by The Treasure
The ferretlike man spoke. “Evenin’, Jakes, evenin’, Toad. Missus Apple says to go about your business.”
“That’s what we’re doing, like,” replied Toad, whose extraordinarily wide mouth and jaw combined with a low forehead and pop eyes to make him worthy of his name.
“Right,” said Jakes. “Missus Apple’s got no call to interfere in our business, Snoozer.”
Snoozer glanced at his companion.
“Pr’aps you’ve misunderstood.”
“No, we ain’t, Sweep,” said Toad.
“Yes, you have,” Sweep replied. “This here bloke is under Missus Apple’s protection. I take that serious, I do. It’s me job, and I always do me job. So if you don’t rub along right quick, me and Snoozer is going to take offense, like.” A knife appeared in Sweep’s hand. “Hook it, you two.”
Snoozer lumbered closer to Toad. “Yeah. You know what happens to old lags what trifles with Missus Apple’s friends. ’Member old Porkpie Leech? Lost half his skull and walks sideways to this day. And they never did find Snubbin Brown.”
“Yes, they did,” Sweep said. “Found ’im in an old latrine hole in Lurker’s Alley.”
“They did? When?” asked Snoozer, turning to his friend.
“The other day. Some tike was playing near it and saw these eyes staring up at ’im from the hole.”
“Dead eyes?”
“ ’Course they was dead. Who’d stay in a hole if they was alive?”
Valin listened in fascinated horror as the two conducted this conversation as if they were at a pub. Toad and Jakes, however, turned and ran. When Valin’s new friends looked around they were gone.
Sweep removed his cap and scratched his head. “Missus was right. Toad’ll believe anything.”
“And Jakes won’t stand up in a fair fight,” Snoozer said.
“I beg your pardon,” Valin said, “but I’d like to thank you for helping me out of a rather bad spot. Where is Emmie—Mrs. Apple?”
Snoozer regarded him solemnly. “Missus says we’re to take you home.”
“Good. I desire to have a word with her,” Valin said.
“Nah,” Sweep said as he put his knife away. “We’re taking you to your place, toff.”
“No,” Valin said. “Take me to Mrs. Apple.”
The knife reappeared, and Snoozer picked up Valin’s gun.
“Pr’aps you need persuading, toff,” Sweep said. “Missus don’t want to see you. She says you should go back to the country and leave honest folk alone.”
“Honest folk?”
The two drew closer, and Valin went cold as the gun’s nose pointed at him.
“You look sharp, old lag. If missus says you’re to go home, you’re going home. If missus says you leave her alone, you do. Otherwise things could get a mite unpleasant.”
Valin looked at one and then the other, noting the air of confident determination. He would have to cooperate for the moment.
Simulating outrage, Valin raised his voice. “Very well. If that’s the way she wants things, I’ll leave. You can tell her I don’t care if she rots in this cursed place.”
Unimpressed, Snoozer motioned toward the opening through which he’d come. “Just so’s you go.”
Valin turned on his heel and left. They stayed behind him all the way out of the slum courts. It took quite a while to get to an area where hansomcabs dared ply their trade, and when he reached a street where several sat, his escorts hailed one before he could.
To his chagrin, they remained with him on the trip to his boardinghouse. He could tell they were surprised at his destination, but he wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself to thieves. He jumped down from the cab and slammed the door.
“Tell your mistress she can keep what she took from my house. I’ll be gone from London in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, toff.”
He watched the cab drive away and hurried up to his rooms. He spent the rest of the night stewing and feeling like a fool, because it was obvious Emmie had spotted him and led him on a chase for her own amusement. The next morning he packed and left the boardinghouse. In case Emmie’s minions were watching, he went to Paddington Station and boarded a train. He got off at the first stop and went back to take a room at his club.
Having rid himself of unwelcome observation, Valin spent the morning planning and making certain arrangements. Last night’s excursion had turned into a nightmare. He could never have imagined a place so full of human degradation and misery, even after all he’d seen in the Crimea. There was comfort in the fact that he was doing his best to keep veterans and their families from descending to the kind of desperate poverty that festered here.
If only he could do more. He couldn’t change it all, but he could change a small part of it, Emmie’s part of it. Mrs. Apple might rule the rookeries, but he was going to see to it that she abdicated.
19
Emmie tapped her pen against the inkstand on her desk, noticed she was doing it, and stopped. “You’re sure he hooked it back to the country?”
Snoozer rubbed his thick neck and nodded.
“ ’Course we are. Seen him get on the train ourselves, di’n’t we?”
“All right,” Emmie said. She opened a drawer and handed each man a small envelope. “There’s a little extra for all your help.”
“Aw,” Snoozer said. “It weren’t nothing, missus. Not after all you done for us, paying our way out of jail afore we got the boat. I wouldn’t a liked Australia.”
Emmie smiled at them. She kept the smile plastered on her face until they were gone. Then she lowered her forehead to the desk. She hadn’t thought it possible to be more unhappy than she already was, but last night proved her wrong.
She’d spotted Valin as she and Dolly left the Bagshot residence and nearly stumbled over her own feet in shock. It had taken great effort to pretend to be unaware of him and continue on her way. All the while Emmie’s head buzzed and her heart pounded with elation.
He’d come for her after all!
A haze of euphoria had overwhelmed her satisfaction at the richness of the proceeds from the burglary. Valin must have forgiven her for deceiving him and found that he loved her anyway. Why else would he go to such great trouble and spend untold amounts of money to find her?
She’d expected him to catch up with her at any moment, demand that she come with him, and tell her he wanted her no matter what had happened or what she was.
But he hadn’t caught up, and by the time she got to the train station cold reason had chilled the heat of her excitement. If Valin had wanted to take her away from her miserable existence, if he intended to heal this terrible breach, he wouldn’t have skulked after her and remained concealed.
She plunged from the summit of joy to the depths of wretchedness. Dolly had noticed that Emmie was upset and demanded an explanation. Her friend had been sympathetic and quite willing to lead Valin North on a little chase that would teach him to stay away from Emmie for good.
As she and Dolly got on the train again, she began to wonder what Valin was about. Did he want to catch her in a crime and apprehend her? He’d done that already. No, he was still trying to preserve appearances while getting his damned treasure back. The varmint. He didn’t need it; he was just furious that she’d gotten the better of him.
So Emmie had decided to teach Valin a lesson about pride. It hadn’t been hard to lead him into the rookeries past a couple of ruffians. She’d been safe the whole time because Snoozer and Sweep had been watching her. She’d gone into one of her hidey-holes and watched the show. Valin had never been in much danger. Any man who could survive the Crimea could handle Toad and Jakes, and her men had been ready to help.
Seeing Valin again in the inadequate glow of gaslights had caused her heart to ache. He was so delightfully handsome, with his clean dark hair, straight soldier’s posture, and startling gray eyes. He wore cheap, threadbare clothing as if it were court dress, and—though he was unaware of it—no one would mi
stake him for an inhabitant of the rookeries. He walked with that air of assurance, taking for granted his power to command, his place in the world. Not even a swell mobsman could emulate that aristocratic bearing, that ease of manner. Certainly all would think twice before disturbing so impressive a man who also wore such a terrifying scowl. Gracious mercy, how she’d missed him.
So, she had watched the encounter with Toad and Jakes, drinking in the sight of him, knowing it would be her last.
She remembered what he’d said: “I don’t care if she rots in this cursed place.”
Those words still stung. Emmie didn’t think she’d ever forget them. How could she when they haunted her dreams?
If he cared, he should have revealed himself. But he was gone, and she felt dead inside. Still, there remained one thing to do. Last night’s profits would enable her to send the jewels and coins back to Valin.
Emmie straightened, sighed deeply, and walked to the door. She stuck her head outside and called Pilfer, who was waiting downstairs. Going back to her desk, she picked up an empty wooden shipping box. She had addressed it to Valin at Agincourt Hall. All that remained was to go to the bank and get the treasure so she could put it in the box and mail it.
“Good, Pilfer. You carry this box. We’re going to the carriage now.”
“Don’t wanna go.” Pilfer tugged at the collar of the new shirt she’d bought him. “These shoes hurt.”
“Nonsense. They’re made of the best leather.”
With Pilfer grumbling all the way, Emmie walked to the crossroads where the carriage waited. Pilfer got on the coach box next to Turnip, still complaining. The trip to the bank took a while in the morning traffic. The streets were crowded with supply wagons, omnibuses, and all kinds of coaches and carriages. Once she reached the bank she retrieved the leather case filled with the jewels. As soon as she got to London she’d transferred the gems and coins to a less conspicuous receptacle. Emmie hurried down the white stone steps of the bank, and Turnip helped her into the carriage.
“Hurry,” she said. “I want to get rid of this as quickly as possible.”
She opened the case. One last glimpse of the only link between her and Valin. Emmie sniffed. She wouldn’t cry, not after the wretch had deserted her again. Such reasoning was hardly logical or fair, but Emmie had no desire to be either.
“Uncaring varmint.”
The carriage door opened and a glowering Valin sprang into the seat beside her. “Caught you at last! And don’t start calling me names.”
Emmie’s mouth dropped open, but Valin was in the midst of a tirade and wouldn’t be stopped.
“You were going to run away again.” He tapped the leather case. “Got your hoard and your assistant thieves, and now you’re taking them to him.”
She scowled at Valin. “What are you doing here?”
“Who is he?”
“Who is who?”
“Don’t play the innocent creature with me.” Valin loomed over her, frowning like King Arthur confronting Guinevere and Lancelot. “You left me.”
Emmie set the jewel case down and tugged at her gloves. “I didn’t leave you. I escaped.”
“I demand to know who he is, dammit, Emmie!”
Rounding on him, she planted her fists on her hips. “He? He? What are you blathering about?” She stopped, her mouth falling open again in consternation. “Goodness gracious mercy. You think I ran away to be with some man.”
“Why else would you run away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Could it be to keep from being thrown in prison?”
“You know I would never do that.”
“How would I know that? You made love to me and then ran away as if I’d contaminated you, as if harpies were flying after you, as if the devil were chasing you.” Emmie turned and stared straight ahead. “You treated me as if I were a plague carrier.”
“And you tricked me, lied to me—twice—and stole from me, Mrs. Apple.”
Emmie pressed her lips together. He’d discovered her other identity. No use protesting; she was the greater sinner. Why should he wish to connect himself with a lying thief? The silence grew; she had nothing to say that wouldn’t reveal how much she longed for him. He didn’t want to hear that.
“See here, Emmie. I didn’t come to argue. I’ve seen how you lead your life, and it won’t do. You’re not going to run about those awful slum courts and stay in that disreputable boardinghouse. You’re going to cease purloining other people’s paintings and personal adornments. After last night, you must have enough to keep yourself and—and him—in fine style for the rest of your lives.”
She hardly listened to what Valin said because it was distressingly clear he wasn’t asking her to come with him, that he had no intention of declaring love or even mild affection. Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks, and she feared she would burst into sobs. He would know then.
Swallowing hard, Emmie picked up the leather case and shoved it at Valin. It hit his stomach hard, and he grunted.
“Here. Take your bloody treasure and get out.”
Valin tossed the case onto the opposite seat. “Not until you promise to reform.”
Exasperated and desperate to get rid of the man she loved and could never have, Emmie turned a brilliant smile on him and simpered.
“Of course, my lord. I’ll stop at once.”
“You’re not serious.”
Emmie turned off her smile and sighed. “I am. Believe me, my lord. I had already planned to leave London and settle in the country. I have a cottage in the North Country with my aunt, Miss Agnes Cowper.”
“Give me your word.”
“Got a Bible I can swear on?”
“Don’t blaspheme. I’ll take your word.”
“You have it.” What was one more lie?
Suffused with pain, Emmie watched Valin get out. She picked up the jewel case as he closed the door. “Don’t forget this.”
Valin glanced at it without interest. “I didn’t forget it. Good-bye, Emmie, my love.”
He turned and vanished into the crowd of pedestrians. Emmie sat motionless until Turnip stuck his head in the window.
“You all right, missus? He said he just wanted to talk.”
“Yes, Turnip.”
“You need a handkerchief?”
“No,” Emmie said, fishing in her pocket for her own. “Drive on, Turnip. We have to mail this parcel and then take Pilfer to the house.”
Drawing the curtains, Emmie buried her face in her handkerchief and wept. Only the necessity of packing the case in the wooden shipping box enabled her to staunch the flow of tears. Once the jewels had been mailed she had Pilfer get into the carriage with her, and they proceeded to the house.
Upon arriving, both Emmie and Pilfer walked slowly to the front door. Pilfer’s lack of speed stemmed from his reluctance to leave his life of adventure; Emmie’s came from a great weariness of spirit and grief. Emmie rang the bell, and the parlor maid answered with a curtsy and smile.
“Ah-ha!”
Emmie gasped and jumped. “Valin North.”
“I knew it.” His scowl threatened to conjure up lightning and black thunderclouds. “I knew you were lying. Where is he?”
She threw up her hands. “Who?”
“The man for whom you left me.”
“You’re mad.”
“And you’re a deceiving lady adventuress. This is his house, and I demand that you introduce me.”
Emmie had been tapping her foot, her arms folded across her chest. Suddenly her foot went still and she gaped at Valin. Understanding flooded her, and suddenly the entire world seemed beautiful.
“Gracious mercy,” she whispered. “You’re jealous.”
“I think not,” Valin snapped.
A grin spread across Emmie’s face. “That’s why you’re glaring at me as if I’d betrayed my country. It’s not your foul temper at all. You’re jealous!”
Valin nearly shouted. “I am not. I simply disapprove of you conn
ecting yourself with some—some low person. I wish you to mend your conduct and lead a proper, honest life for once.”
Emmie just grinned at him, her spirits flying past the highest star. Perhaps there was a chance for her and Valin after all. Valin seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze.
“Are we going to stand here on the step and argue, or are you going to go inside?”
Emmie whirled around and marched past the astonished maid. Pilfer had vanished. Emmie crossed the entry hall and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Valin joined her and stood stiffly, as if awaiting execution.
“You want to see the gentleman for whom I’ve done all my thieving?”
Valin paled and gave a sharp nod.
“Very well.” She looked at the parlor maid. “Is Flash at his studies, Marie?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Come with me, my lord.”
Emmie nearly danced up the steps.
“Flash,” Valin muttered. “Just the kind of name I’d expect of his sort.”
She led Valin to a room on the second floor, knocked, and flung the door open.
“Lord Valin, meet Flash. And Phoebe, and Sprout.”
Watching Valin’s jaw drop gave her enormous satisfaction. He stood there staring at Flash, who stared back. Flash had soft black hair, a heart-shaped face, and great dark brown eyes that seemed to delve into one’s soul. He rose from the school table and approached Valin. He extended his hand.
“Please to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
Emmie was proud of Flash’s manner and cultured speaking voice. She almost laughed aloud at the way Valin gawked at the boy for several seconds before shaking his hand. Phoebe had followed her older brother. She curtsied and slipped her hand into Emmie’s.
Valin finally recovered his composure and bowed gravely to the child. “Miss Phoebe, I’m pleased to meet you.”
Sprout was still at the school table. He threw his pencil down and jumped up. “Bother! I hate lessons.”
Valin looked from Emmie to Sprout and Phoebe and back again.
