by Laura Beers
“I am sure that spending time in a gunnysack, slung over your shoulder, will do the trick,” Madalene responded.
Lord Hawthorne put his hands up in surrender. “As you wish,” he muttered as he sat back on the bench.
“You mentioned the Bow Street Runners will raid the pub and rescue me,” she started, “but you failed to mention how I will return home.”
“My brother will see to that.”
“Where will you be?”
Lord Hawthorne smirked. “Hiding from the Bow Street Runners.”
“I see,” she mumbled, even though she didn’t see.
A silence descended over the coach as they both retreated to their own thoughts. After a long moment, Lord Hawthorne spoke up. “These men who have abducted the girls are dangerous and need to be stopped, and your cooperation will go a long way in helping to do that.”
“I am glad to be of assistance, then.”
“And I’m truly hoping that Miss Hardy is among the missing women.”
“As am I.”
Lord Hawthorne grew solemn. “But if she isn’t, I promise you that I will keep looking for her.”
“You would do that for me?”
His face softened. “I would,” he replied, “especially since you have done me a great favor by allowing me to abduct you.”
She attempted to muster up a smile but failed miserably. “It will be an adventure.”
“You will be safe; I assure you of that.”
She nodded. “I believe you.”
“Why is that?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
“I don’t rightly know,” she replied.
The coach came to a creaking stop. “Get into the sack,” Lord Hawthorne ordered.
He placed the gunnysack on the floor and Madalene stepped into it. As she crouched down, he pulled the bag over her head and she could feel him securing the top with the rope.
The door opened and she felt the coach dip as Lord Hawthorne exited first. He reached back in and grabbed her. She stifled a gasp as he flung her over his shoulder, which he did as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers.
The inside of the gunnysack became stifling hot, and Madalene sought out one of the many holes to feel the cool air on her skin. She could hear men’s muffled voices as they passed them on the street, appearing to be unaware, or unconcerned, that she was being abducted.
“We are almost there,” Lord Hawthorne whispered.
A few moments later, she heard him pound on a door, then say, “Where should I put the girl?”
She didn’t hear a response, but Lord Hawthorne started walking again. He carried her up a flight of stairs and down what she imagined was a hall.
He pounded on another door, and she heard it creak open. “I have the girl.”
“Bring her in,” came the reply.
Lord Hawthorne took another five steps before he lifted her off his shoulder and lowered her to the ground.
“Want to look at her?” Lord Hawthorne asked.
“Why not?”
Madalene could feel Lord Hawthorne untying the rope and then the gunnysack fell to the ground around her. She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, and she was vaguely aware of other women somewhere behind her. Being carried with her head downward had made her dizzy, though she supposed her dazed appearance was helpful in this circumstance.
A brawny man crouched down in front of her and grabbed her chin. “She will do quite nicely,” he declared, his eyes lewdly roaming her face. “She’s a pretty little thing.”
Lord Hawthorne’s face was expressionless as he replied, “That she is.”
“Where did you find her?”
“She must’ve lost her chaperone, because she was walking alone on the street. I grabbed her when no one was looking,” Lord Hawthorne said.
The man tugged down on her jaw, causing her mouth to open. “She has some nice teeth. She will be a fine prize for any man.”
Madalene jerked her head back and the man’s hand dropped. “I will belong to no man,” she declared forcefully.
The brawny man chuckled. “This one is feisty.”
“Did I earn my five pounds?” Lord Hawthorne asked.
“That you did,” the man replied as he rose. “You did good, Baldwin.”
Madalene turned her head, and her eyes sought out the five other young women sitting on the floor near the wall. They had their hands bound in front of them, and all stared back at her with fearful eyes. Her heart dropped when she realized that Edith was not among them.
The brawny man reached behind him for some rope and brought it in front of him. “We should celebrate over a drink.”
“That would be nice,” Lord Hawthorne replied as he turned his gaze towards her, and a shiver of fear ran down her spine. His eyes had turned cold, dark. Any trace of the man she thought she knew was gone.
Roughly, the brawny man grabbed her hands and tied them securely with the rope. “This will do nicely until it is time for them to depart,” he stated as he stepped back.
“When is that?” Lord Hawthorne asked.
“In a few hours.”
“This was the easiest money I ever made,” he said.
“That is the point, and you have helped advanced the revolution, as well,” the man replied, clapping his hand on Lord Hawthorne’s shoulder.
Together, they walked over to the door and departed from the room without even sparing the women a glance. The sound of a key locking them in could be heard.
Without waiting another moment, Madalene rose and walked swiftly over to the girls. “You need not fear. The Bow Street Runners will be rescuing us shortly.”
She could see the disbelief in the young women’s eyes. Their hair was matted to their heads, tear lines could be seen running down their dirtied faces, and their dresses were terribly wrinkled.
“It is true,” she asserted.
A brunette girl spoke up in a timid voice. “How do you know for certain?”
“The man that brought me here has planned the whole thing,” she explained. “He said he tipped off the Bow Street Runners.”
The girl shook her head. “You have been tricked. I was lured here, as well.”
“I haven’t been.” Madalene tried to loosen her bands, but to no avail. “I assure you that it is all true.”
“Then we shall wait and see, won’t we?” the girl replied as she rested the back of her head against the wall. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Madalene turned towards the door and declared, “The Bow Street Runners will be here any moment, I am sure of it.”
She began searching the room, looking for anything sharp that might help in removing her bonds. But there was nothing that could help her. She walked towards the window and opened the dusty drapes. The sunlight poured into the room, and the other young women seemed to shrink back from it.
Madalene attempted to open the window but discovered that it was nailed shut. Drat! She realized there was no way for her to aid in her own rescue.
After some time, Madalene found her legs growing weak and she sat down. Why is it taking so long for the Bow Street Runners to arrive, she wondered. She glanced over at the girls, and they each gave her a look of pity. They truly believed that she had been deceived. But she hadn’t been. Lord Hawthorne wouldn’t have betrayed her like this.
But doubt crept in, and she began to wonder if she would be rescued after all.
Baldwin stared at the door and wondered where the blasted Runners were. They had one simple task—to raid the pub and rescue the women—and they would be rewarded with accolades. Instead, they were botching it. Horribly.
He cast a glance towards Corbyn, who was sitting at a crowded table on the other side of the room. He had a smile on his face, but Baldwin wasn’t fooled by his act. He knew his friend was alert, preparing for a fight and just biding his time.
“Don’t you agree?”
Baldwin turned his attention back to Morton. “
About what?”
Morton chuckled and held up his tankard in the air. “I think you have had one too many to drink, mate.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I have been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes.”
Baldwin placed his nearly-full tankard down on the table. “I was thinking about how I intend to spend my money.”
“It is rather a large sum for a man like you.”
“I would agree.”
The serving wench approached the table and asked, “Can I get ye another round?”
Baldwin shook his head. “Not for me,” he said. “We have been drinking for hours, and I’m afraid I have met my limit.”
Morton waved the serving wench off with a flick of his hand. “I have been meaning to ask you if you have any experience with explosives.”
“Minimal,” he replied.
“That is good.”
“Why do you ask?”
Morton leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We are going to do something that will incite a revolution.”
Baldwin looked at him expectantly. “Which is?”
“We are going to assassinate Lord Liverpool, Lord Sidmouth, and Lord Desmond,” Morton revealed, his eyes growing dark.
With a baffled expression, Baldwin asked, “I understand killing the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, but I don’t understand why you wish to kill Lord Desmond. After all, isn’t he a champion for the people?”
Morton scoffed loudly. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “He has been stealing money from the workhouses for years.”
Baldwin frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I know a man who works as a solicitor for Lord Desmond, and he informed me that Desmond is contracted to run ten workhouses in London,” Morton shared. “He intentionally inflates the number of the poor inmates to get additional funding for the workhouse, then he takes the money and lines his own pocket.”
Baldwin clenched his jaw. “That is despicable. We must stop him.”
“How?” Morton huffed. “It isn’t as if anyone would believe a solicitor over an earl. It would take a duke to level charges against him before anyone takes them seriously.”
“Or a marquess,” Baldwin muttered.
“That, too, but I don’t run in those type of circles.”
“Nor I,” Baldwin said, “but we can’t keep letting Desmond get away with it.”
Morton pushed his empty tankard to the side. “Don’t worry,” he assured him. “Desmond will get what he deserves.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
Morton’s eyes darted around the room. “Are you familiar with how the French royalists attempted to assassinate Napoleon in 1800?”
“I am,” Baldwin replied. “The conspirators attached a large wine cask to a cart and loaded it with a bomb. They laid in wait for Napoleon’s carriage, but they were too late, and they failed in their attempt.”
Morton nodded in approval. “Their plan was brilliant, but they lit it too late, and the gunpowder they used was bad, causing a few more seconds of delay.”
“If I recall correctly, they caught most of the conspirators, but one was able to flee to the Americas.”
A smile came to Morton’s lips. “They didn’t catch all the conspirators.”
“They didn’t?”
Morton shook his head. “Carbon was the one who made the bomb, and he was killed for his crime.”
“But that was only after he confessed the names of his fellow conspirators.”
“Not all of them,” Morton said in a low voice. “He protected his fifteen-year-old daughter, who helped him make the bomb.”
Baldwin gave him a skeptical look. “Are you truly insinuating that a girl could assist in making a bomb that killed a dozen people and wounded nearly forty others?”
“I am.”
“Then you are mad.”
Morton put his hands up. “Hear me out,” he said. “Carbon’s daughter, Marie, has come to England to help us execute our plan.”
“Why would she do that?” he asked.
“The royalist group that Carbon belonged to was connected to Chouan leader Georges Cadoudal, who was in England’s pocket,” Morton shared. “Cadoudal had assured Carbon and his fellow conspirators that England was supportive of the assassination attempt and would help them escape France after they executed their plan. However, when the plan failed, the English turned their backs on the conspirators, leaving them to their fates.”
“How awful,” Baldwin murmured.
“Now Marie wants revenge, and I want a revolution,” Morton said, leaning slowly back in his chair. “It is a perfect partnership.”
“How do you intend to blow…” Baldwin’s voice trailed off as he saw three men with red waistcoats passing by the window.
“Runners,” he uttered.
Morton looked at him curiously. “Pardon?”
“We need to leave now!” Baldwin proclaimed, shoving back his chair.
“Why?”
“I just saw three Runners outside the window,” he explained. “We need to leave through the back.”
Morton jumped up from his chair. “Follow me,” he ordered with a tremor in his voice.
Baldwin followed Morton towards the door in the back of the room. Just as he reached for the handle, the main door was thrown open and someone ordered, “Stay where you are!”
Ignoring the command, Morton threw the back door open and raced out into the alley with Baldwin close behind.
“Hey, you there!” a Runner shouted at the end of the alley. “Stop where you are!”
They both ran out of the alley and Morton turned left. Baldwin turned right. Unfortunately, the Runner decided to chase after him.
Baldwin dodged in and out of the men and women he passed on the narrow street. He kept running until he turned down an alley with a low brick wall. He effortlessly jumped over it, but the Runner hadn’t been able to do so with the same ease, giving him a slight advantage.
Removing his ragged jacket, Baldwin handed it to a man who was begging on the street, then kept running until he was sure the Runner wasn’t following him anymore.
The sun was starting to set as he headed towards his room on Draper Street. When he opened his door, he was surprised to see Morton standing there, his eyes sparking with fury.
“Morton,” Baldwin acknowledged as he closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Where have you been?” Morton shouted.
Baldwin huffed as he went and dropped down onto his mattress. “I have been racing through the rookeries to make sure I lost the Runner who was following me.”
“How do I know it wasn’t you that ratted me out to the Bow Street Runners?” Morton accused, crossing his arms over his chest.
“For what purpose?” Baldwin asked defiantly.
Morton’s eyes narrowed. “You could have brokered a deal with the Bow Street Runners to ensure your freedom.”
“We both know that Bow Street Runners are not to be trusted, and I can assure you that I would never intentionally seek them out,” Baldwin assured him. “Furthermore, it would have been foolhardy to tip them off before I got paid for abducting the girl.”
“What about your cousin?” Morton asked. “Could he have tipped off the Bow Street Runners?”
Baldwin shook his head. “That is impossible.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It is simple,” Baldwin replied. “I never told him that I intended to abduct a girl in the first place.”
Some of the anger in Morton’s expression dissipated at his words. “I do apologize for being suspicious but there is so much at stake here.”
“I understand.”
“I must assume that Oliver is with some woman,” Morton commented as he looked at Oliver’s empty mattress.
Baldwin shrugged. “Where else would he be?”
Morton walked over and sat down on the mattress. “Thank you for what you did back at the
pub.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“If you hadn’t seen those Runners, then we both would have ended up in jail. You saved me.”
“I suppose that is true,” Baldwin agreed as he leaned his back against the wall.
Running a hand through his tousled hair, Morton sighed. “That was a close call. Too close.”
Baldwin chuckled. “You get used to those,” he said. “It’s what keeps you alert for the next time.”
“We were so close to a payday,” Morton declared, clenching his fists. “Why did the Runners have to raid the pub when they did?”
“Someone must have tipped them off.”
“Perhaps, or they just got lucky.”
Baldwin scoffed. “You are giving Runners entirely too much credit.”
“Who do you think could have tipped them off, then?”
“It could have been someone who worked at the pub,” Baldwin suggested with a shrug.
Morton’s expression grew hard. “I won’t rest until I discover who betrayed me,” he growled, “and then I will kill them.”
“Smart plan,” Baldwin said. “Make sure their death is especially painful.”
“That is a given.” Morton paused. “At least I can safely rule you out.”
“I appreciate that. Besides, I know my fate if I ever get caught.” Baldwin reached under his pillow and pulled out a stale piece of bread. “Are you hungry?” he asked, holding it up.
Morton stuck up his nose at the offering. “That is what you are eating for dinner?” he asked in disbelief.
“It looks worse than it tastes.”
“I can only imagine,” Morton muttered.
Baldwin took a bite of the foul-tasting bread and slowly chewed it. “Where do we go from here?”
“We may have lost the opportunity to make some quick money by selling those girls, but we still have collected a large amount from the other rebels,” Morton shared. “We will continue to implement our plans for the assassinations.”
“Before I go along with this plan, I want to meet Marie,” Baldwin insisted.
Morton rose awkwardly from his seat. “I can arrange that,” he said. “We need to meet regardless to go over the specifics.”
“This mission won’t cause me to end up dead, will it?” Baldwin asked.
Morton shook his head. “If all goes well, you will be on a ship bound for America by the time England recovers from the shock of losing their Prime Minister, Home Secretary, and their beloved crook.”
