“Margaret, can you hear me?” Jonas asked as he kneeled in front of her. He grabbed her hand, positioning his fingers to feel for a pulse. “She has a pulse. It’s weak but I can feel it.”
Nodding, Ainsley removed his jacket and noticed Jonas was doing the same. Padding the fabric into a pillow, he placed it behind her head while Jonas removed his shirt and pressed it to Margaret’s wound to stop the bleeding.
“Do you have your bag?” Ainsley asked. Jonas shook his head. Just as well. Stitching her up in such soiled and contaminated conditions would invite infection.
“Does anyone have a carriage?” Jonas asked of the crowd.
Bethany stepped forward. “We do. Our driver is waiting on Narrow Street.”
“Send someone to fetch it,” Ainsley ordered.
Bethany nodded anxiously and turned to the handful of people looking on.
“You are the only surgeon I trust,” Ainsley said to Jonas. “We’ll take her to Marshall House.”
Jonas nodded.
Beginning to stir, Margaret reached for Ainsley. “I saw him,” she breathed, before wincing in pain. She tried to roll over and stand but Ainsley held her down. “I saw him down the wharf.” Her hand found Ainsley’s shirt and she began pulling him down toward her.
“Who?” Jonas asked.
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Bethany cried from the crowd. “There was a man… on the tour. She was out of my sight for but a minute.”
Ainsley held up a hand in the hopes of silencing Bethany. “Who did you see, Margaret?” Ainsley asked, leaning in closer so he could hear amongst the murmur of the crowd.
“Ben. He ran to the water.” With a shaky hand she pointed further down the dark alley.
“Benjamin?” Ainsley looked into the darkness, unable to discern crate from bricks or shadow from foe. “Take her home,” Ainsley ordered Jonas. “I will meet you there.” Knowing his sister was in good hands, Ainsley stood and charged into the darkness.
Recognizing Benjamin did not explain the origin of her wound or the person who did the deed but Ainsley could not let the boy slip from his fingers.
He could feel the mist on his face and sticking to his thin shirt as he made his way through the darkness. The world turned black when Ainsley turned a corner and the fog did nothing to help him delineate what was ahead of him.
“Benjamin!” He called out. “It’s me, Peter! Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid!”
Ainsley tripped over a sack and stumbled in the darkness. Trying to keep himself from falling he reached out and found the brick wall. Using it to guide him in a straight line, he walked slowly until the alley led him out into the opening of the docks. A few dim lanterns creaked on the hooks above him but their glow merely illuminated the mist and little else.
“Ben!”
An animal, most likely a dog, brushed by Ainsley in the darkness. By the time Ainsley noticed the animal it had already passed by and disappeared into the mist.
“No one is going to hurt you!” Ainsley yelled out, his conviction faltering. Perhaps Margaret had been seeing things. What if the boy was already a victim of The Surgeon, his body discarded like the others just waiting to be found?
Ainsley brushed his damp hair, which had fallen to his face, and began to second-guess the wisdom of leaving Margaret’s side. Deciding to retrace his steps to get back to her as soon as he could, Ainsley turned just as the sound of whimpering found his ears. He stopped.
“Benjamin?”
An eerie silence followed and Ainsley thought it was most likely the dog he had heard.
“Doctor?”
Ainsley froze. There was the sound of shuffling, feet scuffing along on the gravel lane. In the distance, Ainsley could just make out the bow of a moored ship bobbing slightly on the water. He squinted but saw nothing but grey.
“Ben?”
A small form came into view, a solid mass slightly darker than the grey of the fog. The boy walked hesitantly and Ainsley recognized him before the boy saw the doctor.
“I’m here,” Ainsley called, taking a step forward. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
The boy took one step closer and Ainsley stopped. He squinted. He’d heard Ben’s voice but the child in front of him could not have been him. The boy kept coming closer and it wasn’t until the boy was directly in front of him that he recognized him.
“You shaved your head.” Ainsley knelt down and touched Ben’s hair, which had been cut short as well. The boy was shivering from the wet cold and Ainsley reached to remove his own jacket to give him but remembered he had left it with Margaret and Jonas.
“I had to,” Ben explained. “He came for me.”
Ainsley’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?” Ainsley asked in a fierce tone.
“The one the papers callin’ The Surgeon.”
Chapter 30
Death’s seal is put,
Margaret became aware of sound, odd shuffling, and hushed, aggravated voices, before she was able to force her eyes open to have a look around. The room was dark but she felt warm and dry. Groggy, she tried to move her arm but stopped the minute the searing pain swam through her torso. She hissed, clenching her teeth to suppress an eminent wail of pain.
She remembered then what the monster had done to her, how he cut in to her shoulder.
“Miss Margaret?”
A soft-toned female voice not far from her bedside forced Margaret to open her eyes, though it was harder to do than she expected.
“Lady Marshall.” Jonas’s familiar voice made Margaret smile.
“Her Ladyship should never have gone.” Margaret soon recognized the voice of Julia and she realized she was at home. With her free hand she groped the threads of her bedclothes and felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
Turning her head slightly, Margaret saw the hazy outline of Jonas beside her. Julia crossed the room with the china basin and slipped from the room. Margaret reached out her good arm to Jonas and felt her hand touching his face.
“Jonas, I like it better when you call me Margaret,” she said.
His hand grabbed her wrist and guided her fumbling grasp away from his eyes. Margaret could hear him laughing and then she could feel his hands cupping hers lovingly.
“I don’t feel well,” Margaret said, shifting slightly in her bed, mindful of her shoulder pain.
“You won’t for a bit. I had to give you some laudanum. You kept hitting me.”
Slowly, Jonas came into view, his hazy form sharpening to better resemble the man she knew.
“Am I so badly injured?” Margaret pulled her hand from his and reached for her injured shoulder. She could feel a thick bandage tied in place and she tried pulling it back.
“Don’t do that.” Jonas grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he said, half-jokingly. “I had to give you a number of stitches. We must look for infection now.”
Margaret licked her lips and noticed they were dry and cracking.
“Peter!” Margaret tried to sit up but the pain only forced her back down. “I must talk to Peter.”
“He ran off, looking for the boy,” Jonas answered, keeping his hands in front of her, as if to keep her reclined. He only pulled them away when she made no attempts to sit up. “I sent your friend back with the carriage to look for him.”
“Bethany?” Margaret’s heart sank. Of all the people to witness such a thing, it had to be Bethany Brundell, society gossip and socialite.
The door burst opened and a stern Ainsley walked in.
“Did you find him?” A sharp pain came over Margaret as she tried to sit up in bed.
“Margaret, please,” Jonas called out.
“Yes, he’s in the kitchen. Cook and Violetta are tripping over themselves to feed him,” Ainsley explained.
Silently, the door opened, and Julia returned with the empty, clean basin in her hands.
“How many stitches?” Ainsley asked, gesturing toward Margaret.
“Enough,” answered Jonas. �
��She will be all right, Peter.”
Rounding the opposite side of the bed, he came to Margaret’s side. He leaned over her and tried to look under her bandage.
“Margaret, who was it?” Ainsley pressed, keeping his eyes squarely on hers.
“I don’t know who it was…It was dark,” she stammered.
“You must have seen something. Bethany tells me there was a man, on the tour. What did he say to you?”
Margaret swallowed nervously. She did not feel as sharp as she was used to and the words came slowly. “He talked about Scotland Yard. About Jonathon.” The memory was sketchy. She remembered the man and remembered how he made her feel but the crux of their conversation eluded her. “He knew you by name,” she said suddenly, licking her dry lips. “He called you Ainsley.”
Chapter 31
By the foregone ye shall discern the coming,
A hardened glare took over Ainsley’s features. He jerked his head toward the door, indicating for Jonas to follow him. At the door, Ainsley glanced back to see Julia take a seat on the edge of Margaret’s bed and reach for his sister’s hand. The look of worry on both the women’s faces did not temper his anger.
Once in his room, Ainsley paced the floor like the devil was at his heels. “I’ll kill him!” Ainsley turned and ran his hand through his hair while Jonas closed the door. “I swear to God I will kill him. And don’t try to stop me. The little bastard has it coming.”
“What is it?” Jonas asked. “Who has it coming?”
Ainsley confessed his firmly held suspicion, revealing the name of someone they were both acquainted with.
“Ben told me everything. He recognized him and wasn’t afraid of him at first. He saw a rag in his hand and remembered when I told Simms The Surgeon used chloroform to subdue his victims.” Ainsley closed his eyes. “He narrowly escaped with his life. God only knows what he wanted to do to Margaret.”
Ainsley knew it would not take long for Jonas to back him. He knew Jonas well enough to know he would not back down from a fight, especially where Margaret was involved.
At the mention of Margaret, Jonas had his own hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched in obvious rage. “Let’s get him.”
Ainsley raised a hand. “Wait! I need to think,” he said.
“What’s there to think about? That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve to draw another breath, not after what he did to those kids! What he did to Margaret!”
Ainsley’s face hardened “I want to confront him. I want him to believe there is nothing amiss.”
Within ten minutes the two men had hatched their plan.
As Jonas went for the door, Ainsley went to his desk and opened the bottom drawer that hid the G. & J. Deane pistol. He placed his hand on it and closed his eyes. He remembered how much this case had consumed him, how much he carried the souls of those dead children around with him. Taking the gun would silence his mind and give those little souls peace at last.
The heavy haze of stagnant cigar smoke hung overhead like a blanket. The boxing ring was empty but remained lit, waiting for someone to yell out a challenge. Many seemed to be eyeing Ainsley, wondering who he’d call out. It was clear the young surgeon had blood in his eye and for a time Ainsley scanned the crowd as if searching for a worthy opponent. In truth, he had his eye out for one man that night, no one else would do.
“Mr. Specialist.” Theodore Fenton approached, a thick cigar in his lanky fingers and a crooked smile on his lips. “Or should I address you as Mr. Marshall.”
“I haven’t the time for this,” Ainsley answered impatiently. He scanned the room over Theodore’s head.
Theodore raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I expected more courtesy coming from landed gentry. I’ve heard your father has gone to great pains to secure you a private education.” Ainsley’s hardened stare did not faze the reporter in the slightest. “I’m a collector of secrets, Mr. Marshall,” Theodore explained. “One never knows when they may have need of them.” Theodore tipped his hat toward Ainsley and walked past, leaving Ainsley with a heavy feeling in his stomach.
Jonas tapped Ainsley’s chest and gestured toward the door as he slipped by. Sidney sauntered in, unaware that he was being watched closely. Ainsley snorted. If the man had any clue, he wouldn’t have accepted Jonas’s invite and stayed home that night.
“Hey, Sidney!” Ainsley approached him. “How ’bout that rematch?” Ainsley tried not to smile. Every part of him wished to rearrange the man’s pretty face, perhaps exhumed some organs from him as he had done to the children.
Sidney hesitated. The kid looked to the men beside him, a buxom woman of ill-repute not too far away. It looked as if he would have refused had the men not nudged him forward with pats on the back and calls of encouragement. Sidney stumbled from an enthusiastic push and looked to Jonas. He must have known something was off but his pride prevented him from saying anything.
Smiling, Ainsley began to unbutton his shirt and turned to Jerry. “There another fight lined up?”
Jerry shook his head and raised a glass as if to give a toast. “Anything for you, Pete.”
Everyone within hearing distance paused their drink-laced chatting and turned, some gathering in a semi-circle around Ainsley, Jonas, and the victim of their personal vendetta. When Ainsley lifted the thin rope and gestured for Sidney to go first, men rushed the bookmakers, hoping to place their wagers before the first punch was thrown.
In the ring, Ainsley removed his shoes and socks and tossed them aside. From the corner of his eye he saw self-assured Fenton amongst the crowd, watching the ring intensively. “Jonas, get him out of here!” Ainsley bellowed, giving a pointed finger toward the reporter.
From his place in the ring Ainsley could see Jonas escorting the man out, assisted by others who were loyal to Ainsley and willing to do anything if it meant a real and dirty fight.
For a moment, it looked as if Sidney would refuse Ainsley’s challenge. He stood in his corner opposite Ainsley and eyed the crowd that had begun to gather around the platform.
“You said you wanted a rematch,” Ainsley said, his arms out to the side and his bare chest poised for a hit. He wanted Sidney to get in the first punch. He wanted to see the look on Sidney’s face when he realized his best could never unseat Ainsley. The bastard had watched Ainsley agonizing over the children, had probably enjoyed watching him cry silently as he leaned over their bodies, chiding himself for not stopping the monster sooner. All of this Sidney saw and felt nothing. The man felt no remorse or guilt and Ainsley knew if he wasn’t stopped he would do it again, and again.
“I’ve already drank too much,” Sidney lied.
Ainsley gave a sideways smile. “Didn’t stop you before.”
The crowd grew louder with cheers and chants. They leaned on the ropes, raising their arms in the ring, some pulling at Sidney’s shirt to encourage him to prepare. The room seemed to swell with extra bodies and five times as much smoke. Ainsley looked to Jonas, who had returned and now stood behind him in his corner. “Get me a couple pints,” he ordered.
Sidney watched as Jonas slipped into the crowd.
“We can make this a fair match,” Ainsley said. “How many have you had?”
“Too many.”
“Then I shall have that too.”
Jonas presented Ainsley with two mugs. He hadn’t the patience to nurse them. He wanted the night over. He wanted revenge.
“Careful, Peter,” Jonas warned. “I doubt he would have downed them so fast.”
Ainsley handed him the empty mugs and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. The ale tasted bitter and stale. Jerry stood behind Jonas, another two pints in his hands. Ainsley took one and gestured toward Sidney.
“One for my friend here,” Ainsley said with great showmanship.
Jerry handed the mug to Sidney, who eyed it suspiciously.
“Drink up,” Ainsley ordered.
Sidney shook his head and tried to hand it back. Ainsley took it as an insult. He stepped fo
rward and placed himself between Jerry and Sidney. “Drink the damn ale,” Ainsley hissed. “We’ll have ourselves some fun tonight.”
Begrudgingly, Sidney put the mug to his lips and took some gulps but Ainsley was finished before he had drunk half.
“Let’s go,” Ainsley said, snatching Sidney’s drink from his hand and giving both mugs to Jonas. Sidney smiled and began to unbutton his shirt. Once he was dressed in trousers and nothing else, Ainsley invited Sidney over with a quick flutter of his fingers. The crowd roared with anticipation and Ainsley took his stance, hopping toward Sidney, who also stood ready.
Ainsley noticed Sidney’s demeanor was much changed. He had obviously been studying more than just anatomy. The men circled each other, tracing the outline of the square boxing ring, their fists poised and their muscles flexed. Ainsley circled and waited, staring at Sidney over his knuckles with the most hatred he had ever felt for a single man. It wasn’t about the children anymore. The betrayal Ainsley felt fuelled his hatred. Not only had Sidney’s murderous deeds marred his profession but his invasion of Ainsley’s examination room, his sanctuary, was unforgivable. There was no way around it, the man deserved to die.
Suddenly, Sidney pounced. He snapped his right fist forward and Ainsley blocked it but he did not anticipate the sharp swing of Sidney’s left hand that caught him on the jaw. The pain stretched from his face down his neck but Ainsley pushed through. He rushed toward Sidney, who appeared to hesitate as he came. He landed multiple punches, all in quick succession, before Sidney fell back into the ropes and Ainsley retreated. Enjoying himself too much, Ainsley was not interested in such a clean end.
“How does it feel?” Ainsley asked, noticing the tightness of his jaw as he spoke. “Would you like me to fetch some chloroform?”
Sidney licked the corner of his mouth where blood had begun to pool and eyed Ainsley suspiciously.
“You have some in your bag, do you not?” Ainsley pressed. “And a cloth.”
The Dead Among Us Page 23
