by Unknown
Lily gently pulled her arm away.
"I'm sorry – I'm as poor as you are."
The girl's expressionless face seemed to lighten in the foggy night.
"God bless you then."
Finally, Lily came upon the enormous facade of the cathedral,
looming up in the fog like a sanctuary. No one could possibly harm
her in the house of God, could they? Least of all her captor who
believed in such a stern unyielding deity. The huge oak doors were
open and she tiptoed inside, afraid that such an unkempt creature
might be swept out like the detritus of the day. Tall candles burned
around the altar and a deep sense of peace entered Lily's mind.
Can I find a quiet corner to hide until the morning?
Like a ghost, Lily moved softly from pillar to pillar, trying to stay
concealed from the church wardens. She was not convinced the
guardians of God's house were as merciful as He. Beyond the
glittering altar lay the entrance to the great crypt with the huge black
tomb of Lord Nelson. It felt warmer in there, oddly enough. Lily
slipped through the doorway and descended the stairs. Behind her, in
the main part of the cathedral, the organ began to boom out. Soon the
congregation would arrive for Evensong.
At last I can rest.
Lily realized that she was exhausted. Trembling violently, she
moved towards a dark corner of the crypt and sank down onto the
stone floor with relief. The air was still and surprisingly comfortable.
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She loosened the unpleasant shawl and closed her eyes. Above her,
on the cathedral floor, the organ played, familiar but to Lily,
nameless, hymns and psalms. It was a powerful, majestic sound,
seeming to make the entire vast edifice vibrate in tune.
What was that?
Somewhere within the music there was another much quieter
sound. Lily's eyes snapped open. Someone was descending the stairs
into the crypt.
Oh, no! Please, no!
The soft light from a gas mantle illuminated his dreadful face. It
was Poole. He stood before Lord Nelson's tomb as if admiring the
huge black sarcophagus. Lily shrank back against the wall, drawing
herself into the deepest shadow. Poole walked slowly around the
crypt, pausing to read the epitaphs of the great and good. He was
coming closer to her hiding place and there was no way out if she did
not make a run for it.
I have to run – and now.
Stealthily, Lily rose to a crouching position. Poole was very near,
his bulky form casting another shadow over her terrified body.
Desperately, Lily threw herself out of her corner and raced across the
crypt. She was aware of Poole's harsh breathing behind her as she
flew up the stairs and into the main part of the cathedral. Still, there
was no one visible. The organ played on, creating a wall of sound that
effectively drowned out her cries.
Where can I go?
Poole's gauntleted hands grasped for her through the crypt doorway
and Lily ran down the aisle, screaming for help. She had to find
someone – a church warden, a clergyman, anyone. Running out into
the night would mean certain capture – or worse. A second doorway
opened off the aisle, revealing an ascending staircase. Helplessly,
Lily began to run up another flight of stone steps, these were shallow
and worn by the footfall of centuries. Around and around the
staircase curled like a corkscrew, until Lily was quite dizzy. Up and
up she ran, her heart pounding with terror and exertion. All around
the dark stone walls pressed. There was nothing but steps and walls
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and an ever upward progression. Was Poole following her? She
could hear nothing but her own ragged, gasping breath and the patter
of her bare feet on smooth stone. Eventually, a door opened onto a
gallery, set beneath the great dome of St. Paul's. If she ran in there,
Poole could corner her. The sound of the organ seemed to push the
air upwards like a great locomotive. It rang in Lily's ears as she
glanced up at the ornate dome then down at the cathedral nave below.
People were beginning to enter the cathedral. Like insects, they
trickled in to fill the pews. Lily screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Help me! Murder! Help me!"
Did anyone hear? Shuffling footsteps approached up the spiraling
staircase. There was no escape but to keep climbing. The staircase
was becoming narrower, the steps steeper. On and on, round and
round... It seemed as if Poole was gaining ground, his heavy
breathing never far behind.
"Help me!"
Lily cried out as she ran up the stairs, hardly caring if anyone could
hear her or not. How many steps were there? It seemed like
hundreds. When would it end? The stone steps became wrought iron
and Lily realized that she had climbed to the very top of the cathedral.
Now, Poole was visible, relentlessly clambering after her, his mask-
like face contorted with anger and lust.
"You can't escape, little missy! There's only one way down. Ha!
Two ways, if you jump."
Moaning in fear, Lily reached the top of the iron stairs. Beyond a
narrow doorway, the night sky was visible. She stepped outside onto
a stone gallery and looked down at the bank of fog that covered
London like a blanket. Behind and beneath her, there were now two
voices, Poole's mocking tones and another, more distant, a man's
voice, calling out. In utter desperation she screamed one last time,
sending piercing shrieks echoing down through the stairwell.
"Murder! Help me! Please!"
Poole stepped out onto the gallery and Lily shrank back against the
tall stone barrier that enclosed the viewpoint.
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"Nowhere to hide now, little miss. What a bother you've caused.
No wonder the master wants to slit your pretty throat."
Lily sank to her knees, unable to fight back any longer. The filthy
shawl slid to the damp stone floor and she watched Poole's boot kick
it away.
"No more," she whispered.
At that moment, there was a terrific commotion. It seemed that
something large flew out of the stairwell and launched itself at Poole
like a rabid dog. For the third time in as many days, Lily slipped into
unconsciousness, her last memory of a frenzied fight between her
captor and someone who swore and struck out with a fearsome punch.
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CHAPTER XXI
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
"Oh my poor lamb! I must get you some calves foot jelly to restore
your strength."
Lily lay in Sophie's bed with the buxom blonde ministering to her
as tenderly as the most devoted nurse.
"Oh, I'll be all right, my darling. I always am, you know, whatever
life decides to throw at me."
Sophie smiled and leaned over to kiss Lily softly on the mouth.
Lily breathed in her perfume and relaxed, at peace.
"I don't know what would have happened if Mr. James here hadn't
turned up when he did. It really doesn't bear thinking about."
Joe James coughed modestly.
"It was nothing, my dear. But you w
ere lucky I heard your cries.
When I reached the top of that spire and found out that the dreadful
screaming was you I got quite a jolt, I don't mind telling you.
Anyway, all's well that ends well."
"Except for Poole, when you punched his lights out."
"Yes, well, he got all he deserved and more. The streets will be
safer when that blackguard and his diabolical master are strung up on
the gallows."
Lily shuddered and Sophie stroked her cheek soothingly.
"I'm so glad Essex was so boring that I decided to come home
early! The thought of you returning to an empty house in that
condition."
Joe James cleared his throat.
"Oh, don't you worry on that account, Miss Sophie. Mrs. James
would've taken good care of our girl here."
Lily smiled.
"And so would dear Rosina."
Joe's face darkened and he looked unhappy.
"Rosina is no longer living at home. My wife discovered a letter
with Rosina's belongings. A love note, to be precise, written by a
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person who previously caused a great deal of distress to us. We
confronted our daughter with the note and she became most upset."
Lily smiled.
"Lawrence Faulkner."
Joe frowned.
"You were involved in Rosina's elopement?"
"Elopement? Good heavens, no! But, Mr. James, they love each
other so dearly..."
Joe sighed wearily.
"I believe you are right, my dear, but the man has no future thanks
to his family. I don't know what they're living on. Acorns and carp
out of the canal, as far as I can see."
Lily glanced up at Sophie.
"They'll be all right. They will take care of each other. Oh, do give
them your blessing, Mr. James! If anyone deserves it, it's Rosina and
Lawrence."
Joe shrugged.
"It's not just me, it's Mrs. James. She can be a stubborn woman."
Sophie rose from her chair beside the bed and crossed the room to
stand before Joe. His gaze automatically moved to her lavish breasts
and she held out her hands to him in an expansive gesture.
"Why, Mr. James, I do believe we owe you an enormous favor.
How can we possibly repay what you have done for us?"
Joe's eyes remained fixed upon Sophie's magnificent décolletage as
he swallowed hard and mumbled something about it being no trouble
at all.
"I was just there, at Evensong. A bit of luck, that's all."
Sophie smiled knowingly.
"Ah yes, Mr. James. You were at Evensong with Miss Dorrington,
weren't you? Dear Miss Dorrington. I know her quite well. We have
a mutual friend by the name of Freddie Bathurst."
Joe James colored slightly.
"Never heard of the man. Anyway, it was just a bit of luck that I
happened to be there..."
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"And now," cooed Sophie, pressing her vast melon-like bust almost
but not quite into Joe's open hands, "we must find a way to repay you.
Dora Dorrington won't tell Mrs. James a thing, don't you worry about
that, Mr. J. Not if you give Rosina and Lawrence your blessing like
the nice kind generous gentleman you are."
Joe James spluttered.
"That's blackmail, Miss Sophie! I ought to turn you over my
knees."
Sophie giggled and looked coy.
"Oh, would you, Mr. James? Would you really? I'd simply adore
that!"
* * * *
Lily lay in Sophie's arms, her head blissfully nestled between the
blonde's wonderful breasts.
"What a lovely day it has been, my darling."
Sophie laughed, sending delicious quivers through her cleavage and
Lily.
"Your hair is tickling me! Yes, wasn't it divine to see Rosina and
Lawrence marry with the blessing of her old man?"
Lily thought of the simple service at the church of St. John in
Clerkenwell, far from the opulence of St. Paul's. Rosina had simply
glowed with joy in her plain blue dress with a bouquet of violets. And
Lawrence had looked most distinguished.
"His family may be cutting him off without a penny but his friends
will see him right, won't they? Freddie Bathurst plans to commission
life-sized oil paintings of all the Snake Pit girls for starters. Word will
spread and–"
"He'll be a portrait painter of a very special kind. Charlie's going to
get him to do one of me in the altogether for his country estate. He
says he'll tell the missus it's Aphrodite Unveiled."
Lily pressed her lips against the smooth silky flesh of Sophie's
cleavage.
"Oh, my dear. I've been such a slave of fortune, haven't I? Please
tell me my luck has changed for good."
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Sophie wrapped her arms about Lily and whispered softly in her
ear.
"Oh yes, my angel. It has. I promise you it has..."
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