by Holly Bush
“Has anyone seen Isadora?”
Alexander found him as his father put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Nathan?” his father said.
“I can’t find her anywhere! She was near the ladies’ retiring room when the lights went out.”
“We’ll find her, Uncle Nathan,” Alexander said. “Graham and his men are doing a thorough—”
“Pendergast! Pendergast!”
Alexander turned and saw James Thompson running to him, his face white, his teeth clenched.
“She’s gone!”
“Who’s gone?” Alexander said, but he knew. He knew in his gut and in his heart, and his world shrank to a very small and dangerous place. He marshaled his disoriented thoughts. Maybe she was hiding. Maybe she was angrier that he’d left her alone all evening than he’d thought. Maybe someone had clubbed her over the head and stolen her away.
“Elspeth,” he said to James. “Elspeth is gone?”
“Yes! She’s gone!”
“Where are your other siblings?”
James pointed into the ballroom, and Alexander hurried through the crowd. Kirsty was crying on her aunt’s shoulder, and Muireall was beside her, grim-faced. Payden was next to Muireall, and MacAvoy had an arm around him, his gun drawn. The young man was red in the face and straining to be free from the arms around him.
“What have you done?” he shouted. “My sister is gone! What have you done?”
James held up a staying hand. “We are not going to assign blame at this time. We are going to find Elspeth.”
“And then what, James?” Kirsty said, tears running down her face.
“And then there’ll be punishment on those who dare touch a MacTavish,” James growled.
“Pendergast!”
Alexander turned to Graham’s panicked voice and ran, James on his heel, shouting orders to his siblings and MacAvoy. They followed Graham down the hallway of the private part of his parents’ house and saw men standing outside the door to a small sitting room that they’d used as a family in the evenings, especially when he and Annabelle were young. He heard his father and Uncle Nathan ahead of him.
Alexander shoved past the security men and saw the focus of every eye in the room. Uncle Nathan dropped to his knees. “Isadora?”
His father picked up her hand and glanced up. “She’s got a strong pulse, Nathan.”
Papers flew off a desk in the corner of the room and landed on the carpet. Alexander hurried around the sofa behind where his aunt was laying and pushed aside the floor-length drapes in front of the windowed doors that led to a path to the carriage house. He looked at the doors, standing open, and swallowed. James came up beside him and looked out. The windows were intact, and it didn’t look as if the lock had been broken.
“Where does this go?”
“To the carriage house and the alley behind the house.”
Alexander turned around when he heard moans.
“Isadora?” Uncle Nathan said.
“Nathan?” she whispered and touched her head. “Nathan?”
“I’m here, darling. What happened?”
She struggled up onto her elbows and grimaced. His father and Nathan helped her to sit up and lean back against the sofa. A doctor who’d been a guest knelt beside her and tilted her head to see behind her ear.
Isadora’s eyes opened wide. “Elspeth! Where is she?”
Alexander dropped to his knees in front of her. “Aunt Isadora. Can you tell us what happened?”
“Alexander? Oh, Alexander,” she said as tears ran down her cheeks. “I was talking to her near the retiring room, and a guest yelled, ‘She is not breathing,’ or something like that. We both hurried down the hall and into this room. They took her.” Isadora looked up at him, her lip trembling. “I grabbed for her, but they took her through those doors and then, and then . . . someone must have hit me.”
The doctor looked up. “I’ve got to stitch this closed. She’s still bleeding.”
Alexander stood up as his uncle lifted his wife in his arms and followed his brother out the door. Graham turned to his men. “Get lanterns. I want that pathway combed for clues. Get Benson to start talking to neighbors. Maybe someone saw a coach or horses. Someone talk to the detectives on duty at the Harrison Street station; maybe one of the foot patrol saw something. Hurry, men! We’ve not a minute to lose. And where’s Filson? He was assigned that door!”
Chapter 17
Elspeth took a slow breath through her nose. She was awake but had not opened her eyes. She concentrated on not fluttering her lashes or licking her lips or anything she would have like to do. She was on the floor of a carriage—of that she was certain. There was a set of filthy boots within inches of her face, and she did not flinch as she felt them move closer to her. She’d known the minute the chloroform-soaked rag had come over her nose and mouth that it had happened. She knew. She was to be bartered for Payden, and yet Muireall would never release him. Her hands were bound, and she was lying awkwardly on her shoulder. She was on her own.
“I’ve a hankering for some victuals.”
“We’ll eat when Murray says and not before.”
“Wonder what this is all about.”
Elspeth heard the intake of breath on the seat opposite. “Hush. It’s not ours to know. We’ll get paid and be on our way.”
The carriage lurched to a stop. “That wasn’t a long trip. We’ll be done and at Martha’s before we know it.”
“Shut up, you stupid cow. We’re to be quiet.”
The door opened beside Elspeth’s head, and rough hands pulled her out. She opened her eyes and tried to get her bearings, but her legs would not hold her and she slumped to the ground. The two men followed her out of the carriage.
“She’s delivered. Right and tight. Where’s our money?” the man from the carriage asked.
“You’ll get your money,” a gravelly voice replied. “Go on over there to me man. He’s got your gold.”
The two men from the carriage walked to the alleyway alongside the building. There were no nearby streetlamps, and everything felt and sounded deserted. She had no idea what part of the city she was in, although she could faintly smell the ocean and old fish. She was somewhere near the harbor. She slanted her eyes to where the men walked and swallowed a cry as a man came out of the shadows and stabbed the carriage man in the chest. The other one, the one in the dress clothes who’d lured her and Alexander’s aunt, saw his partner go down and turned to run, but another man caught his arm. He wrestled free but had not gone ten steps when a gun fired and he fell. They would leave no loose ends, Elspeth thought.
“What’ll we do with the bodies?”
“Drag ’em to the alleyway. We’ll be gone soon enough.”
Someone took her arm and pulled her up, dragging her toward a door in the building. The night air was bracing, made goose flesh rise on her arms, but it cleared her head further, and she would need all of her wits to save herself. She leaned down as if in pain and felt the side of her leg with her elbow. Her knife was still there!
“Come on, girl,” a rough voice said at her side, pulling her along by her arm. “Unless you want to end up like your carriage mates.”
Someone behind her laughed, a sing-song giggle that made a shiver trail down her back. She walked beside the rough-voiced man and stood still, looking around the door for any identifying markings, while he put a key in a metal lock. He pushed her inside, into the pitch dark, and she heard another giggle.
“Scared of the dark? You should be!”
A lamp flared behind her, and she could make out the large room she was in, a warehouse, she guessed, but one that had not been used for ages. It smelled of dust and a boggy, stagnant pond. She could see stacks of wooden crates and others haphazardly opened, their contents spilling out.
The rough-voiced man pushed her forward to another door and held her by the neck, squeezing until she felt as though she would faint and then running a finger down her neck and back. The top button on
the back of her dress popped to the floor. She took in a jittery breath, knowing his intent, wondering how she would live through it. If she would live through it.
“Let me relieve you of these lovely pearls. Family heirloom?” He laughed as he took the pearls from around her neck, brushing her breasts with his knuckles as he did.
“Put her inside and lock it,” the giggler said in a serious voice. “The letter’s been sent. Is Furbelow and his boy still outside? Go check.”
The door beside her opened and she was pushed inside, falling to the dirt floor. She’d not given them any idea that she was capable, only that she was biddable, and she would bide her time before revealing that she was no such thing. She pulled herself to her knees and stood, inching toward a sliver of light on the wall ahead. She heard critters scatter and felt something run across her velvet shoe. She refused to think about it. Concentrated on her sisters’ faces, on Payden and James and Aunt Murdoch. They would be frantic. She would make them proud even if she died doing so. She sniffled and then straightened her shoulders. She would not, she would absolutely not, think about Alexander Pendergast and how shabbily she’d treated him, maybe the last time in her life she would ever see him.
Alexander and James went back to where the Thompsons still stood on the side of the empty ballroom with MacAvoy. Servants carried full dishes, quickly discarded when the lights went out, righted chairs, and carried platters from the buffet table.
“She’s gone,” James said abruptly. “She’s been taken.”
Kirsty burst into tears. Aunt Murdoch held her hand and quieted her.
“What happened? Do you know?” Muireall asked.
“My Aunt Isadora was with her. A man lured them down the hallway of the family part of the house. He said someone was not breathing or something to that effect. They followed him into a sitting room that is rarely used any longer and knocked out my aunt. The doctor is stitching her now. The outside doors to a small patio were standing open. I could smell chloroform,” James said. “They must have gassed her.”
“She would have fought otherwise,” Kirsty said on a shaky breath.
Graham walked into the ballroom and made directly for them. “I’d like to speak to you all privately. And quickly.” Everyone followed him into a small room off the foyer. He closed the door and checked the windows. “You’ve told me much of this danger revolves around this young man. If this is a kidnap for ransom, then there’ll be a note,” he said, nodding at Payden. “I suggest we take the Thompson family home, make a to-do at the entrance, I imagine someone is already watching the house. You go with them, Alexander.”
“I am not sitting—”
Graham held up a hand. “MacAvoy will stay with them, and we will sneak at least one more man in the back entrance, if there is one.” He looked at James.
“There’s a back entrance to the kitchens, down a set of stone steps.”
“We’ve sent a man to hide across the street from the house and watch for others. He should be in place already. Once everyone is inside and most of the lights extinguished, James and Alexander will sneak out the back entrance and make their way on foot two streets over to Madison. There’ll be horses for you there.”
“I’m going,” Payden said. “Have a horse there for me.”
James shook his head as Muireall said, “No. Absolutely not.”
“I’m going,” he said, glaring at Muireall.
Graham stepped forward and put a hand on Payden’s neck. “You may be going to them in order to get your sister freed at some point. Let us find where they’ve taken her. Let us make a plan.”
Payden looked at James and Muireall. “I’m going after Elspeth, one way or another. I’ll wait until you’ve found a trail, but not a minute longer, or I’ll go on my own.”
“There’ll be a note coming soon. We want you to be in place when it arrives,” Graham said. “Let’s—”
“There will be no ransom paid,” Muireall said.
Graham turned to her, incredulous. “Do you know that very well may get your sister . . . abused, maybe killed? We may have to send the boy—”
Muireall straightened. “The boy is the Earl of Taviston and rightful heir to all the MacTavish holdings and the chief of the clan. We will not turn him over.”
“You realize they will kill her if they know that you will not send him or money or whatever they are after,” Graham said quietly and looked at each of them.
Kirsty wiped her hand across her eyes. “Elspeth knows her duty.”
“No!” Alexander shouted, bringing every head around in the small room. “No! She will not be sacrificed!”
“We are not sending Payden to them. We will not,” James said again as Alexander began to protest, “but that does not mean that we will not rescue Elspeth. We will get her.”
“We know the direction they went,” Graham said. “Toward the harbor. Found a copper who was looking into a robbery several blocks from here and had just mounted his horse. Saw a carriage come by, horses at the run, about the time we believe this happened, and coming from the direction of this neighborhood. He followed them on horseback for a few blocks and then went back to his station.”
“The harbor?” Aunt Murdoch said. “Would they be putting her on a ship?”
“I think they’ve got her in one of the warehouses near there. I’ve got men searching,” Graham said. “Let’s see what the ransom note says.”
Elspeth worked the knot of the rope holding her hands with her teeth and pulled on a board above the slit of light when she was too frustrated with her progress on her bindings. The board was almost out now that the moonlight filtered through and she could see hands. Her wrists bled where the rough rope chafed her, but she would not think about that pain. She pulled the board a little more until it came off in her hands. She fit it back to its nail holes, leaving it away from the window and lighting the room enough for her to see.
There were definitely rats in the room. One large one had been bold enough to creep over and smell her feet. She kicked it viciously and heard a thud and squeaks from its brethren as it hit the corner of the room. She crept around the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon other than her knife, but there was nothing, and even if there was, what would happen if she hit one of them over the head? He would shout and bring the others. She must kill one of them. She must kill them and do it quickly. She had no choice if she was to gain a few moments. Her hands quivered, and she touched her knife through her dress and petticoats, checking the thin pocket that held the dagger in its sheath.
The door opened, and light spilled into the room from behind the rough-voiced man. She flattened herself against the wall and wondered if this was the time to kill him. He took a quick look over his shoulder and must have liked what he saw. He pushed the door closed behind him.
“It’ll go easier for you if you’re nice to me, you know,” he said.
“Why would I be nice to you?” she whispered and was glad that her voice shook. Let him think she was fragile.
He touched her hair, running his fingers through it, leaned closed, and smelled it in his hand. “Ah. That’s the perfume of a nice young lady, it is.” He wound his fingers through the curls at the back of her head, holding her still.
Elspeth closed her eyes. She would go somewhere else in her mind, she thought, somewhere with Alexander, somewhere clean and new, somewhere away from the physical reality of what was going to happen to her body. He pressed his mouth to hers and grabbed her breast, twisting and pulling. She winced but could not pull away. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the fabric, and thankful there was no leather or heavy vest or coat. It would make killing him easier.
“Go ahead. Fight a bit. I like that,” he growled and kissed her neck and the tops of her breasts.
The door opened wide and lit the room. “Hands off the merchandise,” the giggly man said.
The rough-voiced man groaned in her ear and grabbed her bound hands, pushing them against his crotch
and rubbing them over his erection. “Who’s to know?” he said. “She ain’t going to tell anybody.”
“Wait till we have the boy and have him on the ship. Then you and the others can fuck her all you want.”
He dragged a finger over her chin. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got a big cock, and you’ll come to like it, darling.”
The door closed, and the light dimmed. She spit in the dirt and slumped down the rough, dirty wall, the scuttling around her less important than her knees giving way. She said a prayer then and asked for forgiveness. She asked for strength. She asked that Alexander would know that she’d not been angry at him at the party, just those short hours ago, only that she wanted him beside her. That she was selfish. She took a deep breath and pulled her bound hands to her mouth, pulling the rope with her teeth.
The parlor was silent other than the occasional whispered exchange between Aunt Murdoch and Mrs. McClintok and the clink of a teacup on a saucer. Alexander was charged with pent-up anger, his heel lifting and dropping in a staccato rhythm. James paced in front of the fireplace, and Kirsty sat beside their aunt, holding her hand and sniffling. The room was dark aside from the light from a low blaze in the fireplace. MacAvoy was at the front door, and a guard was at the kitchen doors. Payden and Robert sat beside each other on a low footstool. Graham stood sentry by the door to the parlor.
James had taken Alexander upstairs when they’d first arrived and given him a dark sweater to wear and grease to blacken his face. He’d put it on liberally and now waited. Sick to his stomach thinking of what she might be going through. Trying to tamp down the need to kill.
“A messenger is here,” Muireall whispered from her place near the window. “Just one man. He’s dropped a bag, a canvas one by the door. He’s gone.”
“My man will follow him and see if he leads us to anything. I’m guessing, though, that the messenger was just that, a messenger with no idea what is going on,” Graham said.
