by Sara Bennett
“Can’t be helped,” Gabriel retorted. “This is an urgent matter. I may have to move her from here. For her own safety, you understand. His Lordship is fully aware of the situation.”
The old man nodded his understanding. “His Lordship’s been rumbled, ’as he?” Slyly he tapped the side of his nose. “Been good to us, His Lordship has. Wouldn’t want anything to ’appen to him.”
“I’ll bet,” Antoinette murmured darkly, as she followed.
They passed along a dingy corridor with closed doors. There was a smell of illness and the lingering odor of cooking, but try as she might, Antoinette couldn’t see any dirt. The corridor was scrubbed clean.
The old man paused by one of the doors, giving them a hard look. “Maybe I should send word to His Lordship, just to be sure? He’s very partic’lar about Mrs. Miller.”
Gabriel was dismissive of the threat. “Please yourself. Are you aware how much His Lordship enjoys being woken in the middle of the night?”
The old man thought about that a moment, gave a grudging nod, and then proceeded to open the door. Inside, the room was dimly lit by a lamp. There was barely any furniture, the narrow bed was placed in the center, and a child with raggedly cropped fair hair, and wearing a petticoat and chemise, was lying on the covers. It was only as Antoinette ventured closer that she realized this was not a child but a small woman, and then she saw, to her horror, that the woman’s arms and legs were tied down with straps.
She was a prisoner.
The old man sensed disapproval in their silence and became defensive. “She ’as to be restrained. Tries to run off, she does. Even managed it once, and she got as far as the river before we caught her. Can’t be doing with all that fuss.”
“Mrs. Miller” was gaunt, her face all eyes and cheekbones as she turned to stare at them. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something, and then her gaze slid past Antoinette to the old man and she closed her lips hard. Antoinette watched as her hands clenched into fists, the leather bindings cutting into her pale flesh where there were already old bruises.
“Gabriel,” Antoinette whispered, her voice tight with emotion.
It wasn’t until she felt his fingers tight around hers that she knew she’d reached out to him, and he’d responded. He gave her a little shake, a reminder that they had a long way to go yet, before they were out of danger.
The man was watching her, his wizened face suspicious. “Who’d you say this lady was?”
“Mrs. Miller’s sister,” Gabriel replied evenly. “She has agreed to take your patient home with her.”
He shook his head so vigorously his nightcap wobbled. “No, Doctor, I can’t let you do that. His Lordship wouldn’t like it.”
“It was His Lordship who sent me. Now, release her,” Gabriel commanded. “You know it’ll be the worse for you if you don’t.”
Antoinette moved closer to the bed, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. She could feel the bones beneath her skin. “I’ve come to take you home, sister,” she said, staring into those frightened, watchful eyes, and silently begging her not to give away the lie.
“Home?” she said, and Antoinette tried not to gasp. Out of that thin, mistreated body had come the most melodious voice she had ever heard—the voice of an educated and refined lady. “I have no home,” Lady Appleby declared bleakly.
“Hush, sister. Have you forgotten?” Antoinette insisted. She leaned closer and whispered the name of the Applebys’ housekeeper.
Lady Appleby’s eyes darkened and closed briefly, and then she nodded. “Now,” she said, “I do remember.”
“Doctor, can we go?” Antoinette glanced urgently at Gabriel.
Lady Appleby turned her attention to her jailer. “These straps are far too tight, Horace. And I’m cold. I want to leave.”
But Horace wasn’t happy, and he looked as if he was regretting letting them into his domain.
“Come, come, man,” Gabriel spoke impatiently. “I’m sure His Lordship will be pleased to hear you are cautious when it comes to releasing your patients, but you know he won’t appreciate being kept waiting.”
The mention of His Lordship seemed to do the trick, and Horace scuttled forward and released the straps. Lady Appleby sat up and rubbed her wrists, shivering in her thin chemise. After Antoinette helped her to her feet, Gabriel pulled the cover from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She snuggled into it, making a face.
“Your blankets are too thin, Horace. The blankets at Misfortunate Women were of a far better quality. Surely you can afford some new ones; my husband must pay you enough. Lord Appleby is very rich, you know.”
Horace’s eyes swiveled in their sockets. “Shhh! You know you’re not s’posed to say his name.”
“Lord Appleby, Lord Appleby, Lord Appleby,” she said loudly and precisely, and gave a broad smile.
Antoinette shot Gabriel an anxious look, and they began to hurry their patient toward the door.
“You’re a wicked woman,” Horace hissed. “I don’t know why I’ve put up with you for so long.”
“Well, now you won’t have to, will you? I’m leaving. Your service leaves a lot to be desired. I won’t be recommending you to my friends, you may be sure of that.”
Gabriel groaned softly as they reached the top of the stairs. Horace was padding along behind them in his slippers, agitated and angry. Lady Appleby, who had managed very well until now, was clearly in considerable pain as she lowered herself down each step. Her face was even more gaunt, her lips pressed together in a white line, but she didn’t make a sound.
Antoinette was impressed by her courage. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, and to her shame she’d probably seen Lady Appleby as a means to an end and a fate to avoid, rather than a living, breathing person. Now this formidable woman who, after ten years of imprisonment, was still too proud to show her pain, brought tears to her eyes.
They reached the door and Horace opened it.
“Good night, Horace,” Lady Appleby said grandly. “And good-bye.”
“Good riddance,” Horace muttered behind them, and the door closed with a solid thunk, followed by the resetting of the locks and bolts.
The hackney was waiting, and after Gabriel helped Lady Appleby inside, he turned to Antoinette. “All right, sparrow?”
She met his watchful gaze. “I can’t help thinking that I might have ended up just like—like…” she stammered.
He leaned closer, his size and warmth giving her a welcome sense of protection. “You’re safe, Antoinette, never doubt it.”
Before she could answer he stepped back, ushering her into the cab. Lady Appleby was trembling beside her, and Antoinette removed her cloak, placing it around the older woman, and drawing the hood over her cropped fair hair.
“You are his latest, are you?” Lady Appleby said, catching Antoinette’s hand and holding on.
“How did you know?” Antoinette whispered.
Lady Appleby gave a wan smile. “I don’t have a sixth sense. My old housekeeper came all the way from the country to visit me. She wondered if she had done the right thing in giving up my whereabouts, and she felt guilty she’d kept the secret for so long. She wept, so I suppose that was something.” She sighed and leaned back. “I was an heiress, too. He took my fortune and my youth, and locked me in a madhouse. My husband is a cruel man.”
On Antoinette’s other side, Gabriel leaned forward to see into the pale face under the hood. “So you will help us?” he said. “To see him punished for what he’s done?”
She looked white-faced and exhausted, but there was fire in her eyes. “Oh dear me, yes, it will be my pleasure, Doctor.”
As the hackney reached the end of the street, a river of fog swirling about the wheels, another vehicle drifted past them, going in the opposite direction, so for a brief moment they were side by side.
Lady Appleby gave a little scream. Antoinette looked up, and with a frisson of shock, she saw Lord Appleby sitting inside the other vehicle. He was still we
aring his top hat, but beneath it his face looked drawn and tired, lit by the coach lamps. He’d been looking down, but when the hackney rattled past he raised his head. Recognition of Antoinette snapped his brows together, and then his gaze slid to the huddled figure at her side. He lurched forward, palms pressed to the glass window.
But it was already too late. They’d moved on.
Gabriel thumped his fist on the roof and shouted for the driver to hurry up. “That was close,” he added, his pale eyes sparkling, as if this was just another game to him.
Antoinette, her arm about Lady Appleby’s slight form, sent him a look of disgust. “He’ll come after us. He’ll catch us.”
“He’ll try. And then he’ll rally his cronies around him and try and hide behind their might and power. That’s why we have to act now. At once.”
“Gabriel, why can’t you answer me without making a riddle of it?”
“I think, Antoinette, we should go straight to the very top.”
“Gabriel, please—”
He grinned at her. “The palace, darling. We’re going to Buckingham Palace.”
Chapter 32
It took them time to gain access to Prince Albert, the royal consort. Gabriel explained once and then again, and still they were refused. Prince Albert was in bed, they were told, and besides, he did not see anyone without an appointment, especially at this time of night. But gradually, as Gabriel explained the situation over and over, emphasizing that this was going to cause an enormous scandal—and did the palace really want them to take Lady Appleby to the offices of one of the more rabid newspapers?—he wore them down.
“You really should have let me dress for the occasion,” Lady Appleby said, as they made their way into an anteroom, surrounded by disapproving servants.
“You are perfect, my lady.”
She chuckled. “I imagine I am, if you want a fright.”
Gabriel pulled forward a chair and made her comfortable. She was remarkably composed, considering what she had been through. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he entered the asylum, but Lady Appleby was a revelation, a remarkable woman whose strength of character had brought her through ten years of shocking deprivation.
She reminded him of Antoinette. She, too, had fought for her independence and freedom, despite Appleby’s threats and cruelty. She was a wonderful woman, brave and beautiful, generous and kind, and with a budding sensuality he wanted to make it his lifelong mission to expand and explore.
Life with Antoinette would never be dull. They were very different as people, but he liked that. She could pull him into line when he needed it, and he could give her a taste of that wild edge she had been missing. It was as if they’d been fashioned exclusively for each other.
He watched her as she stood in the middle of the room, a pocket Venus with tendrils of her hair coming out of its pins and her spectacles slipping down her nose. There were shadows under her eyes and her skin was pale with weariness, but she was still…perfect.
As if suddenly aware of his eyes, she turned her head and found him. He wondered what she saw in his face to make her look so long and so hard. She trusted him, he knew that much, but enough to stay with him when this was over? Or would her comfortable, predictable life in Surrey draw her back?
Gabriel smiled, and immediately her mouth curled in response, as if they were the only people in the room. He didn’t even notice that the prince had arrived.
“Mr. Langley?” Albert spoke in his usual brisk manner.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed, while Antoinette curtsied.
“You have frightened my staff into letting you inside my home at a most inconvenient hour. I do hope you are not wasting my time.”
“My apologies, sir. I assure you I am not wasting your time. Have you met Miss Dupre?”
The prince looked at him oddly before turning to Antoinette and nodding. “I have indeed. Miss Dupre.”
“And this lady”—Gabriel gestured toward the woman still seated—“is Lady Appleby.”
“Lady Appleby is dead,” Albert replied, but his eyes were watchful. He had already been told the story conveyed to his servants by Gabriel.
“As you see, I am very much alive.” Lady Appleby was struggling to rise. “A little battered, perhaps, but still breathing.”
After a moment of shocked stillness, Albert crossed the distance between them and pressed his hand upon her shoulder. “No, please, Lady Appleby, stay seated. I am sorry if I insulted you. It is a fantastical story. Do you wish for refreshments while we talk? I will send for coffee.”
“If you send for anything, sir, let it be Scotch whisky,” Lady Appleby said firmly.
His mouth twitched, and he turned to gesture to one of his servants. There was a pause while the whisky was fetched, and he took the glass and placed it in her hands himself.
“My prison did not run to good whisky,” she said, and sipped. “Ah, my friend single malt,” she sighed with pleasure, “how I have missed you.”
Prince Albert smiled. “Only the best, eh, Lady Appleby?” As quickly as it came his smile vanished. “I feel I should apologize. Lord Appleby visited me often and I believed he was a good man, a hardworking man, and someone this country could be proud of.”
“Lord Appleby has a way of gaining our trust, sir,” Antoinette spoke at last. Gabriel watched her gathering her words, ready to lay before him the humiliation she’d been subjected to. “He gained my uncle’s trust. It is my belief that when my uncle spoke of my sister and me, and our fortune, he planned to take it. And that was why he ingratiated himself into my family.”
She continued to speak, quietly, firmly, telling her story and damning Lord Appleby with every sentence. Once or twice Lady Appleby made a murmur of disgust.
“He had run out of my money, it seems,” Lady Appleby said. “He needed another heiress and he chose you, Miss Dupre.”
“My sister, Cecilia, is staying at his house in Mayfair.” Antoinette glanced to Gabriel and back to the prince. “I’m worried he may harm her.”
“Of course, of course. I will send word to the chief of the Metropolitan Police that he is to find Lord Appleby and arrest him.”
Antoinette swayed with relief. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Sit down, please, Miss Dupre.” The prince sounded concerned.
“Sir, I’m well; it was just knowing it was all over. I—I am very relieved.”
“My brave darling,” Gabriel murmured.
Antoinette flicked him a startled glance and he felt her pull away, putting distance between them. “I am not brave. It is Lady Appleby who is the heroine here.”
“Sir?” One of the servants came running, his face a study in shocked amazement. “Lord Appleby is here and asking to speak with you. Should I…?”
“The man’s arrogance is breathtaking!” Prince Albert cried angrily. “Does he still believe he will convince me of his innocence?”
“Sir, perhaps he doesn’t know we are here,” Gabriel said urgently. “If you were to allow him in, we may force him to admit what he has done.”
Prince Albert hesitated, his thoughtful gaze traveling from Lady Appleby to Antoinette, and then he nodded at the servant. “Very well, I think we would all like to hear what Lord Appleby has to say.”
Antoinette stood stiff and straight beside Lady Appleby’s chair. She didn’t want this. A moment ago Gabriel had called her his “brave darling,” but she didn’t feel brave. She just wanted to go home and forget this had ever happened. Pretend it was a nightmare and wake up in the morning at Dupre House with the sun shining and the birds singing and her books of accounts to tally.
But it was too late.
Already the door was opening and she could hear Lord Appleby’s voice approaching, sounding jovial and confident as he chatted with one of Prince Albert’s secretaries. It wasn’t until he entered the chamber and saw the reception that awaited him that he understood his predicament. A wary expression came over his face.
“Miss Dupre
?” he said with a startled laugh. “I hardly thought to have the pleasure of seeing you again, and now here, of all places.”
“Lord Appleby,” she spoke quietly, with dignity. “Do you remember Mr. Langley? And of course…your wife.”
On cue, Lady Appleby lifted her hands and pushed back the hood of her cloak, disclosing her gaunt face and boyish fair hair. Her smile was ghastly. “My dear husband,” she greeted him, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so very long.”
As Appleby stared into her face, all color drained from his own. He shook his head and turned to the Prince, but whatever he saw in the other man’s eyes was enough to stop any excuses he was about to make.
“My lord, I find it difficult to reconcile the beauty you created in the Crystal Palace with what I have learned of you tonight.”
“Sir, I beg you—”
“You never visited me once, Rudyard,” Lady Appleby interrupted, her voice so much bigger than her person.
“Visited you?” Lord Appleby stared at her in amazement. “How could I have visited you?”
“Why not? I know you paid for my little holiday in the asylum. The least you could have done was call now and again.”
He gritted his teeth. “I couldn’t visit you because you were supposed to be dead, you stupid woman!”
Lady Appleby went off into peals of laughter, and Antoinette wondered if the whisky had gone to her head. “Did I have a nice funeral? I always wanted white lilies, you know. Nothing but white.”
“I don’t remember,” he said stiffly. “The undertaker made the arrangements.”
Lady Appleby smiled. “Dear me, Rudyard, still with a heart of stone?”
The viciousness in his voice seemed to stun even his wife. “You are nothing but a crazy old woman. No one wants to listen to you.”
“I am listening,” Prince Albert informed him in a very stern voice. “I have sent for the police, my lord.”
Appleby shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Sir, you know how important my manufacturing business is! I couldn’t allow it to falter. I couldn’t let that happen. You must see that? You told me yourself how proud you were of men like me, men who were self-made. Don’t you agree it would be in everyone’s interest—Britain’s interest—if we pretended this hadn’t happened? I could find my wife a house in the country, make her an allowance, and no one need ever know.”