Behind them, the voice she now knew belonged to Four-Finger Mike spoke again. “I told yous to silence the boy after he got away the first time. He knows too much ’bout how we operate. Cain’t risk that, I told you. But you ain’t one for listening, is you?”
Silence the boy? Elizabeth feared she knew what that meant.
Mr. Allen spoke up. “Worked three jobs with that imp in the few days he were back with me. Didn’t have to teach ’im what to do like I would a new climbing boy. You weren’t complaining when I shared the loot with you—with both of yous.”
So Mrs. George was part of this criminal operation as well.
“The Mastiff ain’t happy about this,” Mrs. George said. “There’s a boy out free what can spill a few too many secrets, and you lost ’im again. Now you ain’t got a climbing boy to help you bring in your take. And them two sisters oughta be earning the Mastiff a pretty penny, but they was spirited off too. The Mastiff’ll eat the lot of us alive if we don’t have some good fortune to pass on.”
Daniel and the Smith sisters were being discussed. How the men at her table managed to look so calm while overhearing this, Elizabeth didn’t know.
Fletcher rubbed her arm, keeping her close. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. Though it was likely part of the disguise, she found it was comforting, reassuring.
“We can at least tell the Mastiff we’ve ended a threat,” Mrs. George said. “Where’d you last have the boy?”
“At a girls’ school near Charing Cross.”
Elizabeth held her breath. Her eyes met Stone’s. He was watching her, something he never did. She silently pleaded with him to recognize her worry, to share it, to help. He gave the tiniest nod. It was enough. She was still concerned, but less overwhelmed.
“Do you think someone at the school took the boy?” Four-Finger Mike asked.
“Not likely,” Mr. Allen said. “Hardly noted ’im. Even helped me look for the little devil.”
“Someone had to’ve seen somethin’,” Four-Finger muttered.
How she hoped Janey had managed to disguise little Daniel well enough to not be noted.
“We’ll go sniff around the place,” Four-Finger Mike said. “Find what we can. We know someone helped the boy. We’ll find out who. Get our satisfaction one way or another.
“They’re going to my school,” Elizabeth whispered to Fletcher.
“We will too,” he whispered back. “Once we’ve a spot more information.”
“These girls at the school,” Mrs. George said. “They poor?”
“Ain’t daughters of aristocrats, but they’re grand sorts. Quality, y’know?”
“Genteel, then?” Mrs. George pressed.
The brief silence suggested she received a nonverbal answer.
“Them soft, innocent types’ll fetch a higher price than the pluckings I usually get,” Mrs. George said. “Might be m’ boys could nip off with a few. The Mastiff’d crow about that for months.”
Elizabeth dug her fingers into Fletcher’s arm, too terrified to even speak. Her girls were in danger. Desperate, immediate danger.
Fletcher pulled his arm away and leaned his elbows on the table. To the other men he said, almost silently, “We need to safeguard Thurloe.”
Stone nodded.
“We’ll hang back,” Brogan said, “then go find reinforcements.”
“Get up and leave in a huff, dear,” Fletcher said quickly and low to Elizabeth. “Not enough so as t’ draw attention, but enough as to give you a reason for leaving.”
She understood. She moved away from him as if suddenly disgusted, and stood up. With a glare and a spin, she all but stormed to the door.
She heard Fletcher sigh behind her and say, “Guess I’d best go make up sweet to the bird, else it’ll be the suds for me.”
He caught up to her on the walk not too far from the pub. He made a show of apologizing for an imagined argument. They turned a corner, then another.
Then, they ran.
by Fletcher Walker
Chapter VI
“Hold!” Morris shouted at John-John and Sally.
But he was too late. A towering man stepped into the room from the stairs below, his footsteps echoing. The sound stopped the vampire’s pursuit. The creature turned and looked at the newcomer.
“There’s plenty enough, master,” the man said. “And young. Full of vim. They’ll fill you up fine. Speed you up.”
Speed him? The monster was already fast.
John-John and Sally pressed the children back, away from this enormous man, while also still keeping away from the vampire.
Morris slipped over to Jimmy. “What do we do now? Two of ’em and no way out.”
“The vampire wouldn’t go near the window. Maybe we’d all be safer there for a time.”
“But that man likely can reach us. What’s to stop him from pulling us away?” Morris wasn’t about to stop trying, but he didn’t have the first idea how to go about the thing.
“We’d have only the one threat to contend with, though,” Jimmy said. “Fighting a battle on two fronts ain’t exactly a winning approach.”
The vampire had done nothing but glare while they’d been by the window. He hadn’t lunged or swiped at them until they’d past into the dimness.
The dimness.
“What if it ain’t the window?” Morris asked Jimmy, keeping an eye on the monster as it listened to the newly arrived man’s words of reassurance. “What if he can’t go in the light?”
“I’ve heard of that,” Jimmy said. “Some creatures are done in by sunlight.”
It was the only chance they had. “I’ll see if I can’t lure him over there. When he’s near enough, shove him from behind or ram him with your shoulder—whatever you have to do. See if we can’t get him to fall into the sun.”
Jimmy shook his head. “He’s a big’n. Don’t know that I can get him down on m’own.”
“Get the others to help.”
“What about ‘Big Bob’ over there? He’ll not like it.”
A two-front battle weren’t a good idea at all. “Just be quick. Don’t give ’im time to like it or not.”
Jimmy spat into his palm. Morris did the same. They shook hands, a vow of unity. They might not emerge from this alive, but they’d go into it together.
“It don’t matter where you begin, master,” the large man said. “You’ll get around to all of them.”
Jimmy motioned the urchins closer. Morris inched toward the window, keeping an eye on the children, the monster, and the towering man.
“Start with this’n.” The man pointed at Morris. “Big enough to give you pep for seeing to the others.”
The vampire turned to look at Morris, his glare heavy and unblinking.
This was their chance. He steeled his resolve.
The vampire floated toward him.
Morris crept backward, slipping into the very edge of the spill of light.
The monster stopped mere inches in front of him.
“Out with you,” Big Bob barked at him. “I’ll only set him on the others.”
Morris ignored him and spoke, instead, to the monster. “You thirsty, mate? I’m right here.”
The vampire didn’t move closer, but he didn’t listen to his underling, either.
Big Bob came toward them. “I’ll pull him out for you, master.”
“Now!” Jimmy’s shout rang out.
The thunder of a full dozen feet answered. In the instant before the urchins reached the vampire, Morris dove to the side. Caught off guard, the monster was knocked forward. He didn’t fall, didn’t even stumble. He simply shifted forward a single step.
But that step took him into the sunlight.
The vampire had been silent from the moment he arrived, but now the silence ended. A howl that twisted every organ in Mor
ris’s body tore through the air.
“Master!” Fear and desperation filled the word.
Morris rolled over in time to see Big Bob grasping at the disintegrating outline of the vampire.
“Out, out, out!” Jimmy’d kept his wits about him.
Sally snatched the hands of the nearest children and ran out with them. Jimmy and John-John herded the rest of the little ones out. Morris scrambled to his feet, rushing after the others. His eyes met Big Bob’s. The anger there chilled him to his core.
“I’ll find them again! You can’t hide ’em away forever!”
Still, Morris didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The danger would follow them onto the streets of London, but it wasn’t a danger he could stop in that moment. They’d warn the children, keep their eyes peeled. Defeating Big Bob would have to wait for another day.
For now, they were safe from that day’s danger. The vampire was gone.
They had lived to solve another mystery, to have another adventure. And there always was another one. Always.
The hackney Fletcher summoned rushed them toward Thurloe School. He could see Elizabeth was concerned, but she was also calm and determined. He would never have guessed when he first met her all those weeks ago that she had the disposition for this kind of work. She had portrayed the prim-and-proper schoolmistress to perfection.
“Mrs. George and Mr. Allen were both at the pub when we left,” she said, brow drawn. “Surely we’ll reach the school before they do.”
“Aye. But we’ve not much time.”
“Mrs. George means to snatch my girls.” Fear quavered in her voice. “You made very clear the life her victims are sent to, and at my school I have twenty-three potential victims.”
“I know.” He’d not anticipated that particular danger when he’d first brought Janey to Thurloe. He felt a fool now, guilt eating at him. He’d only wanted to help the girl; he hadn’t meant to endanger so many others.
“How do we protect my students from hired thugs? We’re only two people, one of whom is extremely new to this sort of thing.”
“Brogan and Stone are sending more our way.”
She rubbed at her face. “One of my girl’s parents recently offered to host the students for a day or two at their country home just outside of London. I could send them a telegraph, asking if they would have the girls to stay for the next couple of days. It’s not a permanent solution, of course.”
“That’d give us time to make the school safer while your girls are outta harm’s way. I’ve a mate with the police who’d help. And now we know where to find Mrs. George and Four-Finger Mike and Allen. Given a few days, they likely could be rounded up. The police’d keep a watch on your school day and night out of sheer gratitude.”
“I still mean to hire a manservant to work at the school. Someone dependable and burly, who’d keep an eye on things.” She didn’t shrink from the challenge ahead of her. This was a woman of steel. “I would wager you know a few people who fit that mold, likely in possession of a cleverly marked penny or two.”
He chuckled quietly. “Nothing slips past you, dove.”
“Let us hope not.” Her humor had vanished, her thoughts, no doubt, on her school and students.
A moment later, they were there. Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to hand her down but scrambled out on her own. She was through the front door before he’d even finished paying the driver.
By the time he joined her in the entryway, two of her teachers and Janey were there, staring at her with mouths agape. He’d grown accustomed to Elizabeth’s costume and had all but forgotten how odd she truly looked to those who knew her.
“No time to explain,” she said, waving off something someone had said before his arrival. “A telegram to Penelope’s parents, Ana. Tell them the girls are coming for a visit, and would they please make ready for them to arrive later this evening.”
“Are they to have no more warning than that?” Miss Newport asked.
“They told me when they made the offer that they required nothing beyond a telegram ahead of their arrival.” Elizabeth turned to Janey. “Fetch Fanny. The two of you help Miss Beating”—she indicated the other teacher standing nearby—“and the rest of the staff see to the girls’ packing. I wish to have them on their way soon.”
Janey dipped a curtsey of agreement. Her eyes met Fletcher’s, a question hanging heavy in them. He gave a subtle nod and motioned her on her way. There wasn’t time for explanations.
As the women left to do as Elizabeth bade, she moved into her office. He followed her, crossing directly to the windows and the view they afforded of the street. Nothing suspicious met his eye, but he wouldn’t expect experienced criminals to simply walk up to an establishment they meant to target.
“Tell me what we need to look for,” she said.
He turned back toward her. She’d pulled the floppy bonnet from her head and tossed it on a nearby chair, then began pulling pins from her partially powdered hair. He added his misshapen hat to her pile.
“Jimmied windows. Somthin’ slipped into locks so they don’t slide fully into place. Signs someone’s been hanging about the place.”
“Like the discarded torches at Hogg’s school?” Her hair was down. She thrust her fingers through it, shaking vigorously at the bits still grayed by Móirín’s powder.
“Like the torches. Except Mrs. George don’t mean to burn your school down.”
“She means to steal any girls her thugs can snatch.”
“Your girls’ll be safely away soon enough.” He moved to the smaller side window, opening it to check for anything suspicious.
“What about Janey and Fanny?” Elizabeth pressed. “Should I send them away?
He shook his head. “They’re safer where we can keep an eye on them.”
Nothing in the window looked out of place. He snapped it shut, locking it firmly.
“Let’s check the windows and doors, then,” she said. “At least those not in the girls’ bedchambers. I’d rather not alarm them.”
They checked the ground floor, then the more public rooms above that. Meanwhile, the house was in a flurry of activity. Her students were in good spirits, speaking excitedly about the unexpected adventure of a few days in the country. It was the perfect cover, and they would be safe while Fletcher and Elizabeth found a means of securing the school more permanently.
Miss Newport arrived after a time, having received confirmation via telegraph that the girls were welcome to make their country visit. Elizabeth provided her with money enough for train tickets. Either she had just handed over most of the school’s funds, or her financial situation had improved. He hoped it was the latter. Her idea about hiring a manservant was a good one, but it wouldn’t come cheap.
He remained in her office while she saw the girls off. They would check the remaining rooms once the school was empty. When Mr. Allen and Mrs. George’s thugs arrived, they’d find a locked and empty school. Fletcher hoped it would be enough.
He leaned against the edge of her desk. There was nothing for it but to bide his time and keep a weather eye out. A stack of parchment sat on the desk, Elizabeth’s careful hand filling the top page.
He moved the uppermost sheet aside. The pages beneath were equally filled. This, he suspected, was her next silver-fork offering. He was glad of it. She’d not published anything in ages, and he knew all too well the burden on an author’s soul when the work was slow or frustrating.
He spied among the words the same name as the heroine of Mr. King’s story. Odd. Then he saw three more names also from The Lady and the Highwayman. That was more than odd—it was suspicious.
The girls’ voices could still be heard outside. He had a bit of time for indulging his curiosity.
Fletcher quickly skimmed the first couple of paragraphs. Blazes. This was Mr. King’s story. Why did she have his work here? And i
n her handwriting? Fletcher didn’t recognize what little he’d read, so it was likely not yet published. He remembered the many times he had seen her in the area of the penny dreadful publishers with stacks of papers.
Could she—Could she be Mr. King? No. King’s stories didn’t sound like her. There was, of course, a hint of breeding and upbringing in the writing, but too much cant and lower-class phrasing. He’d never once heard her use those phrases. Of course, if she were attempting to hide her identity as the author . . .
If anyone ever discovered, she’d be done in. Too many patrons and parents disapproved of penny dreadfuls, enough that they would likely withdraw their support and their students if such a thing were true and known. He knew what her school meant to her. Would she truly risk it that way?
He glanced at the manuscript again, not to merely read but to evaluate. The lines were neat and orderly. Nothing was crossed out or written over. These were not working pages, but final ones. Maybe she was a scribe for King, recopying his words in her neat and legible handwriting.
He knew she and King were close. This only further confirmed it. His rival. The secret that sat between him and the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
Outside, the voices had grown almost too dim to hear. Carriage doors closed. Horses’ hooves clomped on the cobblestones. Elizabeth’s students were gone, but she would return any moment and find him with a mind in turmoil.
He loved her. He loved how much she cared about people, how hard she worked to do the right thing, that she could be prim and proper one minute and a spy the next, that she’d never turned her nose up at him or his work, that together they were more of a team than they were competitors.
He loved her.
But King was ever there, the axe hanging over them.
A rap on the window pulled his attention. Martin and Hollis stood there, motioning for him to let them in. Reinforcements from the DPS.
He stepped into the entryway and to the front door, pulling it open.
“Brogan sent us to help,” Hollis said. “Stone mostly just stared.”
The Lady and the Highwayman Page 23
