Lady Reluctant

by Maggie Osborne

  “It’s cold tonight,” Lady Katherine observed, looking past the draperies into the dark, frosty square. “But moonless.”

  They all wore warm, dark clothing. Even wearing gloves and thick cloaks, a damp chill pervaded flesh and bone. A fire would have been welcome. But no fire burned in the drawing room grate. The room was empty, stripped to the boards and walls. Everything but the mugs in their hands was strapped in the cargo holds aboard the William Porter.

  “Mother,” Blu said, stepping up beside Lady Katherine and placing a hand on her arm. “It is not too late to change your mind.” All the goods in the William Porter’s holds could be shipped back from the Colonies if Katherine were to alter her decision. Blu bit her lip. “I know how you love this house, and all it represents.”

  “Hush, dear.” Letting the draperies fall, Katherine turned with a pale smile. “This is just a house, merely a pile of brick and glass. Very soon I shall own the finest residence in Boston.” She drew on her gloves, then spoke in a brisk tone. “I believe I hear our carriages. Cecile? Are you certain you are up to this?”

  Cecile’s cheeks glowed beneath her hat and powdered hair. “Yes, Mama. I know precisely what to do. Please note I wore my oldest skirt.”

  Katherine nodded approval. “Tremble? You have your ammonia salts? It won’t do to have you faint before the plan demands it.”

  “My salts are at the ready,” Aunt Tremble said, patting a beaded reticule. “I, too, am wearing my oldest gown. One can depend on the floors being filthy.” She sniffed.

  “Isabelle? Your friends will meet us at the prison?”

  “Sí.” Tonight Isabelle looked much as she had the day they arrived at Paget House. Her face was highly painted, her bodice cut so low the lace skimmed her nipples.

  “Unless we have overlooked something,” Katherine said, looking about her, “I believe we are ready to depart.” Her voice echoed in the empty, high-ceilinged room. After a final glance for the drawing room and the foyer, she lifted her head firmly and swept outside to the waiting carriages.

  “Was I ever so foolish as to think she lacked courage?” Blu murmured to Mouton. Before she stepped into the carriage, she leaned over to Mr. Apple. “It should not take long to close the house. We will meet you and the other servants at the ship. You know where it is?”

  “Yes, Miss.” Mr. Apple took the liberty of patting her arm. “Good luck. God be with you!” He watched as the carriages sped into the cold night, then he hurried inside, shouting instructions.

  Both carriages arrived at Newgate on schedule, drawing to a halt in the deep shadows before the church doors. Leaning from the carriage window, Blu darted a glance upward to the second-story window of the gatehouse. As Monsieur had promised, a candle burned in front of the panes, signaling the gatekeep was occupied and all proceeded according to plan. She transferred her gaze to the first carriage and watched Isabelle and Lady Katherine step to the street. Immediately two shadows moved forward from the church steps to join Isabelle. Isabelle and her friends spoke hurriedly, then the three whores linked arms and started singing loudly, reeling toward the main gate in a convincing parody of a merry drunk.

  Lady Katherine waited in the shadows beside the first carriage as Blu, Mouton, Cecile, and Aunt Tremble stepped forth and crossed to the gate. Lady Katherine would give them five minutes, then she would follow.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Aunt Tremble muttered, staring at the thick, frost-coated prison walls. “I’m going to faint, I just know it.”

  “Not yet, Aunt. Use your salts,” Cecile warned in a whisper. She gestured Mouton to push her chair a bit faster.

  At the gate, Blu had to call repeatedly to the guards to distract their attention from Isabelle and her friends. Pointedly ignoring the whores as any lady of quality would do, Blu paid the visitor’s fees for her party, then they stepped inside the gateroom. In approximately five minutes, Isabelle and her friends would take the front guards around the corner for a session of exceptionally leisurely business.

  “Good God!” Aunt Tremble said, stiffening in outrage. “This place stinks to high heaven! And it’s filthy! Who cleans this place? I do hope Katherine gives them a sound thrashing!” She followed Cecile’s example and pressed her handkerchief over her nose.

  “You there.” Blu addressed an approaching turnkey. “We are here to visit Beau Billy Morgan, the pirate.”

  The turnkey’s glance swept over them, returned to rest uneasily on Mouton. “The pirate don’t be permitted night visitors, miss. He be already locked up.”

  “We are family, the rules don’t apply to us,” Blu explained in a regal tone that allowed no argument. “We have permission to share his last night on this earth. You may verify our authority with Mr. Worthwaite, the gatekeep.” If the turnkey insisted on verifying the lie, Monsieur was prepared to guarantee permission was granted.

  The turnkey hesitated, his eyes narrowed on Mouton, who stood behind Cecile’s chair dressed in servant’s livery.

  Aunt Tremble tipped the scales. She whacked the turnkey’s knees with her cane and glared. “I hate this stinking place, young man. I can hardly breathe. I don’t know that I can keep from fainting much longer and it isn’t time yet. So stop dawdling and take us to the pirate at once!”

  Cecile folded her gloves in her lap, calling attention to her crippled state. “I do believe he thinks we’re a gang of dangerous rogues, Aunt.” Her musical laugh bounced along the stone walls.

  “This delay is confusing me. I can’t remember, is this turnkey the one we have to kill?” Aunt Tremble asked, leaning over her cane to stare at the turnkey.

  A low flush rose from the turnkey’s collar. He clenched his teeth and scowled at Mouton’s contemptuous smile.

  “Only if we must, Aunt.”

  Blu rolled her eyes toward the low ceiling, then leveled a glare on the angry turnkey. “I rather hope you do summon the gatekeep. It may interest Mr. Worthwaite to learn you tremble before three women and a servant.” She did not add that one of the women was crippled and one was ancient, but her gaze underscored the point.

  Without further discourse, the turnkey turned and removed his key ring from his belt. The first door opened. Then the next and the next. Blu breathed a silent sigh of relief when the last heavy door swung open and they stepped into a smoke-blackened dungeon lit by evil-smelling lard candles that struggled to burn in the foul air. A dozen soiled pallets ringed the room. Each man slept with his right foot off the pallet as each man had one leg fettered to the floor.

  “Close your eyes, Aunt Tremble,” Blu commanded. At the same time she nodded to Mouton, who spun on the turnkey. Regrettably there was no possibility of letting the man live. With one quick motion, Mouton broke his neck and the man slid silently to the stone floor.

  “Quick and painless. Well done,” Beau Billy murmured, swinging to a sitting position on the pallet. “How do,” he said pleasantly to Cecile and Aunt Tremble. He removed his cap and inclined his shaggy head in polite greeting.

  Cecile blanched and Aunt Tremble emitted a tiny scream, then clapped the ammonia salts against her nostrils.

  “He’s quite handsome once he’s bathed and barbered,” Blu assured them. Swiftly, she bent to the fallen turnkey and snatched his key ring. “Is the key to your irons on this ring?” she asked her father.

  “No,” Beau Billy said. He raised an eyebrow at Mouton and smiled. “Has city life made ye soft, old friend? Or can we break this chain?”

  The other prisoners leaned up on their pallets and, depending on their interest and inclination, either leered at Blu and Cecile or watched the pirate and the mute. Both Beau Billy and Mouton were massive men of great brute strength. Their combined efforts had the irons off Beau Billy’s ankle within minutes. A low cheer erupted from the pallets as Beau Billy stood and clasped Mouton’s hand. Both men grinned and wiped the sweat from their brows.

  Blu raised her skirts to remove a dagger from her garter which she flipped to her father. He caught it and tested th
e blade against his thumb.

  “Gel, have ye lost yer senses? What are these skirts doing here?” He nodded to Cecile and Aunt Tremble. Both of them stared up at him with awed eyes and open mouths.

  “They’re part of the plan.”

  Beau Billy shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Ladies, ye should have better sense.”

  Blu removed a second dagger from her other garter and concealed it within the folds of her cloak. She drew a breath, then took Aunt Tremble’s arm. The tiny woman looked to be in half a swoon despite the ammonia salts pressed to her quivering nose.

  “You recall the plan, Aunt. We’ll move fast now. Once the alarm is sounded, this place will be a madhouse. Remember—no one will believe you and Cecile could possibly be involved. In any case, Mother and Monsieur will get you out.” She squeezed Aunt Tremble’s gloved fingers and turned to Cecile, her eyes softening. “Dearest Cecile. If you are injured, I shall never forgive myself.”

  “I shan’t be injured, I promise. I’m more worried about you.” Even in the dismal foul light, Cecile’s cheeks burned bright with excitement and her eyes sparkled. “Good luck,” she whispered, gripping Blu’s hand. “We’ll meet again on board ship.”

  Blu kissed them both, then looked up at her father. Her tone firmed, she was all business. “Which section has the most guards?”

  “This one.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Cecile assured Blu and Mouton when they turned to look at her.

  “I hate leaving you and Aunt Tremble behind,” Blu muttered, biting her lips. “You understand that I have to go with Mouton and my father in case there’s fighting. But I wish—”

  “We have reviewed this part of the plan a dozen times,” Aunt Tremble said, staring at Beau Billy. She looked appalled. “Now do let us proceed before my nerves explode!”

  Mouton opened the dungeon door, glanced into the hallways, then nodded. Blu slipped out and ran to the section door, fumbling with the key ring until she found the correct key. It turned in the lock with a rusty squeal that screamed in her ears. Then Beau Billy and Mouton, carrying Aunt Tremble, were behind her. So was a sudden shout.

  “You there! Halt!”

  They dashed through the open door, not wasting time to lock it against guards who would have keys.

  Running, they bolted along a corridor and darted into an open deserted room. Before she bent to the keys, Blu threw a look over her shoulder and smiled.

  Cecile had wedged her chair in the first door by tipping it sideways. Behind her a guard ran to check Beau Billy’s cell, two others argued over how to rescue the situation without spilling a lady of quality to the filthy floor. In a moment the first guard would discover Beau Billy had escaped and the others would toss Cecile to the floor without further thought. For the moment, the guards were bottlenecked behind her.

  Blu unlocked the door and she and Mouton and Beau Billy flew through. They left Aunt Tremble behind. The moment Aunt Tremble saw approaching guards, she would faint across the threshold. Blu figured Aunt Tremble would be fainting in one, possibly two minutes.

  At the last door, she looked at Mouton and Beau Billy. If all was working as it ought, there would be no guards in the gateroom. Lady Katherine would have them in the changing room giving them a verbal thrashing concerning prison reform and the offensive conditions within Newgate.

  “Through here, then outside to the carriage,” she whispered.

  “Bloody hell, Mite. If I had guessed it was this easy, I’d have slept a portion better.” Beau Billy grinned at her.

  “A few hands were greased.” She smiled as she opened the door. “No doubt you noticed a dozen fewer guards than usual.”

  A dog dozed on the bench in the gateroom, otherwise it was deserted. They overheard Lady Katherine’s imperious voice holding forth behind a door against the east wall.

  “Come back here, you scoundrel,” Lady Katherine commanded sharply. Rank, authority, and breeding chilled her tone. “I have not finished with either of you. I demand an explanation why these floors are in such unspeakable condition! A roach would recoil in disgust. Well? I am waiting.”

  Beau Billy halted and turned toward the sound of Katherine’s voice. A grin split his beard and he touched the gold disk lying against his heart.

  “You will see her later,” Blu hissed. “Go!”

  Mouton burst through the outer door first, then he leaned back inside and signaled the street was deserted. The guards were getting more than they had bargained for with Isabelle and her friends.

  “Walk slowly,” Blu cautioned as they emerged into the frosty moonless night. She released a breath and linked her arm through her father’s. Mouton fell into step behind them.

  Ten steps, she told herself, her eyes fixed on the waiting carriage. Nine steps. They were going to make it. Seven steps. Beau Billy was right; it had been easy. A plume of cold vapor rose in front of her lips as she sighed.

  “Halt! You there—you three.” The shout came from the gate behind them. They ran the last steps to the carriage and hurled themselves inside. Blu heard the guard shouting as the carriage bolted forward. “Wake up in there, you stupid bastards! Beau Billy Morgan just walked out of here. Christ!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Monsieur had been expecting the hammered blows at the gatekeep’s door. He arranged a look of surprise and annoyance on his thin features and glanced up from the chess board.

  “Trouble?” he inquired politely when Mr. Worthwaite returned to don his coat and fetch his keys.

  “Beau Billy Morgan has escaped,” Mr. Worthwaite muttered. A string of swear words burst past his clenched teeth.

  “Isn’t he the pirate who is scheduled to hang tomorrow?”

  “The tabloids will demand my head over this one!” At the door, Mr. Worthwaite turned back to Monsieur and waved a hand. “Forgive me, but I believe we must delay the finish of the game. Perhaps we could resume tomorrow evening?”

  “As you wish,” Monsieur murmured, standing.

  Downstairs, he discovered pandemonium. No one seemed certain if Beau Billy had escaped alone or if he had taken a dozen prisoners with him. Everyone shouted a theory as to how the outrage had occurred and why they were personally not to blame.

  “Dear me, if it isn’t Lady Cecile and her aunt,” Monsieur said, feigning surprise. He bowed before their dirtied skirts and flushed faces, then caught Mr. Worthwaite’s attention. “May I present—”

  “Not now, my good man. Can’t you see I am occupied?” Mr. Worthwaite nodded a cursory bow toward Cecile and Aunt Tremble. “If these ladies are acquaintances of yours, I would advise you to see them home at once. For heaven’s sake, get them out of here before someone tramples them.”

  “Ah yes, I take your meaning. The pirate’s escape and all. Ladies, if you will allow me, I shall see you to your carriage.”

  Lady Katherine appeared behind them, a frosty smile on her lips. “Promises are all well and good,” she warned the two guards edging away from her. “But I shall return to see that reforms are made.”

  Without giving the appearance they were together, she followed Monsieur, Cecile, and Aunt Tremble outside the prison gate. Once in the shadows, they hastened to the carriage and discovered Isabelle waiting inside.

  “Did Beau Billy escape?” Isabelle asked excitedly, pulling Aunt Tremble into the carriage.

  The instant Monsieur had Cecile’s chair secured to the boot, the carriage lurched forward and sped toward Billingsgate steps.

  “The plot was successful!” Cecile crowed triumphantly when they were safely away.

  “They escaped, I heard them run through the outer passageway! But tell me quickly,” Katherine said, leaning to Cecile and Tremble. “Is either of you injured?”

  Cecile held dirty hands up to her face and laughed. “I’m filthy from being tipped to the floor, and I think I’ll have a bruise on my hip and elbow tomorrow, but I’m fine! Aunt Tremble?”

  “Pish. It was nothing. I waited until I saw two guards running toward m
e, then I picked the ugliest and fell on him and fainted. Dragged him down with me,” she boasted proudly.

  Katherine drew a breath and pressed Isabelle’s hands without wondering where those hands had been. At least not overly much. “You and your friends were wonderful,” she said earnestly. She had never thought to see the day when she would praise a whore for whoring. And truly mean every word. “We could not have been successful without you and your friends.”

  The carriage swung around the corner, righted itself, and raced along Thames Street. Isabelle swerved against Katherine, close enough that Katherine could glimpse her expression in the darkness.

  “Isabelle, is something amiss?”

  “I pray not.” She bit her lip, tugged her bodice up to cover her nipples. “Of course not.”

  “What? What are you thinking?”

  “Crazy Sal did not return afterward.” She cast a troubled glance toward Katherine. “For the extra blunt.”

  “Blunt?”

  “Money. I had a bit extra for Doll and Crazy Sal. Doll returned to collect hers, but Crazy Sal just disappeared.” They all looked at her. “When I returned to the carriage, a group of men were riding off on horses.” She bit her thumbnail. “Probably it means nothing, Sí?”

  “Probably,” Katherine repeated faintly.

  “I am certain it signifies nothing,” Cecile said quickly. Aunt Tremble and Monsieur exchanged a long glance. Then Monsieur leaned from the window and shouted at the coachman to whip up the horses.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thomas paced the decks, returning repeatedly to the gangplank to stare west up Thames Street. Mr. Apple and the servants had arrived an hour ago. Several carriages had passed, not the carriages he sought, slowing so the occupants could stare incredulously at a ship where no ship should be.

  The Port Authority required all ships of size to anchor in the center of the river. But Thomas had not wished to risk using tenders. Therefore he had chosen the Billingsgate Steps with experience and care, knowing this section was dredged and deep enough to accommodate the William Porter close in. The gangplank stretched from the rail gate to a stone wall a few yards east of the steps.