by Anna Jacobs
Kit didn’t hesitate. He ran forward and clambered on to the luggage rack attached to the rear of the car, the noise he made lost in the furious barking of the dog as its owner dragged it back into the garden.
The man called out, ‘He don’t like motor cars, sir. Sorry.’
But Nathan had already set off again.
Kit crouched down so that the men in the car couldn’t see him through the rear window. There was a tarpaulin strapped to the rack and as the cool night air made him shiver, he unstrapped it, not without difficulty, and pulled it over himself when the car slowed down.
As the car jolted along the bumpy country roads, he was grateful for the tarpaulin’s shelter because it was cold riding on the back. He hoped no part of him was showing and that he just looked like a lumpy piece of luggage.
He prayed as he’d never prayed before that they’d get there in time to save his mother from that horrible, horrible man.
Fergus pretended to go home that night, but crept back into the stables. No one stayed on night duty now, so he was able to join the injured mare in her stall and bathe the nasty cut caused by careless driving by that new man, who treated horses like motor cars, which didn’t need the rests the poor overworked horses did.
Things were going from bad to worse here. He’d have to find another job, even if it meant accepting a lowly one, because it was breaking his heart to see the animals so badly treated.
No, he couldn’t leave yet. He had to keep an eye on Godfrey, damn his eyes! The fellow meant to harm Kathleen, so Fergus was pretending to hate his daughter. He thought he’d won his new master’s trust, but hadn’t been included in whatever was going on tonight, hadn’t even found out what Godfrey was planning.
‘There you are, my girl,’ he murmured to Blossom, stroking her neck and lighting a small candle to check her injury.
It needed bathing again, he decided, and some powder putting on it. Why hadn’t they used the powder the vet sold? It was cheap and effective against infections.
Penny-pinching on everything, that sod was. Except for the fancy motor car he’d just bought and his church duties.
It was then that Fergus realised: the motor hadn’t been in its usual place under the awning at the end of the stables. He’d been so concerned about the horse that he hadn’t noticed.
Mr Godfrey couldn’t have gone out in it because Fergus had seen him through the window of the house, in the back sitting room, in a comfortable armchair chatting to his aunt. His wife didn’t live here. No, just him. He’d moved in with his aunt and left his wife in their old home looking after his children. And for all his talk of abstemiousness, he and his Aunt Agnes lived in high old style.
Where could the motor have gone at this hour of the night, then? No one would have taken it without the master ordering them to.
Fergus decided to watch out for it coming back and see if he could overhear what they’d been doing. He put out the candle when he’d tended to Blossom and waited patiently.
An hour later he heard the sound of an engine and the gates clanking as they were dragged open.
Fergus went up into the hayloft to watch. It overlooked the place they kept the car, which was perfect for his purpose.
‘Out you get, missus,’ one man said, not a man Fergus recognised.
But he did recognise his daughter, with her hands bound, a bruise on her cheek and her hair all tumbling down as if she’d been in a struggle. Dear God, what were they intending to do with her? They’d roughed her up already.
And him on his own here! He couldn’t rescue her from three men and Godfrey Seaton. He’d have to get help. But first he’d see if he could find out what they were about.
Silently as a ghost, he left the hayloft and crossed the yard. He didn’t need a light, could have walked it blindfold. He stayed in the shadows, avoiding the brightness from the window of the back room, the place Godfrey sat most evenings. Mrs Seaton was no longer there, just him.
Unlocking the side gate, he slipped outside but hesitated, uncertain whether to call in the police immediately or continue watching what was going on through the window of the back room.
No, the police would pay more attention to what Godfrey told them than to him. He had to find out what they were intending to do with her, have something definite to tell them.
Unless Godfrey was going to kill her and then he’d just have to hurl rocks through the windows to distract them and yell for help. Surely someone from a nearby street would hear him and come if he yelled ‘Murder’?
He went back into the yard, but left the little gate unlocked in case he had to get away quickly.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The men took Kathleen into the house. She didn’t struggle because she wanted to fool her captors into thinking they’d frightened her so much she’d obey their orders. In a pig’s ear she would.
Godfrey was waiting for them in the back room. He looked at one of her assailants and placed one finger on his lips. Before Kathleen could draw in the air to scream, one man had put a hand across her mouth.
So she didn’t even wriggle, just stood there, her expression blank as it used to be when she worked in the café. At least, she hoped it was blank.
‘I see she struggled when you captured her.’ Godfrey stared down his nose at her. ‘Even her own father speaks ill of her, says she’s disobedient. I shall enjoy punishing her for that.’
She felt hurt, because her father had told her another tale entirely about how he felt about his new employer.
‘How an Irish whore like her persuaded my cousin to marry her, I don’t know. Anyway …’ Godfrey looked at the men and tossed a purse on to the floor. ‘Gag her properly and tie her to that chair. I’ve left the ropes ready. Then you others can go home and forget what happened tonight. I just need Jack from now on. Jack, wait in the kitchen and leave her for me to deal with. What happens to her is none of your business, so ignore it if she screams. I’ll answer the front door myself when they come for her. You’re just staying to make sure no one interferes. Her father might draw the line at what we’re doing, so I don’t want him involved.’
One man nodded and bent to pick up the purse. The other shoved Kathleen on to the chair and bound her feet and body to it with the ropes that were already in place. Jack was the largest of them all, a big brute of a fellow whose nose had been broken at some stage. He waited by the door.
She was afraid now, suddenly quite sure Godfrey intended to murder her. And she would be helpless to stop him. She’d never thought to die like this.
When the men had gone, he sat down and studied her. ‘You’re quite pretty, in a coarse sort of way. I expect you’re wondering what’s going to happen to you.’
She said nothing, staring in another direction, the only act of defiance she could manage now.
He walked across the room and slapped her hard across the face. ‘Look at me when I’m speaking to you, bitch.’
If her mouth had been free, she’d have spat at him. As it was, she shut her eyes. Another slap rocked her head but she kept her eyes stubbornly shut.
‘I’ll tell you anyway because you can’t shut your ears. I’m selling you into a brothel.’ He chuckled. ‘They’ll keep you safely locked away and use your body till you’re no use to man nor beast, till you’ve no defiance left in you, till you don’t even care what I’ve done to your brats. And those two won’t grow much older, by the way.’
Her heart twisted in terror.
‘Of course I could just kill you, but I’d much rather know that you’re suffering for years as a punishment for daring to marry a Seaton.’
He glanced towards the clock. ‘They’ll be here in an hour to collect you. Until then you and I can have a little fun.’
She was shocked to the core by what he’d said. What had she ever done to deserve such a fate? Or her children? Oh, dear heaven, please Nathan look after them when I’m gone. Don’t let this madman kill them.
She was helpless to do anything, utter
ly at the mercy of this monster.
Outside Fergus breathed deeply to control his temper at what he’d overheard. How dare that hypocritical fiend treat his daughter like this? For all her unfeminine independence, Kathleen had always lived a decent life, he knew that.
He pressed himself into a dark corner and watched the men walk out of the yard. One of them turned to click the catch shut on the gate, then they went off down the street, laughing and joking about how easy that job had been.
The other man he’d seen was Godfrey’s ‘manservant’ Jack. More like his tame bully, as far as Fergus could tell, because he looked more like a prizefighter than a manservant.
Luckily, since neither Jack nor his master had any skill with horses, Fergus had kept his job. But he knew that it was only a matter of time before he lost it because Godfrey hated the Irish. Some people just did, though Fergus could never understand why. Godfrey would replace him in an instant once he found a man more to his liking. Heaven help the poor horses then.
After making sure the gate was unlocked again, Fergus went back to the house. What he saw through the window made him want to throttle Godfrey, who was making free with poor Kathleen’s body, enjoying hurting her and taunting her, while she was tied to the chair, helpless.
Fergus went to the back door and got into the house by using the key he’d never handed over to his new master after old Mr Seaton died.
In the old days, the servants would be sitting in here in the evenings. Now, even Mrs Seaton was encouraged to go to bed early and one of the maids had told him Godfrey was giving her something each night to make her sleepy. He’d reduced the number of servants, and those left were sent up to their attic bedrooms much earlier to save coal.
Fergus wasn’t sure how to rescue Kathleen, but wasn’t going to rush into it, because he didn’t know where Jack was and he’d only have one chance to help her.
It was a good thing he’d entered carefully because, talk of the devil, Jack came clumping down the stairs to the kitchen.
Fergus only had time to duck into the scullery and watch through the partly open door.
Jack helped himself to a bottle of beer and sat at the kitchen table, shaking out the crumpled evening newspaper, which his master had finished with, and reading it by gaslight.
Damn him! Fergus thought. He couldn’t do anything while Jack was around to turn a fight against Godfrey into Fergus fighting against two large men.
Jack was as strong as an ox and a dirty fighter too. Fergus had seen him in action. He had to deal with him first, then he could handle Godfrey on his own, he was sure. By hell, he’d make him sorry for what he was doing to Kathleen, not to mention what he was intending to do.
And how did a man who flaunted his Christianity at you know enough about brothels to ‘sell’ a woman to them? Only one way he could know them that well, the damned hypocrite.
Fergus looked round for something to throw to catch Jack’s attention, but just then there was the sound of a motor car outside the house. He grimaced. Surely the brothel hadn’t sent someone to pick up poor Kathleen already? Godfrey had said they were coming in an hour’s time.
Nathan stopped the car at the front of the house and urged the policeman out of it. The constable hovered on the doorstep, not seeming at all anxious to force his way into a gentleman’s residence.
Nathan hammered on the front door.
It was answered by Godfrey himself.
‘I believe you have my fiancée here.’ Nathan had told the policeman he and Kathleen were engaged to be married and it was as good a story as any for giving him a right to be anxious about her.
‘No. She’s not here. Why should she be?’
‘I don’t believe you, so we’ll take a look round, if you don’t mind.’
‘I do mind.’ Godfrey tried to close the door on them.
‘We won’t take long, sir,’ the policeman bleated.
Nathan had already stuck his foot in the door. ‘We’ll take as long as is necessary, Seaton, because I know for certain she’s here.’ That inner sense that helped find what had been lost had kicked in as soon as he got to the house, had told him he was right and she was here.
There was the sound of footsteps and a burly man came hurrying from the back of the hall to join them.
‘Ah, there you are, Jack,’ Godfrey said. ‘Get rid of these people for me, will you? And as for you, Constable, you should know better than to force your way into a gentleman’s residence for no reason. I shall complain to the chief constable.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but—’
Nathan poked him in the ribs.
‘—I’m afraid I must insist. We have information that Kathleen Seaton has been brought here.’
‘The woman is not in my house, damn you!’
Under cover of the altercation at the door, Fergus crept up the stairs from the kitchen, pocketknife in hand. The others were so caught up in their arguments they didn’t see him at first in the shadows at the back of the hall.
Then Nathan caught sight of him, so Fergus put one finger to his lips and pointed towards the room where they were holding Kathleen. He managed to creep along the side of the hall without any of the others noticing him and slipped inside the back room.
She was sitting there, tears streaking her cheeks. As quickly as he could, he cut through her bonds and then yelled at the top of his voice, ‘She’s here! They had her tied up and gagged.’
Nathan immediately tried to push past Godfrey and his servant, but they pushed back and the policeman was a bit slow to come to Nathan’s aid.
A small figure bent down and wriggled past their legs, running across the hall shouting, ‘Mum! Mum!’
Godfrey left Jack to bar the door and chased after the lad, catching hold of his coat collar.
Fergus helped his daughter to the door of the back room. She was moving stiffly after being tied up for so long but when she saw her son and Godfrey shaking him like a dog shakes a rat, she yelled a protest and went for the man’s face with her nails, heedless of the fact that he was much bigger than her. So furiously did she attack him that she drove him back a couple of steps and he had to let go of Kit to defend himself.
Fergus had to leave her to help Nathan with Jack, who looked as if he was going to murder his assailant.
As Godfrey stepped back before Kathleen’s assault, the policeman also edged round the two struggling men and ran to help Kathleen, trying to get between her and Godfrey.
‘Stop! Stop this minute, in the name of the law!’
As Kathleen fell back, he followed up with, ‘You’re under arrest, Mr Seaton, for kidnapping.’
Meanwhile Kit had picked up the rolling pin, which he’d dropped. He saw Godfrey punch the young policeman and send him sprawling to the floor, then grab his mother again.
But the man had forgotten about him, so Kit darted forward with the rolling pin raised and hit the back of the man’s legs, and any other part of him he could reach. Kathleen managed to scratch Godfrey’s cheek.
He yelled in agony at the double attack and Kathleen shoved him off her with a sudden surge of strength. As he staggered backwards into a hall table, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flick knife, clicking the blade open.
‘No!’ The policeman jumped to his feet and as Godfrey moved towards her, knife raised, he pulled out his truncheon.
Kathleen grabbed her son and pulled him behind her, trying and failing to move back into the nearby room. Before the knife could strike her, the policeman used his truncheon, whacking Godfrey across the back of his head as hard as he could.
The yells cut off abruptly and the knife fell from Godfrey’s hand as he crumpled to the ground. He made no further sound, just lay there motionless.
Jack took one look at his master’s still body and ran for his life, but Nathan dived for his legs and tripped him up.
Fergus slammed the front door shut and helped Nathan and the constable hold Jack down and handcuff his hands behind him, then the young p
oliceman said, ‘You stay there, if you know what’s good for you, and don’t try to get up or I’ll charge you with … with resisting arrest.’
And all the time Godfrey lay without moving.
Kathleen took the rolling pin from her son’s hand, still looking fierce and wild, as if she was prepared to take on the whole world in defence of her child.
With Jack subdued, the constable went back to kneel down and check Godfrey. He looked up, gasping in shock, ‘He’s dead.’
‘He can’t be,’ Fergus said. ‘You only hit him once. He’s just unconscious.’
‘See for yourself.’
Fergus bent over the body, putting his fingers to the pulse at the throat. But the pulse was still now, would be still for ever. ‘You’re right. He is dead. There’s no mistaking that look.’
‘I’ve never killed anyone before,’ the constable moaned. ‘What’s the sergeant going to say about this?’
When Jack saw that his master was dead, he went very quiet, muttering, ‘I had nothing to do with that. You can all bear witness. I didn’t touch him.’
Nathan ignored him. ‘It was an accident, which took place because he was trying to kill Kathleen. You were a hero, constable. You saved her life. A real hero.’
The young man gaped at him. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I do.’
‘I agree. Well done, lad,’ Fergus added. ‘We’ll tell your sergeant how it happened.’
‘Oh. Right.’
There was a sound above them and they saw the rest of the servants standing in a cluster on the landing, staring down in horror at the chaos below and the body of their master.
‘Is there a telephone in this house?’ Nathan shouted up to them.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Someone show the constable where it is, then he can phone his sergeant. On second thoughts, I’ll go with him.’ He wasn’t at all sure the young fellow could explain things coherently. He looked up the stairs. ‘Can you two young women come and help stand guard over this man. You can use this rolling pin on him if he tries to get away.’
