by Jana Petken
Parker helped Madame du Pont off with her evening gown and then used cotton strips to bind the paper money to strategic places on her body: underclothes, stockings, and corset. She then helped her into a plain dark grey crinoline dress with a high collar. When she ripped off the madam’s fair wig, she was slapped for being too rough. She swayed backwards and then carried on with her labours, gingerly attaching the long curly black wig to a balding, bleeding head. Sticking a pile of paper money under the black-and-grey-trimmed bonnet was Madame du Pont’s idea. The head accessory partially covered the wig and was tied securely with a silk bow around her neck.
Madame du Pont studied her new matronly appearance in the mirror. She wiped the layers of paint off her face and then applied a more subtle lip colour. She took one last look at her home and swore, “If I ever find out who did this to me, I’ll bloody boil them in vinegar and then rip off their skin.”
She stood up straight in a dignified pose and with calm restored, said, “Right, Parker, go give the order to Eddie and Sam. Eddie knows what to do with Sam when they’ve finished with the whores. Tell him to use the pistol. Noise doesn’t matter anymore. And get Eddie to make sure the salon’s securely locked from the outside before he leaves. He knows where to follow us. Be quick about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mercy drifted in and out of consciousness. She thought she might be dreaming, for as always, she saw dark shadows and misty silhouettes floating and dancing before her. She grappled with them as one would when trying to catch a patch of mist in the hand. But these dreams were different somehow, for she felt physical pain. She had sensed pain but never actually felt it in any of her previous nightmares. She was being bounced around, and her body was thumping up and down on a hard surface. If she could only open her eyes, maybe she could understand why.
Thick smoke and fire … She remembered now. She saw the candlestick, the man, and blood spraying out of his head like a fountain. Her heart beat faster. She was putting the puzzle together, remembering certain events, but not all that had led her to this actual point in time.
She wasn’t dreaming. She was awake, yet couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to get her bearings. She was continuously losing herself to a void that contained no memory of time or events. She felt hammers striking her head. Her hand hurt, burning like a thousand bee stings. As she bounced along, images in her mind’s eye intensified. After leaving the bedroom and old man, she’d crawled into the hallway, searching for Julia, shouting her name. No, she’d been screaming out her name above an angry eruption of crackling wood, smashing glass, and shouts from people running down the smoky hallway. There was so much noise everywhere.
At some point, she’d fallen over something and her head had smashed into a sharp corner – a table or the arm of a chair, maybe. She remembered her fingers touching the egg-sized bump on her forehead, the blood seeping into her half-closed eyelids and then dribbling down her cheek. She lost time and events. Then … Julia’s face. She saw Julia, she remembered now. Julia was bending over her and screaming at her to get up. Where was Julia now?
Somehow she had gotten back on her feet with Julia’s help. She was dragged by the hand and was then pushed to the floor and told to roll under a bed. She didn’t want to be there at first, but Julia, naked, with skin blackened by smoke, had continually screamed that they’d be murdered if they went downstairs.
All her instincts had told her that they would die under that bed, but she also believed Julia. She was so tired, and her head was spinning. She felt a sticky substance all over her body. She was too tired to worry about what that was.
Julia had fallen asleep. Mercy had tried to shake her awake, but then her own conscious mind disintegrated and darkness took over completely.
Where was Julia now? she wondered again. She tried to shout out for her, but her voice was lost. She’d been struck dumb. She managed to crack open an eye. She was being carried like a sack of coal. Her head was bouncing against the small of a man’s back. Who was carrying her? Her head was pounding. She was choking and felt incapable of swallowing any more smoke-filled air. She was dangling and swaying. Her ribcage felt the hard shoulder muscles beneath her. Sam or Eddie had found her.
She was beaten, and her death would be ugly. She felt the man’s panting breath and his body’s vibrations when he coughed. She struggled to be set down. Her tiny fists pummelled the man’s back. She wiggled her upper body, attempting to fall off his shoulder. Her bare feet kicked some part of him. But they were all feeble attempts. She was tired and captured like a small bird in a large fist. She felt hands and arms grabbing and holding her buttocks and thighs even tighter than before. Sam or Eddie would kill her now. She had no strength left to fight. They probably had Julia too. They were going to cut their throats, just like that other poor girl. Maybe Madame du Pont would do it herself. Death was going to take her one way or another. That was her last thought before she spiralled into darkness again.
Jacob reached the hallway downstairs and staggered out the main doors. Jack and James stood at the bottom of the small flight of exterior stairs, holding on to the panicked horses.
James ran forward and took Mercy from Jacob’s arms. He laid her on the grassy verge next to the young girl whom Isaac had brought out minutes earlier. Then he turned to Jacob. “God damn it, what were you thinking?” he shouted.
Jacob waved him away and sank to his knees, trying to catch his breath and clear his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. See to the women.”
Isaac was attempting to revive Julia, who had stopped breathing.
James placed his jacket behind Mercy’s head and gently examined her bloodied face and body. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but I can only see one injury to her forehead. Where is all this blood coming from?” James asked Isaac.
“I’ll see to her in a minute,” Isaac shouted back. “I’m losing this one. James, help me. Tilt her head back and pinch her nose. When I tell you, breathe into her mouth with one long exhalation. Do you understand me?”
James nodded and obeyed Isaac’s instructions.
“Can you save her?” Jacob asked, still dazed but staggering to his own two feet. No answer.
After a few minutes, Isaac and James stopped what they were doing. Isaac put his ear to Julia’s mouth and waited. Julia shook violently, retched, and coughed. The four men sighed with relief. Isaac gave James a pat on the shoulder. “Good job. Keep an eye on her and try to sit her up.” Isaac moved on to Mercy.
Jacob’s eyes followed Isaac and finally focused on Mercy, lying unconscious. His heart soared. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He got back down on his knees and took a closer look at her whilst Isaac examined her: It’s her, Jacob kept thinking. The beautiful unconscious face belonged to the young woman who had captured his heart earlier. He’d been convinced of it upstairs, but her face had been hidden by hair. Whilst he was carrying her, he’d felt tingling vibrations run through his body. He had connected to her closeness. It was inexplicable, but God damn it, that’s what he’d felt.
There’s so much blood, he thought, looking down the length of her body. It was not only on her face, which was entirely covered in it, but her body, legs, and the scant corset she wore were caked in it. “Isaac?” he asked, searching for answers.
“I don’t know, Jacob. It can’t all be her blood. She has a large bump on her head, but the cut’s not deep enough to cause this.” He looked up at the others. “Most of this blood belongs to someone else.”
At that moment, screams from inside the house redirected their attention. All four men had been under the impression that they were the last to leave. No one else was in sight. None of them had seen the madam since the first sign of smoke. The entire house was in flames now, and the roof was beginning to creak and cave in. She was probably long gone, yet they all heard screaming coming from the ground floor inside.
“The salon – I saw some women being taken in there,” Jacob said to the others, slight
ly mystified. “There are no windows in that room. There’s only the small glass banner that runs along the edge of the ceiling and double glass doors. If they are locked, the women won’t be able to get out. We need to go back in.” Jacob turned to Isaac. “Look after the two girls. I’m counting on you not to let anything else happen to them. Leave now. Get yourselves and the girls back to the Christina. Put them in my stateroom. And, Isaac, don’t leave them until you’re certain they’re all right and comfortable. ”
No one argued.
James followed Jacob. They went to their horses. Both men got their Colt revolvers and holsters from the saddlebags. “Use it if you have to,” Jacob said.
James nodded in agreement.
The salon door was shut but not locked. Screaming was clearly coming from within, sounding loud and desperate. Jacob turned the doorknobs and pushed both the heavy doors inwards. He stepped into the room with his gun cocked and ready. James followed, holding his Colt with arm outstretched.
Jacob’s eyes took in the scene before him. His stunned expression displayed a rage he’d rarely ever felt.
A man was lighting the curtains and fabrics, setting another fire. The women had been corralled in a corner of the room farthest away from the doors. Another man was holding the women hostage at gunpoint. Jacob’s instincts took over. He looked at James. Both Americans pointed their weapons towards the men. Sam and Eddie had not seen or heard Jacob and James come into the room.
Jacob shouted above the noise coming from the screaming women, “You two! Lower your weapons and step away from the women!”
Eddie turned, torch in one hand, gun in the other, and a mixture of surprise and anger crossing his face.
“I said to put the gun down or I swear to God, we’ll kill you where you stand. I said put the gun down!” Jacob shouted again.
Eddie looked at Sam. Sam, with a terrified look on his face, bent down and laid the cleaver he was holding on the floor.
Jacob and James concentrated on Eddie. James shouted, “Don’t be stupid! You don’t want to die tonight. Put the gun down!”
Eddie shot one more look at Sam, and then he too bent down, gently laying the gun on the floor. There were two guns to his one.
Sam looked into the barrel of James’s gun and raised his hands above his head as well. “Don’t shoot,” he pleaded in a high squeal.
Jacob and James took their eyes from Eddie for just a second and looked at Sam, who was now crying like a baby.
Eddie took advantage of the situation and stepped behind Jacob’s half-turned body. He reached the door in a flash and ran without looking back.
“Damn it!” James shouted. “I’ll go after him.”
“Don’t bother. Let the coward go. We need to get the women to safety. You take this sniffling son of a bitch outside and hold him.”
James grabbed Sam by his jacket collar and pushed him towards the double doors. As he left the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Jacob, hurry up! You don’t have much time.”
Jacob grunted to himself. He would have liked to have beaten the bastard that ran away within an inch of his life, but the priority now was to coax the frightened women to go with him. “Come on, ladies! Follow me. I’m not going to hurt you. We have to leave right now!”
The women clung to each other. Jacob couldn’t understand their reluctance to move. They were afraid of him. He holstered his gun and walked to the doors, opening them wide. “Run as fast as you can and get yourselves home. No one else is going to hurt you,” he told them. “Go on, get out of here!”
His words brought them to their senses, and they scattered like rabbits. Jacob checked once more that no one had been left behind in the salon. Satisfied, he joined James outside.
Sam continued to stare at James’s gun, now inches from his face. “I was just following orders,” he suddenly said with a wrenching sob. “She told me to do it. Don’t shoot me, please. Don’t kill me. I’ll give you no trouble.”
“Shut up,” Jacob told him. “James, what shall we do with this bastard? Personally, I’d like to take him to the coppers, but I’m in no mood for questions I can’t answer or for staying up half the night.”
“Let’s leave the damn coward here,” James suggested.
Jacob nodded. “We’ll take him to the nearest tree and tie him to it. There’s some horse’s tether rope in the saddlebags. He can explain to the authorities what happened here, and with a bit of luck, they’ll take him in for questioning. We’ll tie his wrists real tight and make sure it hurts him.”
Sam’s face was a picture of panic. Please, sir, if those girls get to the coppers, I’ll be done for. Have mercy, sir,” he sobbed. “I didn’t want to work for that old whore. She made me do terrible things. Don’t leave me here. Please let me go; I promise I’ll lead a good life.”
“Shut your mouth,” Jacob said, dragging him to a tree which sat just at the edge of the grassy lawn. “Tell your story to the law.”
Jacob and James secured Sam’s hands behind his back with rope. They then wrapped its remaining length around his middle and the tree trunk. Jacob pulled at the rope, making sure Sam would not be able to wiggle his body out of it. When he was satisfied, he and James mounted their horses and rode away from the burning mansion at a canter. They stayed off the main driveway, agreeing that they didn’t want any more involvement with this night’s outcome.
As they rode in the darkness, Jacob said, “I guess we can consider our memberships here terminated.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Madame du Pont’s carriage raced through her property’s grounds, curtains closed; she and Parker were inside, holding on for dear life as the carriage and two drivers swayed precariously round the tight bends on the road.
Madame du Pont was cursing the world, yet she was also displaying a rare vulnerability. Intermittent sobs caught her breath in between her swear words. Her face was as white as chalk, her body trembled, and she absently wrung her hands together.
The carriage driver and co-driver headed straight to the docks at a gallop, per Madame du Pont’s instructions. When they approached the entrance, they slowed, entered the dockyard’s main gates, and parked in a dark, secluded spot near the ticket offices, which remained open all night.
Madame du Pont was now silent and unwilling to engage in any conversation with her servant. Her mind was racing. Every time Parker spoke, she raised her hand to silence her.
Du Pont truly believed that America was her best option now. She had always fancied America. It had been her choice ever since the day she first thought about her retirement. The New World seemed to be a more civilised country than the others she’d considered. She could not contemplate the likes of Australia, which would be filled with penal colonies and hordes of crooks and criminals.
No. For her, America was the place to be. The gentlemen from the Southern states had always impressed her with their manners and ardent displays of respect for her whores. She deserved to have respect now, not as a madam but as a lady, and she had enough money to buy it. She hoped Eddie would remember exactly what she’d told him about booking the tickets for a big Southern port. He could be a bit scatty at times, and knowing him, she would end up in bloody Boston.
As she sat inside the carriage waiting for him, she wondered if her orders had been carried out to the letter. The house would be in cinders by now, no doubt. Coppers, firefighters, and officials would be crawling all over it. She not only wanted to go to America; she needed to get on a bloody ship going there at once. She was not going to be found and forced to answer bothersome questions of any kind about her home and the burned corpses of her whores.
They would be found, of course; there was no getting around that. She could only hope that the women had caught fire quickly and that their bodies would be unrecognisable. The idea of even one surviving scared her to death. She tried to look for a positive outcome, even though her optimistic outlook had been replaced by despair. She would never have to put her feet on English
soil again.
She thought about her house in London; she also had plans for that. The house was in a fine location and was worth far too much money to ignore or leave unsold. Its future would now have to be addressed.
It had been quite the day – a day that had begun with promise but had ended in disaster. All that mattered now was getting on a ship and getting the bloody hell off this island. She glanced at Parker. The woman was loyal, but she was going to have to test that loyalty to its limits as soon as passage on a ship had been secured.
Madame du Pont’s disposition was one of nervous anticipation tinged with concern and annoyance. Eddie had still not arrived at their designated meeting point. She had no idea what could be taking him so long. She had given him strict instructions. He knew she would be worried. It’s bloody inconsiderate of him to dally like this, she thought angrily.
More time passed. She wanted to stretch her legs. The docks were quiet, but there were hundreds of people sleeping on the docks’ narrow streets and in front of warehouses. She was safe inside her carriage. It would be folly to even step outside it. The drivers had a rifle and pistol and would shoot anyone who threatened her. Still, she was carrying a great deal of money on her person, not to mention the leather valise, which was filled with gold and sitting next to her. It was a massive fortune built up over the years for an occasion such as this. Her hard-earned money would bring her luxuries and security. It was far too dangerous to step outside with all these ignorant immigrants running around. Thieves spent their time patiently waiting for the likes of her. Christ, if she lost her money to any one of them, she’d be finished.