The de Wolfe of Wharf Street

by Carter, Elizabeth Ellen

  He felt for the silver cross under his clothes and touched it.

  Having found his bearings, Gabriel crept down the stairs and encountered another door. Closed.

  He pressed his ear against it and listened for any sound from the other side of it.

  There was nothing. He lay flat on the floor and peered through. The door didn’t go all the way to the floor. The lower timbers of the door were rotted by half an inch, giving him a clear view down the next set of stairs to the entrance to the floor below.

  It was lit, so it meant it was inhabited.

  Gabriel remained crouched, reached for the iron ring and pushed. Nothing happened.

  Locked?

  Biting down a string of curses, Gabriel pulled instead. The door squealed on its rusty hinges before the room fell to silence once more.

  He waited in the shadows once again, listening for the sounds of anyone reacting to the sound. A full minute waiting in the darkness.

  Nothing.

  Silently as a wraith, he descended and peered around the corner. At the end of the passageway was a guard. He was a large man with as much fat as muscle, slumped against the wall by the door. His open-mouthed snores echoed along the stone.

  At least Gabriel knew he had the right place.

  He went a few steps further down and listened. He could hear the sounds of habitation far below but nothing closer. He climbed up to the landing and looked across.

  Perhaps this was a mistake. Their original plan was to get the women out without anyone knowing they had even been there.

  This improvisation meant he would deal with the guard. Did he have the stomach to kill a man?

  The thought dropped a lead ball into Gabriel’s stomach.

  He thought he had prepared himself for this moment – after all, he’d been spending enough time sparring with de Wolfe – but the reality of the moment was very different, indeed.

  How close could he get without waking the guard?

  He entertained the fantasy of walking up to the door and leading the women out without the Goliath there ever interrupting his beauty sleep.

  Luck would be a fine thing.

  Gabriel stayed close to the walls, moving from shadow to shadow until he was standing before the sentry. The scimitar tied to the man’s enormous girth reminded Gabriel of the deadly danger of their mission.

  He could not simply hope to knock the man out and have him remain insensible until long after their escape. If he freed the women and managed to lock the guard inside, he had no doubt there would be enough noise to raise the alarm.

  There was nothing else for it. Gabriel reached for his knife.

  Save me from damnation.

  The sleeping guard seemed to sense his presence. He opened his eyes just as Gabriel was within two feet of him. Now he was committed.

  He drove the iron domed butt of his dagger into the guard’s temple. The man slumped to the floor without a sound.

  Gabriel stepped over the prone figure. He pulled the bolt, opened the door, and slipped inside.

  After the darkness, the pleasant, well-lit room seemed like a touch of heaven.

  One of the women let out a squeal of alarm and it was only then that he took in the occupants.

  “Gabriel!”

  His eyes immediately fell to Cassie.

  She threw herself into his arms. He hugged her in return. His heart was now whole. He hadn’t realized how much of himself was missing until he held this woman again.

  There was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to kiss her, to touch her all over to reassure himself she was real, but he marshaled his discipline, allowing himself a stroke of her cheek.

  A handsome-looking older woman stepped forward. This he knew without a doubt was Lady Eliza de Wolfe.

  “Judging by such an affectionate greeting, I can correctly surmise that you are the guardian angel we’ve been told to expect tonight.”

  Gabriel belatedly remembered his manners and bowed.

  “Gabriel Hardacre, my Lady. At your service, as I and my brothers are in the service of your husband,” he said. “Our means of escape will be somewhat unconventional and, in skirts, you will need to put aside your… um… modesty as we…”

  “I see…” said Lady Eliza. “If I might entreat you to turn your back a moment, Master Hardacre.”

  Gabriel was only too glad to do it, ignoring the sound of rustling fabric as it afforded him the opportunity to watch the hallway. “Please, follow me as quickly as you can, we do not have much time.”

  “We’re ready,” said Cassie.

  Gabriel looked back. Cassie, Lady Eliza, and the two young maids stood side by side wearing gentlemen’s pantaloons.

  “When it comes to my husband’s schemes, it’s always wise to be prepared for anything,” said Lady Eliza.

  Gabriel put a finger to his lips to stop himself from speaking as much as it was to silence the women.

  The guard showed signs of stirring.

  “Follow the passage and go up the stairs to the tower turret,” he whispered. “Raphael and Michael are there. They will tell you what to do. Hurry!”

  The guard had roused enough to know his prisoners were escaping. He got as far as getting to his knees. Gabriel kicked him in the head hard and watched the man fall face first to the floor.

  He looked up to see Cassie’s wide-eyed stare.

  “I said go!”

  She did, reluctantly, like Lot’s wife at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. This is what he didn’t want her to see. The violence and the darkness he knew lurked in his soul, that could be turned to evil if he was not aware.

  Gabriel sensed the danger before he saw it. He dropped to his hands and kicked his legs like a stubborn mule. They connected with solid body. The scimitar blade missed his head by inches.

  Momentum carried Gabriel over into a forward shoulder roll and back onto his feet with a dagger in one hand and swordbreaker in the other.

  The guard shook off the kick and faced him. Now Gabriel had no choice – one cry of alarm and it was all over for them.

  The man before him had to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The guard didn’t shout an alarm. He smiled slowly with conceit – and indeed why wouldn’t he? thought Gabriel as he readied his stance – the man was taller than him by several inches and several stone heavier.

  But Gabriel had speed on his side. He rushed his enemy and thrust forward. The knife hit home just below the ribs. The man grunted and staggered back but still had enough force in his arm to bring his sword down. The swordbreaker in Gabriel’s left hand took the brunt of it, the steel on steel clashed violently and echoed loudly down the passage.

  The scimitar blade fell into one of the grooves of the swordbreaker. Gabriel twisted his wrist, keeping the scimitar locked in place. He turned in under, bringing his knife blade hard and fast across the guard’s jugular. The man abandoned all attempts to deal with his attacker. He clutched his hands to the gushing wound on his neck, but with the artery severed, he was dead where he stood.

  With a faint breathy cry, the guard slumped to the floor.

  Gabriel ran and did not look back. He raced up the tower stairs, pausing only to close the door to the turret room. He grabbed hold of a chest and slid it across the door, then reached for a crate to add to the barricade.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Raphael called down from the parapet.

  “I’ve killed a guard and he didn’t go quietly,” he answered. “Who’s up there with you?”

  “Cassie and the two maids. Michael has already accompanied Lady de Wolfe down.”

  “Get the three girls on the next swing. I can hear someone coming.”

  “Too dangerous without them knowing how to brake,” said Raphael.

  “I’ll stay. You go with Odette and Marguerite.”

  Cassie’s voice reached him clearly. Gabriel gritted his teeth. He didn’t want that, but everything was spiraling out of control.

 
“Get a move on, Gabe,” Raphael called. “We’re about to leave.”

  The room was as secure as he could make it. Someone started beating at the door. He prayed it would hold.

  Gabriel clambered up the ladder and ducked under the crisscross of ropes around the battlements.

  The trapeze had been hauled back up. Raphael sat on the swing with one the girls sitting on his lap facing him and the other wrapping her arms and legs around his back. The lifeline sagged worryingly under their combined weight.

  “Oh, Master Raphael, we’re all too heavy to go together I’m sure!” said the one sitting on his lap.

  “Never fear, ladies,” Raphael said with a rakish grin. “I’ve carried the weight of my brothers for years, you both together have but the weight of a feather.”

  The girl clinging to Raphael’s back gave a nervous giggle and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Are you ready?” asked Gabriel.

  Raphael sobered, jaw set firmly. He gave a quick nod and took the next step. The fog had closed in tight and after no more than a few feet of travel, Raphael and the maids disappeared completely into the haze.

  The sounds in the tower room below became louder. Gabriel watched the rope slip across one of the merlons. It was beginning to fray. Gabriel gritted his teeth. It just needed to stay in place over the trapdoor long enough for he and Cassie to make their escape.

  By his estimation, it would take a minute to make the descent, another minute for the maids to drop into the arms of their waiting rescuers before he could start pulling the rope back up – at least another minute’s work after that before he and Cassie were free.

  The line bounced up and down, the weight from its passengers now gone. Gabriel let out a breath and pulled the rope as fast as he could.

  The trapdoor jostled. Threats and curses in foreign tongues became louder, their meaning plain.

  “Here,” he said to Cassie. “Finish pulling this up. Tell me when you’re done.”

  Gabriel settled his weight on the trapdoor. Vibration from the pounding made its way up his legs.

  A couple of moments later, she called out. “I’ve got it!”

  Gabriel quickly joined her to haul the seat up to the turret. He sat in it like a swing facing the descent. Cassie settled herself on his lap facing backwards.

  Face to face, the heat of her breath warmed him. He kissed her thoroughly before pulling away.

  “Watch the trapdoor.” He wound up the narrower gauge of line connected to the chair. After they made the descent, they would have no more need for it. If they left it to run on its own accord, one of the guards might just as easily haul them back up.

  “They’re nearly through the trapdoor,” warned Cassie.

  Gabriel put the coil of light rope over his shoulder, gave her a smile of reassurance and released the brake on the line.

  Cassie saw the face of the first guard rise from the trapdoor then bob down again. Then he made another appearance, hauling himself out onto the turret top. He seemed confused as to what the tangle of ropes overhead meant. Cassie saw the exact moment it dawned on him.

  The guard withdrew his scimitar.

  Cassie pulled out the knife at Gabriel’s waist.

  She turned the blade in her hand just as Gabriel had showed her the day of the almshouses dedication when she asked him to teach her the secret of their knife throwing stunt. The guard raised his arm to slash at the ropes. Cassie lined up her aim and hurled the knife.

  It hit the man dead center in his chest. His face registered surprise and his hands clutched at the knife as he staggered back a step, then tumbled back down through the open trapdoor.

  “Go, go, go!” she yelled to Gabriel.

  “Hang on,” called Gabriel. He stood, Cassie slipped.

  “Get your legs around my waist.”

  Cassie secured herself and closed her eyes.

  There was no time for lining up their approach. Gabriel started at a run, stepped off the parapet and into the blackness.

  Then nothing happened.

  He and Cassie swung and dangled fifty feet off the ground and not ten feet away from the tower. He looked up; the rope wasn’t seated properly in the pulley.

  “We’re stuck.”

  Gabriel bounced up and down. Cassie looked up and saw what the issue was. She heard the draw of steel. Up on the turret, a man was hacking away at the ropes. Sweet Jesus! All it would take was for one of the ropes to be cut through and it would be instant death for the both of them.

  “Hold on,” Gabriel told her.

  Cassie gave a tight nod. He pulled them both up until they both stood on the chair. He reached up and grabbed the main rope. He supported both their weight on one hand while he realigned the pulley.

  The result was instant. They fell rapidly – too fast to take a seat. Gabriel’s feet slipped. He clutched her tight with one arm, supporting both their weight with the other.

  She held on to him for dear life, feeling the muscles in his arms working as he tried to control their descent. Cassie heard voices shouting. She screwed her eyes closed and waited for inevitable death. Regardless of what happened now, she would be grateful for every last moment she spent in Gabriel’s arms.

  The next thing she felt was the ground at her back with a thump, stealing her breath away, then a tangle of limbs.

  “Are you two all right?”

  Cassie opened her eyes to look at a shadowy figure, dressed head to toe in black. She shook her head to clear it. He looked like an apparition.

  She felt Gabriel take her elbows and help her gain her feet.

  “It’s a close thing,” Gabriel answered the man. “We’ve lost them in the fog, but they’re coming for us.”

  “Let us wait no longer,” he said. “The fog hinders us as much as it helps us.”

  She listened to Gabriel and the other man talk, concerned about keeping one foot in front of the other. When did it get so cold? She shivered violently. With Gabriel’s arm around her, she simply followed where he led.

  They came to a halt. Cassie wondered why when Gabriel stepped before her. He rubbed her arms but it didn’t generate any warmth.

  “Cassie, my love, stay with us. We’re not out of the woods yet. We still have to get down to the sea.”

  “Another quick descent, my dear,” the older man assured her, “then we’ll be on our way home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cassie was still cold and numb as she stood outside the rectory. She declined Lady de Wolfe’s offer of a night’s rest at their home. She stayed only long enough to change into proper clothing borrowed from one of the de Wolfe maids.

  No, she had a home and a family. More than that, she needed time to grieve for the man who had been like a brother to her and mourn with the only other person who would understand the depth of her pain and loss.

  Gabriel had accompanied her. He said little on the way over and she was glad of it. She felt as fragile as a dried flower pressed into a book, as if the slightest puff of wind would take her desiccated soul and scatter it to the four corners of the globe.

  It was early. Dawn was breaking to the east, the newly rising sun adding light but little warmth.

  Gabriel leaned past her and rapped on the door loudly. She glanced up at him. Wearing his worn leather coat and hat, he looked exactly how he did when she first saw him. The only thing which had changed now was the set to his jaw, now grim.

  From somewhere in the distance, a cock crowed, and then another, that seemed to wake up an entire chorus of morning birds.

  Gabriel was about to knock again when the door opened. A bleary-eyed footman stared at them a moment without hint of recognition. Gabriel slid his foot into the door before the man could shut it again.

  “Wake your mistress,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Tell her Mistress Perspicacity has come home.”

  The man seemed to waken at that. He ushered them into the parlor and hastily pulled back a curtain, then lit a couple of taper
s. The fire had not yet been set, but it was immeasurably warmer than it had been on the boat and she was beginning to feel warmer than she had been in weeks.

  “Cassie, I have something for you,” he said.

  She looked at him as his hand went to the collar of his shirt. In the candlelight, she glimpsed silver. He pulled it over his head.

  “Mathilda gave this to me. She had trust that you would be found alive and well. I was to give this to you as a sign of that faith.”

  Cassie felt the chain and cross warm against her neck, heated by Gabriel’s own body. It reminded her again how very cold she was, both outside and in.

  Mathilda appeared in the doorway, a long brown plait laid over her shoulder, and stared with a hand at her mouth to swallow a sob.

  The rise of one in Cassie’s own throat was instant. The heartbreak called and found its answer in the other. They met halfway and embraced. The sobs turned to open weeping and it was no longer obvious whether they were the tears of joyous reunion or deep mourning.

  Perhaps it was a little of both.

  After a while, Cassie and Mathilda broke apart. Gabriel stood a small distance away with his hat in his hand. Now, in the light, she could see how exhausted he looked… his light blue eyes made larger by the dark circles around them.

  He bowed and quietly withdrew. Cassie didn’t have the energy to ask him to stay, even though she wanted him to.

  She looked to her cousin and could see the thousand questions in her eyes. She would want to know every moment of it – and every last detail of Uriah’s final moments. Let her ask. Let her ask of it now, because when she finally slept, she didn’t want to be reminded of it ever again.

  Cassie took Mathilda’s arm in hers and led her to the bedroom. She looked at the bed enviously. What she wouldn’t do for the oblivion of sleep. They sat side by side on the edge of the bed.

  “Ask me anything you wish,” she said, “Your eyes tell me how much you wish to do so.”

  “Uriah,” Mathilda whispered. “I don’t want you to tell me of his end. I do not think I could bear such a burden. I only want to hear of the good things, the happy memories that will bring us both comfort in the times to come. Tell me of what went… before.” Mathilda shook her head to compose herself once more. “Was he in great spirits? What did you do in Ireland?”