Heirs and Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘What shall we do if he is not?’ Fergus asked.

  ‘Get someone else to take us,’ Jake replied. ‘There will be no risk involved for him. Gentlemen moving about by river transport is a common enough sight. What arms do we have?’

  Parker and Franklin both had pistols and daggers. Jake and Fergus did not; they had left Grosvenor Square in too much of a panic to think of arming themselves. Armitage had no weapons either, which Jake considered to be just as well. Should this confrontation leave Armitage with a split second to decide where his loyalties really lay, a lifetime of deferring to his father would likely win the day.

  ‘Right then, that will have to suffice.’ Jake shrugged into his coat. ‘Are we ready?’

  Everyone was and they were soon in Jake’s carriage, making their way to Charing Cross with all possible speed. It would not get dark for another two hours, but Jake couldn’t risk waiting for the cover of darkness. If the Radicals were expected at the glassworks when night fell, their best opportunity to secure Lloyd’s release would be after the workers left and before the politicians arrived.

  Jake and his companions drew a few curious glances as they alighted from the carriage at Charing Cross. Several watermen looked up hopefully, sensing the possibility of a decent tip. Parker strode past them, then nodded when he identified the man he had been looking for.

  ‘We need to get to Limehouse as fast as possible, Jed,’ he said.

  ‘There’s too many of you to make it fast.’

  Parker slapped his shoulder. ‘I’ll help you to row.’

  Jed nodded, asked no questions and ushered them towards a sturdy-looking craft.

  ‘How far is it?’ Jake asked.

  ‘About four miles, guv’nor,’ Jed replied, taking up an oar and releasing the rope that held his boat alongside.

  Parker took the other oar and the two powerfully-built men soon had the boat moving through the water at a fast rate. There was plenty of other river traffic about and no one paid them any particular heed. A sharp breeze blew across the water, bringing with it a putrid smell of rotting fish and wafts of smoke from the factory stacks that lined the wharf.

  ‘We will need you to direct us when we get closer,’ Jake told Armitage. ‘Is there any likelihood of our arrival being observed?’

  ‘Not unless anyone happens to be in the storerooms at the back of the factory. None of the workers have any business being there now their shift’s over, but there’s always a chance that Brody will have them checked out. He’s suspicious by nature and never leaves anything to chance.’

  ‘How many guards besides Brody are likely to be inside the glassworks?’ Jake asked, thinking it might have been wise to establish that not insignificant fact before embarking on this hare-brained scheme.

  ‘No more than four.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Fergus said. ‘A maximum of five men, presumably armed.’ He smiled cheerfully and rubbed his gloved hands in anticipation. ‘Well, there are five of us. That will make it a fair fight.’

  Jake laughed, thinking as he watched Fergus’s response that it was like being back at Eton, except the stakes were considerably higher. Even so, and he would never admit it to Olivia, but the schoolboy still inside of him agreed with Fergus and relished the idea of a physical confrontation.

  There was still time to call the police and have them raid the place now that they had firm knowledge that a hostage was being held there. It would be a safer course of action, but would take too much time to arrange and would also queer Jake’s pitch with Thorndike. He wanted to resign from Thorndike’s service from a position of strength, not put himself under further obligation. And Jake didn’t delude himself. If he contacted the police, Thorndike would hear about it before the necessary force could be deployed to Limehouse.

  Thorndike would want the Radicals’ meeting to go ahead, so he could see who attended it, and knowing him, he probably already had someone else on the inside to replace Smallbrooke. What Jake knew for a certainty was that Thorndike would not countenance a raid on the premises in order to rescue someone as insignificant to him as Lloyd. He thought only in terms of Lord Derby’s best interests. Any collateral damage incurred in pursuit of those interests was acceptable, provided it couldn’t be traced back to Thorndike.

  Jake returned his attention to the river, wondering how much further they had to go. Parker and Jed put their backs into the rowing but were barely breathing hard when Armitage warned them that the factory was about to come into sight.

  ‘Keep close to the bank,’ Jake muttered to Jed, keeping his voice low because he knew that sound was amplified over water. He looked up at the grimy façade of the glassworks looming above them and felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation. ‘There is less likelihood of our being noticed there.’ He turned to Armitage. ‘You had better not play us false, Armitage. Be aware, it would not be wise to cross me.’

  Armitage shook his head. ‘I thank God that my sister came to Mrs Grantley’s notice, and thence to yours and will not repay you with betrayal.’ He threw back his head and actually smiled. ‘It feels good to follow my conscience. I cannot guarantee what we will find inside but I can assure you that I have not set any traps for you. How could I? I did not know we would be doing this.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Those steps yonder,’ Armitage said tersely, pointing. ‘That is where we need to land.’

  Jed nodded and altered course. Jake could see ancient steps covered in green slime that would make them treacherous. Jed held the boat firmly against the crumbling dockside whilst his passengers alighted.

  ‘Oblige us by waiting, Jed,’ Jake said. ‘But no more than half an hour. If we are not back by then, return to Charring Cross. If anything happens to give you concern for your safety in the meantime, go anyway.’

  ‘I’ll be here, guv’nor,’ Jed replied placidly, tying a rope around a cleat on the crumbling steps to keep the boat secure. He produced a pipe from his inside pocket and gave all his attention to stuffing it with tobacco. Given that Jed was Parker’s suggestion, Jake wasn’t surprised at his calm, incurious attitude. He would be very surprised indeed if Jed was not there if—no when—they emerged with Lloyd. Even so, Jake had put contingency measures in place and told his coachman to wait for them around the corner from the glassworks.

  ‘We’ll borrow these, with your permission,’ Jake said, holding up two small paddles, presumably used if the boat got stuck in shallow water.

  Jed nodded. ‘Right you are.’

  Jake’s party cautiously ascended the steps and huddled beneath a rocky overhang leading to a gate. A locked gate. Parker grunted, extracted a set of lock-picks from his pocket, and had the gate open in less than a minute.

  ‘You’re getting slow, Parker,’ Jake chided, grinning.

  Parker shot him a disgruntled look as he pushed the gate open. The hinges protested with a loud squeak but the sound of the river traffic and wash from the boats hitting the rocky bank beneath them covered the noise. They stepped into a cavernous underground passageway that was cold and dank, the walls damp to the touch and lit by wall sconces. Armitage had given him a detailed account of the layout of the factory, and when Jake noticed a red glare above their heads he assumed they were directly below the furnace. They paused to look up and saw the fire on a grating of straight bars of iron. Red cinders poured down into the ash pits. Currents of air flowed along the passages, feeding the furnace.

  Stifling heat fought off the dampness as they stepped deeper into the labyrinth. They would soon have become lost but for Armitage, who led the way with the bold step of a man on familiar territory. They had yet to see or hear anything other than the sound of the roaring fire, and even that became dimmer as the heat gave way to frigid cold with surprising speed as they left it behind. So far they had encountered no one, and Jake sincerely hoped that situation would endure.

  ‘Is it much further?’ Jake asked, tapping Armitage’s shoulder to make him pause.

  ‘Around the next co
rner,’ he replied.

  Jake directed Fergus and Franklin to take opposite sides of the passageway as they approached an archway leading to Lloyd’s prison. If they were expected, this is the place that Jake would have sprung a trap. Parker pushed Jake aside and took the place at Armitage’s side, making sure their guide saw the pistol in his hand. A pistol wouldn’t be much use in this confined space, Jake thought. Too great a chance of hitting the wrong person. If it came to a fight they would have to rely on daggers and the hefty paddles he and Fergus were armed with.

  ‘Go ahead on your own,’ Parker said in a threatening growl that even had Jake worried. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

  Armitage nodded and stepped up to a barred door. There was a single low light burning in the opening that Armitage had stepped into, sufficient for him to see that Lloyd’s prison was little more than a damp, dark and very cold cave. Armitage walked up to the gate and rattled it. When no one challenged him, Jake followed him and peered inside. He let out a gasp of dismay when he saw Lloyd’s state. Battered and bloody, the parts of his face not covered with whiskers were peppered with thick scabs. He looked half-dead. Even so, when he opened one swollen eye and saw Armitage, he let forth a string of colourful oaths.

  ‘We’re here to get you out,’ Jake said in an authoritative tone.

  Lloyd looked suspiciously towards Jake but didn’t ask who he was.

  ‘I’d sooner stay in this hellhole then go anywhere with him,’ he replied, pointing a filthy finger at Armitage.

  ‘Trust us,’ Jake said, nodding to Parker, who stepped forward with his lock pick.

  It was Parker’s turn to resort to strong language when it took him three failed attempts before the lock sprang free. Every second that passed increased the possibility of discovery and, schoolboy reminisces notwithstanding, Jake would prefer to avoid a physical confrontation in this dungeon. Lloyd’s guardians would have a definite advantage.

  Parker stood back when he’d opened the gate and Jake strode through it.

  ‘I am the Earl of Torbay,’ he said, ‘and your daughter has been looking for you everywhere.’

  ‘Mabel?’ Lloyd gasped through cracked and bloodied lips. ‘She’s all right?’

  ‘Apart from worrying about you, she is fine.’

  ‘But him…’ He pointed at Armitage again, his body vibrating with rage. ‘What’s he doing—?’

  ‘No time to explain.’ Jake helped the man to stand. He was big but had been here for a week, had clearly sustained a beating and probably hadn’t been given much to eat. His strength was almost exhausted and he couldn’t stand without help. ‘Hell, his other wrist is shackled to the wall. Quick, Parker.’

  ‘They were gonna do for me sooner or later,’ Lloyd said, his voice a rasping whisper. ‘Either that or leave me here to wither away. But my girl, she would have found what I had and made it right.’

  Or got herself killed as well, Jake thought but did not say. He held Lloyd up, resisting the urge to chivvy Parker along. After what seemed like a lifetime but was probably no more than a minute or two, Parker cried out in triumph and the shackle fell away from Lloyd’s wrist, leaving a nasty ring of welts, deep cuts and bruises in its place. Jake took his coat off and wrapped it around Lloyd, who was shivering from the cold. The man look set to protest but changed his mind and nodded his thanks instead.

  ‘Back the way we came, quickly now,’ Jake said.

  Jake sent Fergus and Franklin ahead. The rest of them moved slowly, Armitage in the lead, so that Lloyd, supported by Parker, could keep up with them. Jake brought up the rear.

  They were making good progress, and Jake was feeling more optimistic about their chances of escaping without detection, when a huge bull of a man stepped from the shadows to block their path. He seemed to fill the tunnel in front of them, legs a shoulder’s width apart and arms akimbo.

  ‘What do we have here then?’ he demanded.

  Jake estimated that they were close to the underside of the furnace. He could see the red glow of embers in the ash pit and feel the heat that failed to penetrate as far as Lloyd’s prison.

  ‘Let us pass, Brody,’ Armitage said with authority.

  ‘Sorry, sir, my orders are to stop anyone who has no business being here.’

  ‘And I am telling you to stand aside,’ Armitage replied, showing what Jake thought was considerable courage, given that two equally large men had come to stand at Brody’s shoulders.

  Brody simply smiled, revealing long, yellow incisors. ‘Ah, so the runt has grown a backbone.’ Brody shook his head, mocking laughter spilling from his lips. ‘Who would have thought it?’

  ‘Do as he says,’ Jake stepped forward and pulled himself up to his full height. ‘You are blocking our path.’

  His authoritative accent with its clipped phrases and lengthened vowels did what Armitage’s protest had failed to achieve and made an impression upon Brody. He transferred his attention to Jake, who thought he detected a glimmer of uncertainty in his otherwise brutal expression. It was too dark to be sure.

  ‘And who might you be?’ Brody enquired, massive arms folded defensively across his equally massive torso. All of the man’s bulk, Jake was discouraged to notice, was made up of solid muscle.

  ‘Move aside or we will move you,’ Jake replied, effecting boredom.

  ‘A toff who ain’t afraid of a brawl.’ Brody spat at Jake’s feet. ‘Well, well, if that don’t take the biscuit.’

  One of Brody’s henchmen got tired of waiting and lunged towards Jake. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t troubled to look behind him. Fergus emerged from the shadows and brought his paddle down smartly on the back of his head. The man let out a startled oath and fell unconscious to the floor. He would take no further part in the melee, but the sudden burst of action galvanised Brody, the man Jake had already seen at his shoulder and two more who emerged from nowhere. Parker released Lloyd, who almost fell to the floor. Jake hoped he would have the sense to scuttle out of harm’s way but had no time to worry about him, or even to shout a warning, because Brody was approaching him with murder in his eyes.

  ‘He’s mine!’ he said to no one in particular.

  Everyone else was engaged in frantic combat that drew them inexorably towards the dangerous ash pit. Jake was left to face Brody with nothing but a flimsy paddle to use as a weapon. Brody was armed with a dagger and grinned as he allowed Jake to see its lethal blade. Jake did have the advantage of agility on his side. He weighed considerably less than Brody and was therefore lighter on his feet. But these narrow tunnels nullified that advantage, he soon discovered, when Brody landed a hefty right hook to the side of Jake’s face. His head reeled from the impact and he fell to his knees, temporarily blinded by pain.

  He saw Brody’s feet through his hazed vision, advancing rapidly. It was now or never. Kill or be killed. He swung his paddle with as much force as he could muster, aiming for the back of Brody’s knees. He caught him with a crashing blow that made the bigger man cry out in surprise…and sent him toppling directly onto Jake.

  Almost crushed by Brody’s weight, Jake tried to wriggle free but couldn’t move. He remembered a time he had fallen on the hunting field and his horse had come down on top of him. On that occasion the horse had been obliging enough to move immediately and make a dash for home, leaving Jake with nothing more taxing than a long and uncomfortable walk.

  Brody wasn’t about to be so accommodating. Jake sensed him grappling for the knife that had clattered from his hand when he fell. If he found it then it would all be over for Jake. What the hell was keeping Parker? Spots dancing in front of Jakes eyes as Brody’s bulk restricted the air to his lungs, and in such a situation he wouldn’t be too proud to accept Parker’s help. Brody shifted as he tried to stagger to his feet. The knee that Jake’s paddle had struck gave out on him and he fell back down again, but this time not directly onto Jake.

  Finally able to get air into his burning lungs, Jake seized the moment. He spotted the knife lying beside
his head a fraction of a second before Brody. Jake lunged for it and closed his fingers around the handle. Brody’s hand swamped his and crushed it hard enough to make it feel as though the bones in his fingers were cracking, but Jake somehow managed to hold on. If he let go, he would be a dead man.

  With every last vestige of energy he possessed, he lifted his arm, his hand quivering as he tried to force the knife towards Brody’s body. Any part of it would do. Jake was in no position to be selective. But it was no good. The man had the strength of an ox. Jake strained against him but the blow he had taken to his head and the crushing weight of Brody falling on him had sapped his strength. His agility would be of no help to him now.

  Just as Jake had reached the point of giving up hope, Brody gasped and released his hold on Jake’s hand. He turned his head for a second because, Jake subsequently discovered, Parker had thrown a massive blow to his kidneys. A blow from Parker ought to stop a bull, but it merely caused Brody to shake his head and bellow with rage. He was far from finished and Jake didn’t hesitate to plunge the knife he now had sole possession of into Brody’s thigh. Blood flowed freely when Jake pulled it out again, ready to attack a second time if needs be. It proved unnecessary.

  Brody was finally defeated. He slumped sideways to the floor, one hand clutching his side where Parker had struck him while the other attempted to stem the flow of blood from his thigh.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jake said, staggering to his feet and acknowledging Parker’s intervention.

  ‘You looked like you needed some help,’ Parker replied, the master of understatement.

  Jake took a look around the area where the fight had taken place and winced when he realised how close they had been to the lethal ash pits. The struggle was over, and thankfully all of his men were still standing, albeit battered and bruised. Lloyd was sitting on the floor, but looked a great deal better than he had when they rescued him. He appeared to understand his ordeal really had come to an end, especially since Armitage had joined the fight against his father’s men.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’ Jake asked, testing his limbs to ensure they were all in working order. It hurt to speak because his ribs had been crushed, but he was in much better shape than Brody. He had torn his shirt and was frantically tying strips around the wound in his thigh, all the while throwing Jake looks of pure hatred. Another enemy to add to his growing tally.