Miss Lottie's Christmas Protector (Secrets 0f A Victorian Household Book 1)

by Sophia James

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who was with you, then?’

  ‘Frank Wilkes.’

  Crossing her chest, Claire swore under her breath. ‘That man is scared of everything.’

  ‘He ran away. Mr King was furious to hear it.’

  ‘As he should have been.’

  ‘And then after he gave me some whisky to stop the coughing and the shaking. I think I took too much of it.’

  ‘You most surely did. Far, far too much. My God, and I censured him for it. He left the house with the sharp edge of my words burning his ears when I should have been thanking the man.’

  ‘What did he say when he arrived?’

  ‘Very little. He carried you up to bed and told me to look after you.’

  ‘And then he went?’

  ‘But not before he left you this.’ She took a book from her wide pocket and laid it down beside her.

  Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile by James Bruce.

  ‘He said to tell you he had read it and liked it.’

  ‘I see.’

  Lifting the tome, she felt the weight of it in her hands. She had told him once she enjoyed reading stories of far-away places and he had listened. The joy that was her normal state began to dribble back in.

  He had also carried her up to bed. Her hands came to her mouth as she imagined that. Did he think her heavy? Had she said anything untoward to him? She vaguely remembered clutching on to a hard, broad chest and was mortified.

  * * *

  Jasper went straight home to change and then he visited Viscount Harcourt at his town house in St James’s Square.

  ‘Mr King?’ There was question in the Viscount’s voice as one of the servants showed him through into a library at the rear of the house. ‘This is a surprise.’

  ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

  ‘You look a little worse for wear, if I may say so.’

  Jasper decided to dive straight in to his reason for being here.

  ‘I have been protecting Miss Fairclough from thugs in the Irish Rookery this morning. A young girl who holds the protection of the Fairclough Foundation has disappeared, you see, and we went to find her. The girl is the one you might know as Caroline.’

  Harcourt paled quite considerably.

  ‘Word has it that she was taken against her will in the first place and now she is nowhere to be found.’

  Harcourt sat, pulling two glasses from a cabinet and a bottle of brandy down from a nearby shelf. Pouring generous amounts, he handed over a glass to Jasper.

  ‘And you think I have had something to do with her disappearance?’

  ‘I know you did.’ His words were harsh, but he’d had enough. On his own admission, Harcourt, from his position of power, had been a party to using these women and it was time he felt the consequences.

  For a moment the Viscount simply sat, but when he finally looked up Jasper knew that he had him.

  ‘She was here, Mr King, you are right. For a few days she was my...consort and I treated her with respect. Well, with as much respect as the position implies, you understand. She was a willing lover. I did not hurt her and I certainly did not kidnap her either.’

  ‘You sent her away?’

  The other swallowed. ‘I do not know how you know this, but it is true. She was not quite to my taste, after all, and there was another I held more interest in.’

  ‘If I were to go to the constabulary with the details of the lost girl, it may not be easy for you. You may have been the last person to have seen her.’

  ‘And will you?’ Harcourt looked at him directly. ‘Go to the constabulary, I mean?’

  ‘Not if you help me with the pieces of the puzzle I cannot quite yet understand. Who is the man behind this supply of women?’

  Jasper watched the man’s fingers tap on the table for at least thirty seconds and then stop.

  ‘Lord Milner has a friend who employs girls who want a good time. The friend’s name is Mr Leonard Carvall and he can be found at this address.’

  He quickly wrote out the man’s direction and passed it over and Jasper saw that it was a house to the north of London.

  ‘He is the man who supplies the girls. I pay—he supplies. I have nothing more to do with it than that. I swear it to be true on the grave of my sainted mother.’

  ‘And the laundry in Horseferry Road? How is that involved?’

  Harcourt looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Caroline spoke of a laundry she worked in, but I have no idea if it is indeed the same one that you are querying about.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘She said a man called Frank worked there if that is any help.’

  ‘It isn’t. Is the new girl here? The one you have asked for instead of Caroline.’

  ‘She’s not and I think I will limit my association with Milner in the light of these questions. My niece Eloise is constantly on at me to marry a good solid woman and settle and perhaps after this, I shall. I am becoming too old for such fright and I sincerely hope that this will be the end of it. I do not think I could weather a scandal if indeed something has happened to Caroline.’

  Jasper drank the rest of his fine brandy and stood.

  ‘If you see Carvall before I do, can you tell him that I am looking for him?’

  ‘I won’t see him, Mr King, for I have never met him personally.’

  Tipping his head, Jasper left the Viscount refilling his glass and looking highly out of sorts.

  * * *

  Leonard Carvall’s address was closed up and empty. A bogus direction, a place of shadows and mirrors, aiding a man who worked at brokering other people’s ruin.

  When Jasper asked a neighbour about the house he was led to believe the place had been unoccupied for at least three months.

  The image of Charlotte in the rain with her wet hair and damaged cheek came to him, the thick meaty fist of the biggest thug about to rain down upon her fragile bones terrifying.

  He blinked twice, hard, trying to disperse the memory, but it kept returning again and again.

  What if he had been too late?

  What if Twigg from the One Tun pub had not sent him word about Charlotte being there asking her inflammatory questions?

  What if he had not instructed his driver to go faster and then faster again?

  Charlotte Fairclough would have been dead. A small crushed shape on the cobblestones of the Irish Rookery, all the life in her gone.

  He remembered her words when she was drunk, soft improbable things that spoke of more than indifference. Drink muddled one’s brain and he could hardly take such utterings as gospel. Still, the hope of it was there, in a warmth about his heart.

  He needed to go home and rest his leg because the cramps were threatening, but he did not. Instead he went to the One Tun to see the publican.

  Twigg was in the back room, a woman dressing the cut above one eye with an ointment that smelt strongly. The publican sent her away as soon as the doctoring was finished.

  ‘They found out I sent you a note, Mr King,’ he said as he looked up, ‘and I’m lucky to escape with only this.’

  The hand he used to gesture to his face was grazed, too, and digging into his pocket Jasper laid out two gold coins on to the table before him. ‘This is in payment for your note warning me that Miss Fairclough was here asking questions. If I were you, I’d use it to employ a few of your own men here as security. Do you know a man named Leonard Carvall?’

  ‘I’ve heard the name, all right.’

  ‘I think he’s behind all this and I need to find him.’

  ‘He isn’t from around the Rookery and, if you want my opinion of where things presently stand, I would say that those you seek are not pleased with your interest in them.’

  ‘Or that of Miss Fairclough?’

  Twigg shook his head. ‘The F
airclough Foundation holds a strong pull in these parts and there would be hell to pay if they killed her.’ He stopped. ‘There’d be too many questions to answer, for even with all the criminal activity there is a loyalty here to those who try to help and the Fairclough family definitely does that. I think it was more of a scare-off tactic.’

  The tight knot of fury inside Jasper loosened a little, though the fright they had given her was still deplorable.

  ‘I will be asking around for any information, Mr King, for it’s become personal now for me as well and if I hear anything you will be the first to know.’

  Once Jasper was back in his carriage he wanted to return to the Foundation just to see how Charlotte fared, though he could not do that without inciting much question. Meghan had also asked him to dinner, but he was too tired to even think about eating and his torn-off nail hurt like hell.

  He listed his injuries in his head and then went on to catalogue Charlotte’s. Leonard Carvall and his cronies would pay for the injuries somehow and he was glad to have Twigg on his side.

  He was also glad that the Fairclough Foundation held so much power in the Rookery, for it was a protection. He wished he could have whisked Charlotte away from the danger of the place and deposit her in Piccadilly where the genteel ties of manners held a safety.

  This thought had him swearing again because he did not quite understand what it meant for them both.

  Chapter Nine

  Lottie had not seen Mr Jasper King at all yesterday and she’d been glad for it, holed up in her room with a headache and a body that hardly felt like her own.

  She would never drink whisky again, she swore it on Nanny Beth’s departed soul and on the memory of her father. She had stayed in bed most of the previous day reading the book that Mr King had sent her from cover to cover and rejoicing with James Bruce when, after battling malaria, he made his triumphant final march. The source of the Blue Nile of the Ancients was in a little swamp with a hillock rising from its centre and the explorer had picked up a coconut shell and filled it with water before making a toast to King George the Third as well as to Catherine, Empress of all the Russians.

  Even feeling nauseous and sick, she could imagine him there with his guide and his small band of fellow travellers and the names of the places he had passed to reach the source were marvellous and exotic ones.

  But today she was restless and wished that Jasper would call. Perhaps he was still disgusted with her for going alone into Old Pye Street or for her drunkenness in his carriage.

  She’d liked to have sent him a note to thank him for his help and for the book and for carrying her up the stairs at the Foundation when she could not have walked herself.

  But she didn’t send one. She had just enough pride left.

  Standing up, she walked to the window and looked out. It had finally stopped raining and for a change patches of blue sky could be seen among the scudding clouds. Christmas Eve was only just over a week away and she had not hung a single decoration anywhere.

  She’d need to leave for the Malverly affair, too, before long. Mama had allowed her a fortnight to get better and that deadline was fast approaching. She frowned and drew her finger across the glass. If she left London, she’d never see Jasper again, she knew it, and she wouldn’t find Harriet either.

  The tightness in her chest had finally begun to abate and for the first time in days she was not subject to the fits of coughing she’d become accustomed to.

  * * *

  The letter came from Mr King just before lunch asking if she could accompany him to talk with a woman who had been in the employ of someone of interest. It would be a short safe trip to the north of London, according to the letter, and he would have her home by five o’clock in the afternoon.

  Someone of interest? Lottie knew this message was to do with Harriet, but she could not quite work out who the woman might be.

  ‘I hope there will be no problems,’ Claire said after Lottie told her about the invitation. ‘I am not certain any more about you being alone with Mr King...’

  ‘Oh, we have been over this, Claire. Mama would be right behind any effort to help Harriet.’

  ‘What of Mr King’s sister? Can she not accompany you?’

  ‘I am unsure. Perhaps she will be there. We will find out in an hour, but for now I should go and get dressed.’

  She chose a light grey frock that she had always liked, her thick hair secured with pins at her nape. Her jacket was of a dark blue wool, pin-tucked on the sleeves, the collar high and frilled. On her head she wore the only bonnet she now owned.

  Today she felt herself. Not the primped and perfect Miss Fairclough from the ball or the one who had modelled her sister’s severe hairstyle. Today there was a lilt in her step and a smile in her heart, and the bruise on her cheek had faded into almost nothing.

  * * *

  When he did arrive right on time Jasper’s face appeared a lot worse than it had done two days ago. The skin under his eye was reddish-black and the cut on his jaw was swollen. She didn’t even glance at his hands.

  ‘I am fine.’ He said this as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘My injuries look worse than they feel.’

  ‘Harriet had better be grateful then, when we do find her.’ The stray dog had come in to the room at the sound of his voice and Lottie used the moment to further the hound’s cause. ‘He likes you. He never does this with anyone else.’

  Jasper laughed and stepped back to allow her to proceed him through the door. Outside he helped her into his carriage and they both sat, the door closing behind them.

  ‘I spent yesterday looking for a Mr Leonard Carvall, who seems to have a lot to do with the procuring of women, and I found a lady who knew of him and who was more than willing to talk. She told me if I came back she’d have another younger girl to give me information that ought to be known. When I enquired whether I could bring you along, your association with the Fairclough Foundation was received with great interest and she agreed.’

  ‘My goodness. Do you think it could be Harriet?’

  ‘I doubt it, but perhaps the younger woman has seen Harriet or knows of her.’

  Lottie nodded. ‘I cannot believe you would still want to include me in your plans after...’ She stopped, finding it difficult to carry on.

  ‘After your poorly judged solo outing?’

  ‘It was foolish and if this was the result...’ She gestured to his face and hands.

  ‘Oh, I have had far worse than this, Miss Fairclough.’

  This was drawled, lazily, an undertone in the words that made her blush. But she didn’t falter.

  ‘Your leg?’

  For just a second shock blazed from his eyes before it was hidden.

  ‘Mr Payne indicated to me at the party that it was his fault somehow. I sensed your sister may have felt the same.’

  They were now heading north and it was lovely to be sitting here far from anyone with just Jasper as her company. The sun was out today again giving the landscape a jaunty edge.

  ‘Accidents happen, Miss Fairclough.’

  ‘But you saved him. Mr Payne said that you did and when I talked to Miss Proctor later in the night she said you were a hero.’

  ‘A hero? Now there’s a word that comes in many shades.’

  ‘You do not think you were one?’

  ‘Payne was helping me on a difficult job at a train yard just outside Liverpool. I had invented a coupling that saved a good few minutes of time for those wanting to unlink carriages. As we were fastening it into place he didn’t grasp the danger and hammered out a pin he should not have.’

  ‘Yet it was you who was hurt?’

  ‘When the coupling broke I had just enough time to push him to one side.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I landed where he had been and the carriage shell came down across my thigh. Part of it
was embedded in my leg.’

  Lottie imagined the pain and the shock.

  ‘Did Mr Payne get you out?’

  ‘He fainted. I got my own leg free and crawled to find help. Luckily others were about when it happened and they rushed me to a doctor.’

  ‘Poor Mr Payne. You got the injury, but he got the guilt. Nanny Beth used to have a saying that every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do.’

  ‘Miss Fairclough?’

  ‘Yes, Mr King?’

  ‘Most people never ask about my injury, yet you use quotes from Voltaire to try to mitigate my feelings.’

  She smiled. ‘At the Foundation we are taught the value of speaking about difficulties in the past. And on that note, I do blame you a little for the headache I endured yesterday. Your whisky was dangerously addictive, though the book you bequeathed me was wonderful.’

  ‘You’ve read it already?’

  ‘Right through.’

  His eyebrows arched and he tipped his head. ‘You are like your brother Silas. Did you know that?’

  ‘I doubt it highly. Always my family have admonished me for being the odd one out.’

  ‘He is an adventurer and yet you were the one who went alone into one of the most dangerous alleys in the Rookery to locate your friend. I’d say that was brave.’

  ‘Or careless. Frank Wilkes was the wrong man to ask for help as I didn’t comprehend how scared he’d become. You, on the other hand, are scared of no one, Mr King. Where was it you learned to box?’

  ‘At a boxing academy in Regent Street, fists and fortitude being all the rage fifteen years ago. Engineering takes you into many different situations and Liverpool is not a city that is always safe.’

  ‘I’d like to be so very competent.’

  * * *

  Charlotte Fairclough made him laugh and Jasper thought that it had been a long while since he had found anyone able to accomplish such a thing. She was honest, too, in her apology and in her compassion.

  The bruise on her cheek had faded and if she had been cursed by a headache yesterday from his whisky there were no signs of that either. Today her hair was escaping its strictures again, the curls falling from their pins even as she sat there, her eyes wide with interest.