Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  Along one street, through a small square, an alley where the conveyance barely fit, and another street and another.

  “Don’t you want to know where you are?” Gussy asked at last. “And where you’re going?”

  “If you’d like to tell me,” Fleur said. “I’m sure you have a plan.”

  “You’re so reasonable. So sweet and submissive.”

  Fleur wondered how Gussy could have formed such a wrong impression of her. “I expect I seem so,” she said. One thing she would not deliberately do was to bait Gussy. “When you grow up in a small place and you’re one of the minister’s daughters, you learn to be seen and not heard.” She shrugged and looked from the window. Rain had begun to fall hard.

  “You won’t be so sweet after tonight,” Gussy said. “Not that it will matter.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. You can’t imagine that there are people who would hurt you because you’re such a sap and such a nuisance. And because you’re in the way. Guess what will happen in the end?”

  Fleur made an amazed face. “I don’t know.”

  “I will take your place with the Elliots—the place that should have been mine in the beginning—and would have been if you hadn’t come to London. This was my year. Everything was arranged.”

  Fleur shook her head. Gussy’s presence, the way she poured out facts she should want to keep secret, convinced Fleur that she was never slated to return from tonight’s horror.

  “One of them would have asked for my hand two years ago, or last year, if I’d been more mature and more cunning. This year I set everything in motion to be sure they would concentrate on me. But the country mouse came to Town and stole all the attention. I was to be the brave one, the one who put aside her own fears to help save others. No matter, the plan will still work and I shall be the heroine in the end, taken into the arms of the family for good. Do you know why?” Gussy grinned.

  “No,” Fleur said. Her ankles alone, where the rope dug into her skin, were enough to make her want to cry.

  “Because I will be the one who tried to save you.” She laughed until she choked. “When they find us, I’ll be holding you and sobbing over you.”

  “Why?” Fleur asked quietly.

  “You know why.” Gussy gave her a sly, sideways glance. “Because you’ll be dead.”

  All of this because Gussy meant to marry Dominic or Nathan? Fleur couldn’t imagine what part the girl had played in The Cat’s escapades, other than to capitalize on her own abduction by currying sympathy. Yet now she traveled with the man and a boy dressed in rags—and she went willingly. Gussy had helped hold Fleur while the man wearing a shiny black mask had tied her up. How could she not believe they intended to kill her?

  “It’s Nathan I want,” Gussy continued. “I have always wanted him. But he pined for Lady Mary Eaton. Now she has reappeared but he won’t take a cripple as his wife. Olivia Prentergast tried to capture Nathan’s attention and I’ll never forgive her for it. She knew how I felt. She moved on to her officer, but only because Nathan didn’t know she was alive. Still I made sure she suffered. Her father almost refused to pay for her return.”

  Fleur tried to close out Gussy’s voice.

  “Vicky Crewe-Burns escaped her punishment because she got frightened she’d be caught leaving the house. She set her cap for Nathan, too, and I made sure she thought it could be he who waited for her in the park, but she has no courage. She sent the maid instead. Jane Weller was a nuisance who should not have been set free, but she proved most useful this evening.”

  The carriage ground to a halt.

  Gussy knelt on her seat and called through the trap to the driver, “Why are we stopping? I haven’t finished.”

  “Indeed, I think you have,” came the cultured reply. “Step out of the carriage. You can wait up here with Harry.”

  Gussy gave a shriek of fury. She flounced around on the seat again and lunged forward, her teeth bared, to slap Fleur’s face. She pinched her cheeks and pulled her nose, took her by the neck and shook her. “We’re driving around to make sure we aren’t followed,” she cried. “You’ll never be rescued.”

  Fleur tried to put her bound hands between them but Gussy bit the fingers.

  Do not cry out, do not beg, do not say anything at all.

  Gussy punched Fleur in the stomach and pain caught under her ribs. She couldn’t breathe. Gussy punched her in the same place and Fleur doubled over.

  She heard a coach door open and slam back. “Enough. I told you not to touch her,” the same male voice as before said harshly, and Fleur looked up. A man in a black leather, full-face mask leaned into the carriage and lifted Gussy. Promptly Fleur suffered a flurry of painful kicks to her shins before Gussy, her arms and legs still flailing, disappeared outside.

  For a moment she was left alone and she wasted no time wrenching open the other door with her bound hands and throwing herself from the coach. The fall to the ground shook every bone. Expecting someone to grab her at any moment, she rolled and kept on rolling away over muddy ground, with rain beating down on her. The soaked chiffon gown wound around her. There was nothing to see but falling rain and a leaden sky that felt inches from her body. The coach had stopped in an open space but Fleur couldn’t guess where she might be.

  Yells came from the direction of the coach and Fleur imagined the struggle going on between The Cat and Gussy. Gussy, the friend who had said she would take Fleur under her wing.

  Would they ask the Elliots for ransom money, even if they had already killed her? Of course they would.

  If only she could see Dominic just once more. She closed her eyes and her heart ached. He was there, in her mind, his dark hair blowing in the wind, his eyes so very blue. And he held a hand out, his white sleeve billowing from his arm. He offered her his hand, asked her to hold it and let him take her away.

  She would hold him in her heart and in her head and fight as hard as she could. Fleur gave herself another shove, and barely held back a scream. She hurtled downward, slipping and sliding, catching on roots and revolving until she landed, facedown, in a gully filled with rocks where a trickle of water ran.

  She felt the sting of many cuts and bruises, her head hurt and her eyes ached, but her mind didn’t waver. Wearily, she rested the side of her face on the rocks and kept still.

  Dominic read two o’clock in the morning on his fob watch. He pounded the back of the chair where he hid. He longed to act, to find the madman who had Fleur and crush him.

  The Cat, and he was sure it was he who took Fleur and Gussy, had done the unexpected and stayed away from the cavernous warehouse with its lavishly decorated but flimsy little house built inside.

  Convinced the man would eventually bring her there, Dominic remained inside the hidden St. James Street house. Franklin Best concealed himself on the gallery with the bizarre collection of music boxes, ready to back up Dominic who sat on his haunches behind a large easy chair facing the door, waiting to attack. The front door was the only way in or out of the building within a building. Not even the windows opened.

  The place had no available water and, apart from liquor and chocolates, no sign of anything to eat or drink. The scent of chocolate Jane Weller had mentioned hung in the air from the chocolate houses on St. James Street. He would find a way to reward Jane for her bravery.

  “This is unbearable, this waiting,” Dominic said, loud enough for Franklin to hear. They knew the sound of the creaky warehouse door opening would alert them to anyone arriving.

  “Too much time is passing,” Franklin said. “But perhaps they have found her elsewhere.”

  Dominic bounced to his feet and bent over, loosening the muscles in his legs. “If they had, someone would have come directly here to tell us.”

  After they’d found The Cat’s house empty, Nathan left to organize a search. The effort seemed hopeless, but they had to try. At Heatherly, Hattie and the Dowager kept a lookout for any sign of Fleur’s return.

  �
��I can stay here and watch for them if you want to join Nathan,” Franklin said.

  “You don’t think they’re coming back, do you?” Dominic said bitterly, voicing the notion he didn’t want to believe. “You think she’s already dead.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Of course, Franklin was very taken with Fleur himself. “I don’t want to say it or think it,” Dominic muttered. “But if there had been a demand for ransom, I would have been informed at once. I can only think the worst.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  “It’s the waiting and doing nothing that destroys me, but I’m sure he will bring her here—in time.” He closed his eyes against thoughts of what the man might be doing to her now—or already have done to her. Lady Mary had insisted that Gussy pushed Fleur outside. Dominic didn’t know what to think about that.

  “Why have you introduced Fleur to other men?”

  Dominic raised his face toward the balcony. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me. You have introduced Fleur to other men yet you don’t want anyone else to have her.”

  “That’s—” Why tell another lie? “You’re right. I want her for myself.”

  When Fleur opened her eyes, the earliest gray light turned a dribble of water to quicksilver beneath her head. She shook from the cold and couldn’t feel her hands and feet.

  Click-clicking sounded. She raised her head, turned her stiff neck with difficulty, and saw a hedgehog cross the rocks with several almost grown young in its wake.

  Before she had slept, if that’s what it had been that stole her consciousness, she had listened to curses and yells from those who had brought her here. Twice they had come quite close and she waited to be found, but they’d missed the gully in the darkness and at last they gave up searching.

  No human sounds reached her now. She dared to hope they had left in the night.

  Fleur raised her hands, inch by inch, until she could look at them. Her hands had swollen and turned blue. She moved the white tips of her fingers, almost crying from the pain, but she must try to get free.

  “Are you alive?” a voice whispered.

  She jumped so badly she thought she would be sick.

  Someone poked her gently. “You’re alive. Best stay quiet.”

  “Who are you?” Fleur asked.

  “That don’t matter. Keep still and I’ll untie your hands. I can’t do no more for you. It’ll be up to you then, and if I’m asked, I never saw you.”

  A pair of battered shoes came into view and their owner crouched near Fleur’s head. The hem of a torn and filthy coat settled among the wet rocks. It was the boy who traveled with The Cat—and Gussy. Harry. His hands looked as cold as hers and his dirty fingernails moved slowly when he worked with the rope that bound her wrists together.

  “Thank you,” Fleur whispered. She wanted to ask why he was doing this but dared not risk that he would change his mind.

  Slowly the bonds loosened until, eventually, she could start to rub her hands together. Slowly, blood started to return and the pain made her gasp.

  “I got to put it back on,” the boy said after a short while.

  Stricken, she shook her head and looked into his face.

  The lad who stared back had intelligent hazel eyes and long, curly hair that might be blond if it were washed. He put a finger to his lips and listened. Then he bent closer. “I got to. I’ll put the rope on so you can get out of it again yourself, but I don’t know what he’d do to me if he ever found out I let you go.”

  So it was useless. Barring some miracle, she would remain a captive—until they were ready to do whatever they planned for her. Fleur tried not to think of death.

  Lashed together once more, even if more loosely, her wrists burned where the rope sank into punished flesh. The fire and ice in her hands was unspeakable. She looked at the boy and said, “Thank you.” She was grateful for the risk he had taken for her.

  “Harry? Harry, where are you?” The man shouted and he wasn’t far away.

  “That’s me,” the boy whispered. “Gawd. He’ll kill me for sure if he finds out what I did. You close your eyes now—I’m going to call back to him. Over here! This way!” He scrambled up and waved his arms. “I’ve found her.”

  Fleur closed her eyes and felt her hot tears. She blinked, squeezed her eyes shut tight trying to dry the evidence.

  The heavy thud of feet on muddy ground vibrated in Fleur’s ear. He was coming for her again, The Cat, and this time he would be angry because she had foiled him, at least for a few hours.

  “Get back to the carriage, Harry. If the Arbuthnot woman tries to get your sympathy—don’t speak to her.”

  Fleur heard Harry scramble away.

  Fingers settled on her neck. “You’re alive. Little fool to try to escape in such circumstances.” A heavy, warm blanket—or, more likely, his cloak—covered her. When he lifted her, Fleur hung heavy and limp. She scarcely believed her good fortune when he put her over his shoulder rather than carrying her in his arms. At least her face would be hidden and they wouldn’t see if her eyes moved.

  The creature had broad, strong shoulders and he carried her from the gully as if she weighed nothing.

  Suddenly he bellowed, “Harry! Get that woman out of the carriage.”

  Gussy’s furious shouts didn’t make sense to Fleur.

  “On the box,” the man shouted back. “You’ll ride with me. We’ve got very little time. We lost anyone who tried to follow, but I must reach our destination before there are too many people about.”

  With a pistol in his hand, Dominic examined the warehouse—and found nothing, not even leftover materials from the work that had been carried out there.

  Four o’clock had brought first hint of light and he’d been unable to remain in the make-believe house a moment longer.

  “Dominic?” Franklin joined him. “If we go out there, at least we can do something, we can search and keep on searching until she is found.”

  “Dead or alive,” Dominic said tonelessly.

  Franklin rubbed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “I shouldn’t have left her behind when the commotion started last night.” If only he’d held her hand and kept her with him.

  “Of course you should,” Franklin said. “Any man would have done the same thing when he thought he was going into danger.”

  “I assumed The Cat always came back here.” Dominic looked through a grime-filmed window onto the large patch of ground behind the warehouse, where grass and weeds grew to the height of a man’s waist.

  “Could he have changed his mind because he found out Jane Weller was there?” Franklin said. “He may have thought she’d told you about this place.”

  Dominic watched a spider outside the window. It vibrated at the center of its dewdrop web. “I wondered the same thing, but he would expect Jane to keep quiet about what happened to her, not talk about it when she was trying to get a place after being let go from another household. The Crewe-Burnses told lies about the girl, remember, and Gussy knew it.”

  “Mary must have been mistaken about Gussy—”

  “They’re coming,” Dominic said, casting about. “Get back inside the house quickly. There’s no cover in the warehouse.”

  “We can jump him here,” Franklin said.

  “Move,” Dominic replied and ran with a hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “Go back where you were. We’ll only get one chance and he’ll likely be armed. I think he’s carrying Fleur. Gussy’s there, and that boy.”

  They were barely in their places when The Cat and his entourage entered the warehouse.

  Dominic had extinguished the only candle he’d lit.

  Footsteps sounded on the front steps and the door opened. Dominic saw The Cat go to a table in the center of the room and bend to put a spark to several candles there.

  “Over there, Gussy,” he said. “Sit on the floor. Harry, tie her up till I’ve got what I want from her.”

  “Don’t you put a finger on
me,” Gussy told Harry. Her voice got higher. “I warn you, if he comes near me I’ll scratch his eyes out.”

  “I doubt it, although you’re good at scratching, aren’t you? I told you not to touch Fleur but you did it anyway. Sit still and keep quiet. Harry will tie you up. I can’t keep my eyes on you all the time. I’ve got things to do.”

  Dominic wanted to rush the man. He wanted this over now, but he wanted Fleur away from The Cat first. He was bound to put her down while he did whatever he’d come to do and Dominic would take advantage of the opportunity.

  “Let me help you.” Gussy whined and hit out at the boy when he approached her with lengths of twine. “It’ll be quicker. Then all you have to do is drop me in the woods near Heatherly, with her, so I can wait for them to find me.”

  “And welcome you into the bosom of the family, and be forever grateful that you tried to save Fleur.”

  Dominic looked at the bundle The Cat held over his shoulder. It was Fleur all right. Her red hair hung loose from inside a heavy cape that swathed her.

  Tried to save Fleur. Was she already dead?

  The Cat lowered her from his shoulder and set her on the floor. Dominic’s heart pounded. The man set Fleur down much more carefully than he would a dead woman.

  Dominic raised his pistol, then lowered it again. Rather than move away, The Cat went to help Harry tie Gussy up.

  Dominic needed a clear shot. And he wanted to wound the man, not kill him. There were questions to be asked.

  The man tore the leather hood from his head and Dominic sucked in a breath. He pulled farther back behind the chair. Noel DeBeaufort, his blond curls flattened to his head, returned to tying up Gussy.

  “The money’s all here, isn’t it?” Gussy said. “That’s what you’ve come for. Take your pistol and kill Fleur now. Get it over with. Then take the money, leave me as we planned and you’re away. Untie me. I don’t know why you’ve tied me up, anyway.”

  “Get something to gag her with,” Noel said. “I hate the sound of her voice.” He sank to his haunches, took Gussy by the shoulders and shook her till she cried out. “You’re the one who dies. Right here. Who knows how long it’ll be before your body’s found. I’ve changed my mind about everything. Fleur goes with me. We’ll get away by sea and eventually she’ll come to love me. We’ll be rich and she’ll have everything she wants.”