“Hey, what took you so long?” he grumbled.
Archie appeared in front of the man like an apparition, making the guard gape with astonishment. He didn’t have long to ponder how Archie had escaped, since Archie killed him in much the same way as his partner before the man even had a chance to rise to his feet. Weeks fell back with a thud as the chair overturned, his legs remaining up in the air and making him look even less dignified in death than he had in life. Blood flowed freely from his neck onto the stone floor, pooling beneath his head and seeping into the cracks between the slabs. Weeks had an expression of utter surprise on his face, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. His blue eyes stared heavenward, as if calling for divine intervention.
Archie was about to flee when he thought better of it. A few more minutes wouldn’t make much difference to his escape since there was no one left inside the prison to alert the authorities and the door was locked from within, but a change of clothes would do wonders for his chances once on the outside. Archie quickly stripped off his filthy rags and used water from a bucket in the corner to wash. He didn’t have any soap or enough water to wash his hair, but at least he didn’t stink as badly as before.
Weeks had been stout about the middle and shorter than Archie, but his clothes were the only ones available. Archie slid the chair out from beneath the corpse and carefully undressed the man so as not to get any blood on the doublet and shirt. Miraculously, the shirt was almost clean since Weeks fell over immediately after being stabbed in the neck. The blood flowed backwards instead of down onto the fabric. The doublet was smeared with blood at the back, but it was leather and easily cleaned off. Weeks would have been astonished to learn that he’d been left naked in a pool of his own blood.
Archie sniffed the shirt. It smelled of stale sweat, and the hose were far from clean, but he had no choice. He ignored his revulsion and dressed in Weeks’ clothes. The boots were a bit tight, but they would have to do. Archie lifted Weeks’ purse and felt the weight of it in his hand. It wasn’t much, but enough to get him through the next couple of days. He then pulled the thong out of the leather pouch, pulled back his hair, and tied it before jamming a hat onto his head. He wouldn’t pass for a fashionable gentleman, but he’d pass for a respectable citizen, especially in the dark.
Archie found the key for the door, let himself out, locked it from the outside, and slipped out into the night. The air outside was intoxicating after the unbearable stench of the prison. Archie took a long moment just to take a couple of slow breaths, enjoying the tang of the river, the smell of new grass, and the cool freshness of the night. He felt weak and lightheaded after maneuvering Weeks’ body, but now was not the time to rest. He walked toward the river and threw the keys into the murky water. No one would be able to get inside the prison until sometime tomorrow, which gave him enough time to make his escape from Guilford.
Getting out of the prison had gone according to plan, but now came the hard part. He had to get to Frances without rousing the whole inn. The landlord knew that her husband was in prison awaiting trial. If he showed up in the middle of the night, they’d know exactly what he was up to and alert the authorities. Archie walked toward the inn, contemplating his next step. Franny’s room was on the top floor, so throwing pebbles or climbing up was out of the question. He needed her to come out on her own, but waiting for her to emerge after breakfast was too risky. They needed the cover of darkness to get out of the city unnoticed.
Archie briefly considered leaving Frances in Guilford and coming back for her once the manhunt for him died down, but once his escape was discovered, Frances would be the first person they’d come after. She might even get arrested for supplying him with a weapon, unwittingly, of course. He’d asked for stew just so the guard would allow Frances to bring him a spoon. He’d kept the wooden spoon and sharpened it a little each night until he’d worked the handle into a sharp point, sharp enough to pierce a man’s neck without much resistance. It took a while, but his weapon had been effective. However, this meant that he had to get Franny out tonight.
Archie stopped as the church clock struck one. He had to act fast, but to walk into the inn as he was would attract too much attention, especially since he’d have to knock on the door and wake the innkeeper to gain entrance. Then he had an idea. All places of business were closed for the night, but there were houses in every city which stayed open throughout the night, houses where anyone’s coin was welcome. Archie found a publican who was just closing up for the night and asked for the best brothel in town, then made his way to the address. There was enough money in Weeks’ purse to gain access to the establishment.
Archie knocked on the door and was instantly admitted. He was shown into a well-appointed parlor, where he was met by a handsome middle-aged woman who sized him up in a matter of moments. He must have passed muster because she invited him to sit down and offered him brandy, which he politely refused. He would have loved some, but he needed to keep his wits about him, and the combination of a month-long abstinence from strong drink and his nearly empty belly were sure to work against him and either make him sick or drunk, or both. It seemed to be a slow night, and the proprietress was all smiles, happy to have a paying customer.
“I have five young ladies for you to choose from, fine sir,” she said as she motioned for the girls to come and stand in front of Archie. “We try to appeal to every taste. And if there’s something special you require, well, perhaps we can accommodate you in that regard as well,” she added meaningfully.
“Oh?” Archie asked noncommittally, curious what the woman had in mind.
“I have a young lad on the premises, if that’s your pleasure.”
“No, thank you. A girl will do just fine.”
Archie looked at the girls. They ranged from very young to about mid-twenties and were sure to appeal to any taste. Two were buxom and lush. Two were thin and willowy, and the last looked like a child. She reminded Archie of Frances when he first met her. The girl looked terrified, and was clearly new to this kind of life. The proprietress noticed Archie’s gaze and was quick to sing praises of the girl.
“I’m sorry to say that Jane is no longer a maid, but she’s only just turned fourteen and doesn’t have much experience. If it’s innocence you crave, then she’s the one for you.”
“I’ll take her,” Archie replied gruffly. The poor girl blanched but didn’t say a word and forced a wobbly smile to her lips.
“This way, sir,” she said and shyly took his hand. Archie followed her up the stairs and to a small room at the back of the house where a single candle glowed on a nightstand. Archie took a closer look at Jane. Her cheeks were still childishly round and her skin supple and clear. She had small high breasts and a tiny waist. Another few years and she would lose her bloom and become one of the countless whores who were drawn to every city in England in search of patrons or just a means of survival. The breasts would sag, the waist would expand from countless unwanted pregnancies, and her gaze would become hard and calculating. He felt sorry for the girl, but her plight had nothing to do with him; he had his own problems at the moment.
The girl invited him into her room and shut the door behind them. It was small, but clean and prettily furnished. Archie spotted a ewer and basin next to a hunk of scented soap. Jane was already unlacing her bodice, but Archie held up his hand to forestall her.
“Jane, I’ve been traveling for some days and could use a shave. Would you mind terribly if I shaved first?”
“I don’t got nothin’ to shave with,” she replied, surprised by the request.
“I just need a bit of water and soap,” Archie said.
“All right,” the girl agreed. “Here.” She poured some water into the basin and handed Archie the bar of soap. “Will this do?”
“Splendidly.” Archie lathered his face and shaved off his lice-infested beard with Weeks’s dagger in mere minutes. He gazed into the small mirror hanging above the washstand, glad to see his own face ag
ain. His red hair was always a dead giveaway, so the beard had to go, and it was nice not to feel so itchy anymore.
“Is there a privy out back?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “But I have a chamber pot if ye have need of one, sir.”
Archie took out a coin and handed it to her. He’d already paid the proprietress downstairs, but this would keep the girl quiet and happy for the next few minutes.
“Now this coin is just for you. Hide it and don’t show it to anyone,” Archie instructed. It wasn’t much, but it might help her in her hour of need. Jane’s eyes grew round with incomprehension, but she nodded and clutched the coin in her hand.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Just wait for me,” Archie said as he slipped out the door into the darkened corridor. He’d counted five rooms besides Jane’s when he followed her earlier. Archie tiptoed down the corridor trying every door until he found one that was unlocked. The client was spread-eagled on the bed, the young whore riding him like a stallion. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed in concentration. The man had his hands on her hips and was urging her to go faster as he panted with pleasure. Archie didn’t bother to stay and watch. He reached in and grabbed the man’s wig, hat, and coat off the chair, before shutting the door quietly and making his way down the back stairs and out into the street toward the River Wey where Franny’s inn was.
Archie changed in a dark alleyway, then sauntered out in his new finery. The wig hid his red hair, and the plumed hat and fine coat immediately identified him as a gentleman of stature. He hoped that Jane would take advantage of the respite and wait for him as long as possible before going back downstairs to face her mistress. The proprietress might be angry and beat the girl, but he hoped she would be understanding since there’s nothing Jane could have done to stop him from leaving. The woman had gotten her money, so perhaps Jane would be left alone.
Archie banged on the door of the inn, brazen as you please. “I need a room for the night, my good man,” he drawled, amused by the shocked expression on the innkeeper’s florid face.
“Ah, yes sir,” the innkeeper muttered, his eyes lighting on the coins in Archie’s fingers. He might have asked if Archie had a horse, a manservant, of any luggage, but the sight of the money rendered him momentarily speechless.
“I prefer the upper floor, if you please. Enjoy the view,” he added by way of explanation.
“Yes, yes, of course. I have one room left on the top floor. It’s not overly spacious, but it does have a fine view of the river.”
“I hope the other room is not occupied by someone garrulous,” Archie complained. “I like to sleep until noon at the very least, so keep the other occupant quiet.”
“There’s only a young woman on that floor, and she’s quiet as a mouse. You’ve no reason for concern. She usually leaves early in the morning to go see her husband.”
“Her husband? And where is he?” Archie demanded.
“In prison, sir. Accused of murder. She goes every day to bring him food. Her time would be better spent looking for a new admirer, if you ask me. The man is sure to hang as soon as the assizes are in session. She’s a fine-looking girl, or was, until recently. Her husband’s incarceration is taking a toll on the poor thing.”
“I think you mistake me for someone who cares, my good man,” Archie replied haughtily. “All I care about is my peace of mind. Just tell the wretch to keep quiet.”
The innkeeper unlocked the room and showed Archie inside. The room was small and shabby, but it was next door to Frances. “Hmm, I suppose this will do. I was told that you keep a fine inn here, but I can see they were overselling it a bit. I’m used to more luxurious accommodations.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Perhaps you’d like a room on the ground floor. It’s bigger and has been recently redecorated.”
“This will do for tonight,” Archie replied, his voice laced with resignation. “You can show me the other room tomorrow. I’m simply too exhausted to bother with any of that now.”
He reclined on the bed without bothering to remove his boots. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
“Sorry, sir. Sleep well.”
“Here,” Archie held out the coins to the man, then waved him away as he pretended to fall asleep. He would have given anything to sleep for a little while, but couldn’t afford to waste any time. Dawn came early in May, and in a few hours, the streets would come alive with delivery wagons, servants going about their business, and boatmen setting off on the river.
Archie waited until all was quiet before leaving the room in his stockinged feet and knocking lightly on Frances’s door. He heard a sharp intake of breath, but Frances didn’t answer. He knocked again.
“Franny, it’s me,” he whispered. “Open the door.”
A moment later, the door flew open. Frances was clad only in her shift, with a thin blanket thrown about her shoulders. She threw herself into his arms as he kissed her tenderly.
“Archie, how did you manage to get out of prison?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“Franny, get your things. We need to leave before the town begins to wake. Wear your drabbest gown.”
Archie watched as Frances threw her few possessions into a valise. She quickly dressed in the sack gown from the convent, pinned up her hair, and covered it with a cap before throwing on her cloak. Gone was the beautiful woman, replaced by a girl who could easily pass for a servant or a fisherman’s wife. Archie took the valise from Frances and motioned for her to wait while he pulled on his boots and replaced his wig and hat. They slipped out into the night and walked along the bank of the river. If anyone saw them, they’d appear as a gentleman and his maid.
“Archie, where are we going?” Frances asked as she hurried after Archie.
“Shh,” was all Archie said. His gaze seemed to be fixed on the river, watchful and darting from one boat to another. He finally spotted what he was looking for. Most boats were open, but this one had a wooden storage compartment, probably used for protecting precious cargo from the elements. Archie helped Frances onto the boat, forced open the door of the wooden cabin, and bid Frances to hide inside. He untied the boat from the dock and pushed off. The boat rocked back and forth gently as it began to move slowly, carried along by the current. Archie found a punt and used it to maneuver the boat into the middle of the river where it could move along faster and with no obstructions. He then removed his wig, hat and coat, and changed into a leather doublet and plainer hat, going from a fine gentleman to a simple oarsman.
Frances watched Archie from her hiding place, her heart filled with quiet joy. She never really believed that Archie would accept his fate and allow himself to be tried and executed. Archie was clever and resourceful — Lord Everly always said so. She supposed she should feel nervous and scared, but instead she was strangely calm. Archie knew what he was doing and would get them away from Guilford safely. She made herself comfortable and settled in to wait. Light pink streaks began to appear on the horizon, the inky black sky of only half an hour ago now a deep blue and getting lighter by the minute. A pleasant breeze blew off the river, caressing Frances’s face and lulling her to sleep as the boat gently rocked beneath her. She felt happy for the first time in over a month, and smiled to herself as she drifted off to sleep.
Archie was still steering the boat when she awoke some time later. It was now fully light, and the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, the light reflecting off the water and creating a playful rainbow of color on the normally muddy waters of the river. The bank was thick with trees. Ancient willows dipped their branches into the water and created a tunnel of green along the riverbank, the peace of the countryside shattered only by birdsong and the lapping of water against the hull of the boat. Archie turned to face Frances and smiled happily. His eyes were dancing with merriment, but Frances could see the fatigue in his pale face and the tension in his shoulders.
“Archie, are you all right?” Frances asked. He still hadn’t told her how he managed
to escape, but she didn’t for a moment imagine that his escape had been easy or nonviolent.
“Franny, I killed two men last night, two guards. The authorities will be looking for me. If they find me, I’m a dead man. We must get as far away from Guilford as we can, then abandon the boat and make our way on foot.”
“Where are we going?” Frances asked as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Do you have a plan?”
“We can’t go back home; that’s the first place anyone would look for me, and I don’t want to endanger my father. The only place that’s safe for the moment is the convent. I don’t know if the nuns will allow us to stay for more than a night, but we must go there first. They will give us enough provisions to last us till we get to London.”
Frances nodded in understanding. Archie knew what she was thinking and feeling, but there was no choice. The convent held painful memories for her, first of her escape from her vicious husband, and then of the birth and death of her baby, but there was little choice. It was a safe haven.
May 2015
Surrey, England
Chapter 44
Detective Knowles paid for his pint of stout and settled into the snug in the corner. The pub would be packed later, everyone there to watch the match between Manchester United and Dublin, but at the moment, it was nearly empty with only a few tables occupied by people having a late lunch. Two attractive women sat by the bar nursing glasses of white wine, but Bobby didn’t even spare them a glance, as he normally would have. His weekend with Jess left him feeling unusually conflicted. He went into this affair with Jess with the understanding that it was nothing more than a fling. Jess knew his domestic situation, and at the age of twenty-two, she wasn’t interested in any kind of long-term commitment. She never made mention of a future, nor did she put any pressure on him to see her more often or choose between her and Carol.
The problem lay with him. After spending a few carefree days with Jess, coming home was harder than he expected. He’d missed Lucy, of course, but Carol went on a rant as soon as he walked through the door, and it took all his determination not to turn around and walk right back out again. Being with Jess made Bobby realize that whatever he’d felt for Carol had died a long time ago. After dropping Jess off at her flat in Haslemere, Bobby took the long way home, working up the courage to face Carol after an adulterous weekend. He’d had a few one-night stands, but he’d never indulged in an actual affair, and had certainly never gone away with any of his lovers. This was uncharted territory, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed without a map.
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 22