Chapter 15
Billy sat on Goodrington beach, skimming pebbles across the waves, mulling over the events of the last few days.
The boy reckoned he’d proved himself quick-witted and resourceful enough to become a permanent part of the team - but try telling that to Mr Henry and Miss Charlotte.
What they didn’t realise was that he knew how to handle himself.
Did they think he arrived at Cliff House just out of his mother’s belly with no experience of how life worked?
Billy gave a loud snort. He knew more about bloody life than any of ‘em – with the exception of Mr Henry who’d doubtless rubbed shoulders with more than a few mug hunters in his time.
He really thought that he’d be included tomorrow night - especially since he’d been the one to discover the bloody meeting. But instead, he’d been told to stay behind to help Beatrix and Bernice keep an eye on the young’uns.
Young’uns, my arse, he thought. Miss Daisy and Miss Florence were both older than him by quite a margin, and they definitely didn’t need bloody babysitting. And neither did Miss Beatrix and Miss Bernice.
He should have been included in the action. That was where he’d be most useful. Being small, he was nimble, and after spending years roaming Paignton’s backstreets, he was able to think on his feet. And he’d proved it more than once. When were they going to recognise it?
Billy gritted his teeth. He needed to show Mr Henry and Miss Charlotte that he was capable of being a proper part of Shackleford and Daughters. He didn’t need wrapping in swaddling cloths.
Turning back to look at Simla House, Billy pursed his lips, thinking.
Would they take both carriages tomorrow night?
The last time he’d tried to hide out underneath Mr Henry’s carriage, Albert had caught him, but Lord Tavistock’s carriage had a boot locker on the back.
It’d be a tight squeeze, but he’d be able to get into it.
They’d likely return to Cliff House after Miss Arabella and the Chief Inspector reported back – Billy was almost certain that the only reason he hadn’t been packed off already was because they couldn’t find him.
Dropping most of the stones into the sand, Billy tucked the best one in his pocket and wiped his hands on his britches.
He needed to stay out of everyone’s way until he’d had a chance to check the size of the boot locker after Evans brought the carriage back.
But that didn’t worry him, since being invisible was another thing Billy was good at...
Fighting the urge to scream, Arabella’s immediate instinct was to kick out to try and remove the disembodied hand clutching her ankle, but before she entirely succumbed to hysteria, a voice hissed through the grate.
‘‘elp us.’
With a muttered curse, Benedict immediately dropped to his knees, intending to prise the hand off. But before he had the chance, the fingers mercifully loosened, the hand withdrawing back into the void under the grate, only to be replaced by a desperate face.
It was a girl. From the little he could see, Ben estimated her to be about twelve or thirteen.
‘’elp us,’ she begged again.
‘How many of you are there?’ Ben didn’t waste time asking what they were doing underneath a derelict house. He knew exactly why they were there.
‘Eight of us,’ the girl whimpered ‘There wos ten, but ‘e took Liza an’ Edie yest’day.’
So, not just the four they’d identified from the soiree guest lists.
Ben thought quickly. Was Liza actually Eliza, who’d apparently never been employed by Dorothy Thomas? He reached down and took the girl’s hand. ‘Do you know where they’ve been taken?
The girl shook her head. ‘You ‘ave ter get us out,’ she insisted, her voice desperate.
‘How long have you been here?’ Arabella whispered.
‘A week or so, no more. Before that we wos in an ‘ouse.’
‘What do you know of a man named John Thorpe, or a woman named Margaret Finch?’
The girl gave a humorous laugh that came out as more of a sob. ‘It wos Thorpe’s ‘ouse we wos in until Mrs Finch copped it. Then some other woman brought us ‘ere. I reckon we ain’t goin’ ter be ‘ere fer long though. My guess is ‘e’ll be movin’ us on soon, jus’ like ‘e did Liza and Edie.’
‘Did he tell you when?’ Ben asked desperately. Another head shake, this time accompanied by a real sob. ‘We’ve screamed us selves ‘oarse, but there ain’t no one to ‘ear.’ She reached out again, this time gripping Ben’s hand. ‘You ain’t goin’ ter leave us, is yer Mr?’
Ben muttered an expletive under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think.
If they freed the girls now, they’d lose any chance of catching whoever was behind the whole sordid enterprise.
Once Jacob realised they’d been compromised, he’d go to ground.
John Thorpe too. And they’d never find out what had happened to all the other children.
Opening his eyes, he gently squeezed the girl’s hand before pulling his fingers free. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
There was a slight pause, and he could almost feel the girl’s fear that she might be putting herself into the hands of another monster. ‘Maisie,’ she told him eventually, resignation clearly warring with hope.
‘When was the last time you had anything to eat?’
‘She gev us some bloody bow-wow mutton – said it’d be enough ter last us a fortnight but ‘alf of it wos crawlin’, so we gev it the rats.’
‘Dear God, we have to get them out,’ Bella hissed
‘We’re going to get you all out,’ Ben assured Maisie firmly, ‘but I’m going to ask you to trust us.’ He looked over at Arabella. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘It’s too dark for us to free them now,’ he confirmed, keeping his voice low. ‘And if Jacob or his associates come tonight and see them gone, they’ll know they’ve been rumbled.’
‘But if we leave them and he comes for them, we’ll never find them again,’ Bella whispered, fighting back tears.
Ben leaned forward and took her hand. ‘I have no intention of leaving them,’ he responded gently. ‘I will remain here while you return to Simla House.’
‘I’m not leaving you here alone,’ she retaliated heatedly. ‘These men think nothing of murder and worse. If they come back tonight, they’ll kill you.’
‘They won’t,’ Ben declared firmly. ‘They have a meeting here tomorrow evening to decide their next move. I don’t believe they’ll risk being seen coming into an abandoned house on two consecutive nights, and I now suspect the meeting is mostly about the children currently in this cellar.
Margaret Finch’s death definitely put the cat amongst the pigeons, quite possibly forcing them to act much quicker than they’d originally planned. ’
He paused, frowning as he followed his train of thought.
‘When John Thorpe asked for clarification about Castel-a-Mare, he could have been questioning the location of these girls. Maisie said they’d been in Thorpe’s house up until a week ago, so it’s possible Jacob hadn’t shared where they’d been moved to.
If that’s the case, it might mean there’s trouble in the ranks. ’
He took hold of Bella’s other hand, holding them both tightly between his warm fingers.
‘I swear I will not do anything foolish, but removing these girls now could put countless more children in jeopardy if the men responsible go to ground before we’ve had a chance to identify them.
’ He sighed, giving a rueful smile before adding, ‘but I can’t leave them alone tonight either. ’
Arabella bent her head, holding back a sudden urge to scream.
‘They won’t come tonight,’ Benedict repeated, forcing certainty into his voice as he leaned forward, adding, ‘Arabella, you must leave now. We proceed with the plan. I will be here waiting for you tomorrow afternoon at two p.m. Tell your father to bring both carriages, and we will hopefully get the children to safety well before Jacob and the others get here. With luck, those involved will not realise the girls have gone until after we’ve seen the bastards’ faces. ’
For a second Bella didn’t move, then slowly she lifted her head and nodded.
Benedict climbed to his feet, helping her up.
As they stood staring at each other, he finally dropped her hands, and impulsively, she stepped forward, so close she could feel the hard planes of his chest. ‘I’ll bring Rhys and my father back to help,’ she told him, desperation colouring her voice.
Ben shook his head but made no move to step back. ‘I will not allow them to risk themselves in any altercation,’ he told her firmly. ‘That’s my job as an officer of the law. Surveillance I can live with, but not confrontation.’
Arabella gritted her teeth, wanting to argue further, but she knew he wouldn’t change his mind, and, in truth, he was right.
Her father was no match for men such as Jacob when it came to a fight, and she would never forgive herself if something happened to the love of her sister’s life.
Instead, she stared at Benedict’s face, as though committing it to memory.
Then, suddenly, without warning, she grabbed hold of the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her, kissing him hard on the mouth.
Seconds later, she was gone.
Benedict remained with the children throughout the night, sitting on the path next to the grate, conversing in low tones with Maisie and, after a while, some of the others.
His explanation for why they weren’t being freed immediately was received with very little argument, which broke Ben’s heart a little.
These children had become so accustomed to bad things happening to them, it was no surprise that what they’d hoped was a rescue ended up with them being pawns in yet another game.
They answered questions readily enough, and as the hours came and went, he began to build a picture of what they’d endured.
Whilst none of them had been in the Winner Street orphanage, most had started life in the workhouse until being recruited by Margaret Finch for the Pembroke Domestic Agency.
At first, they thought their prayers had been answered as they waited to be taken into the service of one of Torbay’s many affluent residents.
But after a while, they began to realise that wasn’t what was happening.
That wasn’t why they were being kept in a basement in John Thorpe’s splendid mansion in the Warberries.
Over the months, their numbers dwindled and were replenished. New girls coming in with hope in their eyes. Those who were removed were never seen or referred to again, and gradually the excitement at the thought of being chosen for service turned to dread.
And then, a week ago, they were told they were being moved. All of them. It had something to do with a chit named Fanny who’d disappeared a couple of months earlier.
Apparently, Margaret Finch, who ran the Pembroke Agency, had unexpectedly developed a fondness for the girl, taking her out for ice cream and afternoon tea. After Fanny was gone, they’d all heard Margaret screaming and shouting at John Thorpe – demanding to know where she’d been taken.
The next thing they knew, Margaret Finch was dead, and some woman they’d never seen before brought them here to Castel-a-Mare.
‘I know they ain’t ever goin’ ter let us go,’ confided Maisie sadly. ‘An’ from everythin’ I’ve seen, the next stop fer all of us is ‘ell. ’
Benedict finally dozed off as it neared dawn, waking a couple of hours later when the sun rose high enough to pierce the green canopy. The relief he felt that there had been no confrontation with Jacob or any of his associates was stronger than anything he’d ever felt, with two possible exceptions.
Firstly, when it suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t actually have to marry the woman his brother had chosen for him…
And secondly, the knowledge that in a few short hours he would be seeing Arabella Shackleford again.
It was nearing midnight when Bella finally crawled into her bed at Cliff House.
She was beyond weary, but sleep did not come easily.
As she lay looking up at the bed’s canopy, all she could think about was the fact that she’d left Benedict alone.
Despite his insistence that no one should return to Castel until the following afternoon, Bella was well aware that by following his orders, she may well have signed his death warrant.
Indeed, even now, he might be lying bleeding and broken, all eight children taken who knew where…
It hadn’t helped that both her father and Rhys had concurred with Benedict’s reasoning, and her fear was such that she’d been tempted to call them out on their cowardice.
However, as she opened her mouth to utter the words, her father had taken hold of her hand and looked her in the eyes.
He’d known what she was about to say, and he understood her distress.
‘Please don’t think that Rhys and I don’t want to go to Benedict’s aid,’ he told her gently.
‘But we must respect his authority. The Chief Inspector’s no fool, Bella, and I believe his assessment of the situation was correct.
’ He shook his head ‘But even if he’d been wrong, Rhys and I charging in blind would be the easiest way to get us all killed.
’ Patting her hand, he’d climbed to his feet and, turning to Rhys, asked if Evans would be so good as to take them home.
Billy was the last to climb into the carriage, and as he sat down, he was looking altogether too pleased with himself. Unsurprisingly, Charlotte noticed and wasted no time asking him why he was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.
Of course, her eagle-eyed stare and blunt question caused the boy’s grin to vanish immediately. Unfortunately, however, his subsequent butter wouldn’t melt expression was no less suspicious…
Arabella’s thoughts returned to the present, and finally realising that she wouldn’t easily get Benedict Hartley out of her head, she closed her eyes with the intention of directing her thoughts towards more pleasurable images – as a sort of alternative to counting sheep...
Unfortunately, her head immediately conjured up pictures of the two of them entwined in the very bed she was lying in.
Naked… Abruptly flooded with a surfeit of sensations the like of which had only previously been hinted at, Bella’s eyes flew open in the dark, her heart beating as though she’d been running.
With barely understood frustration, she drew in a shaky breath and crossed her legs together, pressing her hands into the mattress to prevent herself from touching herself in places that had nothing to do with her morning ablutions…
Needless to say, sleep was a long time coming…