by Danice Allen
“Why is she worse than the rest?”
“She is not satisfied to lure gullible girls into the profession with fantastic lies, but she actually kidnaps and drugs those who are unwilling. Some of these unfortunate girls continue on with the sordid life, but this woman—Mother Henn, she’s called—kidnaps young women of Quality with parents, as well as the unprotected and orphaned. She is compelled to return the Quality sorts to the streets. They are eventually found by their families, but they are scarred emotionally and sometimes physically.”
“Good God, how does she manage to get her hands on such protected chits? And what have the police to say about such goings-on?”
“’Tis a rare opportunity when Mother Henn can snaffle a Quality girl to put up for auction to her customers, since, as thou sayeth, they are hard to get hold of. She has been too wily to be caught by the police, and thus far they’ve been unable to produce enough evidence to arrest her for kidnapping. That’s why it’s important, friend Zachary, that thou will agree to interfere in this case.”
“The boy you spoke of witnessed a kidnapping?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Is he a reliable source of information?”
“He’s a good boy, though lately his family has fallen on hard times—at least, harder than usual. I suspect he’s been … But never mind that now! He did not need to come tell me what he saw, but he seemed most upset. He said the girl was young, pretty, and well dressed. Almost certainly—pardon my bluntness, friend—a … er… virgin. Mother Henn will conduct an auction. Thou must go there and bid for the girl. If thou biddest enough money, they will allow thee … er… access to her, and thou may contrive to somehow get her out of the house before harm is done her. I don’t dare try to alert the police. They are watched for with such assiduity by Mother Henn’s hirelings, the police would not be successful, I’m afraid, and the girl would end up somewhere quite out of our reach.”
“Gawd! The girl must be a complete simpleton to be in such a situation! What was she doing in Old Town alone, I wonder? Where are her parents, her friends? But never mind! That, I suppose, is a moot point now. The lass needs rescuing.” Zach shook his head, a small rueful smile suddenly curving his lips.
Mr. Blake raised his brows. “Something amuses thee?”
“No, it’s only that this poor girl’s situation reminds me of just the sort of scrape a friend of mine—a female I’ve known since she was in leading strings—would fall into. I would be half mad with worry if I didn’t know exactiy where Gabby was right now! Thank God, she’s safe home at Charlotte Square resting for her next party!”
“Indeed, friend,” Mr. Blake said, nodding gravely, “thank God!”
Gabrielle was awakened by a distinct feeling of discomfort. She blinked her eyes open and found herself staring up at a crimson-colored bed canopy. Where was she? Her own bed at Charlotte Square was overhung by a pale yellow canopy and floral drapes. There was a dull thud in her right temple. Her mouth hurt, too, and her wrist and ankles. …
Memory swarmed back like a lethal cloud of killer bees. That woman—that Mrs. Henn—had drugged her! Gabrielle tried to scream, but her mouth was gagged with a strip of linen. She tried to sit up, but her wrists were tied together with rope, and so were her ankles! She was shackled like some criminal, or a slave! Her heart beating wildly, Gabrielle strained forward, her eyes darting about the room—lit by a single candle at her bedside—for her kidnapper. Out of the shadows a shape emerged—a man’s shape! Two hands clamped her shoulders and pinned her back against the pillow. A face came into view, one side eclipsed in shadows, the other side garishly lit by the flickering candle.
“And where d’ ye think yer goin’, lassy?”
The hard, cold voice fit the face perfectly. The man looked to be middle-aged, was unshaven, and had greasy dark hair that fell forward into his eyes. His breath was vile. Gabrielle fought the urge to vomit.
He snickered. “Dinna ye fancy the gag? Well, it’ll be comin’ off soon enough. ’Tis time fer yer medicine, lassy.” He moved back a bit and his gaze shifted from her face to the front of her gown. Gabrielle looked down, too, and was horrified to discover that she no longer was wearing the modest dress she’d left home in, but had on a white diaphanous nightgown that dipped low across her bosom, barely covering her nipples. Filled with indignation, she squirmed, wishing with all her heart that she could slap the man’s face till his ears rang.
“Oh, I’ve made ye mad, have I?” he sneered, catching and correctly deciphering the furious expression in her eyes. “But I would’na be so high and mighty, miss. What makes ye think I dinna do a lot more than look at ye when ye was sleepin’ so sound?”
Gabrielle felt a spasm of fear, of shame. Had this man touched her? He was grinning down at her, his gaze trailing lasciviously from her face to her breasts and back again. The filthy bent of his thoughts was obvious. He leaned closer. Gabrielle squeezed her eyes shut and squirmed harder. At least if he was compelled to hold her down with both hands, he wouldn’t have those hands free to do as they pleased. She could smell his breath, feel its heat against her neck.
“Jasper, get off the lass now or I’ll kill ye!”
The mattress sprang up under her as Jasper lifted his weight from the bed. Gabrielle opened her eyes and saw a slit of light from the hall disappearing as the door to the chamber closed and Mrs. Henn walked quickly to the bedside. She stared down at Gabrielle for a moment, scanning the length of her, then switched her piercing gaze to Jasper. He stood at the end of the bed, nervously rubbing his jaw and shifting from foot to foot.
“Fool!” spat Mrs. Henn. “Canna I leave ye alone with the chits fer even a minute? Where’s Bob?”
“G-gone t’ fetch supper, Mother. She just woke up, and she was squirmin’ like, and I jest thought I’d best—”
“Hold her down, Jasper? And with yer bare arse in the air ’tween her legs, I s’pose?”
Jasper gave a violent shake to his head. “No, Mother! No, I’d never—”
“Ye’ve sullied the merchandise afore, Jasper. And ye’d have done it again if’n I had’na come back when I did. You and Bob—idiot that he is, leavin’ ye alone with ’er—will get one shillin’ less this week in yer wages.”
“Mother, I never touched ’er! I dinna say that I was’na tempted to, ’cause she’s as fair a chit as ye’ve caught in many a month, but I would’ na have—”
“Spare me yer speeches! I jest count meself lucky I come in when I did.” She looked down at Gabrielle, her eyes alight with greedy speculation. “She’s a fair one, all right, and I’ve got the price fer her up to a hundred pounds already, and coves still comin’ in off the street with bulgin’ purses, jest slatherin’ at the mouth fer a taste o’ Mother Henn’s latest piece of purity.”
“Are ye goin’t’ dose her now, Mother?”
“Aye. Then we’ll untie her and arrange her fittin’-like on the bed, with her fair white hands under her cheek, lookin’ as sweet and unspoiled as an angel.” Mrs. Henn leaned down, pushing her face close to Gabrielle’s. “Dinna worry, lass,” she said with a leer, “by the time ye wake up, the worst’11 be over. Then whatever else the gent does t’ ye will’na matter. My advice t’ ye is t’ lay back and enjoy it.”
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, trying to convey to this despicable Mother Henn person that she’d no intention of letting any man have his way with her without one devil of a fight! Mother Henn had apparently seen the look before. She smiled knowingly. “Yes, lass, I ken what yer sayin’. ’Tis good ye’ve got spunk. The gents like a chit with spirit, but I would’na push ’im too far, or else he’ll backhand ye ’cross the room. He’ll have paid for ye, lass, and if’n ye prove too tetchy, we’ll jest dose ye again. Yer not the first, nor will ye be the last. I’ve not failed t’ deliver to me customers yet, and dinna think ye’re goin’t’ be an exception to the rule.”
Gabrielle wanted to be brave. She wanted to glare back at Mother Henn with undiminished scorn and determinat
ion. But it was hard to feel brave and strong when her feet and hands were trussed like a chicken for the plucking, and a gag bit into her tongue and the corners of her mouth so that she couldn’t shout back a single word of rebuttal or protest. Gabrielle felt her eyes welling with tears. Zach, where are you?
Through a salty sheen she saw Mother Henn measuring out a generous dose of what appeared to be laudanum. She wondered if it would be possible to pretend to swallow the drug and somehow store it in the corner of her mouth and allow it to dribble out later when they posed her “fittin’-like” on the bed. She’d still not have much defense against her rapist, but she would at least be able to fight him without the disadvantage of being drugged. And if she lost her struggle, she’d make sure he hurt in sensitive places for days to come!
“Come here, Jasper, and lift ’er up so’s she dinna choke.”
Once again Gabrielle was compelled to tolerate the touch of that vile man and feel his hot breath on her skin, as he propped her upright with one hand spread in the middle of her back and the other curving round her neck. She had a feeling that if she struggled, those fingers wouldn’t hesitate to encourage her cooperation by nearly strangling her. Mother Henn fit the large soup spoon fiill of liquid into Gabrielle’s mouth, just under the gag, and tipped it.
The taste and feel of laudanum spilled over Gabrielle’s tongue. She moved her tongue to the side, trying to divert most of the opiate into the pocket of her cheek.
“Swallow it, lassy,” said Mother Henn, giving Gabrielle’s shoulder a shake. “Ye canna hold it in yer mouth forever.”
Gabrielle made a swallowing motion with the muscles of her jaw and throat, but managed to retain at least half of the dose inside her mouth. She fluttered her eyes shut, hoping to convince them that she was beaten, that she had given up and was ready to sleep her way through the worst of the situation.
In another moment, they lay her back against the pillows. She kept her eyes closed as, for several more minutes, they watched her. Neither Mother Henn nor the man touched her, nor did they speak, but she could feel their presence and could hear their breathing in the silent room.
“Ye think she’s far enough under that she’ll not put up a fight, Mother?”
“Aye. She’s sleepin’ like a babe. Take the ropes off, Jasper.”
Gabrielle kept herself as limp and heavy as a sack of potatoes as Jasper undid the ropes that bound her and removed the gag. She inwardly cringed when his hands wandered from their task, touching her unnecessarily, but she dared not stir. All her hopes of escape, of defending herself against the man who’d be entering the room shortly, depended on convincing her captors that she was unconscious and helpless.
“Now then, let’s push her legs up just so—”
They arranged her as she customarily slept, on her side with her knees bent and her arms flexed at the elbows. They added a bit of contrived coquetry by placing her hands palm to palm, resting her cheek against them in a pose of childish innocence.
“Go down t’ the kitchen, Jasper, and eat yer supper. I will’na leave ye alone wi’ th’ lass, and I’ve got to return to the parlor to settle on a bid. Judgin’ by the buzz comin’ from downstairs, the gents are gettin’ a trifle impatient. She’ll lay still till the gent comes up, and long after that, I’ll wager. Once she has her senses back, the gent what bought her will know how t’ make her as biddable as he pleases.”
Jasper snorted. “If’n I were the gent, I’d not mind a bit of a fight from the lass.”
Mother Henn echoed his mirth with one of her grating cackles. “Aye, and if he stays till she’s got her wits back, I’m sure he’ll get a fight from this one!”
Finally Gabrielle heard their feet scuffling against the carpet as they exited the room, the door closing with a soft whoosh behind them, and a key scraping in the lock. Gabrielle immediately pushed herself to the edge of the bed, sat up, and spit out the laudanum into a large vase on the bedside table. She rubbed her wrists where the rope had left red indentations. She felt woozy from the amount of laudanum she’d swallowed, but not sleepy. Not yet, anyway.
She must think now, think about how she was going to get out of that place with her virginity intact. Her gaze darted in a desperate quest about the room and rested, again, on the vase on the bedside table. She lifted it, considering its suitability as a weapon. It had a long narrow neck and a heavy bowl-shaped base. A small smile curved her lips. Yes, it would do. It would do excellently.
Chapter Eight
“I’m sure ye’ll no’ be disappointed, sir.”
Zach eyed Mother Henn with undisguised distaste. He was safe in doing so, because her own gaze was downcast in an assumed pose of servile deference. She sickened him, but he mustn’t reveal his revulsion. After all, he was the grateful and eager customer—the high bidder for the imprisoned virginal sacrifice awaiting him upstairs. Or, at least he was playing the part of such a debauched cad in order to secure the girl’s safety. He couldn’t resist baiting the old witch just a little, though.
“If I am disappointed, Mother, I’ll know just who to blame, won’t I?”
Mother Henn’s eyes lifted to his. He saw a flicker of fear in the jaded blue orbs, then a brazen standoff. “There’ll be no blame to fix,” she said. “She’s a virgin, right enough. The maidenhead’s intact I made sure of it meself.”
With that, Zach had no stomach for baiting the woman into further assurances and guarantees. The sooner he could get the girl out of that place, and both of them out of the whole sordid mess, the better. “You said you had a key for me?”
“Aye, and you a purse for me?” Mother Henn held the key in one hand and extended her other hand, the plump upturned palm curved and waiting.
Zach took a pouch of coins from his jacket pocket. Since he didn’t ordinarily carry two hundred pounds in cash around with him, he’d had to borrow money from the shelter’s small-valuables box. Thank goodness the bidding had not gone beyond the sum he’d had in his keeping, though the amount was still well beyond what he’d expected to pay. The girl must be a prize, indeed, to embolden Mother Henn to demand so much shiny chicken feed.
“Here.” He dropped the pouch into her cupped hand. “Don’t insult me by counting it, or at least wait till I’ve left the room, if you please. I’m most anxious to get on with things.”
Mother Henn immediately tucked the pouch into a large pocket hidden in the seam of her skirt, cackling softly. “Aye, I’m sure ye are, sir. Here’s the key. Second floor, first door on the right.”
Zach took the key. “I trust I’ll not be disturbed?”
“Not till dawn, no matter what noise comes out the room. Ye know the rules ’bout not causin’ the lass serious injuries. But the deal’s fer the night, that’s all. Then ye’ll be on yer way, or Bob and Jasper’11 have t’ … help ye out.”
Zach favored Mother Henn with one of his most withering looks and had the satisfaction of seeing her wince. “Bob’s and Jasper’s assistance in my departure won’t be necessary. I keep to the terms of my business arrangements, and I expect you to do the same. If my time with the girl is disturbed, I’ll have my money back in full.” He wanted to make sure that no one interrupted while he and the girl made good their escape.
Mother Henn shrugged. “Like I said, we dinna pay no heed to the sounds comin’ out of that room, but she’s a feisty lass, so’s ye’d better watch yerself. If’n ye want more laudanum, jest stick yer head out the door and holler fer Jasper.”
Zach sniffed dismissively at Mother Henn’s spurious concern and coolly turned his back on her to walk up the stairs. He took pains to appear uninterested and disdainful of his surroundings, but he surreptitiously took in every detail as he ascended to the upper floor. He’d already taken the measure of Bob and Jasper, and though they appeared dull-witted, both of them looked vicious enough, if provoked, to tear him apart like two stray curs fighting over a piece of meat. And they both carried pistols.
This fact, and the appearance of other lackey
s he’d seen ducking in and out of the room, convinced him that he’d been correct in deciding to take the girl out of the building through a window. Even with Malcolm and John’s help, they’d have been woefully outnumbered, and it was obvious that the other more daring plan he’d considered to force their way through the main rooms to the front door had been wisely scrapped. He had no intention of endangering the lives of his servants or the girl when another more prudent course of action was available.
Before entering the building, he and John had stealthily studied the two outside entries and all the windows, while Malcolm stayed with the carriage, parked inconspicuously in a nearby alley. Zach hoped there was a window in the chamber he was being sent to, preferably facing the back of the building and with some means of descending to the narrow wynd below. John was on the watch, waiting—albeit nervously—in the cobbled square onto which Mother Henn’s front door opened. It was through the square that Zach planned their escape route.
Apparently the “regulars” inhabited the first floor. Glancing down the hall from the landing, two of the idle damsels, all pout, powder, and perfume, rolled their hips and batted their lashes, hoping, he supposed, to divert him into a side trip. He assumed a look of apologetic regret and continued on to the next floor. It was quieter there, and he suspected that Mother Henn’s bedchamber was on this floor along with a couple of rooms kept for special occasions such as this one.
He inserted the key into the lock of the door he’d been directed to and turned it. He entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him, then leaned against it as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit chamber. A small fire burned in the grate of a low-manteled fireplace, and a single candle flickered on the bedside stand. The girl lay on the bed, facing away.
