by Meg Buchanan
“Charlotte’s men.” Seth pushed himself away from the tree trunk and fished in his pocket. He found a tin of tobacco and rolled a smoke, his hands not completely steady.
“She unhappy?”
Seth patted his pockets for matches, then nodded. “I owe her a little money. Nothing I can’t cover. But it will be safer to stay away from the club for a while ‘til I’m ready to pay.”
“Sort it out. The next time they find you, you might not be so lucky.”
“Yes, sir.” Seth sketched a mocking salute. Courtney saw him draw a breath at the pain the movement caused.
“Can you walk?”
“In a minute.” He gave Seth the minute then helped him away from the tree.
The boy gasped again, grabbed at his ribs, collapsed back, and slid down the trunk onto the ferns. It looked like he wouldn’t be walking far.
“Where’s your animal?” asked Courtney. Seth must have a horse somewhere, he wasn’t in the coach when it left, and he wouldn’t be planning on walking to wherever he was heading.
Seth shrugged. “Taken as part payment perhaps?”
Courtney shook his head. You had to admire the boy; he could make a joke even though he could hardly talk.
“Doesn’t look like you’re in any condition to ride anyway. We need to get you seen to. Can you make it to the trap?”
Seth nodded. Courtney helped him stand again. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead and stained the front of his shirt. He staggered to the trap with Courtney’s help.
“Do you think you can survive the ride?” Courtney asked.
Seth eyed the bench seat. The wind whispered around the wheels of the vehicle and lifted puffs of dust near the horse’s feet.
“Perhaps.” But he was unconscious before he hit the ground. Courtney checked the boy’s pulse. Still alive, still breathing.
He gave Seth a shake. “Get up. Get on the seat.” The thugs might come back with reinforcements. “I’ll take you to Thames, we’ll find a doctor there.” Eugene lived in Parawai, just out of the Thames township. That would be the best place to take the boy.
He helped Seth climb up, checked he wouldn’t fall again and then went to the driver’s side.
A fifteen-minute drive would get them to Eugene’s. Seth leaned heavily against him as the cart started to move. He lost and regained consciousness a few times, but as they got closer to Thames, he pulled himself to sitting position and held a handkerchief against the cut on his forehead.
At Eugene’s house, his man Burrows immaculately turned out as always, opened the front door.
He looked over at Seth slumped in the trap. “The young man been in the wars?”
Courtney nodded. “Help me get him inside, then send someone for a doctor.”
They manhandled Seth down to the ground and supported him to the front door, his arms around their shoulders.
“Where’s Eugene?” Courtney asked.
“Inside, having breakfast.” A maid held the door against the wind that whistled across the lawn. “Girl go and fetch Doctor Jennings. We’ll put this young man in the parlour to wait. Jennings lives a few doors down. If he’s home, he shouldn’t be long.”
They got Seth inside and were headed for the small parlour when Eugene came out of the dining room, silk smoking jacket, a folded newspaper in his hand. “I thought I heard the door.” He followed them into the parlour. The room was comfortably furnished with a fire set but not lit. Courtney helped Burrows lower Seth into the nearest chair. “Is that young Mr Grogan?”
“Yes, he’s offside with Charlotte.”
“A dangerous thing to be. Fetch a couple of towels Burrows, don’t want him bleeding on the upholstery. Have you sent for Jennings?”
“Yes sir, he should be here soon.” Burrows left to get the towels.
Eugene put the folded paper on the sideboard then went over to Seth and examined his bruised and cut face. “Have you been back to the club, Courts?”
Courtney nodded.
“The lovely Sophie?”
He nodded again.
“Where is she?”
“Still there. Couldn’t get her away. Do you know what happens on a Saturday night?”
Eugene nodded. “I’ve heard.”
Doctor Jennings arrived carrying a bag, dark brown, well used and with the rounded top, all doctors seemed to favour.
“Someone injured?” he asked, then he looked at the figure slumped on the chair. “Mr Grogan. What a surprise.”
“Dr Jennings, pleased to see you,” Seth croaked out.
“You know each other?” asked Courtney.
The doctor put the bag on the floor beside Seth. “This young man’s father is a colleague of mine.” He examined Seth, poking and prodding. Then opened the bag, pulled out a stethoscope and listened to his chest.
“You’ll probably live, Seth,” he announced. “But I can’t tell if any bones are broken. We need to get you to the hospital so I can examine you properly.” He turned to Courtney. “Once I know what’s wrong, I’ll contact his father in Waihi. He can come and get his son and take over his care.”
Jennings bandaged the cut on Seth’s forehead, and then they helped the doctor get the boy into his carriage,
When Seth had gone, Courtney sat down to the breakfast Eugene’s cook provided and told Eugene about the night’s events.
“Not as easy as you thought?” asked Eugene.
Courtney shook his head. “I’m going to need your help, it’s not just the Bacchus night, the place is guarded like a fortress.”
“What can I do?”
“If we go in your covered carriage, we have somewhere to hide her. I need you to distract Charlotte, so I can get Sophie to the carriage. Will you do it?”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Eugene paused. “Fine,” he said eventually. “But I really enjoy the club. I suspect this will be the last time I’m welcome.”
“You must be welcome at other places, and I’m sure it won’t matter. I don’t think the club will last much longer; someone must be able to close it down.”
That evening Charlotte sat at the table as if she was Eugene’s partner and glittered like an old Christmas tree covered in decorations but starting to wither. She smiled and talked, leading the conversation, ignoring Sophie and concentrating her attention on Courtney and Eugene.
Her interest in the details of their lives was astonishing. How was William? Are you enjoying your work, Courtney? Would you be interested in working at the club?
He turned down her offer of employment, Eugene answered her other questions to the best of his ability. She listened with rapt attention touching them on the arm or shoulder as they talked.
He was aware of Sophie on the other side of him, drinking her champagne more rapidly than she should, her loathing for her employer so strong he could feel the heat of it.. A waiter came over and filled her glass again.
Sophie smiled at him and took another sip, daring him to do anything. She said something witty, designed to unsettle Charlotte and then made a comment in French to Eugene about Charlotte. Her glass was empty again.
Charlotte glanced over at Sophie suspiciously, and Courtney was almost sure she knew Sophie was making fun of her. He should stop her doing it. He tried to catch Sophie’s eye.
He gave her another warning look to stop her playing the dangerous game, but she just giggled, then went back to niggling Charlotte. The wine was making Sophie careless. How much had she had? The last thing they needed now was for Sophie to let Charlotte know what she thought of her. He and Eugene wouldn’t be a match for any of the men around the room.
In the end, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He finished his wine, took Sophie’s glass from her, put it beside his on the table, stood up and helped her to stand too.
She wobbled a little confirming his suspicions. She’d had too much to drink. She giggled again then took his hand with the dignified sway of a drunk and fell limply against him. He caugh
t her. He should have watched her more carefully.
“Have fun,” said Charlotte.
Sophie smiled sweetly. “Plus amusant que vous aurez, vieille pute.”
Eugene looked shocked. “Charlotte? More wine?” he asked as if trying to distract her. “I think you should hurry away with her, Courtney.”
“What did Sophie say?” Charlotte asked Eugene.
Eugene paraphrased. “She said they always have fun.”
Courtney picked Sophie up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her through the crowded dining room towards the staircase.
Sophie lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He was too angry to answer. Hopefully, Eugene would keep Charlotte downstairs and busy, he didn’t want her to have enough time to go running to a dictionary to translate what Sophie really said in her schoolgirl French, or to come upstairs to check on them.
When they got to her room, he dumped her on the couch in the corner, locked the door and then poured himself a whiskey, still more angry with Sophie than he could remember ever being at anyone.
How could she risk upsetting Charlotte? She knew how dangerous it could be. It was unbelievable. “More fun than you’ll have you stupid old whore. Really?” The final word exploded from him.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said tentatively from the couch.
“What if she’d understood what you said?” He was starting to suspect a lot of what Charlotte had told Sophie was just to frighten her into doing what she asked, but he still thought the older woman was dangerous. Fuming, he drunk the whiskey.
Sophie’s hair fell in curls around her face and shoulders, the dark eyes watched him like a scolded puppy’s. The dress hung dejectedly from her shoulders. He poured another whiskey.
“I really am sorry,” said Sophie, trying again. He ignored her again. After a while, she stood and moved across the room. Instead of coming to him she went to the dresser, opened a drawer and took out a riding crop.
She walked slowly to where he was, stood in front of him and never taking her eyes from him, dropped to her knees, holding the crop up in both hands.
It was a very tempting invitation. He took the crop. Tapped his palm and considered showing her what he could really do with it. A few welts on her backside would make him feel better.
Then he sighed, put the crop on the sideboard, raised her to her feet and kissed her tenderly, passionately, losing himself in the taste of her.
Then she let him undress her, standing passively as if worried about upsetting him again by doing the wrong thing.
He left her in just the corset and then lay his cheek against the whiteness of her chest above the silk and ribbon, he kissed her throat and watched a faint flush rise.
Hands, and mouth touching and tasting, he moved slowly over her body, let his fingers trail and felt her soften under his touch as she stood there still passive. Then he turned her, bent her forward over the bed, unbuttoned, nudged her legs a little further apart with his knee and slid into her.
A while later, he lay in bed beside Sophie and decided it was time to get her away. He could feel she was as awake as he was; perhaps she was worried about Charlotte’s reaction to her words too. They both knew Charlotte was cruel, but she wasn’t stupid.
He tried to work through the issues. Sophie wasn’t eager to return to her home. She’d lost any faith she had in her father, but she had that aunt in Sydney. She needed to go to the aunt; there was no other option. He needed her as far away from Charlotte as possible.
“Get dressed, we’re leaving now,” he said as he rolled out of bed.
“How?” whispered Sophie.
“I’ll hide you in Eugene’s carriage.”
“What about my mother?”
“She can take you to Sydney. and you can both stay with your aunt.”
Sophie looked at him doubtfully but got out of bed and started dressing.
Once they were both dressed, they headed for the fire escape and he helped her drop to the ground.
Chapter 14
A SHARP BREEZE cut through the trees. “Where is the carriage?” whispered Sophie.
“Shhhh.” Courtney kept his voice down too. “It will be in the carriage house, follow me.”
With very little moonlight to show the way; the sky a canopy of stars; the ground all shadow and greyness, they carefully worked their way through the trees keeping noise to the minimum, then stopped and surveyed the grounds. They waited and watched a steady stream of carriages and horses leaving. Sophie shivered with cold. He put his jacket around her to keep her warm.
When all was quiet again, they waited a little longer, just to ensure the carriage house was as deserted as it looked.
“Stay close.” Then Courtney carefully pushed the side door open. Found a cavernous room in darkness, the weak light from the moon filtered in through a window on the other side. Only three carriages were left. Late enough for the night to be over for most of the guests, perhaps the last few vehicles belonged to those staying the whole night.
Cautious still, he slid through the door then shut it quietly after Sophie had slipped inside too. He heard a shout of laughter and looked across to the end of the building. A door stood ajar, and the light from a lantern illuminated the scene inside. Two men sat on a couple of small crates playing cards on a larger one.
He saw one man sweep his hand over the top of the crate collecting up the pack. “The cards aren’t falling your way tonight, Alfred,” the man said.
“Deal again, and we’ll see,” said the other.
If he and Sophie moved quietly, the men shouldn’t notice them. Once Sophie was hidden, he could go back and get Eugene, and they could leave openly.
He moved carefully towards the carriage. Sophie followed. He opened the door as silently as he could manage and nodded at Sophie to climb in. She had her foot on the step. He heard a dog bark in the distance and saw one of the card players look up. The man stood and went to the door and opened it wide. Light flooded out and illuminated the tableau by the carriage.
“Can I be of help, sir?” the man asked before he realised what he was seeing. Then he roared, and the other man leapt to his feet, and the two guards erupted from the room.
“Get in now,” Courtney said urgently to Sophie. She climbed into the carriage and he slammed the door behind her just as the first man reached him. Courtney gathered up every ounce of strength he had and hit the man hard in the throat. The man’s head flew back. His body went rigid then folded and he fell to the floor. Courtney gave him a kick to check whether he’d be any more trouble. He wouldn’t and so he turned to face his other opponent.
Coming around the other side like a steam train the guard threw himself at Courtney. Courtney stepped aside, and the man lumbered past. Courtney swung; caught him in the gut with the full force of the arc. The man doubled over. Courtney grabbed his shoulders and flung him against the wall of the carriage house. He fell like a roll of carpet onto the floor.
Now the problem was whether to finish the job. He needed time to find Eugene, get back here with him, and leave before anyone suspected anything. He gave both unconscious men a kick, got a groan and some movement from one. He hit him hard again, and the man flopped back.
He dragged one, then the other to the office, tied them with their own scarves, and locked the door on them. Hopefully that would slow them down if they regained consciousness.
As he went back, Sophie opened the door of the carriage. “Are they dead?” she asked.
“No. So we need to leave here, fast. Stay hidden in the carriage while I go and get Eugene.”
Sophie nodded, then curled up on the backbench. He covered her with the rug, put his jacket back on and checked his clothes. Any blood on him was minimal. He should pass for the few minutes he intended being inside. Just long enough to find Eugene and convince him to leave.
He returned to the fire escape, climbed into the building then went downstairs. Eugene
had moved to the casino and Courtney was relieved to find him alone.
“We have to leave now,” he said quietly. “Where’s Charlotte?”
“In her office, I think, there was something she needed to attend to.”
“That’s good, but we still need to hurry.”
Eugene nodded. “Where do you have Sophie?” he asked as they moved swiftly to the carriage house.
“In your vehicle.”
“Where are we taking her?”
“I’ll find a room in Thames and spend the night there.” It didn’t seem sensible to go to Eugene’s house. Charlotte might send men there to find them. “Then I’ll take Sophie to her mother in Auckland and get them somewhere else by mid-morning.”
“Good idea,” said Eugene. “I’ll stay there too and take you to the wharf in the morning.”
Courtney nodded. That would save him and Sophie having to find a way to get to the ferry.
Two hours later, Courtney knelt by the hearth and tried to encourage the fire into a blaze. The hotel he’d found on the far edge of the town was small, cold, and unfriendly in the unflattering light. He was freezing, and his shirt damp. Sophie still had his coat, and it didn’t look like she was planning on handing it over. She wandered around examining the newspapers pasted on the walls and a faded rag rug on the floor.
He stood and stared at the fire trying to think it into a bouquet of flames.
Sophie came over, put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his back. She stayed still only for a moment, then looked around him and examined the fireplace. “You should use coal,” she said.
He sighed. Suddenly she was an expert in fire-making. He unclasped her arms from around him and set her aside. “We don’t have coal.”
“You should ring for some.”
He turned around to face her. “Does this look like a place you can ring for coal?”
