Stealing Mercy

by Tate, Kristy

  “I’m fine,” Mercy promised Miles.

  Miles looked first at Trent and then at Mercy, folded his arms and stared straight ahead.

  Mercy watched the maid jittering on the doorstep. “I think Laurel needs to speak with you,” she told Miles.

  Miles sent the maid a questioning look, but refused to budge from the coach.

  Laurel hurried down the front path and motioned to Miles. From her stricken face, Mercy knew something was wrong.

  Miles must have had the same idea, because after a backward warning glance at Trent, he sprang from the coach. “Do not leave, I’ll only follow.”

  Trent groaned and sank back against the cushions. “I’ll make the arrangements with the pastor at first light,” he said as soon as Miles slammed out the door.

  “You needn’t bother,” Mercy said, leaning away from him. Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.

  Trent leaned forward. “And why not?”

  Mercy lowered her voice so that Miles couldn’t hear. “You haven’t even asked me to marry you, you oaf, you just announced our marriage to the world without even my consent.”

  Trent leaned back and chuckled, clearly relieved. “Oaf?”

  Mercy looked out the window, away from Trent. She watched Laurel catch Miles by the jacket, drag him away, out of earshot and whisper in his ear.

  “I’d hardly call my gram’s dining room the world.”

  “I’m extraordinarily angry with you,” Mercy whispered, not wanting to be overheard by the approaching Miles and Laurel. “Not to mention embarrassed--”

  Trent reared his head back against the seat as if she’d pushed him. “Why would you be angry?”

  Mercy leaned forward and pointed her finger at his chest. “Why did you take off my clothes? That was completely inappropriate. You must have known there would be no going back--”

  Trent did nothing to lower his voice. “You had been soaked in running glacier water. I suppose it would have been much more appropriate to let you die of hypothermia!”

  “You could have taken me to the ranch, sought help from your sister or grandmother. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d taken off my clothes.”

  Trent opened his mouth to argue and then flushed. “I didn’t mind taking off your clothes, and to be honest --”

  “You didn’t mind! Perhaps I minded!”

  “May I remind you that you didn’t seem to mind at the time--”

  “I wasn’t conscious!”

  “Later, you were very much awake.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she batted them away, praying Trent wouldn’t see. She didn’t want to marry because propriety dictated it or because their marriage would sooth his guilty conscience. If she became a ‘had to’ in his life, how long would it be before the balm that eased his shame grew sticky and uncomfortable? When she married, if she married, it would be for love, like the love that she’d felt between her parents. The sort of love that made one get out of bed every morning at four to bake bread, that held hands every evening during prayer, that clung to one another despite pain, illness and death. She turned away, not knowing how to say that marriage, at least her marriage, couldn’t be fabricated, thrown together, willy-nilly, with as little thought as a mincemeat pie.

  Trent took her hand. “Mercy, will you please marry me?”

  She hated him then for making a mockery of her and her beliefs. Mercy waved her hand to shush him when Miles, with a stricken face, appeared at the coach’s window.

  “It’s Eloise. She’s eloped.” His voice sounded breathless, hoarse.

  Mercy craned her neck out the window and saw what looked like a long white sheet suspended from a second story window blowing in the wind. It billowed and fluttered like a live creature and looked startling white against the dark sky.

  “Eloped?” Mercy’s voice caught and suspicion swelled in her chest. “With who?”

  Miles leaned against the coach and ran his fingers through his hair. “Probably Aidan Steele, since she’s been fawning over him for weeks.”

  At the news Trent leaped from the coach and came around to Miles. Mercy also slipped out the door. Dizziness swept over her and she grabbed the coach to steady herself. Her knees felt weak.

  “That’s not possible, we just saw Steele at the ranch,” she said. Absently, she rubbed the sore spot on her head. It’d begun to throb.

  Trent looked at the sheet writhing in the wind. “A lone rider could easily out strip a coach by hours.”

  Mercy persisted, “But, it would have had to been prearranged…I just don’t think its Steele.”

  Miles looked mutinous. “Who else? My parents will be livid.” His expression cleared. “Maybe we could find her and the lot of you could have a double wedding in the morning.”

  Trent looked Mercy in the eye and she had to look away. Trent looked back at Miles with a grim expression. “If she’s with Steele, I’ve an idea of where to look.”

  Mercy nodded and took Miles’ arm while Trent told him all they knew of Mr. Steele’s involvements with young girls and the Lucky Island brothel.

  *****

  Moments later, Mercy found herself deposited at the house on Lily Hill. Irritated at being left behind, angry and frustrated with the unresolved conversation, she sat down on her bed mindful of the glaring fact that this was supposed to be her wedding eve.

  Through the window she could see the sparkling lights of Lucky Island. A petticoat strapped on the flag pole flapped in the wind and looked eerily like the sheet hanging from Eloise’s window. Would Steele take Eloise there right away? Mercy doubted he intended to marry her, but would he take her straight to the island, or first to his home? Maybe he had another voyage in mind.

  Mercy’s fingers crept to her bruised forehead and she touched it gingerly. She knew she was unwell, not up to snuff and shouldn’t be doing anything more strenuous than having a good night’s sleep. But, how could she have a good night? How could she sleep when worry for Eloise dogged her every thought? Should she have warned her? Should she have told her? Of course. Why hadn’t she?

  Fear.

  She knew she wasn’t completely devoid of the attribute. She had the strength of character to protect herself from Steele. She’d stolen his passage fare and sailed half way around the world, disguised as a boy. She’d sought out her aunt and created a new life and a promising business in a new place. This had all taken courage, and yet, when faced with Mr. Steele a second time, why had her first instinct been to hide? And when she could no longer hide, she’d run. Why? In fact, why had she run that very night in New York? Surely, there would have been someone who would have helped her? Her parent’s friends, her pastor, or her landlord. Now that she thought about it, there were countless people who would have gladly stepped up to her defense.

  As if on automation, Mercy went to the wardrobe and pulled out her father’s clothes. She knew if she thought too hard, gave it too much consideration, she’d give way to her fears and try to hide or run, again, and although she never did anything without a plan, sometimes, she thought as she pulled on the pants, plans need to be developed along the way.

  It occurred to her then that she’d changed more than geographical locations. Her world had changed and she’d changed with it. She didn’t need to run. She didn’t need to hide; she could take on Steele and win.

  But not alone.

  Moment later, Mercy hurried through the dark streets, her hair caught up in her father’s soft wool hat, her legs free in the pants. Rats skittered beneath the boardwalk. It’d been unusually dry and the streets, typically soaked with muck, had turned into small hills and valleys of dried mud. Still, she swung the umbrella at her side. The moon shone brightly and glinted off the windows of the dark homes that lined Lily Hill. It’d been six months since she’d escaped through the tall rows of apartments and shops in Elm Street, six months since she’d left New York. She didn’t know what she’d do if she found Steele and Eloise. Yet.

  Only this time she wouldn�
�t be alone. Trent and Miles, adversaries only minutes ago, were now allies, united in finding Eloise and defeating Steele. Mercy didn’t know how she could help, but she would try.

  She heard the scurry of night animals, a barking dog, and the drone of insects. Moon and starlight sparkled on the dew lining the boardwalk and clinging to the tall grass that shot up through the cracks between the buildings. A gentle breeze caused the shadows to shift and Mercy, confident in her ability to walk through the night, didn’t see the dark cloaked figure lurking behind a closed newspaper stand.

  CHAPTER 31

  Chinese Fortune Cookies

  In a small mixing bowl, stir together flour, sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Add oil and egg white; stir until smooth. Add water and mix well. Pour about a tablespoon of batter onto a lightly greased skillet. Flip cookie and cook for one minute more. Put a riddle strip in the center. Fold cookie.

  From The Recipes of Mercy Faye

  He hadn’t been looking forward to scaling the trellis a second time. Some things should only happen once or twice in a lifetime and trellis climbing was one of those things. He hadn’t minded so much the first time, after all, he’d felt himself two steps closer to Rita and, if he admitted it, a couple of leaps towards impressing Mercy Faye, but in the intervening weeks, he still hadn’t a clue as to Rita’s whereabouts, and he felt he’d secured Mercy’s hand, so trellis climbing seemed unreasonable. Unless, of course, you were worried about your sister.

  Beside him, Trent felt Miles’ burning hostility mixed with concern. The man exuded with pent up emotion. If someone were to light a match in their general vicinity, Trent was sure Miles would explode. Perhaps he would anyway. Spontaneous combustion.

  Trent understood the feeling. He didn’t know how rational he would be if someone had kidnapped Chloe. He remembered the overwhelming panic he’d felt just a few hours ago when he couldn’t find Mercy.

  Above them, the dark windows of Steele’s room didn’t show any signs of life. Every window looked as blank and empty as the next. “Come on,” he said, nudging Miles and heading towards the trellis, but just then they saw a dark coach roll from behind the hotel.

  Miles started. “Do you think--”

  Trent shrugged. “It could be--”

  “Maybe one of us should follow it, just in case.”

  Trent took a deep breath and nodded. As long as the coach rolled through the city streets, Miles had a shot of looking in the windows and discovering Eloise. Trent looked at the trellis and knew he had other windows to scale.

  *****

  She felt, rather than saw, someone watching her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, the skin tingling sensation of being watched pricked along her neck. And yet, she didn’t stop. She picked up her pace and began counting her steps. One step for courage, two steps for valor, three steps for bravery, four steps for ….She rounded a corner and stepped into a dark doorway. Holding her breath, she pressed her back against the black wall, willing herself invisible. The noiseless footsteps came her way. She twirled the umbrella in her hand, waiting.

  Then she let out her breath with a soft whoosh when she recognized the cloaked figure. “Young Lee,” she gasped. “What are you doing?”

  Young Lee halted beneath a street light and put his hand on his hips and lowered his eyebrows at her. “What I doing? No. That is not the question. It’s safe for me to be out in the dark. It no safe for you. So, the question is, what you doing?”

  Mercy swallowed. “I’m going to see a friend.”

  Young Lee pointed his finger at her. “You have too many friends. I not like your friends.”

  Mercy remembered Trent swinging at Young Lee and smiled. “I can appreciate that, I really do, but--”

  “No buts! You going home to Miss Tilly. I taking you home.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Young Lee folded his arms. “Then where we’s going?”

  “We’s, I mean, we’re not going anywhere. I’m going to a friend’s and you are going home.”

  “I no going alone, you no going alone.”

  Mercy bit her lip, considering and then had an idea. “Come along, then.”

  *****

  After visiting the dark Grand Hotel and not finding Miles and Trent, Mercy and Young Lee climbed the hill to Trent’s house. The lights were on and so she approached the door. Nerves fluttered in her belly. Would he turn her away? He might balk at her assistance, but he couldn’t refuse her plan. It was too good. Much better than chocolates laced with a sedative. Still, she felt jumpy when they reached the door.

  Young Lee stood beside her, scowling. He liked everything about her plan except for her involvement, but she’d told him that if he tried to tell her aunt, needlessly concern her aunt, she wouldn’t tell him where to use the explosives. She cast him another look.

  “I no leave until I know you not alone.”

  She sighed. They’d been over this. “I’m perfectly safe.”

  “You stay with Mr. Trent until I return.”

  “Of course,” Mercy murmured, not even knowing whether Trent was at home or where he’d be if he wasn’t. Although the burning lamps were promising.

  Mugs creaked open the door. He stood in the half light with a bemused look on his face, an expression that said I don’t know what you’re doing here in men’s clothing, but it promises to be great fun.

  Mercy cleared her throat. “Good evening, Mugs.”

  Footsteps clattered down the stairs and Chloe appeared in her dressing gown. “Mercy, goodness, whatever are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m surprised to see you, too.”

  Chloe’s eyes glittered in amusement. “You didn’t think Gram would let Trent return to the city without a chaperone, did you? I’m to be her spy.” She laughed. “I don’t know why you’re at my brother’s house at midnight dressed like a farm hand but, please come in.”

  “Thank you.” Mercy turned to Young Lee. “I’ll wait here for you, I promise.”

  Young Lee gave her a slant eyed stare, before disappearing with a swirl of his cloak.

  Chloe reached and took Mercy by the hand to draw her into the sitting room. “Oh, you’re freezing. Come and sit by the fire and tell me all about your romance with my brother. I’ve been dying to speak to you alone.” She shot Mugs a glance. “Goodnight, Mugs.”

  He looked reluctant to leave, but after it became apparent that neither of the women would speak until he did so, he turned on his heels, but Mercy suspected he didn’t go very far.

  Mercy filled Chloe in on her past with Steele and Eloise’s engagement and then she shared her plan, speaking loudly, hoping that Mugs would overhear and want to participate.

  *****

  Mercy and Chloe raided Trent’s room. A room says so much about a person, Mercy thought. The books beside his bed, the drawings of horses on the walls. She knew she needed to focus, but she couldn’t help thinking, Trent sleeps here, and noticing the familiar scents of leather and cologne. Where had he gone? Was he confronting Steele at this moment? Had they found Eloise?

  Chloe searched the wardrobe, tossing out pants and shirts. “He’s really massively large. I’m so grateful you like him otherwise I might have him eating at my dinner table forever.”

  Mercy knew she needed to dispel Chloe’s hopes. She determined she wouldn’t marry Trent for the sake of convention. So very few people knew she’d been found in a state of dishabille with him in the cottage. She wouldn’t hold him to a false engagement.

  If he didn’t want to be held. She loved being held by him. In truth, she loved him. The thought of him confronting Steele made her ill and it was those thoughts that pushed her into action. Once she’d executed her plan, then she and Trent could discuss their bogus engagement. If they were successful. Of course they’d be successful. Any other thought was too horrible to entertain.

  How would Trent feel about her involving his little sister? Mercy felt a tug of misgiving, rubbed the bruise on her forehead and sat down
on the bed. “Maybe you should stay here.”

  Chloe didn’t budge from the wardrobe. “Are you insane? This is the best acting gig a girl could ever ask for.” She held up a white shirt and then pressed it against her chest. “I’m just not sure about the costume.”

  Disguising Chloe’s curves would be a challenge. Her short, curvy figure took to breeches, even large ones, about as well as oil took to water. Chloe was round where Trent was narrow. Her hips, suited for childbearing, refused to hide. Even with a long jacket the hips protruded when she moved.

  “Hold still,” Mercy said, trying to tuck towels around Chloe’s waist. She hoped the towels binding Chloe’s breasts and thickening her waist would create the appearance of a barrel-chested man in an over sized coat.

  Chloe frowned and shrugged off the coat. “I feel ridiculous.”

  Mercy stopped, considering, and then returned to the wardrobe.

  Seconds later, Chloe looked like a short round man in a cloak and wool hat. Mercy fashioned a scarf about her neck. “Just keep your chin down and your hands in your cloak.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “It has to.”

  *****

  Mugs had insisted they take the wagon. “More room for more girls,” he’d said and his face, which generally had the countenance of a mortician, seemed to glow. Even now, as they bounced over the rutted and bumpy streets, the three of them sharing the bench of the rattling wagon, Mugs wore an almost happy expression. They stopped outside the door of 9 Sea Point.

  “What if no one’s willing to help?” Chloe asked.

  “They will,” Mercy assured her, giving Chloe’s hand a squeeze.

  A candle flickered in the window and a face appeared. Mercy waved.