21 The Jump
Chapter Twenty-One
The Jump
A n abrupt halt shook Mae awake. Before she could steady herself, rough hands threw her from a horse.
Sharp rocks cut into her knees. In the settling dust, a wave of confusion seized her to stillness. Her surroundings were like a nightmare. The trees were no longer black, but alight with the gold of a bonfire. She expected witches, even elves. Instead, stood a gathering of men and their tents.
Ellsworth’s gang seemed almost refined in comparison. They donned what could barely be considered clothing, more like rags dinged with dirt, their hair matted and stringy. They laughed and argued, no doubt deep in their cups.
She was thankful for the darkness now. It was all that kept her shielded from view.
Mae pressed a finger to her temple. Her head still ached from whatever Ellsworth had used to drug her. How long had he been planning this? How, exactly, had he escaped Pierce’s grips?
She felt the inside of her bodice. Ellsworth had taken the key too.
“Some distance, yes, but you’ll find the journey worth your while, I assure you. The horses—magnificent, aren’t they? They are yours.” The voice was unmistakable. Mae looked over her shoulder. Ellsworth’s lips strained into a smile. Though he had wiped his face clear of the sweat and dirt of before, his usual mustache had grown out to a frizzy, untamed line. His eyes squinted with exhaustion.
The very sight of him brought on the urge to run. But as she prepared her aching limbs, another set of hooves closed in.
It was Miss Rosewood. Her hair was wild from the wind, her posture straight, just as Mae had once advised her. Run , she thought. But remembering the night prior, a dreadful realization dawned.
Miss Rosewood had had a hand in this. She was angry with Mae. More than that, she was determined to have a husband. No matter how despicable.
Though in her mind, Mae wanted to deny it. The girl—she didn’t care how na?ve—could not have endangered them both like this.
“Miss Rosewood.” Mae’s voice croaked, her voice unrecognizable.
Her former pupil leaped down from her horse and headed toward her. For now at least, Ellsworth remained distracted by his transaction. If they were going to get away, they couldn’t wait a moment longer.
“We have to run,” Mae whispered.
Miss Rosewood pressed her finger to her lips, her eyes watering. “We’re going home,” she whispered.
“‘Home’?” Mae questioned. If they were returning to Blackthorne Manor, they’d only be returning her to prison.
“You’re going to help us find the vault, then everything will go back to normal. Better than normal, really. I’ll be married. Frances said we’ll be rich.”
Mae cringed at the implied intimacy. “But the vault isn’t…” Then Mae realized the truth with a tinge of relief. Ellsworth hadn’t put two and two together when he’d caught them together along the coast. He’d thought they had just been running and doing God-knew-what. What would he do when he discovered the truth, that the vault wasn’t anywhere near the manor? Mae didn’t want to think about it.
“Miss Rosewood, please,” Mae continued to plead. “You can’t do this. You can’t help him.” Mae ground out between her teeth. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us both.”
Miss Rosewood shushed her just like Mae had once done if she’d interrupted a lesson. “He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. Don’t you understand? This is the only way I’ll be able to repair my reputation. I won’t be shunned from society, Miss Blackthorne. I won’t be made a pariah.”
Mae buried her face in her hands. This was hopeless.
“Frances will make as good a husband as any,” Miss Rosewood said, like she was trying to convince herself more than Mae. “He will follow through with what he started. He has to.”
“Miss Rosewood, please.” Mae made one last plea, sinking her nails into the moist ground. Ellsworth was manipulating the young woman. How could she not see? Once more, Mae was at the man’s mercy, but Locke couldn’t rescue her this time. He was a prisoner of the Silver Order. What happened to her could no longer be his concern, she imagined Pierce saying.
Mae’s only hope was appealing to Miss Rosewood. “Listen to me—”
“Oh, stop your pleading.” Miss Rosewood looked down at Mae. “This will all be for the best. You’ll see.”
Just then, Ellsworth began to laugh, so loud and coarse, it was impossible to ignore. “No, you can’t have these women.” He waved the unkempt man away. “Put away your gold. They are mine.”
Mae shivered at the implication. They were little more than captives now. It didn’t take much to see that. Why didn’t Miss Rosewood see the same? Mae tried to tell herself that her pupil didn’t know any better, that she had failed her in the classroom in some way.
“Come.” Ellsworth dragged Mae to a rickety wagon cart. “We have a fortune to raid.”
He threw her in but didn’t move away. He stayed close to speak to the driver.
A hum of disappointment coursed through her. There was no hope for escape. Not yet.
Miss Rosewood entered next and sat directly opposite, her face turned away, but her body oddly close. In the weak glow that penetrated, she looked quite changed. Her face was pale and devoid of its usual brightness.
“Soon, we’ll see you off to London.” Miss Rosewood shifted on the hard, cushion-less seat. “There, you can find work…and think of what you’ve done.”
“This is immoral. Have you forgotten everything I’ve ever told you, Miss Rosewood?”
“Like what?” She eyed Mae suspiciously.
“The engagement I broke off—I never told you his name.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“It was Ellsworth,” Mae revealed. “Ellsworth is nothing more than my brother’s murderer.”
“No man is going to be perfect.” Miss Rosewood shook her head in denial, but a crack was spreading along her steel facade. “Especially if one is ruined.”
“William told him about our fortune.” Mae’s voice grew louder. “One I knew nothing about.”
“The fortune Ellsworth keeps speaking of? The one you’re supposed to lead us to?”
“Oh, there’s no doubt of that,” Mae said. “And there’s no doubting he killed William for it.”
“Mother says his death was a suicide.” Miss Rosewood’s face turned a shade paler.
“It was not.”
“But—But if it is true…no, you would have told me sooner.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“He said your father owed him money.” Miss Rosewood averted her attention to her hands. The crack in her mask had widened. Her fear was obvious now .
“Ellsworth lies. Don’t you see it in his manner? In his face?” Mae reached out to touch her cold hands. “That vicious gleam in his eye? Haven’t you noticed any of it?”
“What difference does it make?” Miss Rosewood’s face went still, her voice dropping down to a meek whisper. “I have no choice.”
“But you do. Would a life like mine really be so bad? It has to be better than a life with Ellsworth. I considered it when I lost everything and thought better of it. Much better of it.
“Surely, you have regrets.” Miss Rosewood’s voice croaked. She seemed so much older since they’d arrived at Pierce’s manor. Older in appearance yet still so na?ve.
Mae wanted to say as much but with the opening of a door, Ellsworth’s wheezy voice filled the wagon. “Ladies,” he said with mocking reverence. “We are off.”
As he shuffled into his seat, Mae winced at his proximity. The urge for justice, she feared gone, had returned. She wanted to be free of him once and for all, to get the knife back in her hands like at the coast, and kill. But she had no blade, no weapon at her disposal.
Was it too late to do or change anything? Was she already doomed?
*
Locke tightened his grip on the reins and looked down at the camp of thieves. Ellsworth had gotten much farther than he had expected. Although Locke had been on the man’s trail for hours, he was only now catching up.
In his haste, it seemed Ellsworth had had no choice but to resort to these scum of scum. Locke was painfully familiar with what these men would do for a guinea or two. He had crossed paths with them far more often than he had ever wanted. Thieves like them existed all across the globe. They eluded capture merely by their ability to leave town on a whim. They were more animals than men. Animals that he would never have anything to do with again.
They had undoubtedly killed a number of innocent men. But aiding in the kidnapping of an innocent woman… Damn it, they had gone too far.
He watched Ellsworth give orders to the driver of the wagon. All the while, the men argued and drank on without a care. Rage surged through his veins. They didn’t know whom they were dealing with.
He kicked Gambit forward. Which way to turn? Was Ellsworth aware of the fortune’s true location near Mae’s summer home? Or did he think the vault, though not in the cellar, was still hidden somewhere within the estate?
He could bribe the men to learn Ellsworth’s destination, but by the time the stealthy men negotiated a price, it might be too late. And going any closer to overhear Ellsworth’s orders would mean discovery. He would not ruin his chances of surprising the man—at least not yet.
Only under penalty of pain would the men give away Ellsworth’s destination quickly enough. As the wagon trudged away, Locke considered slashing the throat of every drunk man he set his sights on. He could practically feel the blood spilling over his hands and the justice that would soothe his soul.
He had killed many at sea in the name of his men. And if he stuck to another one of his old habits, he would kill all of them save for one. That man already weak with fear would undoubtedly give into his demands and questions at once.
It would take only a matter of minutes to complete the task. But somehow, he couldn’t act. His desire to kill wasn’t as it once was. He had softened.
He even felt glad for it.
He was no longer the same ruthless pirate unafraid to die because he’d had nothing for which to live. Now that Mae depended on him, jumping into a fight with twenty or so men seemed senseless. He would not risk himself, not when he was her only hope—not when he could so clearly see their future together.
There were other options before him. He could keep close to the carriage. Though it meant risking discovery, only then would killing be justified.
He found his knife at his waist, imagining the feel of it pressed against Ellsworth’s throat. Yes, it would be a very justifiable murder, indeed. One of which he was sure even Mae would approve.
He only hoped he would be the one to suffer the deed. He imagined Mae with his blade in her hand again, so eager to kill. Above all, that was what he needed to stop.
With a bitter swallow of breath, Locke disappeared once more into the safety of the trees.
*
During their long, restless journey, a thick stew of fog had settled over the road, dulling the afternoon sun.
She doubted a brighter day could improve her mood, anyway. No matter how hard she tried, her mind always returned to Locke.
She wanted that goodbye now, to savor that final kiss, to beg him to write. If she somehow managed to survive this, how would she find him? She didn’t even know the town in which the Silver Order had been. Even if she had, the manor had been hidden away too well, their fences too high to breach. That, in addition to his voyages, which would be entirely unknown to her. But what did it matter? As hard as she tried, she could not picture a future beyond this.
With the slowing of the horse, the driver announced their arrival. They were pulling up to a train depot.
Ellsworth looked at them, daring them to make so much as a single movement. “Don’t waste your time.” He lifted his coat to reveal a knife at his waist.
The driver held open the door.
But rather than let Miss Rosewood or Mae go first, Ellsworth pushed ahead. When Mae dismounted, he clasped her arm.
Outside, a mix of black smoke and fog darkened their surroundings. She had never taken the train, had only heard stories since the station had opened some months back. The talk was hardly enticing. The heavy smoke choked and even went so far as to blacken clothes.
To make matters worse, the platform was crowded with curious gentry and those clearly on summer holiday. As they worked through the smog, people jerked, shoved, and pressed against them.
“Stay close,” Ellsworth breathed. As if she had a choice. He held his grip so tight, she couldn’t stray an inch. Miss Rosewood, his more willing captive, he allowed to linger behind.
Mae could scream out, but she didn’t doubt that Ellsworth would rather harm her right in this public thoroughfare than let her get away. Revenge, at this point, was more important. She could see it in his dark, gleaming eyes. Even if someone came to her aid, he’d probably hurt Miss Rosewood just to cause Mae pain.
Mae imagined how it might have looked from the outside. Her body folded into him, his hand coiled around her waist. Bloody hell, people probably thought they were lovers.
They blended in well-enough that as they walked toward the wooden platform, not a face turned in her direction. The bustle of society streamed around them and no one was the wiser.
“Eager to return?” Ellsworth put his lips to her ear.
Miss Rosewood huffed. She likely hardly expected a faithful lover in him, but watching it play out in front of her was a different thing entirely. Before Miss Rosewood turned away, Mae glanced tears in her eyes. Her shoulders were trembling too. Miss Rosewood would never speak up, Mae realized. She was in far too deep.
Mae tried to see it from Miss Rosewood’s perspective. If she didn’t marry Ellsworth, she’d be cast out of society. Her own family, so set on an advantageous husband for Miss Lenore, might abandon her too. She’d be alone in so many more ways than one.
“You have the key.” Mae twisted against his hot breath. In her desperation and with his body so close, her eyes teared up. “You can find the vault on your own.”
There was a pause of silence before Ellsworth laughed deep and low in his throat. “And give you up? Your father’s most prized and favorite jewel?”
“He’s dead. So is William. Is that not enough?”
When Ellsworth didn’t answer, her panic grew more intense. She had no chance on a moving train. If she were to escape, she had to do so now—make a run for it on the busy platform, beg for help from one of the oblivious bystanders. But somehow, every opportunity seemed to pass her by. As it turned out, she was just a scared as Miss Rosewood. Her limbs kept freezing up, rooting her in place. What would happen to her? What would happen to Miss Rosewood? She hadn’t long. In minutes, a beam of light grew larger down the tracks, followed by a series of whistles and a train attendant shouting in the distance. Although Mae resisted, Ellsworth and a long line of passengers pushed her forward. Even if she screamed, it would be covered by the train whistle now.
As Mae mounted the foot rail, they stilled again. The passengers ahead ducked beneath a low ceiling. Beyond that, she saw little else in the smog. Against the clamor of carriages and chatter, hearing was near impossible too.
The train whistled a third time, intensifying the chaos. Then in large, fat drops it started to rain. The crowd pushed harder. Mae gripped the handrail for support, but in the pandemonium, Ellsworth lost his hold. A gathering line of people pushed him farther away.
She was free.
She had only to alight from the steps and squeeze her way past a few shoulders.
The whistles blew again, this time with added strength. The train jerked forward. The screeching and grinding metal was so loud, it hurt.
Nearly losing her balance, she squeezed the railing tighter. The ground faded in and out of the fog. She had the chance to pick up whatever remained of her life.
Her chest heaved with each breath. The seconds kept slipping. The train was moving faster. And yet her mind continued to waver.
Could she really leave Miss Rosewood like this? Even if this young woman had led her into danger, could she really forget about her entirely?
No. If she had a single hair of morality in her body, she couldn’t abandon her to a man like Ellsworth. The young woman had committed a betrayal, yes, but so had she. If she left her now, how could she ever hope for forgiveness?
She wasn’t just some senseless social climber like Mrs. Wilson. She would never abandon a friend at the threat of scandal, much less violence. And she couldn’t keep running and hiding from danger. She had done enough of that her whole life.
“Have you lost your senses?” A train attendant yanked her back and shut the door. Ellsworth stood behind him, his eyes shooting knives of anger.
For a moment, Mae resisted. Her body twisted, but the attendant held firm. Her only chance to escape and she had gladly let it slip.
*
Locke swept out of view behind a brick pillar, his mind still reeling at Mae’s unwillingness to jump. She’d had her chance. Why hadn’t she taken it?
When Ellsworth had pressed forward through the train with Mae in tow, it had been all he could stand to watch. Did she doubt him, doubt he’d come after her? Perhaps she had reason to. He had made his deal with Pierce, hadn’t he?
He didn’t care. It didn’t diminish his resolve, not even for a second. She hesitated for Miss Rosewood’s sake. Perhaps Mae thought she could save her. She was too kind. As hard as Mae probably wanted to convince her otherwise, there was no overcoming her pupil’s ignorance. He didn’t care how good Ellsworth’s manipulations were. She had seen enough of his deeds to see that he had no redeeming quality.
More than anything, it was desperation that drove Miss Rosewood, especially now that she was ruined. Perhaps he could understand that. Wasn’t it desperation to find that sapphire that had forced him into the awful deal with Ellsworth?
Locke squeezed his fist. It took everything he had not to rush across the station, jump aboard the train, and rip Mae from Ellsworth’s grip.
But that had been impossible. The train was traveling too fast. He had arrived too late.
He looked up at the clock tower. Even if he rode full-speed the entire way to the estate, he could never arrive before them. He cursed, squeezing his fist so tightly, he felt his nails break skin. He simply could not accept that sight of her had been his last.
If only he could feel her skin. He felt her absence most in his hands, her body so painfully not there.
Banging his head against the brick, he wondered how the devil he could reach her in time. Perhaps if the train was delayed…
Then again, maybe fate would be a cruel bitch, after all. Or had he simply committed too many crimes to ever hope for such a thing as love?
He was too selfish a man—nay, greedy pirate—for that. He thought he would die at the hands of the tempest sea. For so long, that life had ensnared him. Only now did escape seem possible. Only now did he feel he had the chance.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Locke tore himself away from the station and headed back toward Gambit. With renewed haste, he snapped the reins and kicked in his heels.
*
“Sit.” Ellsworth shoved Mae and Miss Rosewood into the hard, wooden seats. Much like they had been in the carriage, Miss Rosewood sat next to Mae.
Hunching down in the seat across, Ellsworth took a surreptitious drink from his flask. A routine he continued until his eyes glazed.
Mae turned to the window, trying to distract herself with the grim, smoke-laden landscape that was now her world. So close by her side, Miss Rosewood seemed an extension of it. Though her face was still with numbness, her eyes were nervous with a constant sheen of tears.
The sight troubled Mae, but at the same time, her determination was building. For Miss Rosewood, she had to be brave. She had to find a way to escape this. Even if she couldn’t marry, the young woman could still have a decent life. If nothing else, she could have freedom, independence. Wasn’t that enough? She tried to convince herself of the same thing. If they both got out of this, they could be happy.
All around were staring eyes, both men and women, in the same dank and narrow place. Surely, someone would help.
She only needed to get Miss Rosewood on her side first.
With each sip from his flask, Ellsworth’s lies were unraveling. Now that he was well into his cups, even Miss Rosewood had to see the danger of his stare.
Miss Rosewood had never been strong-willed, though. Too often, she followed, letting herself be influenced. In such close proximity, Mae would not get out a single whispered word, either. Here, it was hopeless. They needed to be alone. They needed to get off this train.
Another century seemed to pass before the train finally began to slow. But that hint of relief was quickly replaced by dread.
Mae’s time was running out. Not a single delay or obstacle seemed to stand in Ellsworth’s way.
“Another step closer.” Ellsworth grabbed Mae and with Miss Rosewood following, they stepped off onto the platform. As the black smoke cleared, her stomach twisted in painful recognition. There was no mistaking the familiar buildings of Bristol.
As hard as she tried to break away from her past, it had pulled her back.
“What will you do to the Rosewoods?” Mae drifted through the station, listless.
“Mr. Rosewood won’t be home. He’s off in Scotland, no doubt, conducting a search for his daughter.”
Miss Rosewood stumbled in front of them. “But I’m not in Scotland.”
“Well, obviously. He merely thinks you are to elope.”
“To elope! With whom?”
“With me, of course!”
“After a single evening? They can’t think…”
But Mae was sure they did and judging by her stare, so was Miss Rosewood.
“I left them a note before we left.” Ellsworth seemed pleased.
“What about Mrs. Rosewood and her other daughter?” Mae asked.
“My men have clear instructions to tie up anyone who gets in their way. That includes the servants. By now, my men might already be searching for the vault.”
Mae looked down to hide her expression. And they’ll find nothing , she finished in her head. How long would they continue to search before Ellsworth turned on them?
“What, you—but…” Miss Rosewood clawed at his arms. “You pr omised to tell them of my return. My father—”
“—would be in far more danger had he remained.” He flicked her away.
Lagging behind him, Mae could only feel pity. Was Miss Rosewood really fool enough to think he had informed her family of his actual plans to find the vault in their own home? Since they owned the estate, they could easily claim it as their own. Ellsworth would not risk that. He would sooner kill them all.
A cold burst of fear crept down deep into Mae’s core. She needed to get away. Soon.
With his free arm, Ellsworth held open the door of a hired hack. She half-expected him to shove her inside. Instead, he motioned her. If she didn’t know better, she might have confused him with a gentleman. This time, outsiders probably assumed they were relations, saving their conversation for an appointment of afternoon tea. But on the inside, Mae was dying bit by bit. In Miss Rosewood’s eyes she saw the same.
“If you keep this tame…” Ellsworth lifted Mae’s hand as she entered the carriage. “Perhaps I shall like you better.”
Mae kept her focus on the empty seat, trying not to listen or pay him heed. Despite herself, she could feel Ellsworth’s eyes all over her, drinking her in, as though she were something to be won.
“I could make you happy, you know… If you grant me—how should I put this—” He tapped the tip of his chin with his index finger. “Other favors.”
Mae wanted to scream at the idea, but like a good prisoner, she bit her tongue. It was clear Miss Rosewood, who had already been seated, had heard the exchange. With her back straight and hands together on her lap, Miss Rosewood had the perfect posture of a lady—all except for the working of her jaw and grinding of her teeth.
Those intense eyes fixed upon the window were finally beginning to see. Life as a spinster would be far better than a life like this. Any life would be.