Mark of Caine Trilogy: Book Two: Whispers in the Shadows (Victorian Villains)
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“You are not as terrifying as you think. I don’t know what excuse I’ll give but I’ll think of something. Our marriage has been consummated; we are man and wife. She cannot hold it against you that you were compelled to help your wife. She was in love once; she must remember what it is like. And even if the Queen cannot forgive you, the law cannot arrest you for my murder when I am obviously still living. We told no lie, we committed no crime. We staged my death and her spy jumped to his own conclusions.”
Tanner stopped and squinted at her. “And what does a nineteen-year-old girl know about love? Victoria will say you are merely infatuated with the man who took your virginity. I introduced you to physical pleasure. You are confusing sex with love. Sex would not compel me to betray my sovereign.”
“Then why did you?” Laura shouted in frustration. “I love you and you do not return my love. It is terrible—it is the worst feeling in the world! I think I shall die from it but I go on living in constant torment. I hate this love! I would be free of it if I could! Instead, I am fixed to you! Even in this blasted rain—I am longing with all my heart to stay with you forever. Why did you not kill me when you had the chance?”
“The huntsman took Snow White into the forest to kill her and found he could not.”
Laura raised her chin. Rain streamed into her eyes. “Why could he not?”
“Because he had fallen in love with her too.”
§
TREADWELL STOOD at a safe distance, hidden behind a lamp post and further concealed by the grey drizzle. He watched his nemesis, the young quartermaster who had beaten him six years ago, talking to the errand boy he travelled with.
He had been following them all day. First outside the news agent shop, then to the firearms dealer, and lastly he picked up their trail at Kensington Palace. Scanlon had hired him to track Caine and make a report. The money was good but that’s not why Treadwell took the job.
He had personal reasons for wanting to see Caine hang.
Asked to come forward to help police with their enquiries. Caine was suspected of murdering his new bride. Treadwell himself could testify to Caine’s explosive temper. The longer he watched the man and his protégé, the deeper his resentment became.
Somehow, someway, he just knew Caine would slip free of the net just as he had before the Naval Tribunal. A dishonourable discharge did not restore Treadwell’s leg or reimburse him for the years of pain and suffering. He would make his report to Scanlon, receive his fee, and that would be the end of it. The hope he had of this investigation leading to Caine’s arrest was fading in the rain.
And then he saw something that made his pulse dance.
Caine took the boy in his arms and kissed him.
Treadwell pawed the rainwater from his eyes. The boy’s hair had been cut but his features were feminine. There was not even the beginning of a beard on that smooth skin. And something else was missing from that long graceful neck. An Adam’s apple.
He was a she.
Treadwell was no fool. He remembered the notice in the paper about Tanner’s murdered bride. What was her name...?
Laura Mayhew.
“Son of a bitch,” he whistled under his breath.
The start of recognition in the boy’s face when he read the death notice made sense now. The girl Tanner married to get out of Gateshead Asylum was not dead, but travelling with him disguised as a boy. Laura Mayhew was alive.
That meant there would be no murder charge.
The young couple seemed oblivious to the rain and passersby. Caine had folded the girl in his cloak and was kissing her like she was his last breath on earth. As Treadwell watched, his resentment was building to cold hate.
Scanlon had not paid him for this information. Treadwell was hired to locate Caine, deliver the newspaper notice, and supply the addresses Caine had visited. That is what Scanlon paid for and that is what Scanlon would get.
The identity of Caine’s travelling companion Treadwell would keep to himself.
Chapter Nine
LAURA’S EYES closed. Her chest rose and fell with joy. She was shaking in her soul. He loved her. He had said the words and whatever happened now she could endure.
They lay entwined in the narrow bed. The rain pattered against the window and on the slate roof. A coal fire burned on the grate. Their supper bowls of beef stew and dumplings were on the tray, empty and ready to be taken away. Laura was emotionally shattered from seeing Henry again, and Louise. Tanner had ordered a bottle of red wine from Mrs. Sharpton to restore their nerves.
“Once upon a time,” she sighed contentedly, “Snow White was led by a huntsman deep into the wood. He hurt her and she thought she would never forgive him. But he earned her love and now she will not be parted from him.”
“You and your fairy tales.” Tanner caressed her hair tenderly. “You will not let this go, will you? I am your new Henry. You do not have to save me, Laura. I’ll go to Queen Victoria myself and explain what happened. Stirling is being posted overseas, Princess Louise is happy and Henry is still a secret. Victoria will forgive, though it is unlikely you’ll be admitted to court again.”
“I will have lost nothing as long as I’m with you.”
She cuddled against his warmth, feeling the past few days had been a dream. From the rushed, terrible beginning of their love to this fulfillment, it was impossible that it could be real. Her gift of second sight and clairvoyance had made Laura cautious as a child. She had learned to trust in the tangible, in her routines and measurable outcomes. Messages from beyond were not always accurate and were sometimes malicious. Tanner Caine had broken every private rule she ever held and yet she trusted him.
Love was an act of faith as much as anything. He would keep her safe, Laura was certain of that.
“There is one thing I do not understand. Why did I dream Henry was in danger? The dream did not come once, but many times.”
“It was just a dream,” Tanner murmured drowsily. “You were in an insane asylum. I wager that had something to do with it.”
“Think of it—if I had not dreamt of Henry behind a wall, I would not have been so determined to find him. I would not have done anything to get out of Gateshead.”
“Ah, I see how it was now. You were just using me.” He chuckled.
“You were planning to kill me so do not cast stones.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “I suppose the dream came to me to bring me to you.”
“But you do not believe that is the answer?”
“I am not sure. There is something dark behind it ... unseen and yet present.”
“A riddle. It is too late for riddles. Go to sleep, my love. We have much to do in the morning.”
“I do love you, Tanner. I am not dreaming right now, am I? This is real, is it not?”
He crushed her to his chest with his strong arms. “This is the only thing that is real. The only part of me that will survive to the end. I am selfish. I love you too much to leave you. I love you more than life.”
She crawled on top of him and covered his face in kisses. Then her lips trailed over his broad shoulders and lower down. She tongued his flat nipples. Tanner clenched his jaw and let out a stifled groan. Laura smiled to herself and went lower still, pressing her lips to his muscled chest, his hard, flat stomach, and then she kissed his rigid, aroused manhood.
Tanner’s breathing changed.
Laura fastened her lips around the sensitive knob and sucked it rhythmically. He made a sound that was half howl and half-protest, a sound that filled her with a gratifying sense of power.
He caught her head in his hands, his torso stiffened and his cock stood erect. Laura kissed the shaft from base to tip, marvelling at the pleasure this dangerous man had given her, and how giving he was now, completely surrendered to her.
She ran her tongue over the purplish engorged knob and then took him in her mouth. He filled her to the back of her throat. Tanner shouted.
“Oh God—Laura...! Oh sweet hell...!”
§
LAURA DRESSED in the grey uniform of a Nightingale nurse. Tanner had brought it with him for just such an occasion. She could at last return to the world of womanhood to perform her errands today. The bodice was tighter than when she’d first put it on in the hedge maze but the skirt fit comfortably. In the short time since leaving Gateshead, Laura had already put on flesh with the regular, abundant meals she shared with Tanner.
Laura fixed the headpiece over her cropped hair and examined her reflection in the mirror. Restored to her sensible black shoes and hose, she felt almost herself again. A spare cloak was hanging on the peg behind the door. She clasped it over her shoulders and left the room.
It was a perfect spring day, fresh and sparkling after last night’s rain. Laura walked briskly in the direction of the Telegraph Office. Tanner’s meeting with Queen Victoria was at eleven o’clock. It was almost that now. Laura was to wire a message to her parents that she was still alive at the same time Tanner was informing the Queen of their plans. He did not want Sir Mayhew to get the news before Her Majesty. A letter of explanation would follow the cable, but Laura would not be joining them in France.
When all was settled, Laura and Tanner would return to Hawthorne Hall. She was not discouraged by Tanner’s misgivings nor was she frightened of a superstitious curse. He had refused to explain its nature and origin in detail. When she questioned him about the women he’d loved, the curse was on them was all he would say about their deaths.
“I am not them,” she had tried to reassure him this morning. “I am not like other women. I’ve spent all of my life hearing whispers in the fog. They do not frighten me. I can sense there are forces that have prevented you from knowing true love, but those forces have not had me to reckon with. I will not give you up as long as you want me with you.”
Tanner was so gloomy when the worst of it was over! The life she would share with this man whose thoughts she could not read was like an unopened treasure chest. All good things were waiting in store for them. She knew Tanner Caine like she knew the bones in her hand. She could see into his depths, she could see the man he was.
Laura rounded a corner and stepped into a cobbled alley. The Telegraph Office was in the next street to her right. The alley was a shortcut to her destination.
“Excuse me miss?”
Laura stopped and looked to the voice. The man who had accosted her outside the news agent’s shop emerged from behind a stack of bins. “Yes? What do you want?”
“Come nearer if you would, miss. I have something to tell you regarding Mr. Caine.”
He is lying. Run!
The voice came clearly and she obeyed. Laura spun around. The man lunged, caught her arm and yanked her back. He lifted his fist and struck her between the eyes with great force. Laura reeled back. Her arms flung out to regain her balance. Her head pounded and white bursts of light appeared behind her eyes, and then came another blow and everything went black.
Laura was conscious as if from a great distance, of falling.
That was the last thing she knew.
§
TANNER RETURNED to his rooms late in the afternoon, weary from placating the fractious Empress of Britannia. But at last he was able to persuade her that Laura Mayhew posed no threat. The experience had taught the girl to respect the privacy of the Royal Family and the judgement of Her Majesty.
“I gather Princess Louise made her feelings on the subject known and Miss Mayhew agreed that it was best to forget the matter. Dr. Rutledge will be credited with her recovery should anyone question her. It can be reported with confidence by Her Majesty that Sir Horatio Mayhew’s daughter is no longer afflicted by delusions and she recants her story.”
The Queen was unmoved.
“I need your assurance that Laura Mayhew will not suddenly recall visiting a little boy. Oh yes, I know all about that little adventure! The one bright light in all of this is that Louise appears to be less agitated. Her depression has lifted. But if I ever hear of Miss Mayhew raking up old wounds, I will not commute her sentence a second time. However, I am not a monster. If what you have told me is true, it is relief the girl is alive and willing to be sensible.”
“Laura Mayhew will not trouble you again. You have my word, Madam.”
“Then I am content, Mr. Caine. Good work. Your methods are unorthodox but effective. You have renewed my confidence in your abilities.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.” Tanner gave a short bow. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, I shall inform Mr. Scanlon that his services are no longer required. That will be all, Mr. Caine. You are dismissed.”
He arrived at his home in Baker Street, feeling light in his being for the first time since boyhood, only to find that Laura had not returned yet.
“How long has Laurence been gone?” he demanded of Mrs. Sharpton.
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” Mrs. Sharpton crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t seen him all day. I heard the front door close at eleven this morning, but there was no sign of the boy. I daresay he’s off kicking a ball with some of the other lads. He’ll come home when he’s hungry.”
Tanner climbed to the third floor, lit a fire in the grate and sat down to wait for Laura.
His eyes strayed to the peg on the door. The cloak was gone. And there was a pile of neatly folded clothing on the trunk. Even in the fading afternoon light, Tanner could see it was the clothing of the stable boy, Laurence.
That is why Mrs. Sharpton did not see the boy today. The boy was dressed as a Nightingale nurse. Tanner looked at the timepiece on the mantle. She had left at eleven. It was now four o’clock. Where could she be?
He could not sit still any longer. Tanner got to his feet and paced the room. She might have taken a walk or returned to visit Princess Louise. There could be any number of explanations for the delay in her return.
There could be … but there was not.
Tanner’s blood turned to ice. There was only one reason Laura did not rush back to the apartment to chatter about the progress of their day.
She was dead.
The curse heard Tanner’s love for her, and like a wraith in the night, the curse had taken her from him.
§
HER HEAD throbbed viciously. The pain behind her eyes was blinding. Something touched her face. Her hands grappled to her cheek to push it away.
It was a sack. A black burlap sack.
Laura opened her eyes cautiously. Behind the weave of burlap she could see a light of some kind. She was lying on the bottom of a vegetable cart, hidden under a tarpaulin. She could hear the screams of the gulls. The cart was moving west, away from the city’s core to the docks.
She remembered the man from the news agent’s shop meeting her in the alley and hitting her. Where was he taking her? Her hands were fastened behind her back with a rope. She wasn’t truly frightened until she realized she couldn’t move her hands.
The wagon stopped. Boots landed on the pavement as her captor jumped down and the scraping limp sounded as he came toward her. The man pulled away the tarpaulin and yanked her to her feet. Laura’s breath caught as her captor removed the sack from her head.
His eyes were almost yellow and shot with blood.
“Home sweet home.” He took her arm. “Hurry it up. We don’t have much time. Mr. Caine will be receiving my message right about now and there is a lot to do before he arrives.”
She struggled against his grip. “Who are you? What do you want? If it money you are after, my father can pay. I am nothing to Mr. Caine.”
“Money!” He scoffed. “It is not money that interests me. I could have made a packet from Caine when I grabbed you. Revenge doesn’t have a price.”
“Revenge for what? How have I wronged you? I’ve never seen you before in my life. ”
“Not you, Mrs. Caine—your husband. The man you married has a dark past and it was bound to catch up to him sooner or later. My name is Mr. Treadwell. Ah, I see you have heard of me! Then he has told you the story.”
“You served with him in the Royal Navy. You are the reason he was dishonourably discharged.”
“There is more to our history than that, but it will do for a start.”
Treadwell dragged her into a round stone granary used in Elizabeth times but long since abandoned. The entrance way was tight. There was barely enough room to stand shoulder to shoulder. Treadwell shoved her forward to a narrow spiral staircase cut from stone.
“My message makes it clear where I have taken you. Riddles would have only wasted my time and not slowed Caine down much. He is clever but he has an Achilles’ heel. A weakness.”
Treadwell shoved her to the enclosed stair that wound upward in a tight, suffocating cocoon. Laura had to turn sideways to make the climb. So steep was the rise of each step that she felt gravity tugging her backward. The heavy stone walls closed in. There was no light and the air was choking from the dust of three hundred years. At last she reached the summit but the opening at the top offered no relief. Feeble daylight pressed in through a grimy skylight.
Treadwell pushed her into an alcove so small she could touch the walls with her fingers outstretched.
“You can see why I needed you conscious. I could not carry you up those stairs. I might have been able to do it at one time, but not since Caine’s beating have I been able to lift anything heavier than a glass of ale. If it were not for the chronic pain, I could bear it. But the ache never lets up and when it rains, the suffering is unendurable.”
“I am sorry that happened to you and Mr. Caine regrets his actions. He told me so himself. He said you did not deserve to be beaten because he could not tolerate being shut up.”
“Tanner Caine broke my bones,” Treadwell said coldly. “I was as good as dead whereas he landed on his feet. A dishonourable discharge did him no harm, no harm at all. I have followed his career, you see. As one does with one’s enemies. I saw him kiss you in the street yesterday. You were dressed as a boy but I put it together. The girl in the newspaper account and the scalawag he travelled with were one and the same. Laura Mayhew. Mrs. Tanner Caine.”