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 me a grudge, but for my influence to have worn off so fast..." Granted, I hadn't all 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? All 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 very smartly turned out carriage and sent well 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 getting 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 for now to try. And cold. I made some sort of a reply of 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 very 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 hiccuped out again. - "Here now," Oliver repeated, but in a tone very 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 not at all. Sitting up slowly with all the grace of an old man, I leaned well back into the seat, feeling absolutely wretched.
"Sorry," I mumbled. It hardly seemed, nor was it in 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 if to wipe away my 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 really 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 much the same condition I presently found myself, and the incident that erupted between us, but his mention brought it vividly back 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 hiccuping 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 was no longer shivering.
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 seriously 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 so as to listen in. Not one of us had any thought of dismissing him.
"You look worse 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 went red and blinked a lot, 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 very ghostlike herself upon hearing of the attack and my consequent injuries and had to be well 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 plie
d 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 any 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 very 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 somen 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 very 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 all over 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 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 take heart," 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 of their own. After all, they think they were successful. Until they learn better, they're under the clear impression that Jonathan is dead."
That shut us all up for a time as we thought it over. 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 us all. "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 inside me and gently touched her hand on 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 any more of it that I must go out again as soon as possible. As you said, they'll all be congratulating themselves over my demise What better time to deal with them?" My every instinct was against waiting. If I left things until tomorrow evening. who knows what mischief Ridley's friends might plan and 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 1 need not be so concerned about. Besides, you know perfectly well I can travel alone a lot faster and with much 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 over that."
"Not in my mind, but I also 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 again. 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.
"What will you do when you find them?" 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." My conscience is my own business, I thought.
"It makes you too difficult to live with," she added with a crooked smile.
I looked at her. She was trying to be light, but her eyes told me the lie of it.
"What will you do?" she asked again.
I patted her hand. "Not to worry, I'll stay within the law." Or try to, I added to myself, shrugging off my dressing gown. Jericho was already holding my cloak ready in the entry hall.
"That did not answer my question!" she bellowed after me as I hurried from the room.
CHAPTER
-8-
I'd not noticed the wind before quitting the ground. Insubstantial as I appeared to be, skimming across the sky like a wisp of cloud, there was yet enough of me left to feel its effect and have to fight it. But my strength had returned, so the struggle was more of an annoyance than a trial. A clandestine stop in a nearby stable had provided me a swift and much needed physical recuperation. Normally I'd not bother courting the risk of discovery by supping on a neighbor's stock, but our driver and lads were wide awake and like to remain so for longer than I'd wanted to wait. Rather than influencing them all to sleep I simply went elsewhere for my meal. With its red fire still fresh on my tongue and glowing hot in all my limbs, I found a recuperation had taken place in my heart as well as my body, inspiring me to an even greater determination to sort things out for good and all with Ridley and his ilk.
Rooftop and tree, park and street, all rushed beneath my shadowless form as I sped in a nearly straight line from Oliver's house toward the dingy square where Ridley lived, Even though my memory of how to get there was from a much lower perspective than the one I presently enjoyed, I had no trouble finding the way. Unwilling to give up the advantage of so fine an outlook, I solidified on the roof of his building to have a good look at things before going in.
The square below was as quiet as could be expected in London, even at this small an hour on a winter night. A few figures paced along on their own obscure errands, some wearing rags and their walk unsteady, probably from gin, others more respectably garbed, but no less tottery in their gait. I dismisse
d them from notice, peering closely into the darkest corners within my view. All were empty except for a narrow gap between buildings where a tart was busy earning some money. If her expression held any clue to her true thoughts, then her patron had no gift of talent for his purpose whatsoever. After ascertaining by his humble clothing that he wasn't likely to be part of Ridley's circle, I left them to it and partially vanished.
Moving down the front of the building I found what I guessed to be the window to Ridley's sitting room, it being hard to see anything through the glass while in this state. But it was the work of a moment to vanish altogether, seep through the cracks, and reform again just on the other side of the closed curtain.
P N Elrod - Barrett 4 - Dance of Death Page 19