“Here, miss. Did Lord Ashbury come with you?” The hope in his voice brought a lump to her throat.
“I fear not, but we must hope he’ll arrive soon.” They couldn’t wait though. They needed to escape as quickly as possible. “Are any of you able to pick a lock?” Normally that wasn’t a question she’d ask of a child, but these boys had been raised in a different world where cleverness took many forms.
“I’m pretty good at it, but I don’t got no tools,” claimed one of the boys.
“I’ve just the thing for you.” She removed one of her hat pins. “Come toward my voice so I might hand it to you.”
Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could now see vague outlines. Not much help, but better than absolute darkness. The boy touched her hand. She carefully gave him the pin, helped him locate the lock and let him start work.
She thought back to what she’d observed when she’d arrived in the room. She’d been so taken aback to see the all the boys, she’d noticed little else. Pallets were scattered on the floor for the boys to sleep on, but those were of no use.
If it was similar to the rest of the building, it had a high window. But there wasn’t anything in the room upon which to stand.
“Hubert, come this way if you please.” Surely giving the children something to do would provide both hope and a distraction and, with some luck, help them out of this mess.
“What can I do, miss?” he asked from her side.
“Is there a window?”
“Yes, but we can’t reach it. Not even if we stack our beds.”
“I’ve an idea. We’ll need volunteers and I need your assistance in organizing them. First, someone who’s strong.”
“That would be me, miss,” said a boy to her right.
“Stand near the window. Hubert, help me lift him on my shoulders. He might be able to reach it.” She was a good five or six inches taller than Hubert and with the boy on her shoulders, he should reach the window with ease.
“But there aren’t any latches on the windows to open them, miss.”
“We’ll break it. Sophia, hand me your shoe.” She knew the girl’s shoe had a small heel as she hated being shorter than Olivia.
Sophia quickly removed it and passed it to Abigail.
“Excellent. Girls, find some sort of cloth he can wrap around his hand to protect it from the glass.”
Abigail heard the tearing of fabric and could only surmise that one of the girls had torn off a piece of her gown. With Hubert’s help, Abigail managed to assist the boy onto her shoulders. She staggered under his weight. He was heavier than she’d expected. His boots dug into her shoulders as the shoe and cloth were handed up to the boy.
“Sam, wrap yer hand and use the heel to smash the window,” Hubert urged him.
It took several tries for Sam to succeed, each movement wearing on Abigail, but at last they were rewarded with the sound of breaking glass.
“Good work,” Abigail said, lurching as he shifted, balancing him with Hubert’s help. “Now break off all the sharp edges with the shoe. Be careful.”
Several long minutes passed as the boy completed the task. Abigail grew hot and shaky from her efforts as well as her nerves. She hoped the noise didn’t alert Simmons of their impending escape.
“Can ye jump down without hurtin’ yerself, Sam?” Hubert asked.
“Ahh...”
His hesitation sank Abigail’s heart. It must be too far for him to jump. All this effort for nothing. She staggered, her shoulders aching under the strain.
For the first time, she was glad of the dark, for it hid her despair from the children. What else could they do? She had no other plan. The boy picking the lock still worked at it, but without success.
“There’s someone below,” Sam whispered from his high perch.
Abigail’s stomach clenched with fear. She had a sudden vision of Simmons standing below the window, knife in hand and that horrible smirk upon his face.
“He’s dressed all fancy.”
“Ask him if his name is Lord Ashbury,” Hubert called out.
A muffled bit of talking occurred, then the boy turned back to tell them, “Nay. He’s Lord Weston and there’s a Mr. Farley here as well.”
Relief made Abigail’s legs tremble. If they were here, Stephen had to be nearby, too.
“They’ve come to help us,” Abigail called up to the boy. “Can you get out with their assistance?”
“I’ll try.”
The weight lifted from Abigail’s shoulders as the boy hoisted himself up then scrambled out the window. “Hubert, do you want to go next?”
“No, miss. Take Matthew.” He took the hand of the boy who’d volunteered earlier. “He’s awful scared.”
“Matthew, come on then. Hurry. Up you go.”
The boy sniffled then crawled onto Abigail’s shoulders. Though too short to reach the window by standing on her shoulders, Abigail managed to lift his small form high enough so he could pull himself onto the window ledge.
Already she was weary, her muscles protesting, and there were more children to go. But they had to hurry. Simmons could be back at any moment.
“Who’s next?” She hoisted up another boy with Hubert’s help and then another.
“Miss, let’s get yer sisters out,” Hubert suggested.
Olivia pushed Sophia forward with little argument, assisting her onto Abigail’s shoulders along with Hubert’s help. Sophia trembled so much that Abigail knew how frightened she was.
“Let us help the small boys out before I go,” Olivia suggested. “They’ve been here much longer than I.”
Abigail squeezed her sister’s hand, proud of her for her courage. The children seemed to jump out of the window with relative ease, and she had to assume Weston and Farley were catching them. A few more minutes and they’d have them all out. She refused to worry that she’d be left by herself at the end.
Olivia at last agreed to go after Abigail told her she’d be needed on the outside to help calm the younger boys. Abigail breathed a sigh of relief knowing her sisters were safe.
“Miss, you go next. I think I can lift you,” Hubert told her. “I’ll help the rest.”
“That is very brave of you, but they’re going to need you out there, too.” She knew the boy wasn’t tall enough to lift anyone, not to mention the fact that he was still recovering from his stab wound. It was up to her to finish this.
As she lifted the next boy, the door rattled. Shaking with fright, she thrust the boy up as the door swung open. A light blinded her, and she shaded her eyes to see who’d arrived.
Simmons held a lamp aloft, a shadowy, cloaked figure behind him. Simmons’ arm was in a makeshift sling. “Here now! What’s goin’ on?” He snarled at Abigail. “What did ye do with those kids?”
“You’ve no right to hold these children—”
Simmons pointed to the broken window above Abigail’s head. “Get back here!”
She turned and looked up, horrified to see the little boy’s legs still dangling from the window.
Simmons rushed forward, his hand reaching for the boy’s foot.
Desperate to make sure the child reached freedom, Abigail shoved Simmons.
With an oath, he flailed, dropping the lamp between them as he fell. It struck the floor and shattered. Fire burst forth, the oil in the lantern erupting into a pool of flames. The sleeping pallets caught fire and the flames burned brighter.
Simmons scrambled back. The remaining boys screamed in fright.
“Run, boys!” Abigail called, pointing to the open door. “Get out!”
But they were too frightened to move, and Simmons was faster. The cloaked form was gone, leaving the path clear for Simmons’ escape. He rushed to the doorway. “Ye ain’t goin’ nowhere!”
He was out the door before Abigail could guide the children past the fire to the opening.
“Wait! No!” she shouted.
Simmons slammed the door shut. Once again, she heard the lock turn.
Abigail rushed to the door to beat on it, yanking on the knob but to no avail. “Simmons! You can’t leave us here!”
“Miss?” Hubert huddled with the four remaining boys in the corner as the flames spread.
“Oh, dear God!” Abigail pulled off her cloak and threw it on the flames, but the fire refused to be smothered. She could hardly breathe for the smoke pervading the small space. Its writhing dense mass rolled along the ceiling toward the open window. The flames licked the wooden walls, eager to devour. Time was running out.
“Let’s get another of you out.” She eased along the wall to the window, the heat of the fire frightening in itself. She gestured for one of the boys to step forward and lifted him up, coughing as the smoke grew thicker.
She choked and coughed, managing to get the boy out before falling to her knees. Hubert and the three other boys crowded around her, crying in fear and coughing from the smoke.
“Stay down,” she told them as she gathered them close. “The smoke’s worse above us.” Her throat tightened with fear. The wooden beam above them now burned. How long would it hold before collapsing? She pulled the boys away from it and prayed help would soon arrive.
Her eyes stung. Her lungs burned. The heat of the fire stole every particle of air from the room. She clung to the boys, unable to believe the night—her life—might end like this.
Regret filled her at the thought of leaving Irene and the girls. And Stephen.
She hadn’t yet told him she loved him.
***
Stephen cursed as he tried for the third time to open the lock on the front door. His normally nimble fingers refused to cooperate. The knowledge that Abigail was trapped in this bloody warehouse made his entire body tremble.
On the journey here, one thing had become abundantly clear. He couldn’t live without her. He had to convince her that she felt the same way. First he had to find her.
“Want me to give it a try?” Markus’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.
Stephen gathered himself, seeing the lock in his mind as though it were broad daylight and was at last rewarded with a click.
“Good work, my lord. Perhaps you’d teach me a trick or two.”
“You should not be picking locks,” Stephen told him as he eased open the door. “Stay behind me. I don’t want you hurt.”
Markus grumbled but kept back.
Stephen peered into the darkness of the cavernous warehouse but only inky blackness met his gaze. He gestured for Markus to light the lantern they’d brought. They moved quickly through the large building, unable to make out more than several tall objects shrouded in canvas in the center of the room. Now was not the time to investigate the building or its contents. Every fiber of his being told him that he needed to find Abigail.
Markus tugged on Stephen’s jacket. “Do ye smell smoke?”
Bloody hell.
He smelled it now. Flickering light shown from underneath a doorway at the far end of the building. Fear coiled deep in the pit of his stomach.
He could not lose her.
A form ran toward them and Stephen lunged, tackling the man to the ground. “Markus, move the lantern over here,” Stephen said as he held down his captive.
The soft glow revealed Simmons struggling against him. Yet after all these weeks of pursuing him, Stephen didn’t care.
“What have you done with her?” Stephen demanded.
“Fire!” Simmons yelled as he continued to flounder.
“Where is she?” Stephen grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and shook him with all his might.
Simmons didn’t answer, but his gaze flew to the room with the light coming from under the door.
Stephen’s rage knew no bounds. He shook him again. “You left her in there? Give me the keys!”
“I don’t have no keys.”
Stephen drew back his fist.
Simmons threw something across the floor. “Get them yerself.”
Stephen struck him, his anger granting him strength. The solid thunk of his fist striking bone provided grim satisfaction.
“Ye knocked him out cold!” Markus scrambled for the keys and tossed them to Stephen.
“Drag him outside then guard him well, Markus.” He wanted the boy in the safety of the fresh air as far away from the fire as possible.
“But—”
Stephen was already running toward the back of the warehouse. “Go! Now!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Find Weston and Farley to aid you.”
He reached the door and tried the knob only to jerk his hand back at the heat. Frantic, he pounded on the door. “Abigail?”
He could hear crying from inside the room, but it didn’t sound like Abigail. Studying the ring of keys in the dim light, he tried to determine which one was the most likely. His first guess was wrong, but it might’ve had more to do with his shaking fingers than his choice. Luckily, the lock turned with his next attempt.
He used the bottom of his jacket to protect his hand as he turned the scorching knob and threw open the door. Thick, black smoke blanketed the room, hiding any occupants.
“Abigail?” He shielded his face with his jacket to ward off the heat.
“Over here,” she called out from the opposite side of the room.
Relief filled him at the sound of her voice.
“Lord Ashbury?” The young boy’s voice sounded familiar.
“Hubert? Is that you?” Stephen bent down, realizing the smoke was not as thick near the ground.
Abigail huddled together with Hubert and several children across the room. The fire burned brightly between him and them. How was he going to get them out?
The flames leapt all around him as though he’d entered the fires of hell. He drew a breath then dashed across the room, using his jacket to protect his head.
“Are you all right?” he asked Abigail.
She nodded, but the fear in her eyes said differently.
“The boys are too scared. They won’t go near the fire,” Hubert said.
“Ashbury! Are you in here?” Weston’s voice came from the doorway.
“Yes! Call out. The boys can follow your voice.”
“Come this way. Hurry along.” Weston’s calm voice carried across the room.
“Hubert, lead the way,” Stephen told the frightened boy. “Crawl as close to the wall as you can. Quickly now. I’ll help Miss Bradford.”
Weston continued to encourage them. “Steady on, boys. Help has arrived. Outside you go.”
Stephen drew Abigail into his arms. “Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded, still coughing, her face streaked with soot. He threw his jacket over both their heads and drew her close, grateful to have her in his arms.
But his worry was not yet over.
The flames seemed even hotter now. The smoke so thick he didn’t dare breathe.
“Hurry, Ashbury,” Weston prodded as the boys finally reached him, leaving a clear path.
Coughing, his eyes watering from the smoke, Stephen stayed low, hurrying across the room until they, too, reached Weston.
“This way!” Farley called out as he helped to guide the children toward the entrance. “You’re safe now. Come outside.”
Abigail grasped him tightly as they followed everyone out of the warehouse. The fresh air worsened Abigail’s cough but still she held on to him, which was a good thing as he didn’t think he could pry his arms off her if he tried.
Together, they sank to the ground.
He wiped his stinging eyes, desperate to see her, to make certain she was all right.
“The children? The girls?” Her voice was a croak. Tears tracked down her cheeks. Her normally neat hair lay in disarray along her face, and her hat was long gone.
He’d never seen her look more beautiful. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear then cradled her cheek with his hand, gratitude swelling through him.
“Everyone is safe.” He reassured her even as he looked around to be certain he spoke the
truth.
Her sisters ran toward them.
“Abigail, are you all right?” Sophia asked as they knelt beside her.
“We were scared you weren’t coming out,” Olivia added.
Abigail reached out to squeeze their hands. “I’m fine. Just fine now that I know you’re safe.”
Weston stood nearby, reassuring the boys and checking to make sure everyone was all right. Farley sent Markus to fetch the Fire Brigade.
“I still can’t believe you shot that man.” Sophia eyed Simmons who still lay prostrate nearby where Markus had dragged him.
Stephen turned to Abigail. “You shot him?”
“I tried to,” Abigail said. “But once again, things did not go according to plan.”
“It was my fault you didn’t kill him.” Olivia shook her head, obviously disgusted with herself.
“What happened to his face?” Sophia asked.
“It ran into my fist,” Stephen said wryly.
Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you broke his jaw.”
“Indeed,” Olivia said. “How dare he lock us in that room! Those poor boys were there far longer than us.”
Stephen scanned the area, trying to determine how many boys had been held by Simmons.
“Beg your pardon, my lord,” Hubert said as he moved to stand before Stephen. “I’m ever so glad you found us.”
“I’m glad to see you safe, Hubert. Many helped find you.” He smiled at Abigail and her sisters.
“I’m sorry I left the way I did,” he told Stephen. “I heard a rumor as to where the boys might be, so I came to see if it was true.”
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve helped you,” Stephen gently admonished the boy.
“You’ve been so busy. I didn’t want to bother you until I knew for certain. But then that one,” he pointed to Simmons, “caught me outside the buildin’ and dragged me in.”
“And these other boys? Do you know them?”
“Some. They’re the ones who’d gone missin’ from the workhouses.”
“Why was Simmons holding them?”
“He said they’d volunteered for a scientific experiment,” Abigail offered, shaking her head.
Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) Page 30