Chapter Twelve
The note Alice had received that afternoon contained only five words: I will meet you there. It had been signed with an L and an S, written in large, sweeping black loops, bold, confident, and entirely like Lord Stafford.
Relief had followed her initial apprehension.
She would not have to endure a nighttime carriage ride alone with him after all.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he had changed his mind.
Had he discovered something? Or perhaps he simply wished to keep control of the meeting on his own terms. With that man, it was difficult to tell.
Alice dressed with care for her trip, in a dark bonnet, cloak, and sturdy boots laced high. Lastly, she buttoned black gloves to her wrists. Ezra’s disapproval was clear as he followed her out the door and down to the carriage which awaited them.
“Who is it we are meeting in the Black Dog, my lady?” he asked, opening the door.
“Lord Stafford. I have recently learned he was in the same hall as my brother, and suffered, too. He’s also searching for the man responsible for Charles’s death.”
Ezra’s jaw tightened. “It’s my hope that every soul who mistreated those boys will answer for it,” he said.
“I believe some already have,” Alice replied. “At Lord Stafford’s hands… and those of his two friends.”
Ezra’s mouth twitched. “I like him already,” he muttered, closing the door firmly.
Through the small glass pane, Alice watched him climb up beside Bernard, the stable hand he trusted.
They would keep close watch during the journey—Ezra always did.
Whenever she insisted on venturing out at such ungodly hours, he insisted just as stubbornly on being there to see her safely home again.
The carriage lurched forward as they started moving, and Alice leaned back against the seat, hands clasped in her lap, and let her thoughts drift.
She had made herself brave after her brother’s death. Pushed aside the things she feared, to do this for him, and for her. The deep ache of vengeance inside her begged to be appeased. Right or wrong, she feared it would consume her if it was not.
She looked out the window as the carriage rocked gently as it left the wide avenues of Mayfair behind.
Through windows, Alice caught the gleam of lamplight on polished brass knockers, the soft glow of drawing rooms where even at such an hour some still lingered over syllabub and gossip.
She saw a vendor selling roasted chestnuts, the scent wafting into the carriage briefly.
If the wrong person were to see Alice in the Black Dog, her reputation would be ruined, which didn’t worry her overly, but what did worry her was her aunt, who loved being part of society. She had no wish to bring shame down on her, and so must be careful.
The streetlights grew fewer, and the shadows stretched long across the cobbles as Ezra directed the carriage toward Wapping.
Fine houses gave way to narrow brick lanes.
The buildings had shuttered windows, the plaster cracked.
The air thickened with the scent of coal smoke and the tang of refuse tossed into the gutter.
Alice had been out at night a few times before this. She’d come to realize that London at night was two cities. The glittering one of ballrooms and musicales, and the other smelling of desperation and survival. And with every turn of the wheel of the carriage, she was leaving the first behind.
Alice drew her cloak tighter. Under her skirts were a pistol and a knife should she need them.
As the carriage slowed, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to temper her breathing and calm her galloping pulse.
She might appear cool and in control, but she was an excellent actress.
In fact, the majority of the time she was terrified doing anything dangerous.
However, if she acted like she wasn’t, she could pull off anything.
When the door opened, Ezra’s large form stood there. He wore his permanent scowl. Alice placed her hand in his and climbed out.
“We are close. While we go in, Bernard will walk the horses, as I fear for him and them here, in such a place.”
“Thank you, Ezra. I realize you would rather be home with—”
“Your brother asked me to watch over you, so I will see this through. But, when it is done, I’ll be pleased. I fear for you, my lady. It would be a lie to say otherwise. You may never find this man, even as I wish for him to be punished for what he has done.”
She patted his arm, as this conversation had been carried out many times, and he was never happy with what she said, so she chose to say nothing.
“Be alert now, my lady.”
They began walking along the street with the cloak of dark settling around them.
Alice stayed pressed to Ezra’s large side, as the signs of fear began to slither into her body.
The crawl of sweat slipped down her spine despite the chill of the night, and the prickling at the back of her neck indicated that someone was close.
I can do this for Charles.
She’d been a child who had feared much, and Charles had been her savior then, but now it was her turn. She could be brave for him.
“’Tis ahead to the left,” Ezra said. “You’ll not leave my side, Lady Alice. I’ll have your word on that.”
“I have a feeling you’ve asked this of her many times.”
The deep words made Alice give a muffled shriek, and then he came out of the shadows, wearing a long black overcoat, which made him look bigger.
“And you’d be?” Ezra said, stepping in front of Alice.
She pushed at his back, but he didn’t move, so she stepped to the right.
“I’m Lord Stafford,” he said calmly.
“I’ll warn you now, my lord, that if you’re a threat to Lady Alice in any way, you’ll be going through me to get to her.”
“I told you we were meeting Lord Stafford, and why, Ezra,” Alice said as the two men stared at each other.
“I’m just checking his intention is all,” her footman muttered.
Instead of being angry, Lord Stafford nodded to her footman. “I promise you, Ezra, that my intentions toward your mistress are entirely honorable, and I am seeking out the same enemy.”
They stared at each other for long seconds, and then Ezra nodded. Lord Stafford then held out his hand, and her footman shook it.
Men were odd creatures, Alice thought. Women would want to chew over every detail for a while longer before they decided to like each other.
“It’s a foolish thing she does, my lord, but I understand loyalty and vengeance as good as the next man,” Ezra added.
“Ezra—”
“He’s right, it is a foolish thing for a lady to do,” Lord Stafford said.
“Then leave, and I shall do this myself, and we can go about the same business separately.”
“There is no need to be testy, my lady. Even you can see this is no place for a lady surely,” Lord Stafford said in a tone that had her wanting to slap his handsome face.
Alice refrained from hurling an insult at him. They needed to get this done and leave.
“You’ll have the devil’s time convincing her of that,” Ezra said.
“I’ve already worked that out,” came the deep reply.
“If you’re done, we will proceed,” Alice snapped.
“If you will stay at her back, Ezra, I shall go first, and then Lady Alice,” Lord Stafford said.
Lord Stafford shot her a look when she didn’t argue, but Alice was quite happy with being placed between the two men.
She was nobody’s fool, and knew there would not be many women inside the Black Dog, and those that were there would very likely be more than capable of handling the advances of men, drunk or not.
“My informant will be looking for me,” Alice said.
“And will see you if he looks hard enough,” Lord Stafford added, which had him receiving a grunt of approval from Ezra.
They moved as one toward the building, which had a sign above the door shining on a black iron post. She eyed the large black dog and hoped that he was not awaiting them inside also.
Alice pushed her shoulders back as the door before them swung open and a man staggered out. After shooting them a blurry-eyed look, he headed off down the road.
“Be diligent,” Lord Stafford said over his shoulder.
He ducked to enter, and they followed, Ezra doing the same. The Black Dog was likely no different than many alehouses all over England. Flickering tallow candles and firelight barely cut through the gloom.
They were greeted with the sounds of rough laughter and slurred voices. A fiddle was scraping out a tune in one corner, and someone was attempting to sing along. Alice heard the clatter of carriage wheels and the distant church bells before the door closed behind them.
Sawdust, damp from spilled ale, gathered under the hem of her cloak as she walked. Exposed beams above her holding up the low ceiling were blackened with soot. All in all, it wasn’t a place she’d ever return to, Alice could say with absolute certainty.
Lord Stafford made his way to the bar, and Alice stayed as close as she could without touching him.
You can do this. She saw two women, their skirts faded and dirty, laughing with men, and realized again how lucky she was that her life was not this one.
That she did not have to earn her money by raising her skirts.
A hand in her back nudged her forward and she carried on walking behind the broad-shouldered marquess.
Reaching the bar, he stopped. Alice moved to stand beside him, and Ezra stayed behind them.
“Who is your informant?” Lord Stafford leaned down to speak to her, and his shoulder pressed to hers.
“I’m not sure which one, but it will be Huckle or Bea,” Alice said, looking around them.
“It is hard to see with so many people all jammed in here.” Looking down, she saw the railing around the bar and climbed onto it, bracing her gloved hands on the sticky surface.
She saw Huckle then. Seated in a booth to her right, he was alone and his eyes were on Lord Stafford.
Alice would have some fast talking to explain why the marquess was here and she’d not come alone.
“What’ll it be?”
The man now before her was as large as the one at her side, with huge hands braced on the wood. He had the look of someone who had seen everything life had thrown at him and wasn’t terribly impressed by it.
“Three ales, please,” Lord Stafford said, and Alice wondered if one was for her, but doubted it.
With the drinks, they made their way to the booth, where the tall, thin Huckle sat.
When Alice had first begun investigating Kenneth Jackson, she’d gone directly to Blackwood Hall.
No one there had known where to find the housemaster and all were unwilling to speak of the years that had clearly put a dark stain on the Hall’s reputation.
One week later she’d received a note from Huckle.
It had told her to come to the park near her street in London.
He’d then explained that he’d worked at Blackwood Hall when Jackson had been a housemaster and had seen much.
Alice had not pushed for more information about if he’d suffered too.
She’d also never questioned Huckle as to who had directed him to her.
For now, it was enough she had someone who knew Jackson.
Since that day, she’d paid him handsomely to dig up any information he could on the man.
Thus far, Jackson had remained elusive. She hoped that was about to change.