‘Harcourt could have stopped me sooner, if he’d wanted,’ Jeb sneered. ‘He did nothing, just stood there watching and waiting till she screamed. I was going to have her before he got the chance. What’s it matter what I did? She’s only some whore of an actress.’ Jeb paused as though for a moment he had half-sensed some way out. Caine let him hang onto the thought, just for a few seconds. ‘What’s she know about him anyway?’ Jeb asked, looking less worried. ‘What’s he so scared of?’
‘That don’t matter to you,’ Caine said. ‘You can’t control yourself and you put us all at risk.’ Caine walked up to him, watching as Jeb backed away, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next, looking for a path to the door, but Caine cut the angles with every step.
‘I’ve been thinking all morning what to do with you,’ Caine said, taking the knife from his belt. He watched as Jeb backed further into a corner, one hand hovering towards his boot. Caine put his knife on the table. ‘I’ve decided not to kill you so you can put your knife there, next to mine, and take your beating like a man. This is just between us. There’s no one else to watch. I’m giving you the chance you’ve been looking for.’ He stared into Jeb’s eyes, knowing he was going to make his move. ‘Put your knife on the table, Jeb!’
Jeb reached down and pulled the knife from his boot with two fingers as though he was going to comply, but Caine knew him too well. Jeb took one step forward, swivelled the knife in his hand and lunged at him.
Caine was ready and turned to one side, dodging the blade, grabbing Jeb’s knife arm, bringing his knee up at the same time into the man’s stomach. Jeb doubled over and Caine grabbed a hank of his lank, greasy hair with his left hand, pulling his head forward, bringing his knee up again to meet Jeb’s face. Jeb stumbled forwards and Caine twisted his arm back, forcing him to loose the knife, kicking it spiralling into the corner of the room.
‘You’re a stupid fool,’ Caine said. ‘It was between you and Harry as to who I’d hand the gang over to, but it ain’t anymore.’ Caine kicked Jeb’s prone body over and over again, feeling the tightness in his stomach loosening with each kick. ‘I ought to kill you,’ he said. ‘As from now, you just sit in here, out of my sight and watch the door. As for pay, you take what I give you.’ He leant over, grabbing Jeb’s shirt, pulling his head free of the ground. ‘Do you understand?’
Jeb said nothing, his face bloodied and swollen. ‘I asked if you understand?’ Jeb nodded his head and Caine punched him one last time. As he turned away, Jeb slumped, unconscious, to the ground, a trickle of blood seeping from his nose, into the dust of the floor.
Caine felt suddenly calm. It was done for now and, who knows, Jeb might still be useful for the right job. He could use him to do for the priest when the time was right, and then let the Irish have him, but he would have to watch him even more closely now.
❖ ❖ ❖
Each breath felt to Belle like she was being stabbed. She opened her eyes and saw Jenny sitting at the bedside. ‘How did I get here?’ she asked, struggling to sit up in the bed.
‘Don’t you remember?’ Jenny asked.
Gradually the pictures formed in her mind, but the pieces were jumbled and confused; memories mixing with imaginings. The last thing she remembered was screaming and throwing the stone. How long she had lain there after that, she could only guess. She recalled the effort of climbing the stairs and then opening the door of the room, with little memory of how she got there, and remembered the relief of its sanctuary as she collapsed on the bed and let the darkness take her. It was the same sense of warmth now, easing her mind gradually from the pain of remembering. She smiled at Jenny and then began crying. At first she felt as though she could stop at will, but the sobbing gradually took control until her whole body shook with emotion.
Jenny helped her to sit, placing the pillow in the small of her back. ‘I’m not as strong as you think,’ Belle blurted out.
‘What happened?’ Jenny asked. ‘Were you robbed?’
‘No, just beaten, but I don’t want to talk about it, not yet.’
‘What you’ve been through would make anyone cry,’ Jenny whispered to her.
‘It’s not just what happened last night,’ Belle sobbed, ‘I feel as though I’ve been so close to tears, so many times, these last few months. I’m at my wits’ end. If it wasn’t for you and Molly … ’ She could get out no more words and was about to give way to tears when she saw Molly sitting at the table, her face full of concern and confusion.
‘You’re stronger than you credit,’ Jenny said. ‘You got yourself here and collapsed on the bed and then there was no waking you. I undressed you and saw the cuts and bruises. It took me an hour picking out the pieces of grit and small stones from your cuts, and bathing your wounds, and you didn’t stir once.’
Molly ran from the table and stood at the bedside, uncertain what to do. Then she ran to the dressing table and fetched Belle’s brush and began brushing her hair. Belle wiped her tears in the sheet and smiled.
‘Pass me the mirror, Molly,’ Belle said. She gently probed the abrasions and bruises on her face while examining her reflection. One eye was swollen and bluish, but Jenny had done a good job on the various other cuts and scrapes. Good face powder would cover the worst, but not for a couple of days, not until the wounds had begun healing.
‘Jenny you must take a note round for me to the theatre,’ Belle said. ‘I cannot work like this.’
‘I’ll get you the writing things, I’m sure they will understand. They know you never miss work.’
Belle did not share Jenny’s confidence. This was just the opportunity Cauldfield had been waiting for; the chance to have her dismissed from the company.
❖ ❖ ❖
The household in The Paragon had slipped into a reasonably comfortable life over the last few days, James thought. Almost as though the odd assemblage had recently arrived in the city and were setting up home together. Mrs Hawker flitted as nimbly as her age and weight would allow around the various rooms, dusting every one of Charlie’s excessive number of ornaments, pictures and pieces of furniture.
Charlie appeared the most animated and the happiest with the new household arrangements. The smell of Mrs Hawker’s cooking seemed a constant source of delight to him and his already large frame had begun further expansion around the stomach area within days of her taking up residence. He no longer ate out, as had apparently been his habit, but had instead taken to eating his meals in the kitchen with Mrs Hawker, despite her feeble protests. The closer Charlie grew to her, the easier James found it to trust him.
James had grown used to eating with John Doyle in the dining room and already felt their relationship was changing from master and servant to a more equitable friendship. John was easy company and at times, when he dropped his guard, he was also very entertaining. He seemed to have seen most of the world, at least once, in his travels. But try as he might, the more James sought to get to know John, the less he seemed to learn. There were still too many secrets between them to feel any sort of understanding of what lay behind the façade.
Each time John left the house, James found himself wondering if he would return; worrying that when he did return, he might bring others with him. All he was sure of was that the longer John spent cooped up in the house, the more restless he was becoming. He wondered how he could ever be sure that he would not betray him when he knew so little about him. Someone would have to take the letters, but should it be John? Yet he could not keep him confined. He would have to trust him. He needed to trust him.
When he heard the rap on the door that day, James ran to the drawing room window and pulled the curtain open, just far enough to look out. He could not see who was at the door, but a few minutes later Charlie appeared at the drawing room door with Richard Wetherby. ‘It’s good to see you, Richard,’ James said. ‘Are Charlotte and Charity well?’
‘They’re both well, James,’ Richard said.
‘Have you introduced yourself, Cha
rlie?’ James asked.
‘I have,’ Charlie smiled.
‘I’ve come to re-dress your wound,’ Richard said, returning Charlie’s smile. His expression seemed contrived and short-lasting and James could tell that Richard was uneasy. ‘You’d better sit down,’ Richard resumed. ‘I’m afraid I bear bad news.’
‘What is it?’ James asked.
‘I have been treating the daughter of Miss Bennett’s friend who was very poorly, but is now recovering well.’
‘But that is good news,’ James interrupted.
‘When I called to ascertain Molly’s progress this morning I found Miss Bennett beaten and bruised from an attack yesterday.’
The shock of the news and the strength of his feelings took James by surprise. He wanted to go to her, to do something. He made to rise from the chair, but Richard put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Is she badly hurt?’ he asked.
‘I have examined and treated her, and she is well enough now,’ Richard said. ‘But she is still bruised and will not be at her work for a few days.’
‘I should go to her,’ James said.
‘You should do no such thing,’ Charlie said, discarding the newspaper which until that moment had seemed to absorb his full attention. ‘Who is the woman and can she be trusted?’
‘She is an actress at the Theatre Royal,’ Richard said.
‘And I would trust her with my life,’ James exclaimed. The words took even him by surprise, and yet he recognised their truth at the instant that he voiced them.
Charlie’s expression changed from concern to interest, his face distracted and thoughtful. ‘So she might be relied upon?’
‘Relied upon for what?’ James asked.
‘Nothing,’ Charlie replied, ‘an idea occurred to me, that’s all.’ He picked up the newspaper again and disappeared behind it as though he had no further interest in the conversation.
‘Is there anything I can do to help her?’ James asked. ‘How did it happen?’
‘She would not say how it happened,’ Richard said. ‘At first she even tried to tell me she had had a fall. When I pressed her, she admitted she had been attacked, but refused to be drawn further.’
‘How is she now?’ James asked.
‘She is obviously still shaken, but she has recovered well and by sheer fortune has no permanent injuries,’ Richard replied. ‘I called at the theatre and told them she will not be fit for work for at least a week. I thought a doctor’s visit might help safeguard her employment.’ He hesitated. ‘But I fear there is more.’
‘Oh God, what more has happened?’ James said.
‘I visited your house last night; the kitchen door was off its hinges. The house is in a terrible state, the remainder of your clothes are gone and the French clock and candlesticks too. In fact everything of value has been taken.’
‘What about the portrait of my mother?’ James asked.
‘That’s safe and unmarked. I got a carpenter in this morning to rehang the kitchen door. I’ve paid three months rent rather than let the landlord see what happened. He seemed satisfied, though he had been expecting you to pay for the year.’ Richard paused. ‘Dorothy, our housemaid, came with me to help tidy the house and when she saw the damage she burst into tears. She said someone had approached her on the previous day and given her money to tell if I had treated your wounds.’
‘What did she tell them?’ James asked.
‘She says she told them nothing,’ Richard replied. ‘She said that she hadn’t seen you for a while and didn’t know that you were injured.’
‘Do you trust her?’ James asked.
‘She told me that they had bribed her, but that she liked you and would not betray you or my family,’ Richard said. ‘She could have said nothing if she had chosen to do so and I would have been none the wiser. I would like to believe her.’
‘Are you sure no one followed you here?’ Charlie asked, from behind his newspaper.
‘There was no one watching James’ house or mine when I left and no one followed me,’ Richard said. ‘I don’t believe we are in any danger but Charlotte is going away with Charity this evening to stay with her parents for a few days, and they have taken the dog with them. Charity has become very fond of Patch. But enough talk, I must examine your wound.’
James took advantage of his offer to help in removing the sling and his shirt. ‘I’m sorry, Richard,’ he said. ‘I’m not concerned at the loss of a few possessions; objects can be replaced, but lives are precious.’ As Richard leant closer, he pressed something into James’ hand. It was a key. James pushed it into the waistband of his trousers, cold against his skin.
‘The house is Number 12 Walcot Parade.’ Richard whispered. ‘I’ve rented it for three months, should you need it.’ He drew back, watching for any sign of movement in Charlie’s newspaper and then began to unwind the bandage and remove the dressing. ‘It’s healing well,’ Richard said. ‘How’s the pain?’
‘It’s bearable,’ James replied, ‘and getting easier. I owe you so much, Richard, and I don’t know how I will repay you.’
‘I have done nothing I would not do again,’ Richard said. ‘Now say nothing more of it. I can give you something to help you sleep, but I would prefer not to.’
‘I understand. I need to keep a clear head. I want no medicines.’
‘I wish everyone felt the same,’ Richard said, ‘half the city takes “Collis Browne’s Chlorodyne” or some other concoction of opium and cannabis to help them feel better.’ He smiled. ‘They feel better because half the time they are walking around in a dream.’
‘I prefer not to dream,’ James said, ‘but I have had a great deal of time to think these last few days.’
‘I see a change in you,’ Richard said. ‘So much has happened, yet despite it all you seem somehow stronger, James.’
‘Perhaps I’ve come to realise the value of so much I took for granted; true friendship, people like you and Mrs Hawker and my brother and my new friends. He smiled at Richard and then grinned in Charlie’s direction, hidden behind his newspaper, but listening he knew. ‘Perhaps I also now understand that I have to be responsible for my own actions.’
Richard smiled and fastened his bag. ‘I will leave you now. Rest as much as you are able.’
‘Take good care of Miss Bennett,’ James called as Richard opened the drawing room door. ‘Give her my best wishes. I very much wish I could call on her.’
‘I’ll see you out, doctor,’ Charlie said, as if deciding to act the concerned host after appearing largely to have ignored Richard’s presence during his visit. ‘I’d like a private word with you, if I might.’
James put the key, unseen, under the cushion of the chair. He would take it to his room later. At least now they had a bolthole should they need it, but it was best to say nothing to the others, at least for the moment.
❖ ❖ ❖
It was some time before Charlie returned and James was pleased to see that John was with him. ‘I have some favours to ask,’ James said. The two men drew up chairs opposite him, like a council of war.
‘Go on then,’ John said.
‘Caine will suspect by now that I am still alive, but will not know where I am, or how bad are my wounds. It would be safer for all concerned if he were to believe that I am somewhere other than Bath.’
‘Agreed,’ Charlie said.
‘This evening I intend to write letters to some of my more loquacious acquaintances, together with some of the tradesmen to whom I owe money. I will say that I am indisposed and have gone to London for medical treatment and to recuperate. With the smallest amount of good fortune, I hope word will eventually get back to Caine. It may throw him off my scent, at least for a while.’
‘It sounds a good notion,’ John said.
‘But obviously the letters must be posted from London,’ James replied.
‘I’ll take them up tomorrow, if Charlie can lend me the fare?’ John said.
‘I have enough for that,’ Charlie
said, ‘provided you don’t go first class.’ John shook his head and laughed. ‘But we need to raise more money soon,’ Charlie resumed. ‘I can’t keep paying. I said I had an idea before and I’m sure of it now. I’ll need to visit Bristol over the next few days, if we’re to make it work. If it does, we’ll have plenty.’
James looked at Charlie, expecting some explanation of his plan in Bristol, but none came. He turned his gaze to John. ‘I have another favour to ask of you when you return from London.’
‘What is it?’ John asked.
‘I saw you that night with Caine’s gang. I want you to teach me how to fight, even if I am one handed until my shoulder heals.’
‘Good thinking, young ‘un,’ Charlie said. You can learn from John in the day and I can teach you in the evenings and set you some tasks to learn. It’s best to keep busy.’
John nodded, ‘I’ll teach you, but you won’t enjoy it.’
Chapter 22
‘I shall return to the theatre today,’ Belle said. Jenny looked puzzled and concerned, but said nothing.
Then as Belle put on her coat she spoke. ‘It’s been only four days since you were assaulted, and Dr Wetherby said most strongly that you should rest for at least a week.’
‘That may be so,’ Belle replied. ‘But you know our circumstances as well as I. You have not made a penny since Molly was ill, and I have not earned anything since I was assaulted.’ Jenny looked for a moment as though she was going to interrupt, but Belle silenced her with a motion of her hand. ‘My savings, such as they were, are now gone, and you are worse in debt after paying for a doctor and medicine. The longer I leave it, the more likely it is that I will lose my job. And that doesn’t bear thinking of.’
Jenny did not reply, but her expression said it all. Belle smiled at her hoping that she could convey in a look that she did not blame her in any way; that what was done, was done. She bent over the bed and kissed Molly before leaving.
❖ ❖ ❖
Avon Street Page 19
