Jack's Hellion

by Eliza Lloyd

  Finding a blanket suddenly seemed like a good idea as her stomach lurched at the sight of her brother lying pale and possibly dying. The doctor arrived a few hours later and set about soaking the wound with alcohol, stitching with catgut and covering the repairs with a long cloth, winding it with Abe’s help.

  Then they waited.

  The doctor left laudanum for the pain and instructions to watch his pallor and the color of his wound and any discharge.

  By the next evening, Danny woke up both delirious and fevered. Only Imo and Charlie seemed to calm him. He cursed Jessy, begged for forgiveness from Mam for failing and worried for Frank. Imo spent two full days at his side and finally on the third day, the fever broke.

  When Danny opened his eyes, he clutched her collar and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Imo, we lost the money.”

  “You fool, do you think I give a rat’s arse about the money? You could have been killed. You shouldn’t have come back.”

  “Had to. I promised Mam we’d stay together. Did you tell Mrs. FitzPatrick about Frank?”

  “No, I don’t want her to know. If Frank is hanged, I don’t want anyone to know a Farrell came to such shame.”

  “Fine morals you have now, Imo. You were well on your way to being a whore this time last year.” He laughed a little and then coughed, gripping his side as he did so.

  “I may have started the journey, but I didn’t finish it.”

  “You always have answers, don’t you,” he said before sliding off into oblivion again.

  While she waited for Danny to heal, she knew time was running out for Frank and she had to see her brother. Newgate was near St. Paul’s and she had no trouble tramping through the old neighborhood—she’d have marched to hell for him. Hangings at Newgate were a common enough occurrence, but for Frank the days were melting away.

  There had to be a way to free him, and surely he would be, once the authorities understood what had happened. She could be a witness for him.

  She could prevent his hanging if she found the right person, a person in authority who could forestall this senseless tragedy.

  * * * * *

  At the Old Bailey, Imogene FitzPatrick discovered Frank was scheduled for hanging in four days. She swallowed back her immediate reaction to swear. They’d had a short trial and Tiny Etherton had been the accuser, which in Imo’s mind was confirmation Tiny had been the one interested in kidnapping her last year.

  If Frank died because of Tiny, sin or not, Imo believed she would probably spend her life looking for a way to kill the fat old bitch.

  It took all day, nothing short of a swift kick in the arse could get them to move. She was finally allowed to see Frank, being his last remaining relative and all. No one seemed to care whether she was a Farrell or a Fitzpatrick.

  Frank’s haggard appearance, that of a wild man, was much like Danny’s, only worse for Newgate’s accommodation.

  Imo’s tears started the moment she saw him. The situation was made worse because for the first time in her life, she watched as Frank cried too.

  He wore irons on his legs and he wore the same clothes that he had on the night she last saw him as he drove away with the two dead bodies, only now he was wretchedly dirty.

  She wrapped her arms about his middle and felt his chin settled at the top of her head. The smell of humanity didn’t bother her, not when it was her brother.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Imogene,” he said, sniffing back the tears.

  “Well, I am, and ain’t nothing you can do about it. I’m gonna find a way to get you out of this. I promise.” Once behind the walls of Newgate, miracles ceased to exist, but she couldn’t help believing she could do something.

  “They’ve already convicted me and we both know it’s true, so let it go. Just, if you would, have Charlie pray for me. Murderers have a hard time getting through the gates.”

  Imo’s eyes filled with tears again. “Don’t say that. You ain’t dead yet and there just has to be a way to get you out of here. There has to be,” she whispered. “It just ain’t fair.”

  “At least I’ll get to see Mam again,” he said. “Won’t she be surprised to see me so soon? What about Danny? He must have found you if you knew I was here.”

  “The runners hurt him bad, but the doc stitched him up just fine and Mary thinks he’ll be all right.”

  “I don’t want any of you to come to the hanging, ’cause it’s gonna hurt bad enough as it is.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  He gripped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “I know I never told you, but I love you, Imo, and sure would like to play another game of cards with you before I die.” He stepped away and wiped the back of his hand across his nose. “Well, I expect you to watch out for Danny and Charlie. You need to go, Imogene, before I can’t stand it no more.”

  Imo bobbed her head unable to say any more words, for fear she’d sob. For once, the tears didn’t just flow, she felt her shoulders jerk and her chest heave.

  “Goodbye, Imogene.” He hobbled out with two guards, each grabbing one of his arms. Imo burst from the room, running up the stairs and through the immense, cold hallways of Newgate. When she shoved open the door, she glanced up to see the scaffolding used to execute convicted criminals.

  * * * * *

  Dusk settled in as she started for home. Shops were closing, the last shouts of the masses ringing across the street. As she passed by, she kept her shoulder near the walls away from the street. She’d stayed at the prison longer than she’d planned. Being a boy on the streets of London was one thing. A young girl out alone was never a good idea.

  She turned at Fleet Street, and from the dark, she heard a voice.

  “Well, if it ain’t our long-lost Imogene Farrell.”

  Imo shivered at the startling sound of Tiny Etherton’s husky voice and turned to see her sitting inside a black coach with a dim light inside.

  A strong hand clamped over her mouth. She was lifted and stuffed inside the carriage before she even had a chance to scream. The man who’d picked her up followed her inside the carriage and quickly secured her wrists with sturdy rope.

  Tiny took up a good portion of her seat. Imo squeezed into a corner and glanced around looking for a means to escape. She’d done it once, she’d do it again. She glared at her captors, unwilling to concede anything close to defeat.

  “Miss Farrell, I’ve waited a long time for this. I knew your brother would bring you out of hiding.”

  “You were waiting for me?” Danny was right. They should never have come back here, and now they’d all made the same mistake thinking they were safe around their acquaintances. Frank’s life was forfeit, Danny had almost given up his, but Imo still didn’t know the price of her captivity.

  “Calm yourself, Imogene. We have a place all prepared, and as soon as I can find a man who’s willing to pay what I think you’re worth, we’ll get you right to work. You’re going to make me a tidy sum.” Tiny chuckled a bit, her jowly neck wobbling. Her gaze raked over Imo’s body, no doubt assessing the assets beneath her dress. “Are you still a virgin?” she asked. Tiny’s rosy cheeks almost hinted at friendliness.

  “No. Gave it up months ago.”

  “Really? I’ll have someone verify that once we get to Jade House. It would be so much better if you were intact. You can’t imagine the number of men who enjoy the deflowering, but to most of them it’s just about the fucking, so it really doesn’t matter one way or another, does it?”

  “So you say.”

  The carriage rattled through the streets, jostling the passengers. Imo lost her direction and didn’t recognize the streets they traveled, but she kept an eye out for any sort of landmark against the dusky evening sky. She searched her memory, trying to find something that might indicate where this Jade House was and what opportunities would present themselves once she arrived.

  Mostly, it was for Danny she worried. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about Frank and now he’d h
ave the added burden of wondering what had happened to her.

  Imo wasn’t afraid of the fucking itself. What she was afraid of was how many men there would be, how much it might hurt and how long she would live if Tiny treated her like most of the whores in London were treated. She knew about the diseases that could make whores blind and insane.

  The carriage came to a stop and she was hauled out.

  As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ran. The blasted skirt slowed her. The evening hadn’t turned all the way dark yet and she wouldn’t be able to shake him easily. Pounding footsteps came up behind her and she hoisted her skirts higher. Faster!

  From behind, a body smashed into her. The fall was long and terrifying. There was nothing to slow her descent and when she landed, the air was knocked from her lungs. For a few moments, her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she tried to catch a breath.

  The moment she could breathe, she tried to roll away, but the body over her was heavy, trapping her in place.

  Her face landed in the dirt, thankfully, not the cobblestone only a few inches away.

  “Let’s go, little girl.” The man reached around, grabbing a handful of breast in the process.

  “You cursed bastard.” Imo had watched her language the last several months for Mary’s sake. It felt good to let her feelings go free. “You bloody asshole, let me go.”

  She screamed—murderous, ear piercing and shattering. Somebody would hear her. This seemed like a decent neighborhood, full of kindhearted citizens who would help a woman in need. She hoped one of Charlie’s angels was nearby.

  “Would someone please shut her up?” Tiny asked.

  A fist swung toward her face, knocking her in the chin.

  She landed in the dirt a second time. Pulling her hands to her chin, she rubbed the sore area with the back of her hand. “Ha. A girl can hit harder than that. Just untie my hands and I’ll prove it.” Even as she spouted the words, her jaw throbbed in pain.

  Once on her feet, Imogene dodged, but Tiny’s man grabbed the ropes, quickly retying her hands and hauled her forward. They were at the back of a nice home, one of the square multistoried houses that were popular with the working classes. Imo thrashed, kicked and screamed like a wild animal.

  “If she doesn’t shut her mouth, help her to do so,” Tiny said.

  The second hard cuff nearly knocked her senseless and she hung in the man’s arms, her knees scraping along the dirt. She couldn’t make her body obey.

  Two men came out of the house and helped Tiny up the stairs. She lifted her fat legs slowly and her bottom jiggled as she moved up. Imo had more to say, but didn’t think it prudent to insult the woman who was about to influence her future, and her tongue seemed to have grown thick and stupid anyway.

  A wide staircase went up and up, leading to her personal hell. Gilt and gold were everywhere and a thick red carpet covered the floor. When she noticed the madam trailing behind them, she wondered how Tiny would get her fat arse to the second story.

  “Welcome to Jade House, Miss Farrell,” Tiny said and then nodded at a man who’d come out of one of the doors.

  They passed a wide-open foyer with several small coves. Overstuffed armchairs and plush settees made for cozy conversation areas, and several busty women were already lounging in the area along with their clients.

  Imo opened her mouth to scream again and a hand clamped around her throat, causing her to gag and choke on her words.

  This was her last chance. She twisted and turned, flinging her body against one and then the other of her captors. Words were coming out of her mouth, but she didn’t know what she said except that she dropped every foul word she could think of to describe the whoring bitch who’d kidnapped her. Two men grabbed her arms and hauled her forcibly up the stairs. She kicked and strained, setting them back a few steps as they tried to keep their balance.

  Finally, they subdued her and she was taken to a room at the far end of a long hallway and thrown inside. She landed on her shoulder and hip. She groaned and rolled to her back. The two who had carried her disappeared, leaving her alone except for the man who hadn’t said a word. He was well-dressed and intelligent looking, even kindly based on his expression. He’s what a loving uncle might look like, if’n she had one.

  She pled, “I need your help. I’ve been kidnapped.”

  He ignored her and squatted down in front of her, but not close enough that she could kick the asshole in the cods. No matter how kindly looking, no one here was really her friend.

  “Tiny will be along in a moment, miss. Now, we can do this easy and with a little dignity or I will make it very difficult. You understand?”

  “What do you want?”

  “You are going to remove your clothing and get on the bed so I can examine you. Tiny wants to know if you are still intact.”

  “I told the bitch I wasn’t, so what’s the point?”

  “Tiny thinks otherwise. So what’s it going to be?”

  “You can go to the fieriest part of the deepest hell, and I hope Satan roasts your balls for breakfast, you cock-sucking pervert. I ain’t—”

  The man calmly reached for her bound hands. “Now, what did I tell you? Easy or hard?”

  He grabbed her tiniest finger and squeezed the tip, just like she and Frank had done when they were play fighting, except he didn’t stop squeezing. Imo screamed at the excruciating pain. He didn’t stop. With a sudden yank, he pulled the finger back and, at the knuckle, her finger now bent at a sharp angle.

  Imo lost her breath from the pain. He then grabbed the next finger and pinched it tight.

  “Easy or hard?” he asked.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Don’t hurt me again. Please.”

  He held her hand this time, gently, and with a quick pull, he popped her finger back into place. Pain still shot into her arm, but it was bearable.

  The man patiently untied the binds around her wrists.

  When she was free, she rolled into a ball. Tears came suddenly. For all of her bravado and street abilities, she was scared. This was the first time she’d ever truly been alone. Always, one of the boys was near her. Always.

  “Do you need help to stand?”

  “No,” she bit out. She pushed up to her knees and then lifted the skirts away so she could get to her feet. The buttons, so difficult the first time she wore the dress, were freed with quick ease. Imo jerked the sleeves down and then pushed the garment passed her hips, letting it fall the rest of the way. The light undergarments were simple to remove. She didn’t bother with her stockings.

  The heat of the man’s gaze was no stranger to Imo. Except the man worked for Tiny, and if she knew anything, it was that she was safe for the time being.

  “On the bed, please.” His stiff politeness made the situation all the stranger.

  Imo did what he asked. She crawled onto the bed and rolled to her back, keeping her arms at her sides and her legs tightly closed.

  Being naked in front of a man wasn’t what she thought it would feel like. Inside, and she would never admit this to anyone, she didn’t mind that he stared at her.

  She had secretly enjoyed that men wanted her, even if she wasn’t willing to give them anything but what their few coins bought.

  She was going to hate herself for saying the words that came to her mind, but she said them anyway. “I’ll let you fuck me, if you help me escape.”

  He laughed. “Fucking you would be the last thing I did then. Tiny doesn’t take it well when a business opportunity is denied her.”

  She gritted her teeth, trying to tempt him further. She opened her legs, as sure of an invitation as there was for a man from a woman.

  His hands settled on her knees and his palms slid downward. Imo braced herself for the intrusion. “I’ve seen some of the most beautiful women in London. And the funny thing is, every one of them offers me the same thing. So at heart, I don’t feel guilty about what I do. It’s just another indication Tiny was right. You’re a whore, whether o
r not somebody has already fucked you. And the next time you spread your legs for me, I’ll be checking to confirm that you do indeed have the French Pox.”

  “You bloody bastard,” she spat.

  “Relax. This won’t take long. Let your legs fall open. Nice and wide.”

  When Imo refused his command, he used his stronger hands to force her apart at the knees. She was no match for his strength and an even lesser match for his certain threats. “Keep those legs open or I’ll bring two men in who enjoy abusing woman as part of their sexual satisfaction. And I won’t mind watching either. Tiny doesn’t punish for that.”

  The pig prodded at her with his fingers and bent for a closer look.

  “Find what yer looking for?” she snapped.

  “Indeed, I did. Tiny will be pleased you’ve been a good girl,” he said, allowing himself a brief caress between her legs.

  Tiny arrived after the examination was complete. Imo was not allowed to dress. She sat on the bed, her back toward the door and her arms braced in front of her, covering her breasts.

  “Let me see you,” Tiny commanded.

  Imo felt the weakness of defeat as she gave into another of the abbess’s demands. She shoved to her feet and stood, gazing across the room at a shiny gilt-edged mirror. She could see nearly the whole room reflected back, including her, standing naked while Tiny reached out and touched her breasts, lifting and admiring them.

  “What do you think, Alfred? Is this girl prime?”

  “Lovely,” he said in sycophantic agreement.

  Imo gritted her teeth.

  “And she’s a virgin, just as I thought. Today could not have been better.” Tiny turned away and Imo felt a moment of relief.

  “Get the boys to tie her to the bed and make sure they stuff a rag in her mouth. I don’t want to hear her scream all night.” She faced Imo. “Now to find the man who will pay what you are worth.”

  Chapter Two

  “Does the girl need assistance?” Jack Davenport asked. Listlessness had consumed him the past few months. He’d been entertained by his pursuit of the street urchin Imogene. She of the smart mouth and wicked hands. There was a strange innocence too—an aura of pureness in spite of her beggarly surroundings and misfortune.