Chapter Fourteen
‘You will wear a hole in that rug,’ Jake chided. ‘And pacing will achieve nothing, other than exhausting your physical strength.’ Olivia’s mental faculties were, Jake knew, already in tatters.
She whirled to face him, the delicate lines of her face taut with worry. ‘If you were not being so unreasonable, I would not need to damage your precious rug.’
‘It is not the welfare of my rug that concerns me.’ He fixed her with a searing look intended to sooth. ‘Only you, my love. Always you.’
Her pacing ceased, she blew air through her lips and sighed. ‘I expect you think I am being totally unreasonable.’
‘You are a mother. Of course your primary, your only concern is for your son’s welfare. I should think considerably less of you if it was not.’
Olivia recommenced pacing but Jake caught her wrist as she flounced past him and pulled her onto his lap. It was now late afternoon and they had received no notification from the kidnappers. Olivia fragmented a little more with every slow minute that ticked by and nothing he said, no assurances he offered her, seemed to penetrate her normally incisive brain. It was hell on earth for Jake to watch her torment and not be in a position to do anything to relieve it.
Olivia had eaten no lunch and started like a skittish deer with every sound that might precede the delivery of a letter. And yet no such letter had arrived. Jake would not admit it, but he was both surprised and concerned by the kidnapper’s reticence.
‘I cannot stand the waiting,’ she said with another exasperated sigh.
‘They want to increase your anxiety by keeping you in suspense,’ Jake said.
‘Then they are succeeding better than they could possibly know.’
‘Hmm.’ Jake brushed her brow with his lips. ‘Parker and I will go to that warehouse shortly, before it gets dark, so we can watch any comings and goings and get an idea of the lay of the land before we look inside.’
‘I want to come too.’
And that was what she and Jake had been debating for the past hour or more.
‘You know that you cannot, my sweet.’ Jake closed his arms tightly around her, cutting off her protests. ‘I don’t doubt your ability to blend in if you wear your breeches, and I know you can defend yourself, up to a point. No, don’t argue about that.’ Jake raised a hand to cut off the objection he could sense her formulating. ‘No matter how skilled you are at self-defence, the male of the species is almost always physically stronger and considerably more aggressive. That is a fact of nature even you cannot deny.’
‘It all depends upon—’
‘Besides, a message will arrive for you today; I have not the slightest doubt about that. The abductors must assume that if they leave it too long, desperation will cause you to involve the police and they cannot take that risk.’
‘Yes, but even so.’
‘Surely you want to be here when the message arrives?’
‘Well, of course I do.’ Olivia narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You seek to win the argument by playing upon my maternal instincts; calling them into question. That is low, even by your standards, Lord Torbay.’
She struggled, attempting to remove herself from his lap, but Jake was not ready to let her go and tightened his hold upon her waist. ‘I make no apology for wanting to keep you safe,’ he told her in a softly persuasive drawl. ‘If we can prove that Sir Hubert abducted your son, he could hang for his crime. Men in such desperate situations will resort to equally desperate measures and I do not want you caught in the crossfire.’
Olivia slumped against his shoulder and all the fight appeared to drain from her. ‘You might have the goodness to be a little less reasonable when I am trying so very hard to fight with you.’
Jake chuckled. ‘I live to serve.’ His expression sobered. ‘I require you to promise most faithfully that if you hear from the abductors you will not leave this house, no matter what demands they make, until Parker and I return.’
‘I cannot give my word about that!’ she cried, sitting bolt upright again and glaring at him in total astonishment. ‘What if they set time limits for me to respond?’
‘They are unlikely to be that precise.’
‘Unlikely?’ Olivia sent him a look of unbridled reproach. ‘Are you willing to gamble with Tom’s life by taking that risk? Sorry,’ Olivia added hastily, presumably because he did not veil the torment that her accusation engendered quickly enough. ‘I know you care almost as much as I do, but you are not emotionally involved.’
Jake let out a slow, tortured breath. ‘You have worked with me on enough cases to know that dancing to a blackmailer’s tune is seldom the prudent course of action to take. Keep them waiting, and guessing. It is what they have done to you. Console yourself with the thought that it is not Tom they want. They are using him as a means to an end. However, if you have any doubts about that and would prefer simply to wait for them to communicate with you, then Parker and I will not try to forestall them.’
Olivia was quiet for a protracted moment. ‘No,’ she said, her eyes vivid in her pale face. ‘I trust you to do the right thing. It would go against everything you stand for if you did not try to outwit criminals; especially those cowardly enough to use a child to get their way. You and Parker must go, but be as quick as you can. I dare say I shall still be here when you return.’
‘Thank you.’ Jake kissed her, almost chastely. ‘Try to behave yourself. If you need me in the meantime, Reed will send a runner.’
‘Take care,’ Olivia said, her eyes lingering on him as he left the room.
Jake headed for the stairs, aware that she had not actually given her word not to leave the house. He had not expected her to and knew that nothing could convince her to stay if word of Tom’s fate reached her in his absence, no matter what assurances he extracted from her. But fortunately he had been able to distract her and she had forgotten that the kidnappers would require Lady Marchant’s letters, which were securely locked in Jake’s safe, to which she did not have access. Even so, he would also leave Reed with strict instructions not to allow her to leave the house should a message arrive for her, even if it was necessary for him to physically restrain her.
A short time later, Parker and Jake, both dressed in dark clothing, set off for New Thames Street in a Hansom cab.
‘Do you honestly think this expedition will bear fruit?’ Parker asked as the cab rattled over Westminster Bridge.
Jake considered the question as he gazed out of the window at the muddy river in full flow. A blanket of smoke from the wharf-side factories hung above it. A strong smell of rotting fish and human waste assailed his nostrils. The odour did not seem to deter those requiring river passage and the bargemen were doing a brisk trade. The twilight had brought out lightskirts who flaunted themselves as they strolled across the bridge, looking for customers. One waved at Jake’s cab, leaning forward to give them a good view of her half-naked breasts. The sight did nothing to distract him from his purpose and the woman made a rude gesture when Jake ignored her invitation.
‘I think it is the most promising information we have learned about Sir Hubert’s activities to date,’ Jake said in response to Parker’s earlier question. ‘I also think it significant that Lady Grantley knows nothing about her husband’s partnership with Granville. That was deliberate. Sir Hubert anticipated that he might need to disappear and I would wager half my fortune that he has been living in that warehouse these past two weeks, possibly colluding with Molly regarding Tom’s abduction. Whether he is there now, and whether he has Tom with him, is another matter. It could be that he needed Molly, someone familiar to Tom, to look out for the child until this matter is settled.’ Jake ground his jaw. ‘I hope for the dissolute rogue’s sake that is the case. Not that that small consideration will save him from retribution but at least it shows a glimmer of humanity.’
‘Either that or he has no idea how to keep a child quiet.’
‘Be that as it may, I live in expectation of that warehouse throwing up clues as to his whereabouts.’
‘Let’s hope so. Mrs Grantley is at the end of her tether.’
Jake felt a renewed sense of helplessness at Parker’s untimely reminder; at his inability to reassure the lady he adored. ‘That she is,’ he said, grinding his jaw.
The cab reached the end of New Thames Street. Jake paid the jarvey and he and Parker were left in an area that was completely foreign them. Several dubious-looking characters appeared from out of nowhere, presumably looking for easy pickings. Parker’s tough stance discouraged them from approaching and they faded wordlessly back into the shadows. A dog barked in the distance, a clock chimed the half-hour. A man shouted at a lamppost, raising clenched fists at it as he conducted two sides of an argument simultaneously. Two small children ran barefoot down the centre of the road, one of them eating an apple. Everything appeared normal, but nothing was, and Jake’s senses were on high alert.
‘That’s the building,’ Parker said, pointing to a dilapidated wooden construction with peeling paint directly ahead of them.
The two men strolled past it, alert for anyone watching them. The few people still in the street went about their business and paid them no attention. It was now almost completely dark and they could see no movement or light coming from within the warehouse.
‘There’s a side door,’ Parker said. ‘Looks like it would be easy enough to open it.’
‘We have to assume there’s a night watchman,’ Jake replied. ‘There has to be if there’s anything of the slightest value in that building.’
‘But not if Sir Hubert is in there with the child. How would he explain that one away?’
Jake took a moment to think. ‘Very well then, Parker. The direct approach is called for. Go and knock on that door. If the night watchman answers, tell him you’ve been sent with a message for him from Sir Hubert. Then take the man to that tavern on the corner and pour brandy into him. I’m sure you will think of a convincing reason for distracting him from his duties. Give me half an hour and then meet me back here. If I am not here, needless to say, come looking.’
‘What if no one answers, or Sir Hubert does?’
‘I shall be right behind you, keeping out of sight. But if it is Sir Hubert, apprehend him. If no one answers, we go in together.’
‘Right you are then.’
Parker strode towards the door to the warehouse, while Jake concealed himself behind a pile of stinking debris, wishing he’d had the presence of mind to wrap a kerchief around his mouth and nose. After two loud raps at the door, Jake heard the sound of shuffling feet on its other side. It was wrenched open by a man with a soldier’s upright stance but who walked with a limp, accounting for the shuffle; the sort of man customarily employed in such establishments to scare away opportunistic burglars. He and Parker had a brief conversation, after which the man nodded and followed Parker from the warehouse, locking the door behind him.
Jake waited for them to disappear from view and then sprang into action. Opening the locked door was the work of a moment. The hinges creaked when it swung open but there was no one in the vicinity to hear the noise and come to investigate. If there was someone inside, waiting to greet him, Jake would soon know.
There was one dim lantern burning inside a small office to the left of the door, the remains of the watchman’s supper spread across as table, along with some quite extraordinarily good sketches showing vivid battle scenes. This man had seen a lot of human misery, Jake thought, and expressed it through his art. He ought to be exhibiting in Bond Street; not standing watch over this dismal warehouse.
Jake shook off thoughts of the unfortunate night watchman’s plight, stood still and listened. The absolute quiet convinced him there was no one else in the place. Even so, it paid to be cautious. He took the lantern, fingering the dagger in his pocket as he made his way stealthily through the cavernous but almost empty warehouse. There were a few chests of tea, but the layer of dust covering them suggested they had been there for a considerable amount of time. Some bolts of fabric spilled from an open case, the smell of spices pervaded and there were a few other cases stacked high. Jake couldn’t guess at their contents and did not have the time to investigate. The goods took up less than a quarter of the total space. Unless they were expecting a shipment, or had just distributed one—which Jake somehow doubted—it seemed that Sir Hubert’s partnership with Granville was not a success.
Other than the littered office that the watchman had been using, there was no possible place for a person to live on the ground floor of the warehouse. Jake glanced at the ladder leading up to the loft space and knew he would have to climb it. If anyone was up there, watching for him, they would easily be able to knock him from the ladder. He should wait for Parker to return so that they could investigate together; the night watchman be damned.
Jake thought of Olivia and the possibility that she had already heard from the abductors. If so, she would be champing at the bit, beyond anxious for his return and furious with Reed for preventing her from leaving the house. He would not put it past her to try, however, so he couldn’t afford to delay for a single moment.
With that mantra in mind, he placed his foot on the first rung of the ladder.
҉
Olivia continued to pace after Jake left, missing his reassuring presence and resenting the fact that she had not been permitted to accompany him. Knowing that he was right and she really had no choice but to remain in Grosvenor Square did nothing to quell her disgruntled state of mind. She alternately paced, threw herself into random chairs and stared at the flames leaping in the fireplace, brooding, feeling ill-used for all the travails she had been forced to endure over the past few years. Naked fear for her son’s welfare froze the tears that would otherwise be streaming down her face in rivers of despair as she drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and stared vacantly into space.
She had no idea how much time had passed since Jake left. It seemed like hours but was probably not more than thirty minutes. She refrained from looking at the clock. It hardly mattered. Besides, she was convinced that the wretched thing was working backwards. She clutched Mr Rabbit—the toy that she had made herself for Tom when he was a baby and which he still refused to sleep without, always asking for it when he was tired or upset. He would be missing it now and Olivia tried to console herself with the thought that she would soon be in a position to reunite Tom with his rabbit.
But she did not feel consoled.
The door flew open, interrupting her bout of self-pity. Reed stood there looking discomposed.
‘What is it, Reed?’ she asked, hoped flaring. ‘Is there news?’
‘Molly is back, ma’am.’
‘Molly?’ Relief washed through Olivia. ‘Tom is with her?’
Reed’s mournful expression caused Olivia’s nascent hopes to evaporate. ‘No, ma’am,’ he replied with a gentle shake of his head.
Olivia leapt to her feet. ‘Then where is he? What does Molly say? No matter, send her in here and I will speak with her myself.’
Moments later, a bedraggled Molly with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to cover her torn and damp clothing entered the room and burst into tears.
‘Bring some brandy, Reed,’ Olivia said sharply, steering Molly towards a chair next to the fire and crouching down in front of her.
‘I am that sorry, madam,’ she said contritely.
‘Hush, drink this. You are in shock.’
Olivia held the glass Reed handed her to Molly’s lips and forced her to take a sip. Molly did so, surprising Olivia when she did not choke on the fiery liquid she was unaccustomed to, as Olivia had done earlier. A small amount of colour gradually appeared through the dirt on her pale cheeks.
‘Now, can you tell me what happened?’ she asked.
Reed remained and Olivia did not ask him to leave. She suspected that Jake had given him instructions to stand guard over her and report any developments; not trusting Olivia to do so herself.
‘I still don’t rightly know. I got knocked down, you see.’
‘At the park? When there was a disturbance?’
‘Yes, I remember a child falling in and I was desperate to get Master Tom clear of the stampede when people rushed forward to offer help. But, like I say, I got knocked down and that’s the last I remember until I woke up about an hour ago with a headache.’
‘Where, Molly?’ Olivia resisted the urge to shake the girl. ‘Where were you when you woke up?’
‘Outside a tavern in Whitechapel, I think.’ A look of confusion graced Molly’s features. ‘There was a group of men standing around, looking down at me and making lewd remarks.’ Tears poured down Molly’s face and Olivia felt very sorry for her, aware of just how morally inclined she was. She had tried to protect Tom and almost paid for her dedication with her virtue. Olivia had been quite wrong to doubt her, despite all the evidence to the contrary. No one could fake such a degree of contrition, could they? ‘I called for help and one of them pulled me to my feet. I was that wobbly. I think I must have hit my head somewhere along the way. Anyway, I got away from those men and walked back here. I had no money, you see, no way to let you know…’
She broke down, sobbing, and Olivia ineffectually patted her shaking shoulders, desperate to know what had happened to Tom. But she could not ask until Molly had composed herself. She shared a helpless glance with Reed as she handed Molly her handkerchief. She mopped her eyes and looked up at Olivia with a helpless shrug. ‘I am that sorry, madam, but I have absolutely no idea what happened to Master Tom.’
Olivia’s insides quailed. ‘You and he must have been taken together,’ she reasoned. ‘Otherwise how did you finish up in Whitechapel? Oh, dear lord!’
Olivia sank into the nearest chair and rubbed her face in her hands. All this time she had supposed that Tom was safe, after a fashion, with his uncle, Sir Hubert, and that Molly would be there to care for him. That had seemed bad enough, but at least she was assured of his safety because the moment she handed Lady Marchant’s letters over, Tom would be restored to her. But what if he had been taken for other purposes? What if the fracas really had been random and Tom, a handsome child, just happened to be caught up in the middle of it? Some depraved person snatched him but had no need of Molly’s services; not for what they had in mind for Tom. What could be happening to her precious son at that precise moment made her heart tremble.
She was in danger of falling apart but could not permit that to happen. Presumably, if Molly ended up in Whitechapel then Tom was in that area too. It was a rabbit warren of back streets and cheap housing, almost impossible to search, but Olivia was confident that Jake had the necessary authority to tear it apart, make life intolerable for the less respectable inhabitants, until someone told them where to find Tom. After all he had done for Thorndike and an ungrateful government, they owed him at least that much.
‘Come upstairs, Molly, and get clean and dry. Lord Torbay will be back soon and will want to speak with you himself.’
Molly stood immediately and followed Olivia through the door that Reed opened for them. The compassion in his expression was almost Olivia’s undoing and she looked away quickly before what little composure she had managed to retain evaporated.
‘I will send Jane up to help you,’ Olivia said when she and Molly reached the first floor.
‘There is no need.’
‘There’s every need. You have had a terrible ordeal.’
Olivia was grateful for Molly’s dedication, had clearly misread the girl, but desperately needed a little time to herself to mull over what she had just learned. But to her surprise, Molly grabbed her wrist with a surprisingly firm grasp for a woman who had been through so much, and pulled her into Olivia’s chamber, closing the door behind them.
‘Listen carefully,’ she said, all signs of distress magically leaving her visage. ‘If you want to see your son alive again, this is what you must do.’