by Michelle Cox
“Goodnight, my darling,” he said, huskily. “I should go.”
“Do you have to?” she asked, looking up at him with such trusting blue eyes that he felt himself waver.
“Yes, it’s for the best,” he said gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. You were wonderful tonight. Everyone is quite taken with you,” he said, resting his finger under her chin and kissing her longingly. “Goodnight,” he whispered finally, “we’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” He slipped out, then, the blood coursing through his veins despite his exhaustion.
Henrietta watched him walk down the long hallway to his suite of rooms, her thoughts whirling with all that had happened, trying to keep it all straight in her mind. Overall, she was more than happy with how the evening had turned out, though she had learned later that the Hennesseys had embarrassingly asked Mr. Howard for a tour of the house and that Eugene had slipped off below stairs and had had to be rooted out by Stan, neither of them saying, even when she had asked, exactly what he had been doing down there. It was then that Harrison had apparently made his introduction to Elsie . . .
But at least it had gone well with the Exleys, she felt, as she shut the door and began to undress. Yes, she concluded, her silent prayers had been answered and the evening had gone well, though she had no idea as she slipped, exhausted, into her bed that it was far from being over.
Chapter 16
Henrietta was not quite asleep, the evening’s events still whirling round in her head, the many conversations she had been privy to coming back to her in fits and starts, when she heard a faint knock on her door. Not sure if she had heard right, she sat up, listening closely, and, hearing it again, this time a little bit louder, she quickly pulled back the covers and switched on her bedside lamp.
“Who is it?” she asked, reaching for her dressing gown. She hurried to the door, suspecting that it might be Clive, that he had perhaps changed his mind. Her heart began to beat a little faster, the thought of being alone in her room with him again causing her to flush with a strange combination of unease and anticipation. After all, her mother—Ma!—hadn’t waited, she reasoned distractedly.
When she reached the door, she paused to collect herself, opening it just a crack, and was surprised to see not Clive, but Elsie huddled there.
“Oh, Hen, can I come in?” Elsie whispered, shivering from being out of bed in the cold hallway.
“Of course you can!” Henrietta said, surprised by the sudden disappointment she felt and drew her in. “What’s happened?” she asked, putting her arm around her.
“Oh! Nothing’s happened!” Elsie said quickly. “It’s just that I can’t sleep. The bed’s too big.”
Henrietta laughed. “I had that problem at first, too. Go on; climb in,” she said, gesturing toward her own massive four-poster bed.
“I haven’t woken you, have I?” Elsie asked as she perched herself on the bed while Henrietta slid in beside her, the bedside lamp giving off just enough of a soft glow to inspire a confidence. In truth, Henrietta did not like sleeping alone half as much as she always dreamed she would and was glad now that Elsie had come to find her. Sometimes they had talked at home in bed in fragmented whispers, but it was hard with Ma just on the other side of Elsie. She was a light sleeper and often told them to “Go to sleep!” if they got too loud. Just the two of them together now was an unexpected treat.
“Not at all, actually,” Henrietta said, snuggling under the covers. Though it was July, the air was cool in the house at night, as it had been an exceptionally mild summer this year. She wished she could light a fire, but she didn’t dare. “I was just lying here awake, anyway, thinking about tonight.”
“Oh, Hen! Me, too! It was such a lovely party! I wish Ma could have seen it. And Herbert and Eddie, actually. Wouldn’t they have had fun?”
Henrietta smiled at the thought. “Yes, Julia said I should have brought them, but I don’t think she really meant it. There weren’t any other children tonight. She says she has two boys herself, though you wouldn’t think it, would you?”
“Heavens, no! She looks so young! How old do you think she is?”
“I’m not sure; I’ll have to ask Clive. I know she’s older than him, but not by much I should think.”
“I like Clive,” Elsie said, lying down and looking up at the bed canopy. Abruptly, she raised herself up on one elbow. “He’s very kind, actually. He asked me to dance; did you notice? You were talking with Mrs. Howard and some of her friends, I think.”
“Yes,” Henrietta said with a sly smile. “I noticed. I’m very glad he did; I was worried that you might not enjoy yourself tonight.”
“Oh, no, Hen! Not at all! It was perfectly heavenly!”
“Would that have something to do with a certain lieutenant?” Henrietta asked teasingly.
Elsie sat up fully now, clasping her arms around her knees as she drew them up to her chest. “Oh, Hen!” she gushed without any attempt to hide her feelings. “Wasn’t he lovely?”
“Well, I never got to meet him properly, really; I just saw him from afar.”
“He’s so handsome, isn’t he? And so polite! I’ve never seen manners like that before, except for Clive, of course,” she added hastily.
“Julia says the lieutenant’s very charming, Els, and very popular with the ladies, if you know what I mean,” Henrietta said, warningly.
“Oh, I can see why!” Elsie gushed.
“What about Stan?” Henrietta asked, trying a different tactic.
Elsie’s brow furrowed momentarily. “Oh, he wasn’t too happy, I can tell you that!”
“But, I mean, how do you feel about him?”
Henrietta was about to further ask Elsie if her thoughts about Stan and marriage had changed since they had last talked when she heard another knock at the door. Both girls froze, Elsie ducking down under the covers as if she were a mischievous schoolgirl, stifling a giggle as she did so.
It must be Clive this time, thought Henrietta as she slid out of bed and hurried to the thick rosewood door, wondering what she would say to him with Elsie in the room. She would have to cut him off before he could say anything suggestive. And what would Elsie think about Clive coming to her room after hours when he assumed the whole house to be asleep?
She opened the door a crack, trying to think of what she would say, when she gasped again to see not Clive but Jack standing in the hallway, looking ragged and overwrought. She drew her dressing gown around her tighter. She hadn’t opened the door any wider, but she saw his eyes try to look past her before he returned his frantic gaze back to her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Can you help me?” he whispered back. “It’s Helen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went down to check on her after the party, her being ill and all,” he said, his words tumbling out fast. “She’s pretty bad, Miss. She’s asking for you. Says she needs to tell you something. I . . . I tried to put her off . . . distract her . . . but she just gets more and more agitated. In the end, I said I’d go and fetch you. Please, Miss. She’s in a terrible bad state. I think she might be dyin’.”
“Oh, God!” Henrietta said, putting a fist to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what to think, what to do. Maybe it was just one of Helen’s delusional states. What could Helen possibly have to tell her? And anyway, didn’t she think she was Daphne half the time? But maybe that’s who she actually wanted to talk to . . . Maybe it was something important . . . A deathbed confession to Daphne? Maybe something about the ring?
“Miss, please!” whispered Jack.
“Why haven’t you woken Mr. or Mrs. Howard? It sounds like she needs a doctor.”
“Do you think I should?” Jack hesitated, looking at her desperately. “I just thought, after the party and all, they probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. I thought maybe if you saw her, she’d calm down or you could decide if we needed to wake the house up.”
Henrietta paused. Wh
at he said made sense, and, she had to admit, she was not all that eager to wake the Howards, either. What if it was a false alarm? “I suppose you’re right,” she mused aloud. “But we should tell Clive at least,” she said, stepping out slightly and looking down the darkened hallway.
“I tried that, Miss. I can see how he feels about us being alone together,” he said with a shade of bitterness creeping back into his voice. “And I didn’t want to get you in trouble again, not after the last time. So I went to him first, but he’s not there.”
“Not there?” she asked, confused, looking down the hallway again. She was touched, however, by Jack’s thoughtful consideration of her situation.
“No, Miss. Not anywhere that I could find him. Not in his usual spots . . . library, billiard room. The house is dark.”
“That’s odd . . .” Henrietta said, more to herself than anyone, baffled at Clive’s possible whereabouts. She had seen him walk down the hallway to his rooms . . . “Isn’t Billings about?”
“Not that I could see.” He twisted his cap in his hands again. “Miss! I don’t think we have much time!”
His face, crumpled in agitation, finally forced her hand.
“Well, I suppose . . .” she murmured and bit her lip, deciding there was nothing for it but to go down to the cottage and see if she could be of any help. She just hoped it wasn’t a wild-goose chase created by Helen’s jumbled imaginings. “Just a moment,” she said to Jack. “Let me get my things on. You wait here.”
“Okay, but hurry!” he said, looking up and down the hallway.
Henrietta gingerly closed the door and practically ran to her armoire to find some clothing to put on. Elsie, sitting bolt upright in the bed now, the covers drawn up to her neck at the sound of a male voice in the hallway, of course wanted to know what was happening and was beside herself when Henrietta told her she was going to check on one of the older servants who was ill. Naturally, Elsie wanted to go as well, but Henrietta insisted that she stay and keep an eye out for Clive.
“If he turns up, tell him to come down to the cottage,” Henrietta said, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.
“Oh, Hen, maybe you should take Stan with you,” Elsie suggested.
“No, I’ve got Jack. I’ll be okay with him,” she said practically and pushed an image of the lurking Virgil from her mind. “He’ll go with me. I’ll try to get back as soon as I can,” Henrietta said, hurrying out and closing the door noiselessly behind her.
Neither Jack nor Henrietta said anything as they made their way through the darkened house and out the East Doors to the path along the lake. Jack seemed tense and agitated, but grateful that she was accompanying him. It wasn’t until the cottage was in sight that he finally slowed his pace. He looked back at her now, giving her a strange smile as they made their way up to the door. Henrietta was surprised that there was no lamp burning.
“You didn’t leave her in the dark, did you?” Henrietta asked, concerned.
Jack didn’t respond, however, but pushed open the unlocked door with more force than Henrietta thought necessary and allowed her to pass through first.
“Helen?” Henrietta called out as she stepped into the kitchen. The room was dark, and there was no sound at all from the bedroom at the back. Oh, God! thought Henrietta, fearing that they were too late. “Helen?” she called again. “I’m here now! Jack,” she said turning toward him, “light a lamp, would you?”
Something about the way he was looking at her, though, caused her to stop short. He was grinning at her in a way he hadn’t ever before, and in the shadows, his face looked distorted and cruel. “Jack?” she asked, truly concerned. “What’s wrong?”
But even as she asked, an unnamed dread began to stretch its icy fingers through her chest. Something wasn’t right here, and she felt the beginnings of panic.
“Jack, now, is it?” he said. “Not Fletcher, the servant?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
“What are you doing?” Henrietta asked anxiously. “Where’s Helen?” she said, glancing toward the bedroom.
Jack laughed. “Oh, she’s back there, all right. A bit worse for wear, but I suppose she’ll live.”
Henrietta’s mind exploded in fright. She gave him a last furtive look before hurrying back to the bedroom and then let out a little gasp when she saw Helen, bound and gagged in a chair at the foot of the bed, her chin to her chest. Henrietta ran to her and dropped to her knees beside her. “Oh, Helen! Helen!” she shouted, pressing her hand to the old woman’s forehead, but she appeared to be unconscious. “You brute!” Henrietta said, standing up and turning back to face Jack, who was casually leaning against the bedroom doorway now and holding an old kerosene lamp which grotesquely illuminated his face. “Why have you done this? Let her go! Have you lost your mind?” she shouted.
Jack merely grinned at her. “Don’t think so, Miss.”
Panicking, Henrietta made a move to push past him, but he swiftly grabbed her wrist. “Hold on, sister,” he said, his polite manner of speaking gone now. “Not so fast.”
“Let go of me!” Henrietta said, attempting to wrench herself free, but he only gripped her all the harder, causing her to cry out in pain. “You’re hurting me!” she cried.
“Then stop struggling!” he said, releasing her but giving her a little shove toward the bed. “Sit down! This might take a while,” he growled, putting the lamp down on the bedside table and looking out the window.
“How dare you!” Henrietta tried to say boldly, but she felt sick from fear, her mind racing. “What are you trying to do?”
Jack looked away from the window now and back down at her. “No need to play lady of the manor now, sister. All that’s over. You know, at first I thought you were all right and I actually felt a little bad about what we planned to do with you, but after the last few days, I changed my mind. You’re as bad as the rest of them. All high and mighty. Don’t forget; I know where you live, where you’re from, and you ain’t so special, doll.”
“Do you honestly think I care what you think of me?” Henrietta managed to say and stood up warily. “You’ve got to at least let Helen go . . .” she said, moving toward the old woman now. “She hasn’t done anything. At least take off her gag; she can’t breathe like that!”
Jack quickly reached out and pushed her back down onto the bed. “Leave her. She can breathe.” He stood over her now, breathing heavily himself, and Henrietta felt a paralyzing fear just as she had felt when she was trapped at the Marlowe. It was all coming back to her now. Where was Clive?
“Please,” she whimpered. “What do you want?”
Jack suddenly plunged his knee onto the bed beside her and, grabbing her by the shoulders, thrust her onto her back and kissed her roughly. She squirmed uselessly to get away, terror filling her. “I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, his face very close to hers now, his powerful arms pinning her shoulders to the bed. “Admit you thought of me!” he hissed, so that she could feel his spittle on her face. “Just once. Admit you thought of me.”
Henrietta turned her head away, tears coming to her eyes. “No!” she said, hoarsely.
Jack continued to pin her there, staring at her, breathing heavily as if trying to decide what to do next. “Bitch,” he said under his breath, finally. Miraculously, then, he released her with a shove and stood up. “I’m to deliver you undamaged, however, so I’ll leave it. I’m sure Howard’s had a taste by now, though,” he said, looking at her with disgust.
Henrietta quickly sat up and moved as far as she could away from where he still stood by the bed. She struggled to remain in control, to not break down. She had to think rationally. “What do you mean, ‘deliver’?” she forced herself to ask, her voice more shaky than she would have liked.
“That’s what this is all about, doll. It’s been a setup from the beginning. You didn’t think Neptune’d forget, did you?” He smiled when he saw the look of horror cross her face.
“You . . . you work for Neptune? But he’s .
. . he’s in jail,” Henrietta said almost frantically, her stomach churning so badly that she felt in danger of being sick.
“Was in jail, you mean,” Jack laughed. “You didn’t really believe jail could actually hold Neptune, did you? He has his ways. He’s got men everywhere. More than fucking Moretti, that’s for sure. We’re taking over, see? And Moretti can go fuck himself. Neptune’s going to take over, and I’m coming up with him,” he added fiercely.
Henrietta swallowed hard, wondering desperately who Moretti was.
“All I had to do was knock off some broads. Make it look like Moretti’s gang did it.” He let out a hollow laugh and licked his lips. “Easy enough. Nothin’ to it,” he grinned, turning to look back out the little window.
“But . . . but what does that have to do with me?” Henrietta finally asked, trying to speak calmly and fighting to keep her teeth from chattering.
“God, you’re dumb,” Jack said, turning his attention back to her. “It’s got everything to do with it, see? Now that you’ve caught his attention, he ain’t never gonna let you go.”
Henrietta just stared at him, afraid to say anything more.
“Let’s just say, there’s gonna be a jailbreak tonight,” he said condescendingly. “Neptune’s making his escape, and you’re going with him.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’re goin’ on a little journey, you are. Little town on the Mississippi they call ‘Sin City.’ Neptune’s got a hideout there. Good place to lie low. He’ll have you with him for a while. You’ll be his entertainment, shall we say, till he gets tired of you,” he said with a ragged grin as he looked her body over one more time.
Desperately Henrietta fought the urge to give in to utter panic. “What have you done with Clive?” she asked, forcing her voice to be steady.