Lord Brynwood turned and bent towards Abigail’s ear. “I will be greeting some acquaintances outside before the performance starts. Be a good girl and stay in here. I shall be right back.”
Abigail nodded quickly, her heart thudding against her chest hard enough to bruise her ribs. She couldn’t believe how easily this was all working out. And part of her ached for how simple it truly was. Did the heavens not want her to stay where she was happiest and safest? How could they conspire to only help her back to the darkness that she had been sinking in prior to Lord Brynwood’s rescue?
But it was of no matter now. She watched Lord Brynwood’s tailored evening jacket disappear as he followed Lord Sutton out. She slowly counted to ten (secretly praying the earl would return) before standing up.
She finished her countdown unmolested and with no other choice, Abigail stood and peeked out of the box doorway. The outer hallways were still filled with people mingling before the performance but there was no Lord Brynwood or Lord Sutton in sight. So as to not attract attention, she quickly but calmly walked down the steps and through the main foyer and out the grand entrance.
Taking huge gulping breaths of the cold night air, she looked down the street both ways. Turning left would lead her down to the market street. From there, the abandoned factory was less than a quarter mile away. She knew instinctively Pinzer would be there waiting.
Abigail walked quickly but sedately past the latecomers till she reached the far corner. Then she ran down towards the market street. She didn’t know how long Lord Brynwood would be greeting his friends and she didn’t want to risk getting caught too soon.
With each leaping step, she felt her heart crack and break into a million painful fragments. Each tearing breath brought a new memory of Colette’s sweetness or Lord Brynwood’s roughness. She ached for their words, their caresses, their love. But as she slowly closed in on Pinzer and whatever lay in her murky future, she remembered his words:
“I will let it be known that he is sheltering a whore, a common doxy. I will let it be known he has adopted a thief, a criminal. A man of his rank does business solely on reputation alone. And how will he do, do you think, when he is known to be the harborer of ill moral and crime?”
Abigail refused to let that happen. She refused to have Colette’s name dragged through the mud in association. She gasped, out of breath, as she turned the final corner at the end of the market street. Up ahead, she could see the dim shadow outlining the dilapidated workhouse factory that had been abandoned after a fire.
She was only minutes away from Pinzer.
She was only minutes away from saying goodbye to everything she had ever wanted in life—love and family.
Giving the long empty market street a final look, Abigail ran straight towards the factory, to Pinzer, and to her fate.
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Disciplining the Thief
Part Three
One
The abandoned factory smelled more dank than she remembered. Already well into evening, she could hardly make out the faces of the various thieves, pickpockets, bandits, and all around crooks lining the walls of the burned brick building.
But it didn’t matter because there at the far wall was Pinzer. Part of the building had crumbled in the fire and through the gaping hole, moonlight shone a stream of shadowy light over the slim and ominous figure of Pinzer. Abigail could feel her heart nearly beating through her chest as she slowly approached.
The greasy smile grew on Pinzer’s face as she neared. She could see his eyes as they took in and calculated the worth of the dress, shoes, and stockings she wore. They were all fineries that were beyond the grasp of anyone in the factory.
“So my little chicky has returned to me!” Pinzer cried, his voice reverberating through the brick walls.
Abigail felt a shudder run down her spine as she heard that familiar voice again. Slimy and thin yet so full of violence and authority. That was how people even bigger than Pinzer fell into his gang as underlings—his voice. It was a voice that promised horrifying vengeance and retribution if he were to be denied anything.
“And what have you brought me as payment for your betrayal and abandonment?” Pinzer asked, leaning back comfortably on a sturdy chair that had somehow survived the fire.
Abigail dug into her pocket and pulled out the little sack of stolen merchandise she had had on her person months ago. Three pairs of pearl cufflinks, a gold watch chain, four shillings, and, added at the last minute, a gold penknife. There had been a stolen pink ribbon as well but Abigail couldn’t bear to run without leaving some token of acknowledgment and thanks for all that Lord Brynwood and Colette had given her. She had left the pink ribbon lightly knotted on Lord Brynwood’s desk. By the time he found it, she would be too far gone to be found anyway. She would make sure of it.
A large man in his early twenties, one of Pinzer’s favorite lackeys, grabbed the little sack and handed it to Pinzer. Eagerly he opened it and dug through the goods. But as he slowly fingered each stolen item, his eagerness dissipated, the sparkling gleam in his eyes faded. Slowly, he raised his head, his thin black hair falling aside like a raggedy curtain.
“This is what you’ve brought me as payment for your betrayal? A few shillings and some rubbish?” Pinzer’s voice echoed in anger, the vibrations pushing their way through Abigail’s frightened form.
“Th-they’re pearl cufflinks and the ch-chain is gold,” Abigail stammered, trying to remember the dull numbness she used to shroud herself in whenever Pinzer was angry. But she had spent too much time with people who had taught her to feel, to love, and to be open. She had forgotten how to raise the veil of detachment.
Pinzer plucked up one of the cufflinks and huffed a laugh. “Pearl,” he murmured to himself. Looking up with eyes that could cut steel, he threw the cufflink hard at Abigail. It grazed her cheek but she felt the force its throw.
“Come here,” he said, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair. When Abigail stood frozen in place. He glowered and said cuttingly, “Come. Here.”
One of his lackeys came forward and grabbed her by her upper arm, dragging her towards Pinzer. Nearly face-to-face, she could see his pockmarked cheeks more clearly. This was the face that she had looked upon nearly her whole life. This was the face that had dictated her every move. It was this face that had told her what and when to eat, where and who to rob. Abigail couldn’t believe she was now standing here, looking upon this face once more.
“You think over two months of absence, two months of lost goods, two months of betrayal can be bought off with a few cheap cufflinks?” he nearly spat, his face only mere inches away from hers. “How many years have I sheltered you? Fed you? Look how many here depend on me? And yet I never forgot to take care of you.”
Pinzer swung back his arm and slapped her hard against her cheek.
It was sudden. And it was brutal.
She cried out involuntarily and stumbled a few steps. The pain burst from her jaw, radiating all across her skull. Abigail was afraid to move her mouth for fear that it was dislocated.
“It was because of me you survived on these streets! It was because of me that you have never known a moment of want!” he cried, punctuating each blatant lie with a resounding slap. Abigail felt her eyes water as her cheeks puffed. A line of drool spilled out as she found it more and more painful to close her mouth.
“Do you think me a fool?” Pinzer cried in rage as he gave her a final ringing slap, filling Abigail’s mouth with the iron taste of blood.
Collapsing onto the cold floor, Abigail spat out the mouthful of blood. Her beautiful gown now soiled by the ages old dirt and soot of the factory floor.
Pinzer fell back into his chair, causing it to emit a loud creaking noise. He heaved a large sigh as he looked down at Abigail’s curled form. “But this is my weakness,” he said, as if addressing the others in the room. “I am too kind and forgiving.” Leaning his arms on his knees, he bent forward. “I bring you back i
nto my loving fold, my dear old chicky. Come give us a kiss.”
Abigail coughed, feeling the blood pooling in her mouth again. She shakily stood back up and stood between Pinzer’s knees. Holding her breath for fear she might scream in anguish, Abigail placed a brief kiss on Pinzer’s sunken cheek.
“There now,” he said, his voice smooth as oil. He held Abigail’s small hand in his own larger one. He rubbed a thumb across the delicate skin and bones. “And do you know why I am so forgiving tonight? Do you know why I show mercy when you deserve none?”
Abigail looked down at her dirty satin slippers, completely ruined now. There had been a time when this had been the norm for her. She had lived so completely in the dirt and the filth that she had not recognized it as anything else. It wasn’t until she had had Lord Brynwood pluck her out of the mire and show her that she was more than a common pickpocket. She was more than a ragdoll for Pinzer to beat upon. She could learn, she could sing, she could love, she could moan with pleasure. Abigail bit back a sniffle as she thought about the strong embrace of Lord Brynwood. She shook her head, more to shake away the painful thoughts of what she had left behind than as an answer to Pinzer.
Pinzer’s hand suddenly tightened on hers. She gasped in pain as she felt his grip grinding her bones against each other. He jerked her forwards and lifted her blood splattered chin up with his other hand. His black eyes gleamed like obsidian as he grinned. “Because now I have something better than his reputation to threaten the good prince with.” He ran a finger lightly down her bruised and swollen jaw. “I have you.”
Two
“She’s of less than middling height. She’s quite small. You could easily mistake her for a child,” Colette recited again for the police constable, nearly choking on the last word. She felt the urge to wring her hands over and over again. But she knew if she let herself slip too far into her panic, she would never climb out.
The constable nodded as he quickly took note of the description. He nodded and promised to send word as quickly as possible once they found Abigail. “No worry, miss,” the constable smiled reassuringly. “A child could only go so far.”
Colette wanted to scream in frustration. But she wasn’t a child! She was a girl with a troubled past and a troubled heart who was cleverer than she gave herself credit for. Colette could only imagine where Abigail could be at the moment or why she had taken off in the first place.
She looked across the street and saw Lord Brynwood and another constable pacing down the street together as Lord Brynwood gesticulated down alleyways.
She had only been on stage moments before but she had known from the minute she had stepped towards the bright floorlights that something was wrong. Her gaze had immediately gone up towards the private box where she knew Lord Brynwood and Abigail would be sitting. But her stage smile had faltered when she saw the empty box with neither earl nor girl within. Nothing except a dire emergency could’ve kept Lord Brynwood away from Colette and with Abigail also missing, she could guess what kind of dire emergency had taken place.
The carriage ride back was a silent one. Both Lord Brynwood and Colette had decided that they would only go back to see if some kind of clue had been left for them at the manor. It had been a suggestion by one of the constables. It also allowed them to quickly have the staff pack some belongings quickly so that they could away to Lord Sutton’s townhome. Being as near to town as possible seemed imperative and they were loathed to spend even a moment away from any possible breakthroughs in the search.
“Why would she have left?” Colette murmured for what felt like the millionth time. The millionth time aloud. She must’ve asked the question internally a million more times. She didn’t understand. Had there been some unhappiness? Had she and Lord Brynwood not been as vigilant and keen as they thought they had been?
Lord Brynwood kept his eyes on the window, focused on nothing. “My dear, we do not know if she left. She might’ve been taken,” he said, seemingly calm. But the muscles in his throat tightened and his hands gripped his knees as he thought the unspeakable. Who would take her? Who would dare to kidnap a girl, who by all appearances, looked to be the daughter of a titled or well-respected gentleman? The ramifications of such an action would be large and heavy for a common criminal. Who would dare?
Colette swallowed audibly as she shook her head. “We will find her. I know we will,” she said fervently. She should’ve stayed back in London so she could’ve been present in case the police found any clues. But they had insisted that both Lord Brynwood and Colette return since they might search for different things, allowing for a wider scope of the manor to be scanned for clues.
“We will find her,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing, mum! It’s all as normal as it was this morning,” the maid reported frantically to Colette. Colette nodded in dismissal. She hadn’t anticipated anything to have been found in Abigail’s room. Abigail spent as much time in their room as she did in her own. Lately, Abigail had only been returning to her room to have a change of clothes.
Colette rushed herself and the maid down the stairs so that they may search the rest of the manor. The entire staff was running through each corner and crevice to find anything that could remotely be spoken for as a clue.
Amidst the loud search, Lord Brynwood slowly fell into his leather chair. His study door was closed and the sounds of the manor was muffled behind its thick doors. Entering the study, he had felt every memory with his sweet little one hit him like a bag of bricks. He remembered her sweet laughter, her twinkling eyes, her tentative moans, and her pleasured screams.
He had planned to go through his desk, drawer by drawer, to see if Abigail had rummaged through it. But once he had reached his desk, he realized it would be unnecessary. Gripping the pink ribbon, he sat heavily in his chair.
Without looking, he knew that the small pouch of stolen goods would be missing from his desk. He had also noted the absence of his gold penknife. Bringing the ribbon to his lips, Lord Brynwood wondered what this could all mean. She had taken the knife for its value. Yet, if she truly wanted something of worth, she could’ve stolen any of Colette’s jewelry. She knew where they were and had had free access to them. She could’ve stolen any of Lord Brynwood’s only bejeweled stickpins or cufflinks which were any amount more expensive than the pearl ones she had stolen. But instead, she had taken a small gold penknife. It was as if she was trying to take something valuable without really robbing them of anything too precious.
Thinking back, Lord Brynwood couldn’t think of any moment that indicated her plan to run. And conversely, he had noted no danger while they had been entering The Hall that might’ve indicated criminals or kidnappers on the loose.
With a sudden jerk, Lord Brynwood slammed his fist down on the desk. He didn’t often now think back to his days on the pirate ships but he bloody well knew that back then, he had always been on alert. He had always been on guard. Perhaps if he had been just as vigilant and just as aware, this would not have happened. He hoped to god wherever Abigail was that she was safe and holding on till he could reach her. Till he could find her.
“India!” Abigail cried in surprise.
Pinzer nodded as he picked his teeth. He tossed aside his emptied tin plate, scattering chicken bones across the dirty factory floor. “And your good prince is going to pay our way.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Our way?” she whispered, her throat suddenly too tight to speak.
Pinzer nodded. “You see how generous I am? I will make sure that we both have passage to India. And there I will live like a king and you as my lovely little chicky maiden.”
Abigail shook her head, horror blooming with each word he spoke. “He’ll never...Lord Brynwood would never....”
Pinzer waved a hand, easily dismissing her protest. “Oh of course he will, love. He’ll pay if he knows good and well your life is in danger.” His eyes narrowed till they were just pinpricks of gleaming malice. “And just know that if he doesn’t pay
, it will be.”
Three
The maid poured a glass of sherry for Colette. She gestured towards the brandy decanter but Lord Sutton waved her away. With a quick bob, the maid hurried out of the cozy den.
Lord Sutton’s townhome was much smaller than the manor but luxuriously furnished and well equipped to handle sudden guests. Lord Brynwood and Colette had arrived that morning with a few trunks and their pressing fears. They had looked towards Lord Sutton’s face upon arriving but he merely shook his head, face saddened by the lack of any leads.
Colette made a motion to sip the sherry then lowered the glass. There were dark smudges under her eyes, marring her glorious complexion. Lord Sutton could see that neither she nor Lord Brynwood had slept the night before. They had literally just gone back to the manor to search for clues and to pack before heading right back out on the long road towards town again.
The fire crackled cheerily in the evening light of the den. Yet nothing else about the mood was cheery. Lord Brynwood hadn’t stopped pacing since he had entered the townhome. He had already gone back to the constables and released a reward for anyone who had any information as to the whereabouts of a Miss Abigail Hess. No one had yet to come forward with any helpful clues.
“This is a damn terrible situation, Jeremiah. Damn terrible,” Lord Sutton said, taking a sip of the good brandy. But even the fiery spirit was no match for his lowered mood. He had been fond of the little one and had been extremely fond of the change the girl’s presence had brought into his friend’s life. And seeing Colette’s obvious distress, he could see the joy Abigail had brought into her life as well.
Disciplining The Thief - Complete Series (Historical Victorian Forbidden First Time Steamy Romance) Page 9