CHAPTER 29 #2
“But the key clue came when I noticed that he had requested to move from the Foreign Office to serve as head of security for the Royal Navy laboratories at the King’s Dockyard. Given all the evidence, it seemed to me that he must be in league with Taviot.”
The librarian lifted his chin and locked eyes with Wrexford. “So I wanted to warn you without delay of the danger.”
“It seems that I owe you an apology,” began the earl, pausing as Horatio came running to join them.
“Lord Wrexford!” The midshipman, now dressed in his uniform, came to a halt and bobbed a bow. “I have some bad news! Mr. Tilden received an urgent summons from a sick family member yesterday afternoon and immediately departed for Yorkshire.”
“Damnation,” muttered Wrexford. “That seems a rather suspicious coincidence.”
“I agree, sir,” answered Horatio. “The thing is, Commodore Mather, the commanding officer here at the Dockyard, is a bit rigid and a stickler for going by the rule book. Without official orders from Horse Guards or the Admiralty directing him to cooperate with you, I fear we will spend the day trying to work through the military bureaucracy.”
Wrexford swore again.
“But if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, milord . . .” ventured Horatio.
“Fire away, Midshipman Porter.”
“Well, sir, I command a unit of thirty men. And, um, I believe I’ve earned a modicum of loyalty from them by standing up on occasion to my superiors and arguing against disciplinary action for some trivial offense.
” Horatio glanced around at the deserted courtyard.
“As you see, the bell has not rung awakening the dockyard to its daily duties. I could summon my men for an urgent security mission, and I don’t think they would question my authority to do so.
I could open the armory for weapons and dispatch a group of them to take two of the longboats and row you to Isle of Dogs, while I fire up our other prototype steamboat and—”
“Do it,” interrupted Wrexford. “And quickly.”
Horatio pointed to one of the jetties. “Wait there, sir,” he said, and then sprinted away toward the barracks.
“You know where the villains are hiding?” asked von Münch.
“Yes,” answered the earl. He gave a rapid-fire account of what had happened the previous evening.
“Your wife was injured, and Lady Peake has been taken prisoner?” The librarian’s expression hardened. “I’ll come with you. You may need someone to watch your back.”
“I appreciate your courage,” replied Wrexford, “but have you ever actually handled a firearm?”
“It seems you are making another assumption about librarians and our practical skills, milord.” A twinkle gleamed behind the lenses of von Münch’s spectacles.
“As a matter of fact, my father was a champion marksman and won many shooting competitions in Württemberg.” He drew a pistol from his pocket.
“I’ve been honing my skills since I was a boy and consider myself a decent shot. ”
Spotting an empty bottle perched atop one of the pilings at the river’s edge, he pointed it out to the earl, then took dead aim and squeezed the trigger.
Wrexford watched the glass explode in a shower of shards and allowed a grim smile. “Reload your bloody pistol and come with me.”
* * *
The sound of a muffled bang from the other side of the river made Charlotte flinch. “That sounded like a pistol shot,” she whispered, shifting closer to Sheffield within their hiding place among the tall reeds.
They both held themselves very still. To Charlotte, the pounding of her heart sounded louder than cannon fire as they strained to hear anything more through the rustling of the breeze.
“It’s a naval dockyard,” reasoned Sheffield, after a lengthy interlude of quiet.
“There are any number of reasons for loud noises—the crack of a mast, barrels falling from the storage racks.” He gave a reassuring pat to her shoulder.
“Let us not imagine trouble. We need to keep our focus on where they are holding Alison prisoner.”
Charlotte nodded, knowing he was right. Drawing a calming breath, she turned to peer through the tall reeds at the isolated building, its dark brick half obscured by the scrim of ghostly mist drifting in from the unseen river. From this distance, it looked as if it had been deserted for years.
Despite Sheffield’s encouragement, her doubts refused to settle.
What if we are wrong? The question made her stomach start to churn.
Sheffield seemed to sense her anxiety. “Don’t worry. Both logic and intuition tell us that they are here,” he said. “The Weasels are creeping close and will get a look through the windows.”
Another spurt of fear. “I should have gone with them.”
“That would not have been wise,” he countered. “They are still small enough to look like harmless little mudlarks. Even if they are spotted, they won’t stir any alarm. Children are often seen along the river’s edge, searching for any flotsam and jetsam that can been sold.”
Charlotte knew he was right, but that didn’t settle her nerves. So much could go wrong.
Sheffield checked his pocket watch. “Wrexford should have finished arrangements with Tilden to dispatch an armed contingent of sailors to surround the house and cut off any access to the prototype steamboat moored at the Royal Navy’s secret shed.
” He turned to Peregrine, who was crouched behind them.
“Make your way to the road, and meet them at the landing area described by Horatio.”
The boy nodded.
“And guide Wrex back to us while Tilden and Horatio move their men into position.”
As Peregrine crept away, Charlotte looked down and began picking at a thread on her sleeve.
Reaching out, Sheffield stilled her fingers. “I know you are worried—”
“I’m not worried,” she interjected. “I’m terrified.”
“We all are,” he replied. “We will get her back because . . .” He stared at the brick building. “Because we all simply refuse to believe otherwise.”
That drew a shadow of a smile from Charlotte. “And heaven forfend that the forces of the cosmos dare defy our wishes.”
“Precisely.” He exaggerated a grimace. “Because that would mean they would have to face Wrex when he’s in a truly foul mood.”
Charlotte wouldn’t have thought it possible, but a whispery laugh rose up in her throat. “Thank you, Kit.”
“Well, you have to admit, when push comes to shove, we do manage to pull each other’s cods out of the fire.”
“Amen to that,” she responded.
A rustling in the reeds cut off any further banter. Like a shadow flitting through the gloom, Raven appeared a moment later, followed by Hawk.
“The villains are there,” he confirmed. “They have Aunt Alison tied to a chair.”
Charlotte released a sigh of relief.
“With very thick rope,” added Hawk with a scowl.
“S’all right,” muttered Raven. “We’ll have her free in a trice once Wrex arrives.”
“Does she appear to be holding up under such duress?’ asked Charlotte. “Did she look frightened?’
Raven and Hawk exchanged sniggers. “Actually, she looked hopping mad,” said Raven.
“She called Colonel Jarvis a very bad name,” added Hawk. “But she said it in French, so he might not have understood the insult.”
Charlotte considered that nugget of information, which prompted yet another question. “Since when do you know how to swear in French?”
“Aunt Alison has been teaching us,” admitted Raven. “She says a gentleman of the world should be able to curse in at least a half a dozen languages.”
“We are learning Italian next,” offered Hawk.
After swallowing a cough—or perhaps it had been a laugh—Sheffield changed the subject. “How many enemies are in the building?”
“Colonel Jarvis, Lord Taviot, two nasty-looking ruffians, and a fancy lady who doesn’t appear pleased with the situation,” answered Raven.
“It has to be Lady Kirkwall,” said Charlotte. “Clearly she is in league with her brother, as she helped orchestrate the attack on me.” Still, despite all the evidence to the contrary, something rubbed her wrong about thinking of the lady as purely evil.
“Bloody hell, how did I not see the darkness of her heart?” muttered Sheffield.
“I don’t think it’s that black and white, Kit,” she responded. “Though I can’t explain why.”
They lapsed into an uneasy silence as the sun slowly peeked through the early morning clouds. For Charlotte, the minutes seemed to slide by with agonizing slowness. But at last she heard the squelch of steps through the marshland and turned to see Peregrine and Wrexford approaching.
“Thank heavens,” she whispered, only to realize that another hazy shape was right behind them.
Von Münch.
Recalling Wrexford’s suspicions and the earlier bang, her split-second reaction was to reach for her pistol. But the earl’s face betrayed no sense of alarm, so she moved to take cover behind Raven and Hawk. Whatever the reason for von Münch’s presence, the less he saw of her, the better.
Sheffield gave voice to her own question. “What’s the librarian doing here?” he asked tersely as Wrexford crouched down beside him.
“Reinforcements,” came the answer as the earl surveyed the brick building and its surroundings. “It turns out Herr von Münch is a crack shot. As to why he’s here, he discovered how Jarvis fit into this pernicious puzzle and came to warn us.”
Charlotte received a second surprise as McClellan suddenly materialized from the lingering fog.
“Oh—and Mac convinced me that she ought to be part of the rescue party. Having another steady finger on the trigger is a prudent precaution.”
“Baz would have insisted on coming, too, but he’s not moving well these days,” added McClellan. “And while he’s an expert with a scalpel, he concedes that he’s not very skilled with a firearm.”
The librarian looked bemused. “Yours is a rather unusual household, Lord Wrexford.”
“That is one way of putting it.”
“I’m rather surprised your wife didn’t come along,” added von Münch.
“That would cause a great scandal in Society if word got out,” replied the earl. “One must have a care about such things.”
“Yes, of course.”
Wrexford looked away from the building to the swath of reeds closer to the river’s edge.
“Getting back to the rescue plans, Horatio’s men are moving into position and will cut off any access to the prototype steamboat.
Once I get the signal, we shall approach the building and take the villains by surprise. ”
Charlotte saw von Münch glance at her and the Weasels. “I can’t help but be curious, milord. Why the band of, er, . . .” He paused, as if searching for words.
“Urchins?” suggested Sheffield. “Wrex and I have, shall we say, established a working relationship with a trusted group of them. They make excellent scouts and messengers.”
The librarian nodded thoughtfully. “Clever.” His gaze seemed to linger on her for a heartbeat . . . and then another. “But how—”
“Never mind that now,” growled Wrexford. He turned to Raven. “How many doors into the building? Where are they, and which one is the best way to gain entrance without being spotted?”
Raven responded with a detailed report.
“Hmmph.” Sitting back on his haunches, the earl considered what he had just heard.
Charlotte reached up to adjust the tilt of her floppy hat, managing to catch his eye just for an instant. The connection, however fleeting, stirred an inward smile. It was, she knew, irrational to think he was invincible.
But her fears seemed to flutter off with the rising breeze.
Wrexford must have spied the signal from Horatio’s men, for he drew his pistols.
“Time for us to move. Raven, you go with Herr von Münch and cover the rear exit. But don’t take any action unless you hear me give the hoot of a barn owl.
” He thought for an instant. “Or unless all hell breaks loose. Then you have permission to improvise.”
Raven nodded in understanding.
“Sheffield, Hawk, Mac, and Magpie . . . You four come with me,” he continued. To Peregrine he added, “You circle around to the sailors and inform them that we’re heading for the building.”
Snick, snick. He cocked his weapons. “Move quietly, everyone—and quickly.”
A pause. “I daresay the dowager is yearning for a cup of Mac’s excellent coffee and a decent breakfast.”