Passion Wears Pearls

by Renee Bernard

  “Not coming. Told you. None of you—” Darius had to stop, a coughing fit seizing him and doubling him over again for a minute. “Were to be here. I sent notes by courier as soon as I arrived in London but—I thought it was only Michael—I hadn’t reached.”

  Behind them, the Thistle collapsed to the ground in a grand rush of flames and timber, and each of them shuddered at a grim end they’d missed by minutes.

  Michael knelt next to Josiah. “Hellfire, my fault! I dropped those damn papers and she saw the Thistle in my notes—”

  “Shut up!” Josiah cut him off ruthlessly. “Listen to me, Michael. I can’t see. I can’t see a damn thing. I’m literally blind! So help me find out if she’s hurt and make sure she’s breathing properly!”

  “Blind,” Darius said. “How did we miss that?”

  “Blind.” Michael echoed the announcement in whispered shock, but instantly moved to help his friend and the young woman he cared for. “All right.” His search was efficient and quick, turning her on her side to see if the lining of her coat might be stained and give them some clue. “I don’t see any sign of burns or injury, but I can’t imagine she can breathe easily in …” Michael’s speech trailed off uncomfortably.

  “What is it!”

  “Her clothing and her corset. I can’t see how anyone could breath in that steel cage, Josiah, much less a woman with scorched lungs. Perhaps we should get her somewhere where we can get the damn thing off and—”

  “You are not removing one single stitch of my clothing in public, Josiah Hastings! We have an agreement!” Eleanor struggled to sit up, affronted to awake to a discussion about her unmentionables. “I may have compromised my principles slightly for the sake of art, but—”

  He swept her into his arms, ending her adorable lecture about the improprieties of rendering first aid on a street corner, a groan of relief wrenched from his lips. “Oh, God … what a delectable prig you are!”

  “I am not a prig! Now, kindly let me up. …” She blushed at the word, aware of the unique nature of his endearments.

  “Go slowly.” Michael tried to intervene. “There’s no telling how much damage your lungs have suffered after all that smoke. You’d fainted, Miss Beckett.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down and winced slightly. “I never faint, Mr. Rutherford.” Then she smiled. “Despite my industrial foundation garments, I am relatively unscathed. But what have you gentlemen to do with all of this? Did the Jackal come?”

  “And on that note”—Michael shifted his weight onto his feet and stood, an oak tree unfolding from the ground—“I’m retreating for the night. I have an idea I’m to blame for the lady’s presence and will therefore make a strategic retreat. I’m off to see the others at the brownstone and make sure that no one else had an equally adventurous night. And to make sure Rowan looks at poor Darius.”

  “I’m fine. …” His protest was cut off by another coughing fit, but he waved off their hands. “I’ll go with you and explain what I think prompted our ‘adventurous night.’ ” Darius brushed some of the soot from his pants. “Josiah, I suspect Miss Beckett will want to see you safely home and that will give you time to answer all her questions.”

  “And what of my questions?” Josiah asked as he helped Eleanor to her feet.

  “I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon and make sure you have all the information as well. Be safe.” Darius waved. “Come on, Rutherford. My hackney is there, but I’m sure if we walk a bit, we can find another one easily enough. Let’s yield it to Hastings so he can see Miss Beckett out of this.”

  The men left the pair without looking back, determined to complete their mission to ensure the well-being of the others, and Josiah shook his head in wonder at it.

  That was it. I told them and the world didn’t come to an end. No coddling. No inquiries. No pity.

  Telling his friends in a moment of pure necessity had been painless. But now he would have to tell Eleanor everything, and pray that between knife-wielding assassins and her aversion to controversy, she might forgive him before they parted.

  I am finally and completely out of time.

  Chapter

  29

  The carriage ride back to his home was surreal. The smell of burnt wood and oil clung to their skin and clothing, and all he desired was to hold her hands in his, kissing her palms and absorbing the fact that she was still alive, still there, and miraculously still with him. Here was a good-bye he’d never imagined, and Josiah wasn’t sure he had the stamina for it.

  “What just happened, Josiah? Did that … man burn down the Thistle to hurt you and your friends?”

  “It seems so, but he accused us of the deed and got off a shot before we could stop him.” Josiah pressed her palm against his cheek, savoring the luxury of its healing powers. “And so the Jackal lives to bother us another day.”

  “It’s like a penny novel! I just don’t understand any of it.”

  “It’s a puzzle for another day, perhaps.” Josiah kissed her fingers. “I don’t want to think about him anymore.”

  “I’m such a fool. I didn’t realize—I was simply going to find you and make sure that you were safe. I thought I’d arrived ahead of you somehow when the room they said you were in was empty, so I was just waiting. …” Eleanor shuddered. “But then there was the smell of smoke and people were screaming, and when I finally worked up the courage to escape, I heard a gunshot and lost my nerve. I shall have nightmares for the rest of life, I’m afraid.”

  “Damn, I’m so sorry that you were involved with this mess, Eleanor. They all warned me to be sure you were clear of it, before—I was going to come to you once we’d finished with this villainy.”

  “Josiah, I need you to tell me what just happened and the truth behind this Jaded nonsense. Please confess it.”

  He found her hands to hold them gently, drawing her closer. “My small circle of friends earned a silly nickname after we’d returned to England. I think it was Ashe or myself who said something about how nothing engendered interest more than a lack of it, and since we were irrevocably jaded from the twists and turns of our adventures, we were doomed to live the rest of our lives in defiant isolation and arrogant ignorance of the rules of civility. A woman of rank overheard it and dubbed us the Jaded. It was … quoted in a paper, and for complicated reasons, we decided to let the name stand.”

  “It is a wicked name, Josiah.”

  “I know, but honestly, it’s grown on us. And I thought nothing of using a public mystery as camouflage to hide our real secrets. It was all a lark, Eleanor, until Galen came under attack, Rowan’s house was broken into, and then someone tried to poison Ashe and nearly murdered his wife instead. It’s been a jumble of assassins and veiled threats and—I should never have turned my back on the danger. Michael accused me of being selfish and heartless for bringing you into my life.”

  “No! But why would anyone want to hurt you or your friends?”

  “That man, that Jackal—believes that we have something, a sacred treasure from India, that he is entitled to. He’s been trying to draw us out with notes and threats, and we’ve been trying to discover how to satisfy him or destroy him, whichever is possible. But none of us have yet surmised what that sacred treasure is or how it is he knows so much of us. Unless Darius solved the puzzle and uncovered a clue in Scotland amidst the gem brokers and that’s what he was trying to tell us before all hell broke loose.”

  She shook her head. “He found out about the ambush, and that there is another player in the game. It’s this unknown that may have caused that fire—not the man you were facing. And the fire must have been set to stop him from acquiring your … treasure.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Mr. Thorne sent you a note.” Her voice dropped, and he recognized the sweet shame he heard there.

  “You’re reading my correspondence?”

  “I was worried!” Her voice rose defensively, the lilt like music in his ears. “Mr. Rutherford was being a
bit too secretive about this Jaded business, and when your friend Mr. Thorne came by the inn earlier, I began to fear that something had happened … even to you. So I came to your house … and read the correspondence he’d left for you.”

  “And then set out to rescue me—alone?”

  She shifted next to him. “I’m not sure if rescue is the right word, but I had hoped to warn you. And I wasn’t completely impulsive to come alone! I would have dragged Mr. Creed along, but he was nowhere to be found when I left.” Her gloved hands smoothed over his and squeezed his fingers gently. “I knew you couldn’t have read Mr. Thorne’s note and I was terrified to think that you might be hurt.”

  The carriage came to a halt, but he made no move to exit it, signaling the driver to wait. “You knew I couldn’t read his note?”

  “Naturally. I may be a prig, but I’m not an unobservant prig, Josiah Hastings.”

  “You know? About …”

  “Your sight? Of course.” She touched his face, tracing his jaw with the soft cup of her palm. “It’s failing, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “It is.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can face going in. Not just yet.”

  “Then we’ll wait until you’re ready.”

  Josiah took another deep breath, holding it until his lungs ached before letting it go, and then glanced out the window at the dark looming shape of the ruined factory’s shell that was home. “I can’t see a single light. It’s as if the house isn’t ready for my return either.”

  “No, Josiah. There are no lights. You mustn’t torment yourself to—”

  “No lights?” he asked, the hackles on the back of his neck rising. She’d said she couldn’t find Creed, but how is that possible? He’d never have left his post. … “Look again, Eleanor. On the third and fourth floors and at the gate. Creed will have his lantern, and the lamps are always set at the gate and the stair landing when I’m out at night. And the Eschers … they’ll have waited up. Look again.”

  Eleanor dutifully looked again. “No, Josiah. The house is dark.”

  Josiah banged his fist on the roof of the carriage and opened the window to lean out. “Driver! Take this woman to the Grove and see her safely in.”

  “Josiah, no! I cannot go! You cannot—”

  “I cannot see you in harm’s way again, Eleanor. It may be nothing, but I can’t risk it. Go to the Grove and wait for me there. I’ll follow as soon as I can.” Josiah shut the carriage door. “If I’m not at the Grove in an hour, send a runner to Dr. Rowan West on Charles Street. The Jaded will come.”

  “Josiah, I beg you!” Eleanor clutched at the lapel of his coat through the window, desperate to keep him close. “Send a runner yourself and wait for your friends! You can’t see! Why go in alone if there’s danger?”

  “Because Rita and Samuel are in there. They’re the only family I have, Eleanor, and I have to be sure that they’re safe. I can see well enough, yet.” The last was a lie, but he refused to risk her. He pried her fingers loose from the wool cloth and kissed the palm of her hand, only to release her. “I love you, Eleanor. Farewell.”

  “Josiah! No!” She tried to grab hold of him again, panic seeping into her voice, but he stepped back and turned to the driver.

  “Driver, move on there! A sovereign to deliver her safely to the Grove!”

  The carriage pulled from the curb quickly, sweeping Eleanor out of his reach and leaving him alone to face the darkness.

  Damn!

  Creed’s moan of pain echoed in the vaulted and open ruined factory floor, and Josiah put out his hands to try to avoid falling as he made his way toward the sound. He found Creed next to one of the milling machines but only after the man moaned again in pain and unwittingly helped Josiah narrow his search.

  “Roger?” Josiah knelt down. “Are you injured, then?”

  “My head … Some bastard tried to open my skull. …” Creed whispered, the weak rasping sound of it only feeding into Josiah’s awareness that his illusion of his home’s invulnerability was forever shattered.

  Josiah took off his coat and laid it over the bodyguard. “Here, stay still and I’ll see about getting you some help.”

  “The Eschers …”

  “I’m on my way up. There’s nothing you can do, so try to stay warm and I’ll be back as quickly as I can, all right?” Josiah put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

  Creed turned his head away. “A reference …”

  “You won’t need one. You’re not fired, Mr. Creed.”

  “I ain’t?” he asked dumbfounded. “But … I …”

  “You’re human and I’m the one to blame for this, so I’d have you stay if only to let a man redeem himself in your eyes.”

  Creed groaned. “I never thought—thank you, Mr. Hastings.”

  “All right, then. We’ll talk about fixing up old factories and making good another time. You’ll stay still.”

  Creed grunted his assent, and Josiah stood to make his way carefully back across the floor and then up the stairs. He didn’t bother with stealth, but took the stairs two at a time, hating the idea that he’d find the Eschers in a similar state of injury on his behalf.

  And for what? A sacred treasure I don’t possess—or the stolen treasure I do?

  He was on familiar ground and moved confidently without bothering with any lights. He tripped over Escher on the third-floor landing, cursing as he fell. “Damn! Escher, are you all right? Did I break your ribs?”

  Escher could only mumble and Josiah discovered quickly that his houseman was bound and gagged.

  “Here, let’s have you out of this! Are you hurt?”

  “Mr. Hastings!” Escher spoke once his gag had been removed. “I’m fine, but my wife! They went inside our rooms!”

  Josiah untied his legs and helped him to his feet. “Stay behind me and we’ll find her together. Don’t worry, Samuel. If they trussed you up, I’m sure they paid her the same courtesy.”

  Escher lit a lamp and followed behind him, unaware of how little the flame helped Josiah find his way. Even so, both men followed the sounds of banging and thumping coming from inside the kitchen pantry and found the poor woman on the floor, tied just as her husband had been.

  “My beauty!” Samuel knelt next to her and freed his beloved wife. “Did those bastards bruise you?”

  “Did you see who it was?” Josiah added.

  Rita shook her head, her cheeks streaked with tearstains. “It was like ghosts! I never saw ’em! The lights went out and it happened in a blink! Not a word or a whisper spoken and my poor man nowhere to be found! I was in a terror for you!”

  Mr. Escher stroked her face. “I was trussed up, too! But what’s all this worry for me?”

  “Well, mind”—Rita’s bluster returned, betraying her emotions—“I’m not the one with the aching bones. You could catch your death on a cold floor! I’m so sturdy they could have hung me out the window by my ankles and I’d enjoy the fresh air.”

  Rita relit more of the lamps and then turned back to them. “Oh, Lord! You’re a sight! Have you been cleaning chimneys?”

  “Never mind that.” Josiah shook his head, enjoying the odd humor of his cook and housekeeper. “Creed was struck on the head and will need some attention.”

  “I’ll see to him,” Rita offered.

  “You’ll both see to him,” Josiah amended, intervening before his bruised and elderly houseman volunteered to help him search the rest of the house. “I’ll search the house and make sure our guests have gone.”

  “We should send for the watch!” Escher growled. “They’ll have robbed us blind!”

  “No. I’ll see to my own house, and I don’t want the authorities on my doorstep. Not tonight. Not after—please, both of you, just trust me. If someone is threatening the house, I need to see to it.”

  Samuel nodded and then got up to rummage through one of the drawers in the china cupboard. “Here, take this, then.” He pressed a revolver into Josiah’s hand
. “I had it for protection. …”

  Rita snorted. “Well, that came in handy!”

  “Be kind, woman! A man can’t shoot ghosts in the dark now, can he?” Escher countered defensively.

  “We’ll argue the points of home defense later,” Josiah said, ushering them both to the landing. “Please, see to Creed and wait for me downstairs.”

  “You’re sure, then?” Escher asked again. “Not that I don’t think you can manage, but a good pair of eyes couldn’t hurt, could they?”

  Wonders never cease. The old bird’s known all along.

  “I’m grateful for the offer, but I’d rather face a dozen armed robbers than your wife if I put you in harm’s way or accidentally shoot you, Escher.”

  Escher laughed. “All understood, sir! We’ll wait below and I’ll hold off until you signal.”

  Josiah moved by touch alone.

  A man can’t shoot ghosts in the dark. Escher’s prophetic words made him smile in the inky black. Not to mention the idiocy of a blind man carrying a gun in the first place. …

  Josiah set the revolver down on a small table inside the first set of double doors leading into the apartment. At best, it was a useless object, and at worst, a deadly thing he’d use and only succeed in killing himself.

  He moved quietly and with practiced confidence. It was his house and sanctuary, and he had been living without light in the evenings for many weeks to accustom himself to it. It was only Eleanor’s arrival that had changed that.

  But old habits died hard, and Josiah was pleased that he wasn’t forced to crawl or stumble about with his hands held out in front of him. Not here. Maybe everywhere else from now on, but not here, damn it.

  He expected to trip over upended furniture or to come across some sign of mayhem from a violent search. After all, he suspected that whoever had done this must have come looking for the sacred treasure, and a polite search didn’t seem possible after Creed’s fate.