Chapter 12
The only thing worse than having Isadore tend his wounded chest was to have her do so in the presence of all three of his brothers.
Ban had tried in vain to assure her 'twas a simple scratch.
Unfortunately, the damned scratch had bled profusely in the carriage ride back to Saffron Hill.
The woman was proving a bad influence on Benny as well.
Rather than driving the children away from The Angel immediately, the young coachman had driven up and down the street until Ban and Isadore had emerged from the back of the tavern.
James and Mary had sat in abject terror as she had pressed yet another piece torn from her petticoat to Ban's chest and berated him for taking on two armed men and ignoring a pistol pointed at his heart.
Daisy had whisked the children into the Devil's Den and up to her rooms as soon as Benny halted the carriage at the back of the house.
Ban had been so stunned by his recognition of the two men, he'd sent Billings to fetch his brothers at once. Now they sat in his study and watched in open amusement as Isadore bathed his chest with warm water and continued to lecture him on his life in general and his recklessness in particular.
"Whoever provides your shirts must have accumulated a fortune by now," she muttered as she tossed the remnants of the shirt he'd been wearing and the blood-soaked piece of petticoat into the fire.
"I am going to insist you provide me with new petticoats if I must continue tearing mine to prevent you bleeding to death. "
"It's a scratch, Isadore. I was never in any danger of bleeding to death. Oww. Dammit, woman, are you trying to kill me? What is that?" Lying on the chaise before the fire he twisted and turned to get away from the sting of the noxious liquid she'd poured over his chest.
"Witch hazel. Carrington-Bowles gave it to me. And if you call me woman one more time I shall box your ears. Sit still." She pressed her palm onto his belly and held him down.
"My brothers did not come all the way to Saffron Hill to watch you abuse me."
"No, but we are enjoying the show immensely," Warrick said, as he dropped into the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "Don't stop on our account. Missus Fitz-Wilton, I presume?"
"Jesus," Ban bit out as he met the gazes of Fam and Con, who were trying not to grin. "Missus Isadore Fitz-Wilton, meet my brothers--Connor Dyer, Famstone Dyer, and Warrick Dyer, arrogant arses every one of them."
"That makes four of you," Isadore said as she wrapped a linen bandage around and across his chest. "Charmed, gentlemen, I'm sure." The brief look she gave them indicated she was anything but charmed.
"I assure you it is we three who are charmed, Missus Fitz-Wilton," Con said. "Any woman who can put Ban in his place is beyond charming to us."
"Fuck you, Con," Ban shot back.
"Your language, Mister Dyer." Isadore rolled her eyes and went to the basin of fresh water Daisy had left for her. She washed her hands. "Gentlemen, I leave him to you. Good luck."
"Where are you going?" Ban caught her hand as she strode past him.
"To see to James and Mary," she said sharply. Then she sighed and squeezed his hand. "And to find some food to bring up to you." He released her, and she slipped quietly out of the room. Only then did Ban realize what he'd done. His brothers' irritatingly bemused expressions said everything.
"Well, well, well," Fam said with a grin as he settled into the chair next to Warrick's.
"Don't start," Ban said. "Things are not as they seem." He despised the way they looked at him. Especially as his stomach churned and flipped, and his head was a maelstrom of emotions, some completely unnamable. "I didn't call you here for this."
"Then what did--"
"I just killed Jack Dyer," Ban stated, cutting off his eldest brother mid-sentence.
All three of them went quiet. They stared at him in disbelief.
"Jack Dyer was hanged thirteen years ago," Warrick finally said. "If you killed one of Ma's boys it had to be John."
"Oh, he was there too. He ran when his pistol misfired, and Isadore aimed her pistol at him."
"I knew I liked her," Fam said. "How do you know it was the twins, Ban? We haven't seen them since Ma sold us to Bill Green."
"Have you forgotten their voices, their laughs?
Have you forgotten those eyes, especially Jack's, like a fucking rabid dog?
" Ban sat up and planted his boots on the floor.
"We took the children I found in Isadore's house to some taverns to see if they recognized anything.
That boy, James, pissed himself when he heard Jack's voice.
" He shook his head. "I damn near pissed my own.
You know what they were like." He swiped his hand over his face.
"It was like bloody being there all over again. At Ma's with those two..."
Not one of them said a word. The fire crackled. Voices sounded faintly from somewhere in the house. The truth dawned on each of their faces in turn. They believed him. For a moment, the four of them were back in that horrific hell that had been their childhood.
"Ask the men you sent to do away with the body," Ban told Fam.
"He had a rope mark around his neck. They may have hanged him, but they didn't kill him.
I wouldn't put it past John to pay the hangman to botch the job and hand the supposed corpse over to him.
Nobody knows better than I do how easy it is to wrap a shroud around someone who isn't quite dead. "
"Jesus, Ban." Con hated any reminder of how they'd found Ban, dragged from an open grave by the reclamation men. Ban shrugged.
"About the body," Fam said. "I sent my people around as soon as I got your message.
There was no body. Sullivan went inside and spoke to Maggie Church.
No one saw anything or heard anything. The courtyard behind the tavern was newly washed down, according to Sullivan. As if nothing had happened at all."
"P'raps John came back for his brother's body," Warrick suggested. "If the twins are the ones stealing the children and laying the blame on us, it makes sense. They're taking revenge for us turning Ma in to Bow Street."
"She's been rotting in Bedlam for more than ten years now. Why would they take so long to try and avenge her?" Con asked.
"Who knows. Maybe she died. I haven't kept up with her," Ban said. "Have any of you?"
"Fuck, no." Fam shook his head and the others followed suit.
"We know where she is," Con said. "The question is, how do we find John Dyer and any other children he's taken before he kills them? If he realizes we're on to him and knows his revenge is in danger..."
"He'll kill any children he has left and do his damnedest to see us blamed for it," Warrick finished for him.
"I should have run after him." Ban winced as he tried to push himself off the chaise.
"Sit down, damn you," Con ordered. "According to the tongue-lashing your Missus Fitz-Wilton gave you, you were damn near killed. If John's pistol hadn't misfired..."
"Twice," Warrick felt the need to add.
"Twice," Con repeated. "Sullivan and his crew would have been cleaning up your body.
" He rose to his feet, and Fam and Warrick did the same.
"You're out of this. We'll see to John Dyer and the children.
You find Missus Fitz-Wilton's son and deal with her brother-in-law.
Forsythe sent word by Dickie Jones that he's expecting certain documents from you for his inspection.
He made clear to me he has no desire to know how you obtained said documents. "
"Oxford," Fam and Warrick said together, both looking smug as Anglican bishops.
Ban's now twenty-one-year-old forger and thief extraordinaire had been with him for five years.
In those five years, neither Ban, nor his brothers, had ever learned Oxford's real name.
In the Dials, real names were sometimes a luxury people simply could not afford.
"He had no right to report to you, Con. That was my business."
"Ban, anything to do with this family is my business. Your Missus Fitz-Wilton needs her son back. Let that be your purpose for now."
"She is not my Missus Fitz-Wilton," Ban all but shouted. That put paid to their pointed remarks, but not in the way Ban intended.
"Really? Then explain how she wanders tame about the Devil's Den when not even we dare venture outside of this room for fear of falling prey to this fucking deathtrap?" Warrick managed to look even more smug.
"That is an excellent question," Fam said.
"I thought so," Warrick agreed, as all three brothers looked at Ban expectantly.
"Bugger all of you to perdition," Ban muttered.
"I followed him in the night we met and memorized the route," Isadore announced as she backed through the front doors to his study with a large tray in her hands. Con took the tray from her and placed it on the small table next to the chaise.
"You memorized the route?" Con asked, obviously confused.
"She remembers everything she sees. Or reads. Or hears," Ban said. Remembers exactly. That's how she's managed to break into my home three times now."
"Twice," Isadore amended for him. "The third time Benny let me in. Are you gentlemen hungry?"
"They are not," Ban quickly said. "They were just leaving. Weren't you?" He leaned heavily into those last two words.
"She broke into the Devil's Den," Warrick said, choking back laughter.
"Twice," Con said cheerfully.
"I told you I liked her, didn't I? Con, you'd better hope like the devil she never meets your Marianne." Fam shoved their two brothers toward the back entrance into the study, the quickest and safest route back to their horses.
"God help me," Con muttered.
"Let's go." Fam gave the other two another shove. "We've got to track down John Dyer."
"Whilst you help find her son, right?" Con's meaning was clear. He wanted Ban well away from anything to do with Ma's twins and the missing children.
"Agreed," Ban growled reluctantly.
Fam was the last one out the door. He turned back at the last moment. "Have you told her about Horace Sutton?"
Ban didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
"Tell her," Fam said. "She deserves to know."
Once his brothers were gone the room grew cold and smaller. Ban almost wanted to flee to his balcony. Isadore stood over him, her expression guarded as if she were preparing herself for what he said next.
"Sit down, Isadore," he said as quietly but firmly as he could.
For once she did as he asked. She turned the closest fireside chair to face him and sank slowly onto the cushioned seat.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
As calmly as he could, Ban repeated what Ethan had told them about Horace Sutton.
He reminded her that Carrington-Bowles and Charpentier had been aware of Sutton's proclivities as well.
She simply sat there and stared at Ban when he was done.
Ban fought not to shift about on the chaise.
He didn't deal well with this sort of thing, with someone who had just been forced to see the ugliest side of life.
To him, there had always been only the ugly side.
..and how he'd chosen to deal with the people and things that made life so.
He'd always considered his childhood an advantage as that was what allowed him to survive.
Isadore had no experience with such things.
"Take me home." Suddenly she was on her feet. "Have Benny take me back to Grosvenor Street."
"Isadore, I don't think that's what you--"
"You don't know what I want," she shouted as she strode toward the bedroom.
"How could you know? How could anyone like you know?
Take me home at once. I'm going to marry Horace Sutton just as George wishes.
He can have the banks. All I want is my son.
If I am married to Sutton, I can keep Jeremy safe.
I can...I can..." A painful sob wracked her body.
She turned back to Ban. Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
"It won't matter," she whispered. "It won't matter if I'm married to him. Will it?"
Ban stood and went to her. He took her hands in his. Her fingers were like ice. Her face, ravaged in anguish, cut him to ribbons. His mind screamed danger of the worst sort, a danger for which he had no experience and no desire for experience.
"We'll find him, Isadore. I swear to you, we'll find him."
She rested her forehead against his chest. Her body still shook, but each shudder grew fainter. Each breath she took conveyed to him her fight to control her fear. She needed to fall to pieces, yet she refused to do so for the sake of her son.
"How can you say that?' she asked as he put his arms around her. "How do you know?"
"You said it yourself, Isadore. I am not a good man. I will do whatever's needed to find your son." He rested his cheek against the top of her head. The faint scent of lilacs clung to those dark, silky locks.
"George and Sutton are not good men either.
They're powerful men with powerful friends.
How can we hope to do anything against such evil, hateful men?
" Her voice broke and she rested her entire body against him.
All the fight had gone out of her. He despised her brother-in-law and Sutton all the more for that.
"You have not seen evil, Isadore," he vowed as he held her close. "Those powerful friends and their own greed constrain those two bastards. Not even God will constrain me. I will run the streets of London red with their blood to bring your boy back to you."
As he held Isadore sobbing as though her heart might break in his arms Ban stared into the fire and allowed the old rage to take him.
He lost himself to that madness with no thought as to why.
The why involved softer feelings, and there could be no softness in him now.
Softness often traveled with fear. When it came to saving Isadore from heartbreak, Ban didn't fear a fucking thing.