow shot up. Of course, Marcus would search for him. He had abandoned his wife. The thought caused him to cringe.
“And Mouse?”
“Country Mouse grows fat with child.”
Michael’s eyebrow shot up. So, his wife was pregnant. Did she play fast and loose while in London? He closed his eyes to hide his pain. When they opened again they were clear and cold. He paid his informer and slithered into the night to his hiding place.
~*~
Finally, after months of waiting, his break came. Word filtered to him that he would find the Black Diamond by a warehouse down by the wharf, not too far from where Mouse and he had been held captive. Michael went to survey the area.
22
Katrina shivered in the cold. The journey to London had terrified her. Why had they taken her? Didn’t they realize that Michael no longer loved her? If they were using her for bait they would be sorely disappointed. The Black Diamond erred greatly this time. Now she was trapped in a warehouse similar to where she had been branded. She was hungry and cold. She would die here and so would the child in her womb. Locked away in a tiny dark closet, all hope gone, she curled up on the floor praying that death would come soon and that somehow God would protect Michael.
~*~
Michael spied the men. He suspected that a trap had been set for him. He managed to find a way up to a nearby rooftop and crawled silently in the dark night across to where the chasm was between that building and the warehouse. What was stored in there? Contraband to go to France? Smuggled goods? He stretched flat on the roof and listened closely to the men below.
“Sam, I not be likn’ this. She’s a sweet thing and wit’ child. Wat’s Diamond goin’ do wit her?”
“Tain’t no a yous bizness, Walt. We doos wat he sez and wez get coin.”
“I’z know. Grab dis Tidley bloke, scrabble the book, and kill ’em.”
“Toss ’im in wit her and torch the place.”
“But wat ‘bout the book she ’ad on ’er?”
“Yous think that’s the one?”
“Shoulda asked.”
“Yous go do dat, Walt, but no playin’ wit da mice.”
“We’z got time ’n she is rather purty.”
“Diamond ’ill slit your throat if’n he finds you been messin’ wit her.”
“Probly wants ’er for ’imself.”
“Get the book, Walt.”
The man named Walt disappeared into the warehouse, which left only one man visible. So they had Mouse. He experienced a twinge of regret that she was again caught in his troubles. Or did she push herself into them like before? He groaned inwardly as he lay flat and surveyed the area. If he took a run, he could jump to the warehouse, but even so, how would he get in? The night was so quiet with the exception of the waves of the Thames lapping muddy water on the side of the channel. But he was the Cat. He could do this. Pushing himself away from the edge, he stood up and taking a good run, he leapt the span between buildings—just barely making it.
The man below looked up at hearing something. “Probably just an alley cat.”
Michael sighed in relief.
The man returned to paring his nails with a knife while he awaited his companion.
~*~
Katrina was surprised when a man entered the room and kicked her in the stomach. She reflexively curled aroun
d her baby. The lantern made the man appear sinister.
“Yous got a book? Diamond is lookin’ fer one.”
“Do you mean Miss Tidley’s journal? A red leather bound book?”
The man’s face lit up. “Dat be da one. Where is it?”
Maybe it would work to give him her journal. Would the Black Diamond be fooled? She had carried the book around with her as she wrote notes to her baby and prayers for Michael. If she gave it up, perhaps it would save Michael. “It’s in the pocket of my cloak.” How fortuitous that she brought it with her when she went out walking in the garden yesterday.
The man rifled through her cloak. He was about to try to give her a kiss when a throat cleared behind him. “Best leave her to me and get back to your post.”
The tall dark man that was in the doorway was wreathed in shadow, but she recognized the voice. The Black Diamond. As the lackey rose to leave the room, the aristocrat grabbed the book from him and motioned for the lantern to be left. He gave the hireling a backhanded slap on the cheek. “Do what I’ve promised to pay you for.”
“Just tryn to be ’elpful, goven’r.” The man scurried into the dark.
“So, Sir Tidley entrusted the journal into your care after all while leading me on a merry chase through the slums of London.”
Michael had been in London all this time? The thought pained her more than she expected. She reminded herself that this was not the same Michael she’d married, but a more complex man who had rejected her. She sniffed.
Have courage. Be brave. You can do this. It was as if words from her father’s journal, long burned, called to her.
The Black Diamond leaned against the wall where he had hung the lantern on a post and opened the journal to read. He scanned the pages. His eyes narrowed and frowned. He was once again wearing a domino and mask to conceal his identity. He slapped the book shut and deposited it in an inner pocket of his coat. He approached and lifted her to her feet. She barely stood up to his shoulder. His hand clasped her behind her neck. His fist grabbed her long hair and he yanked her neck back. She forced herself to meet his gaze and was paralyzed by the evil she witnessed there.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for Thou art with me.
The words came unbidden to her mind and she clung to them like a lifeline. She was not alone.
“Where is your husband?”
“I know not.”
“You lie.” The Black Diamond’s gazed raked down her body sending a shiver of fear through her. He sensed it and his mouth curled in a wicked smile.
“Seems like the boy is as virile as his father. Too bad the line has to end here.”
“Does it? Have to end?”
“Ah, but my dear. You have proven too valuable to Sir Tidley. You ruined a plan put in motion many years ago. You and my illegitimate son must pay as my losses have been great. Never fear, I will come about in time, however, I cannot allow any further chances of interference.”
“Sir Tidley resigned his commission before you took him last time.”
“Ah, yes. Our last encounter.” His head lowered and he whispered to her, “I believe we have some unfinished business, you and I.”
“I’d rather die.”
The Black Diamond’s eyes flashed. He jerked her head and thrust her away from him. She hit the wall hard and was dazed. “That can be arranged.” Grabbing the lantern, he stalked from the room. The door slammed shut behind him and the bolt slid home. She pulled her hood up over her throbbing head and sprawled out on her side. She closed her eyes and silently prayed Michael would escape the trap the Black Diamond had set. She hummed to herself a hymn she had heard that past Sunday in church and prayed for a quick death.
I’m so sorry, baby…
~*~
Michael watched the Black Diamond enter the warehouse and later exit. The man had a red bound journal in his hands. He overheard a man brag about finding it before the aristocrat had joined them.
“Torch the place. I have what I came for.” The Black Diamond strode off into the dark. Carriage wheels moved in the distance.
The men below were arguing but eventually went inside the building. Somewhere inside was Mouse. His wife. He wondered how she had come to possess a journal? He’d destroyed it. Did she find another one? Where?
He had a memory of her throwing a similar journal into a fire to save him. He shook that off. There was not time for sentiment. Wife or not, he could not let her be burned alive. He found a ladder off to one side of the building, out of sight, and a cracked window. He slowly broke the glass, trying to be as quiet as possible. He saw nothing inside the warehouse, but heard the men moving around talking to each other. He spied the flash of light. The door opened and closed as flames started spreading across dry straw soaked in oil.
The men scampered away down another alley.
Michael smashed the rest of the glass with no concern for noise. He squeezed into the window and began yelling over the sound of the flames starting to lick up the wooden walls.
“Mouse? Mouse? Where are you?” He hoped she was not unconscious. He ran around until he found a room that was bolted shut. He struggled in the heat of the growing fire to move the bolt. “Mouse? Are you in there?”
What if they had already killed her? With a surge of energy, the bolt moved. He flung the door open and saw her on the ground with her eyes closed. “Mouse? Mouse!” He felt for her pulse. It was there. He shook her and she opened heavy-lidded eyes.
“Michael? I must be having a wonderful dream.” Her lids fell shut.
She was cold. Too cold. He struggled to get her to rise and she grinned at him. “I’m tired. Just let me be, Michael. I’m content here.”
“You will die. Come on, Mouse. You need to help me.” He slapped her face and her eyes went wide with shock. “We need to run. The warehouse is aflame.”
Into the inferno they emerged and struggled to find the door. Instead, they ended up by another window. Michael pushed her up and out and followed suit. She lay on the ground coughing, gasping for breath, and held her ankle. He pulled her up.
Katrina shook her head. “No, Michael. You go before he finds you. I cannot run. I can barely feel my feet and I think I twisted my ankle when I fell. I’ll only hold you back.”
Michael lifted her to her feet, picked her up, and began to move as quickly as he could away from the fire. Through the smell of smoke that covered both of them he still detected vanilla. He inhaled deeply and tramped down the emotions that arose at having her in his arms. Several blocks away he set her down in an alley. Smoke billowed. Michael shielded her with his body as the warehouse exploded. Fragments of wood sailed through the night air, and ashes fell around them.
Lifting his head a few minutes later, he found that there had been no outcry or response to the fire. He listened as he regained his breath. Nothing. He glanced down at the woman laying beneath him. Something stirred in his heart. He shoved the feelings down. There was no time for that now. He needed to get her to safety. He lifted her to her feet again and began to make his way, half-carrying, half-dragging her to where he could finally find a cab.
The hackney he hired stank of vomit and Katrina huddled herself up in the corner. She spoke not a word. He disembarked a block away from the Remington townhouse and carried her through the alley to the garden by the mews into the back of the house. It was about one of the clock in the morning now and he suspected his hosts slept. He crept up the stairs to the room Katrina used to occupy, brought her in there, and set her on the bed.
She looked up at him as he struggled to remove her cloak and pull back the counterpane.
“Your ankle? Still sore?”
She nodded. He removed her half boots and felt her ankle.
“The other one.”
He reached for the other ankle and she winced but said nothing. “I think it’s just a sprain, Mouse.” He removed his hands, gently put her legs under the blankets, and covered her up. He strod
e over to the fireplace and lit the fire until it was warming the room.
“I’ll leave a message for someone to come and tend you in the morning. Rest now.”
“Michael?”
“Yes, Mouse?”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and left the room. He went to the study, jotted a note to Marcus and left it at the breakfast table for him to find. He slipped out the back-garden gate and disappeared into the dark of the night.
Michael arrived at his own lodging in the Rookery to find his room occupied. He slowly closed the door and reached for the pistol in his coat pocket.
“No need to shoot me, my friend.” A candle was lit and the glow revealed that the visitor was none other than Captain Jared Allendale, Marcus’s younger brother.
“I’m surprised to find you here.”
“Sorry for that, but I obtained something that I believe is yours and wanted to make sure it was returned.” Jared pulled out a small red book from his pocket and rose to bring it to Michael.
“How?”
“How did I find you or how did I get this book?” He went back to start the fire in the grate. “Lord Hughes summoned me to locate you as it seems your lovely wife expressed concern for your well-being and begged for help. I’ve been in town for a month now tracking you. You covered your tracks well and definitely did not make my job easy.”
“The book?”
“I followed you this evening and when the man left I was able to filch the book from him before he got to the carriage.” Jared shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
Michael laughed and opened the book. He walked over to the lamp and began to read the page he had thumbed to.
Lord, as the baby moves within me I ask that you would be with his father. Protect and guide Michael. Thank You for the love we shared even if it was for only two short months. I rejoice that You answered our prayers to restore his memory and free him from the prison of amnesia. What a gift for him. Help me to let this child understand how wonderful his father is. Give me the grace to live the life You have given me now as I rest in Your provision and care. Forgive me for my heart that so longs for my husband’s love and affection. Fill that void, Lord, and sustain me by Your magnificent grace. Be my comfort in my loneliness and give Michael all that he needs to be happy. I worship and adore only You,
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