Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04]

by Dangerous Lady

  Leaving the organized bustle of Fleet Street behind, they had entered the warren of crowded, narrow streets and alleyways abounding the Thames wharves. A moment later, the coach drew up with a lurch, and the coachman called out, “Here ye be, lass. That’ll be one and six, if ye please.”

  Taking two shillings from her reticule, Letty got out of the coach unaided and handed them up to the jarvey. “Wait here for me,” she said. “I shan’t be long.”

  He tipped his hat and settled back on the box.

  Seeing a number of unsavory characters who lounged nearby watching the pedestrians like feral cats watching a parade of tasty mice, Letty hoped he would not change his mind. Still, thanks to her childhood fondness for exploration, she had been in worse neighborhoods. Some areas of Paris that she had visited would doubtless have shocked her parents more than this street would.

  The house before which she stood was three stories tall and quite narrow. Its neighbors abutted it without an inch between them, and its unimpressive entrance consisted of a single grey stone step leading to a wooden door. At one time the door might have been white, but presently it was a dingy color somewhere between grey and mud brown, the result of age, the general filth of the area, and chipping paint. Two panes of its fanlight were missing, there was no knocker, and when she pulled the bell, the cord offered no resistance. It hung swaying when she let go of it.

  Undaunted by these details, she applied her knuckles, rapping three times loudly, then stepping back to wait. She had to repeat the action twice before it got results; but at last she heard the spat of footsteps on tile or wood inside. A moment later, the door opened.

  A burly man with bushy red hair, wearing a suit of drab clothing that was none too clean, stood glaring at her. He said gruffly, “Wot d’ye want?”

  “I am looking for a girl called Liza,” Letty said. “I believe she is here.”

  “Wot if she is?”

  “I want to speak with her.”

  The man looked her up and down, smirked, then glanced past her to the street. “Ye’ve come alone?”

  “Except for my driver,” Letty replied.

  A scornful look flitted over his face that told her he did not think much of her driver. He looked her over again, and she believed that in his mind he was measuring her slight frame against his own much larger one. Again the smirk flitted across his lips, and he shrugged. “Come ye in, then, but step lively.”

  A shiver shot up her spine as she crossed the threshold, telling her at once that she ought to turn tail and run. Instead, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and fixed a firm, unblinking gaze on her host.

  “Ye be a lovely little mort,” he said, smiling. The smile was not pleasant. Not only did it reveal blackened, broken teeth, but there was little humor in it.

  “Take me to Liza now, please,” Letty said briskly.

  “Oh, aye, I’ll take ye.” He gestured toward the narrow, rickety-looking stairs, adding, “Up the dancers, then. She’s above.”

  Holding her skirt up out of the dust with one hand, she followed him up, listening for any sound that might indicate the presence of others on the premises. She heard nothing of the sort, but the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to twitch. Taking advantage of the fact that his back was to her, she managed to open her reticule without losing her grip on her skirts, and took out her pistol. Concealing it in the folds of her mantle, she sent a prayer heavenward.

  At the landing, he moved toward a closed door, took a keyring from his coat pocket, and plunged one of the keys into the keyhole. A moment later, he removed it and pushed the door open, saying, “She’s there. Go right in, then, me lovely.”

  “I think we will go in together, if you don’t mind,” Letty said quietly.

  “Now that’s where ye’re wrong,” he said, returning the keyring to his pocket without looking at her. “Ye’ll be wantin’ a nice long visit with the lass, I expect.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, pointing the pistol at him and taking care at the same time that she did not aim it at the open door. “Liza, stay where you are!”

  He looked at her then and stiffened. “What the devil? Give me that popgun!”

  “No.”

  When he stepped toward her, she pulled the trigger. He jumped back again, unharmed. “Damnation! It were loaded!”

  “Of course it was loaded,” Letty said. “Moreover, it still is loaded. This pistol holds more than one bullet, and the only reason you are not lying dead on the floor is that I did not choose to kill you. I can hit anything I aim for at nearly any distance that a bullet will travel. I have shot all manner of guns since childhood, because my father and mother believed I should learn most of the same skills that my brothers learned.”

  “Then ye had damned unnatural parents,” he said with feeling.

  “You are entitled to your opinion, of course. No, do not move. I am feeling rather more nervous than is customary for me, so my finger may twitch on the trigger, and it’s set for very little pressure. Liza, you can come out now!”

  “Be that you, my lady?”

  “It is,” Letty said, noting with satisfaction the stunned reaction of her captive to her title. “Come out at once. Why did you come here?” she added, when Liza emerged warily from the shadowy depths of the room, looking tired and untidy.

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “They said I was to come, that they had a surprise for me, that I would make lots of money, but they were horrid, miss!”

  “Did anyone touch you, Liza?”

  “Aye, they dragged me out of that carriage, and they shoved me in that horrid room,” Liza said indignantly, pointing dramatically.

  Letty nodded, satisfied. Turning to the red-haired man, she said, “What did you think you were going to do with her?”

  “It ain’t what we were going to do but what we are going to do. We bought the lass fair and square, and there’s a wee house where they’re expecting her. She can make a good living, if she behaves ’erself, but it’s nothing to what ye could make, me lovely. I think we’ll take the pair of ye. I don’t believe ye’ll shoot me, ye see.” As he spoke the last sentence, he leapt at her.

  Stepping aside to elude his grasp, Letty aimed and pulled the trigger.

  With a scream of agony, he collapsed to the floor, clutching his right thigh. Blood oozed through his fingers.

  “Hold your hands tightly over the wound,” Letty said calmly, shaking the other two bullets out of her reticule. “Then perhaps you will not bleed to death. Liza, the key to that door is in his pocket. Get it, please. Do not let go of your leg,” she said to the man, “or I promise you, you will die.”

  Evidently he believed her, for he did not stir when Liza approached him.

  Timidly she removed the keyring, then looked quizzically at Letty.

  “Keep it for the moment,” Letty said. Then, to her captive, she said, “I must ask you to crawl into that room. No, do not argue with me. I have no sympathy for your pain, and I am feeling extremely short-tempered. Indeed, considering that you intended to take us both prisoner, you deserve more than a mere hole in your leg. Go on now. You can move more quickly than that.”

  As he began to inch his way, she replaced her bullets. When she snapped the gun closed, she had the satisfaction of seeing she had truly frightened him, for he scooted across the threshold more quickly than she had thought he could.

  Liza shut the door and locked it, then turned, saying, “Oh, miss, I—”

  “We’ve no time to talk,” Letty said. “We must hurry. I’ve got a hackney waiting below, but the sooner we get away, the better. I have the most awful feeling that this has been too easy.”

  When they reached the street, the coach was nowhere in sight.

  A piercing whistle shrieked from above.

  Realizing that their captive had managed to reach the window and open it, and seeing two men pushing through the stream of pedestrians from the Fleet Street end of Boverie, Letty cried, “Run, Liza! That way!”


  The girl needed no other bidding, and took off toward the river, holding her skirts almost to her waist. Letty dashed after her, pistol in hand, but she knew she could not use it in the crowded little street, and she would not have wished the hurrying pedestrians elsewhere. She and Liza slipped between them, dashing through open spaces, then slowing when they had to push past someone again. For all the heed anyone paid, they might have been invisible. When a dimly lit opening appeared on their right, Letty pushed Liza toward it. “In there,” she cried. “Maybe they won’t see us!”

  The alley was empty at the moment. It proved to be short, emerging in another narrow street. Turning toward the river again, solely because she thought her pursuers would expect her to run toward Fleet Street, Letty glanced over her shoulder and saw to her annoyance that one of the men was not far behind.

  A larger space appeared before her, a cobbled square that seemed to grow wider at the far end. She could see the river now through a greying mist, and she remembered the jarvey saying that Boverie Street was near Hawker’s Wharf. Cutting right, she found herself approaching yet another narrow, dark alley.

  Plunging into it, she called, “Here, Liza, quickly!”

  She was breathing hard now, and behind her the girl gasped, “I’m fair spent, Miss Letty.”

  “No, you are not. You are merely winded, which is better than dead, so think about that. Oh, Lord save us, there’s a gate at the end!”

  Praying that they would not find it locked, since it was too tall to climb over and too close to the ground to roll under, she ran toward it, hearing ominous footsteps pounding the cobbles behind them. When she reached the gate and yanked the handle, it held, and for a moment she wanted to shriek with frustration, but her fingers found the latch, and this time she pushed. The gate swung away from her, revealing a broad expanse of lush greensward bordered by gravel walks and brick buildings, all red, except for two that were cheerfully yellow. A number of men strolled along the paths. Others sprawled on the greensward in groups, talking. All of them were of quite a different cut from that of the men chasing her.

  Her feet crunching rapidly along the nearest gravel path, she glanced over her shoulder to see her pursuers stop short in the open gateway. They glared at her, and before they turned back, she saw both clearly enough to know she had not seen either before that day. Still uncertain of her safety, she surveyed the nearest group of men and realized that several of them wore academic robes.

  “Liza,” she said with a chuckle, “I believe we’ve stumbled into the Temple.”

  “Be this some sort o’ church, then, miss?”

  “No, it is the law courts.”

  Horrified, Liza said, “Will they take us up, then, miss?”

  “No, no. In fact, if I can … Forgive me for disturbing you,” she said to a young man seated on a bench, poring over a large book.

  He looked up in surprise. “I say, I’m dreadfully sorry. I did not see you. But what are you doing here? We practically never see females in King’s Bench Walk.”

  “Is that where we are?” Letty felt disappointed. “I was hoping that we were in the Inner Temple.”

  “You are,” he said with a smile, getting to his feet in belated haste. “I say, I ought to present myself. I’m Jarvis Bucknell. My friends call me Jerry.”

  “You are a law student, then?”

  “Yes, that’s right, for my sins.”

  “I am Letitia Deverill, and this is Liza,” Letty said, and instantly experienced a vision of Miss Dibble with features arranged in disapproval of such informality. Somehow, though, it did not seem a time to stand on ceremony. “Dare I ask you, sir, if you are acquainted with Mr. Edward Delahan? He is—”

  “Ned? I should say I am. In fact, he’s a particular friend of mine.”

  “Oh, how fortunate that you are the one I approached, then!”

  “Well, you could have asked anyone,” Mr. Bucknell said modestly. “His brother’s the wealthiest man in London, you see. Thanks to that fact, I promise you, everyone here knows Ned. He don’t count it an advantage, either, I can tell you,” he added with a crooked smile.

  Aware that she still held her pistol concealed between folds of her mantle, Letty glanced over her shoulder again. The gateway remained reassuringly empty, so she moved to replace the weapon in her reticule. Hearing a gasp from her newfound acquaintance, she looked ruefully at him. “I beg your pardon if my pistol startled you, sir. Some men were chasing us, you see.”

  “Well, I don’t see,” Mr. Bucknell said, “but I do know better than to ask impertinent questions of a lady. Otherwise, I should certainly want to know how one like you comes to find herself in an alley near Hawker’s Wharf, let alone running away from bad men with a pistol in her hand.”

  As heartening as she found his company, Letty refused the bait, saying only, “I am glad you do not ask me, sir. It is a long tale to tell, and I would much rather find Mr. Delahan if he is near at hand.”

  “I daresay he is,” Mr. Bucknell said. “We are members of the same honorable society, you see, and we’ll be keeping commons this evening. That means we’ll dine in the society hall, so I expect he’ll be there if we don’t find him at once. Shall I escort you to his chambers?”

  Accepting his offer, although she was well aware of the impropriety of visiting an unmarried gentleman in his residence, Letty followed him toward one of the redbrick buildings. Since Mr. Bucknell did not seem to expect further conversation, she spent the next few moments trying to imagine what Mr. Ned Delahan’s reaction would be when he saw his visitors.

  He opened the door to his chambers himself, and stood gaping at her until Mr. Bucknell said jokingly, “Shut your mouth, Ned. Even on a gloomy day like this one, there are flies about.”

  Letty said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Delahan. I hope you remember me.”

  Giving his head a shake, he said, “Yes, of course I do, Lady Letitia, but what on earth has brought you here? And Liza, too. Crikey! I say, there’s nothing amiss at home, is there? Mama? My father? Justin?” His face grew pale.

  Hastily, she said, “Nothing of the sort, sir, I promise you. You would not receive that sort of news from me.”

  “No, no, of course not. Forgive me. I say, ought I to invite you inside? My man is not even here presently, so I am quite alone, and I confess, I don’t know precisely what I am to do in such a circumstance.”

  Letty drew a long breath, then released it to say, “I must apologize for coming to you like this. However, although our pursuers lacked the courage to follow us into King’s Bench Walk, I fear they may yet be near at hand.”

  “Pursuers? I say, what the devil—?”

  “Well may you ask, sir,” she said when he broke off to stare at her. Aware that Mr. Bucknell was also listening with great interest, she said, “You deserve an explanation, but I cannot think it would do your reputation any more good than it would do mine if you admit me to your chambers. Liza and I would be grateful, however, if you would escort us to hail a hackney coach in Fleet Street.”

  “I certainly will, but I hope you’ll tell me what are you doing here.”

  “Someone enticed Liza to a ramshackle house in Boverie Street—”

  “That’s the only sort there is in Boverie Street.”

  “Yes, well, I received a message telling me where to find her. When I arrived, a man tried to lock me in the room where he was keeping her prisoner, but I had anticipated such a move, of course, and was able to thwart his plan.”

  “Well done,” Mr. Bucknell said, regarding her with fascination. “Uh, how did you thwart him?”

  “I expect you have already guessed, sir, since you have seen my pistol. I’m afraid I shot him.”

  “Shot him,” Ned exclaimed. “I say, who the devil was he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I sincerely hope not. I shot him in the upper leg—the merest flesh wound, I should think—for although he was quite noisy about it, his bloo
d did not flow too freely. Moreover, he was able to get to the window and whistle an alarm to his friends in the street, so I believe I am not being overly optimistic.”

  Clearly shaken, Ned did not speak for a long moment, nor did Mr. Bucknell. However, the latter looked more amused than upset, Letty thought. She waited for Ned to gather his wits, but when he did, he turned not to her but to Liza. “What the devil were you up to, my girl?”

  Biting her lower lip, Liza did not look at him. Instead, drawing a pattern on the step with the toe of one foot, she muttered, “They said they’d give me money.”

  “Crikey, haven’t you got a brain? I can guess what they wanted with you.”

  “You would be right, sir,” Letty said. “The man I shot admitted as much to me. He said there is a house where an abbess waited in expectation of her arrival. He implied that the abbess would likewise welcome me.”

  Ned’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed to accept her knowledge of abbesses. “You said you received a message, telling you where to go, did you not?”

  “Yes, and I can see that you are thinking the same thing that I quickly came to believe. Someone appears to have baited a trap for me.”

  “Can you guess who that someone might be?”

  “I have a strong suspicion, because there is one person who has steadily opposed my presence at court, but I should not name names without proof.”

  He nodded. “Well, Jerry and I will see you to a coach, ma’am, although I daresay I ought not to let you go home in a common hackney.”

  “I came in one,” Letty said. “I told the man to wait for me, but although he seemed agreeable, he did not stay.”

  “No doubt someone paid him off and told him to leave. Your captors wouldn’t want him wondering what had become of you.”