by P. N. Elrod
“Which is exactly how I feel, but a little refreshment from any stable in the city should fix me up again.” Something unpolluted by wine, I silently added.
He looked at the pool again. “But I thought. . . that is . . . didn’t you . . . with the girls?”
“As it happens I did. That’s my blood, not theirs.”
“Oh, that’s all ri—I mean . . . but I thought when you were with them you. . . .” He turned a fierce pink about the ears.
Good lord, no wonder he’d looked so odd when Mandy had pointed out the state of the water.
“I’m not wasteful, Oliver. Now stop being miserable. What’s in the pool happened when I was shot. I need to replace it, then I’ll be fine. Are the girls all right?”
“I don’t know. I suppose they must be.”
“Look into it, will you? They were asleep, but may have seen something after the shooting.”
He was reluctant to leave, but though tired to the bone, I was able to fend for myself. I was dressed, feeling the better for it, and ready to leave at his return.
“They’re right as rain, though frightened,” he said. “They didn’t have anything to tell, sad to say. The wine they drank left ’em fairly befuddled so they’re only just now understanding what’s happened, and even they can hardly believe it.”
“Then including you that makes four of us.”
He grunted. “You must have made an impression on them, Coz, for they were most concerned about your well-being. I tried my best to assure them of it. I think, they’ll have a warm welcome for you the next time.”
“Much good it will do either of us. Mandy Winkle won’t let us within a mile of the place after this.”
“Oh, she’ll settle down. She’s not happy, but knows none of this is your fault. We had a short talk, and I fell in with her idea that the men were thieves after your purse.”
“That’s some good luck.”
“Don’t crow too soon about it. She understands more than she’s letting on to the others. If the bastards were real thieves they’d have been busy stealing from everyone, not roaring through the place with their playacting, then blazing away once they’d identified you. Mandy knows this, knows they were trying to kill you, but she’s not keen to let it get out. It’s bad for business. You’re not planning to report this to a magistrate, are you?”
“Much as I’d like to, it wouldn’t be practical. I’ve nothing to tell that wouldn’t eventually do injury to our family if the story got out. Besides, the courts generally keep daylight hours.”
“Then that’s a relief for all of us, as Mandy’s not keen having the law in, either. We’ll also not have to worry about her carrying tales. She’s as shut as a clam when it suits her.”
That was good to know. “What did you see of any of this?”
“Damned little. I was in one of the dry rooms toasting the health of the wench I’d been with when I heard them tearing around.” From that point his account was similar to my own experience, of hearing the progress of joking and laughter up the hall that ended with a pistol shot. “Then it was women screaming and people rushing about in the way. I saw the last of the bastards tear past me—he was in a mask so it must have been one of ’em. Didn’t think to stop him or give chase, just stood there like a sheep.” He scowled, going pink again.
“Thank God for that,” I told him, causing him to look up for an explanation. “They might all have been armed. If they’ve got the kind of cowardly brass to walk in and shoot a man in his bath, then they won’t think twice about cutting down another trying to stop their escape. You did well by doing nothing and I’m glad of it.”
That seemed to ease any hard feelings he’d taken on himself for his lack of action. He shrugged. “It wasn’t just any man in his bath, y’know. It was you. They made a special point of getting your name first. Why would strangers try to murder you?”
“Because they might be friends of my enemies?”
“Ridley and Tyne? I know, stupid question. Of course it has to be them.”
“I can think of no others bearing a grudge, but for my influence to have worn off so fast. . . .” Granted, I hadn’t that much experience in changing the dispositions of others, but I couldn’t fathom how either man could have shaken free so quickly.
“Maybe their friends had some influence of their own. Nothing like falling back in with ill company to make bad habits easier to resume.”
I nodded, having no better suggestion to make.
“But how could these fellows know where you’d be? That lot who chased us from Ridley’s place were afoot. Then again, it may not have been all of them. Just one man on a horse could have followed us this far and we’d not have noticed him.”
“Then it’s best we get home to Elizabeth in case—”
“Good God, yes!” The mention of her name and the hint that she might be in peril got him moving almost too fast for me to keep up. I wasn’t too worried for Elizabeth’s safety, though; the men had been specifically after me. My present concern was the possibility of there being some immediate endangerment to Oliver since he was in my company.
But I learned Mandy had ensured the street outside her door was clear of everyone except her own lads. A fearsome-looking lot, they saw to it that we were safely loaded into a smartly turned out carriage and sent on our way without additional incident.
“Well-a-day, but I think this is Mandy’s own conveyance,” Oliver said admiringly as he took in the silk and velvet trimmings within. “Certainly gives one an idea of the sort of profit she turns. Did you see the horses? They looked like racers; we’ll be home soon enough if not sooner in this wonder.”
As the hour was late, the streets were fairly clear of the worst of the crowds. I might have been able to make better time on horseback, but not by much. I could have certainly arrived faster by floating home on the wind, except for being much too tired to try. And cold. I grunted agreement and wrapped my cloak more tightly around my shivering body. It didn’t seem to help.
“Uncommonly kind of her to lend it to us, don’t you think?” he asked. “I’ll have to find a way to thank her—aside from going back after a decent interval and dropping another purseful of guineas on her. What do you say?”
He was only trying to cheer me again. That had been the whole reason behind our going out, after all. It had succeeded well up to a point. I shrugged, unwilling to speak through my chattering teeth.
“Here now, it’s cold, but not that cold. You must have gotten too used to the heat and now this outside air is hurting twice as hard as it might. I told you that bathing was dangerous to your health—in more ways than one it seems. Your hair’s still wet, too. If you’d just shave your head and get a wig like the rest of us you wouldn’t have to worry about catching a chill.”
An ugly gasping sound came from me, suspending his prattle. The gasp came again; I choked, trying to force it back into the icy depths of my belly. Desperate, I sucked in air and tried to hold it; it hiccupped out again.
“Here now,” Oliver repeated, but in a tone different from the mock scolding he’d just used. “There’s a good chap, you’ll be all right.”
I felt a fool and was bitterly embarrassed, but there was no helping it.
“You’ve had a dreadful shock is all,” he told me. “Nothing to worry about. There’s a good chap.”
The hiccups wrenched away from my futile effort at control and turned into true sobs. I doubled over, unable to stop, and wept into my folded arms. Oliver put a steadying hand on my shoulder and kept it there the whole time, occasionally giving me a reassuring pat and telling me in a low voice that I’d be fine, just fine. After a long, difficult bout of it, the sobs came less frequently, then ceased. Sitting up slowly with all the grace of an old man, I leaned back into the seat, feeling absolutely wretched.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. It hardly seemed, nor was it i
n truth, an adequate apology.
“For what? Finally having a reaction?”
“It’s so bloody stupid of me to be like this.” My vision was so thick with tears I couldn’t see a damned thing. I fumbled out a handkerchief and roughly scoured my face as though to wipe away the mortification.
“You give me the name of any man who could do better given your circumstances and I’ll adopt him for a favorite cousin. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal; why shouldn’t you be upset?”
“It’s not as though I’d never been through others.”
“Those others don’t matter as much as the one you’ve just had, and don’t tell me you can get used to someone trying to murder you, because that has to be impossible.”
“But I just sat there and let it happen. How could I allow it?”
“Allow it? Listen to yourself, you great ninny. You act as if it was your own fault the man did what he did. Do you really think that?”
After a minute I was able to answer. “No, I don’t think that, but I feel it. There’s a difference.”
“Yes, I understand the difference. None better. You recall how I was the night of Mother’s funeral? I was in a pretty state then, was I not?”
He’d not said much about that night, of how he’d been in the same condition in which I presently found myself, and the incident that erupted between us, but his mention brought it vividly to mind. I’d seen him at his worst, just as he saw me now.
“You knocked some sense into me then,” he went on. “Am I going to have to return the favor?” He looked as grim as a tax collector.
I felt another hiccupping gasp coming from me, but this time it was the precursor to a laugh, not a sob. As with the weeping, I could not stop it, but unlike the weeping, Oliver was able to join in. When at last it died away, I found I no longer shivered.
* * *
Thanks be to the Almighty, all was safe and secure when we got home.
Elizabeth had gone upstairs, but was not yet asleep, and the commotion of our return brought her down again. She had but to glance once at us to know something was amiss. Orders were flung at servants who were still astir, and as they scurried off my good sister swept us into the parlor and saw to the building up of the fire herself. Just as one of the maids brought in a tray loaded with a hastily thrown together tea, Jericho magically appeared, stripped us of our outdoor things, and replaced them with dressing gowns and slippers. Without being asked, he unlocked the cupboard where the household spirits were kept and placed the brandy bottle on the table next to Oliver’s chair. By the merest raising of one eyebrow and cant of his gaze he silently inquired if I should like a serving of my own special drink as well. I shut my eyes briefly and shook my head once. I’d see to it myself later. He nodded and stood to one side to listen in. Not one of us had a thought of dismissing him.
“You look paler than ghosts,” said Elizabeth, rounding on us. “What on earth happened?”
Oliver made the first attempt to deliver an answer and initially tried to shield our reputations by passing Mandy Winkle’s place off as being a public bath house—a fiction that lasted all of two seconds with Elizabeth.
“I understand your wish to protect my sensibilities from being shocked,” she said. “But I’d appreciate it more if you just be as plain in your speech with me as you would be with Jonathan. Things will go a lot faster if I don’t have to interpret what you’re really talking about.”
While Oliver blushed and blinked, I took over the task of relating the incident to her. Of course I left off a large part of it, for my business with Yasmin and Samar had nothing to do with the actual shooting. Elizabeth went rather ghostlike herself upon hearing of the attack and my consequent injuries and had to be assured that though shaken, I was mostly recovered in the physical sense. Her own reaction matched Oliver’s, being composed of equal parts of fear, relief and fury. Once she’d expressed a portion of each to the world at large, she then plied the same questions already plaguing us: Who were the men, how had they found me, and why should they want to murder me?
The who and possible why of it were fairly obvious, but the how was more elusive. Jericho quietly excused himself at that point. Just as we’d concluded that we must have been followed from Ridley’s flat, he returned accompanied by our two footmen, both looking exceedingly uncomfortable and crestfallen.
“Didn’t mean no ’arm, I’m sure, sir,” blurted Jamie, the younger of them. “ ’Ow uz we t’ know ’e weren’t a proper gennl’m’n?”
“If I might clarify things, sir,” said Jericho, stepping in before the boy could go further.
“Clarify away,” I said, with a wave of my hand.
In a few succinct words Jericho related his formation of the idea to check and see if the other servants had noticed strangers lurking about the house that evening. None had, except for the footmen, who, in light of Elizabeth’s instructions to be watchful, had made a quick circle of the house and grounds before turning in for the night. Coming around to the front they met, as by chance, a well-dressed, well-spoken gentleman who said he was in need of a physician, and asked if Dr. Marling was at home. Having become used to such inquiries, they saw no harm in telling the man the doctor was away that evening, adding that he might be found at Mandy Winkle’s. The gentleman seemed to know of the place, gave them each a penny vale for their trouble, and walked off into the darkness.
“We din’ think twicet ’bout it, sir, as there’s alus someun comin’ ’round to fetch the doctor at all ’ours.” Poor Jamie looked to be close to tears. “Then when Mr. Jericho ’ere told us that someun ’ad tried shootin’ you, sir—”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
Jamie and his companion offered a flood of information on the man; unfortunately none of it was specific or useful. He’d been muffled to the ears against the weather like most of the upper-class male population of London. He could have been any one of our many friends, but between us, we decided he was most likely from Ridley’s crowd. Only a Mohock from the upper class could have combined easy manners with such ruthless action.
Oliver sourly admonished them to be more careful and to report any additional incidents to Jericho. “I could dismiss the both of you on the spot without a character and no one would blame me for it, but you’d only inflict your ignorance on some other luckless master and then he’d come after me with a pistol. Off with you, and if you’ve any wits left, use them sharp the next time a stranger talks with you, or your next billet might be in the King’s navy.”
They fled without another word.
My good cousin diluted his brandy with a little hot tea and drained his cup away, making a fearsome face. “Damnation, but if I didn’t sound exactly like Mother just then.”
“You weren’t anywhere as severe with them as she might have been, so be of good cheer,” I said.
“It’s myself I should be severe with, standing by and talking about taking you to Mandy Winkle’s with the two of ’em hanging about with their ears flapping. Those damned Mohocks came straight back here when we slipped ’em and waited. Good God, we’ll be murdered in our beds next.”
“I think not,” said Elizabeth. “At least not right away.”
“Come again?”
“They’re probably off having a celebration. After all, they think they were successful. Until they learn better, they’re under the mistaken impression that Jonathan is dead.”
That silenced us a moment. Then Oliver began to laugh.
“Well-a-day, but won’t they be in for the shock of a lifetime when they find out differently?”
“Until they get over it and try again,” I put in, sobering him. “And who’s to say they might not try for you as well? Or Elizabeth?”
“By heavens, if they do—”
“They won’t. I’ll see to that before another hour’s past.”
“What?”
>
“There’s plenty of night left; I’ve time enough to track down Ridley and his crew and sort them out for good.” That was putting it in the most mild of terms. When I found them I’d probably wring their necks. And enjoy it.
Elizabeth must have sensed the anger churning in me and gently touched my arm. “Stay home, little brother. Please. You’ve been through too much already for one evening.”
“Yes, and it’s to prevent my going through more of it that I must go out again as soon as possible. As you said, they’ll be congratulating themselves over my demise. What better time to deal with them?” My every instinct forbade waiting. If I left things until tomorrow evening, who knows what mischief Ridley’s friends might accomplish while I slept through the day? There was no reason to think they’d limit their activities only to the hours of darkness.
“He won’t go alone, Elizabeth,” Oliver said, standing up.
“Oh, yes, he will,” I countered.
“But, Jonathan—”
“Believe me, Coz, there’s no better man I’d want along to help, but I’d be distracted worrying for your safety. Mine I need not be so concerned about. Besides, you know perfectly well I can travel alone faster and with less notice.”
“You’ll still need help once you find them, or do you propose thrashing the whole lot all on your own?”
“I’m not thrashing anyone unless they force it on me. First I find Ridley and make sure he is indeed the one behind this attack.”
“Surely there’s no doubt of that.”
“Not in my mind, but I have to see why my influence didn’t last on him.”
“How will you find him, though? If you wait till the morrow I can—”
“Not one minute more. I’ll go to his flat. He may have returned by now, and if not then to Arthur Tyne’s. I was too polite with the butler earlier; this time I’ll get some names out of him.” Perhaps I’d wring his neck, too. Arthur, not the butler.
“What will you do?” Elizabeth asked, wearing a troubled expression. “Not that I give a fig for their welfare, but I wouldn’t want your conscience troubling you later with regrets.”