by Lyn Gardner
Aurora stared at her. She remembered Effie had mentioned a shawl.
“You all right, Aurora? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Lottie,” said Aurora urgently, “when you took the shawl, did you take anything else from the trunk?”
Lottie shrugged. “Only an old box. We needed something to keep make-up in but it was locked. It’s over there, under Belle’s mum’s bit of embroidery.”
Aurora lifted the embroidered linen and there was the lacquered box.
“Sorry, Lottie,” she said, “but I need this.”
Aurora ran into the dressing room next door. She got a hatpin and fiddled around with it; after a few seconds she heard a click and the box opened. She pulled out the contents, put the cup and ribbon to one side and began to sift through the papers. A newspaper cutting from The Times caught her eye, or at least the photograph did. It was of the young man who had picked up Lizzie’s glove outside the post office on the day they had arrived at Campion’s. The newspaper said the man was a young English actor called Ed Ford who was taking America by storm. Scrawled in Lizzie’s handwriting at the bottom were the words Edward Easingford. The young man at the post office! The day they had arrived at Campion’s! The day Ned Dorset died! She gasped, remembering the fleck of blood on Lizzie’s glove. Aurora ran next door to Lottie’s dressing room.
“Lottie,” she said, holding her hand over the story so all that Lottie could see was the photograph. “Lottie, do you know who this is?”
Lottie glanced at the picture. “Course I do,” she said. “Know ’im anywhere. That’s poor dead Ned Dorset.”
Aurora raced back to her dressing room, where she picked up the lacquered box and its contents to take it to show Rose, Thomas and the others. She flung open the door again and came face to face with an unsmiling Lizzie.
“Well, well, well,” said Lizzie. “It seems that my box isn’t lost after all. How very, very convenient for me, and how extremely inconvenient for you.” She produced a long stiletto. “Scream and this knife will find your heart.”
Aurora was terrified by the wild look in Lizzie’s eye. “Please don’t hurt me, Auntie,” she whispered.
“Auntie! Don’t make me laugh. You’re no relative of mine.” Lizzie poked the knife at Aurora’s ribs and gave a cruel laugh. “I’ve no idea who you are, but you’re certainly not who I thought you might be. You’re just some little nobody I stole out of a pram in the West End. I have no further need for you. My interests now lie elsewhere.”
“Please,” whispered Aurora. “Please let me go.”
Lizzie sneered. “Don’t take me for a fool. You’re not going anywhere.”
Upstairs, Oliver Woldingham was still telling his story.
“Eventually I managed to trace the coffin maker and his wife. It took many years and many false leads. They made sure that they disappeared into the crowd to keep the baby safe. They changed their name to Ford, a common enough name, and called the boy Ed.
“Abigail died within a couple of years of arriving in London. But Joe looked after the boy and loved him like a son. He got a job making scenery in a hall in Lambeth, and that’s how his son became an actor. By the time I found Joe, Ed was away working in theatres north of the border and had married a Scottish girl called Louisa. He and his wife knew nothing of his history, and Joe didn’t want them to know anything. He told me that he had given his son the silver cup and ribbon as a wedding present, saying they had been given to him for good service, and that the cup was worth very little, but that Edward should value it as it linked him to his Yorkshire heritage.
“Joe was a sick man by the time I found him, and troubled by what he and Abigail had done. He wanted to make a confession to me. I wrote down the full history of all that had passed and I have the signed confession here. Joe died quite suddenly and I vowed I would do everything in my power to help Lily’s son. But Edward was in London and had learned of Joe’s death by the time I met him. Then something terrible happened to him, something from which I feared he would never recover…”
Josiah Pinch cast a furtive look around to check that nobody was nearby, although the fog was so thick it was hard to see beyond the length of your arm. A small pool of honeyed light spilled out from the half-open stage door. He could see O’Leary’s feet stretched out on a chair situated just inside the door. Josiah produced a bunch of flowers from behind his back. O’Leary was half snoozing. He had obviously been on the drink. He looked up.
“I’ll take those,” he said, showing no sign he recognised Josiah from his previous visit.
“Who they for?”
“The tall dark one, Lottie.”
“Lovely girl, Lottie. On stage now.”
“I’d love to see how the show looks from the side of the stage,” said Josiah.
O’Leary shook his head. “Not allowed, I’m afraid.”
Josiah produced a small bottle of brandy. “Just a tiny peek?”
O’Leary looked at the brandy. It was good-quality stuff. He reached out and his fingers closed around the neck of the bottle. “Just a quick look then,” he said with a wink.
Josiah hurried through into the light. He glanced around, headed down the corridor and pushed open a door. It was the ballet girls’ dressing room. Curled up sleepily on a chair was the little blonde child they were calling Dora.
Josiah leaned down towards the child. “Freddie,” he said. “It is Freddie, isn’t it?”
The child sat up. “How do you know my name?” He felt he had seen this man before somewhere but he was too tired to remember where.
“Your mama told me,” said Josiah.
The child’s eyes opened wide. “You know my mama?”
Josiah nodded. “She’s a good friend of mine. Would you like to see her?”
Freddie beamed.
“I’ll take you to her,” said Josiah. He could hear the music reaching a crescendo. The ballet girls would be back soon; he had to be quick. He held out his hand and Freddie took his finger. They hurried down the corridor. It was unusually quiet. They stopped just before the door.
“Freddie,” whispered Josiah. “You do want to see your mama, don’t you?”
Freddie nodded.
“Then wait here for a minute and let me go first, then come out into the yard. If O’Leary tries to stop you just tell him you want to give the cat a stroke and you’ll be right back. Then I’ll take you straight to see your mother.”
Freddie knew he was not allowed out in the yard on his own; Rose and the others had explained that to him. But he so wanted to see his mum. He missed her so, and he was tired of being dressed up as a silly girl called Dora. He nodded at the man with the horrid moustache.
Josiah Pinch walked to the door and smiled pleasantly at O’Leary, who was well into the brandy.
“Thank you, sir. A wonderful show.” He disappeared into the fog.
A few seconds later, Freddie trundled past. O’Leary had no idea that Dora was Freddie but he did know the child was not to be allowed outside on her own. He put out a leg to stop Freddie.
“Where are you going, little ’un? You know you’re not allowed out there.”
“I just want to see Ophelia,” said Freddie. “I can hear her mewing for me.”
O’Leary smiled. He knew how fond Dora was of that cat. Couldn’t stand it himself, mind. “Just for a moment then. Check kitty is all right, then come straight back in. It’s too murky a night to be out long.”
O’Leary watched as Freddie disappeared into the fog, then he took another swig of brandy and he fell into a doze.
“Rose!” Lottie’s face was scared. “It’s Freddie. He’s gone. We can’t find him anywhere.”
“Gone! When?”
“Must have been while we were on stage. He was in the dressing room. We thought he’d be all right. He was asleep.”
“Where have you looked?”
“Everywhere. I thought I heard a sound in the next-door dressing room but he wasn’t there. We’ve lo
oked everywhere backstage.”
“I’ll get the others,” said Rose. “We’ll search again. Maybe he crawled under the stage. Or got into the auditorium.”
Within seconds everyone except Molly, who was on stage doing her act, was engaged in the search.
“Effie, go upstairs and tell Thomas that Freddie is missing.” Rose frowned. “I haven’t seen Aurora either. Maybe he’s with her.”
Rose rushed to the stage door and woke the snoozing O’Leary. “Have you seen little Dora?”
“Eh? Oh, yes,” said O’Leary. “She went to see that dratted puss. Ain’t she come back yet?”
Rose had to stop herself shaking O’Leary. Instead she asked, “Was anyone else here?”
O’Leary began to explain about the man with the moustache, but Rose didn’t wait to hear him finish. “Tell Lottie, O’Leary! I’m going after them.” And she was off across the yard like a streak of lightning.
Effie could hear voices coming from Thomas’s office as she raced up the stairs.
“So,” Oliver was saying to Thomas and Mr Cherryble, “I told Ned Dorset everything I knew. He was determined to find the lost child and then confront Lord Easingford.”
Effie burst into the room just as Thomas, his face as pale as the bandage around his head, jumped to his feet. “The babies!” he said. “It was Lizzie Gawkin who––”
“Freddie’s gone missing!” Effie cried.
Immediately the three men started for the stairs. Downstairs, it was mayhem as everyone turned the place upside down. Lottie was waving at Molly to prolong her act. O’Leary was looking bemused.
“If you’re looking for Rose, there’s no point,” he said, trying to be helpful. “She said she’s gone after Dora and the man with the moustache.”
“Josiah Pinch!” said Effie and Thomas together.
“Did Aurora go with her?” asked Effie.
O’Leary shook his head. Thomas nodded to Lottie. “You’re in charge again, Lottie. We’re going after Rose and Freddie. They’re in terrible danger.” He shivered. “My guess is that Josiah will be heading for his lordship’s house in Silver Square. We must find them before they get there.”
Rose ran through the cobbled streets. Few people were about. The fog was so thick it clutched at your throat as if it was trying to suffocate you. She stopped for a moment and thought she heard a child’s cry coming from the river. But she could also hear the distinctive click clack click of footsteps hurrying in the other direction. She hesitated for a second. Which way to go? Her heart made her want to run towards the river, but her head said to follow the sound of the footsteps. Stealthily she continued onwards. The footsteps headed over the bridge and then turned west. Rose peered into the fog. What if she was following the wrong person? She’d have lost Josiah and Freddie completely. She stopped and listened, and then she heard an unmistakable sob: “Mummy. I want my mummy.”
She knew she was on the right track. She followed the footsteps again, grateful there was so little traffic about to disguise the sound. She was suddenly certain that Josiah was taking Freddie to Silver Square. Caught up in following Josiah Pinch, she didn’t notice that somebody was following her.
Aurora had just managed to free her bound hands but she was still locked in the trunk. Her feet were tied and she couldn’t reach them, but she pulled away the gag, and started to shout and bang as loudly as she could on the side of the trunk. She yelled and yelled, but the ballet girls were on stage and nobody heard.
Lottie was watching the act. There was a tiny lull in the music and she thought she heard somebody shout “help”. It was very faint. She walked briskly down the corridor and it became louder. It was coming from Lizzie and Aurora’s dressing room.
“Aurora?”
“In the trunk,” came the muffled reply.
Lottie tried the lid. It was locked. Lottie pulled out a hairpin and within seconds she had it open. She helped Aurora climb out.
“Rose? Where’s Rose?” Aurora asked urgently.
“Missing,” said Lottie. “Everyone thinks Freddie has been kidnapped by someone called Josiah Pinch, and Rose has given chase.”
“I’ve got to go after them,” said Aurora. “I’m certain that Lizzie is going to try and kidnap Rose, maybe even kill her.”
Josiah stopped outside the large white Georgian house with wide steps leading up to an imposing portico. The fog was patchier here than it was on the south side of the river and there were a few more people about. Freddie was whimpering quietly. He no longer believed that this horrid man who had slung him roughly across his shoulder as soon as he went out into the yard was taking him to see his mother. He wanted to go back to the warmth and brightness of Campion’s and see Rose and the others.
Josiah kept his arm around the boy’s neck while he scribbled a note, informing Lord Easingford that he was here with the boy. He’d show him the child as proof, and offer to dispose of him once and for all for a good price. It would only take a minute or two, and then he would disappear with the cash.
There were a couple of youths lolling by the railings of a house further down the street. He whistled, and they came running. He handed them the folded note and a coin. “Bring me a reply.”
The youths ran up the steps and rang the bell. The door opened. A butler took the note and closed the door. Shortly afterwards, he returned with a note and gave it to the boys. They passed it to Josiah who ordered them to scarper.
Hidden behind a tree in the square, Rose watched as Josiah looked at the note and started dragging Freddie around the side of the square. Rose guessed that he was going to the back of the house. She followed. If she just bided her time, maybe she would be able to grab Freddie and make a run for it.
She saw Josiah disappear into a wide alleyway that ran down the back of the row of houses from one end to the other. The houses all had long walled gardens, each with a small gate set in a brick arch in the wall that backed on to the alley. Josiah loitered outside one, whistling “Pop Goes the Weasel” under his breath. Noise spilled from another house several doors along. Somebody was having a party.
The fog was much thicker in the alleyway, and while Josiah had his back to her Rose risked creeping along it, hoping the noise from the open window at the other house would mask any sound she made. She slipped into the small brick arch of a nearby gate and leaned back against the door, hardly daring to breathe. Rose guessed that Josiah was waiting for someone from the house, presumably Lord Easingford himself, to appear through the door in the wall of the garden.
She leaned back as far as she could so she was squashed like a starfish. Josiah was looking right towards the spot where she was hidden. If it weren’t for the swirling fog, Rose was certain that he would have spotted her in the shadows. If he came much closer he almost certainly would. He took a step forward towards her. Then another. Rose’s heart began to beat so loudly that she feared Josiah would be able to hear it. He took another step forward. At the next step it would be all over. He moved, and at the same time a look of utter astonishment passed across his face, and then he toppled forward, stone dead. Lizzie stood in the spot where he had been standing, a long thin knife in her hand. The blade was dipped crimson and she held a wriggling Freddie by the scruff of his neck.
“I know you’re there, Rose,” she said. “Come out or I’ll kill the child.”
Rose stepped slowly forward from her hiding place, her eyes wide with horror and shock, and at that moment the gate opened and his lordship appeared. He took in the body of Josiah with the bloody wound in his back, Lizzie with the knife at Freddie’s throat, and Rose, quiet and watchful.
“Ah, Mrs Gawkin,” he said pleasantly, glancing at Josiah’s body. “I see that you are quite as ruthless as I have always imagined you would be, so it’s lucky that I brought protection.” Lord Henry produced a small pistol from his pocket. Lizzie didn’t bat an eyelid. He signalled to Rose to move closer to Lizzie so they were standing side by side. Rose put a soothing hand on Freddie’s shoulde
r.
“M’lud, I am only looking after your best interests. My price is a very reasonable one. Give me what I ask, and you can have the girl.”
Rose frowned. What could Lizzie possibly mean? Freddie’s blonde wig had long since slipped from his head. There was no doubt that he was a boy.
Lord Henry smiled. “Dear Mrs Gawkin, I’m so very delighted that you have delivered both the children in whom I have an interest.”
Lizzie frowned as if she had no idea what he meant by both children, but his lordship continued, “Now, hand over the cup and ribbon.”
“I want my money first,” said Lizzie.
“I’m sure you do,” said Lord Henry, “but as I have the gun I think you would be wise to do as I ask.” Lizzie raised her knife threateningly. “Go ahead, Mrs Gawkin. Finish them both off; you would be doing me a favour as you did when you killed Edward Easingford.”
Lizzie glowered. Her threats counted for nothing in this situation. She didn’t understand what interest Lord Henry had in this Freddie, the son of a common music-hall actor. But she would humour him and still hope to come out of the encounter alive and with something in her pocket. She reached into her cloak for the cup and ribbon and as she did so Freddie bit her hard on the arm and broke away. Rose launched herself forward and hit Lizzie full in the stomach. Lizzie doubled over in pain and sank to the ground, trying in vain to catch her breath.
Freddie took off, running down the alleyway and disappearing into the fog. Lord Easingford hesitated for a second, pointed the gun at Rose but then seemed to think better of it and took off after Freddie. It was the boy he wanted.
Rose scooped up the fallen cup and ribbon and ran after Lord Easingford. Lizzie struggled to her feet and followed them all.
“Freddie!” shouted Rose. Her heart was pounding. “It’s me, Rose!”
There was no answer. She rounded the corner into the square and saw Freddie heading into a small side street. Lord Henry was hard behind and catching him up. The fog suddenly cleared, leaving yellowish will-o’-the-wisp trails. It was a dead end. His lordship stood at the end of the street against a brick wall with Freddie struggling in his arms.
