Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sloane Street to Long Acre
Dora felt more nervous on the return journey than she had on the way to the Austens.
She kept her hand on the stock of the pistol in her reticule as she sat poised for trouble on the bench seat of the hackney cab, scanning the street for any sign of their enemies.
The houses and public buildings that lined the way were joining in the Illuminations for the victory at Salamanca and to celebrate Wellington, several going so far as to spell out the names in lights.
With hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people out to admire the spectacle, it was hard to see where danger might come from.
Alex, by contrast, was more at his ease, giving every indication that he was enjoying a warm summer’s night trotting through streets bedazzled with flickering candles and lanterns. ‘A novelist? Who would’ve thought the lady had it in her?’
‘Who, indeed,’ said Dora absentmindedly as her attention was on the passers-by.
‘Then again, from the picture in my edition of his plays, Shakespeare looks more like he could tell you the price of corn on the Exchange than be the man who wrote all those wonderful characters.’
‘He has a play about that too. The Merchant of Venice. “All that glisters is not gold.”’ Was that man under the tree looking too intently at them or was he just admiring her companion?
The jarvey sitting behind them flicked the whip over the flank of the mare in the traces, just a tickle to keep her steps lively with all the distractions dividing her attention. ‘Ho now,’ the cabdriver crooned. ‘Steady on, Sally.’
The horse frisked and side-stepped, not liking the explosions of the distant fireworks.
‘Meaning the opposite is true?’ asked Alex. ‘That plain packaging can hide the most precious of diamonds?’
‘That is the point of the casket game in the play. Distrust first impressions, as Miss Jane Austen would say.’
‘And isn’t that what we do too, dig down to find out the real story behind events?
’ said Alex, sounding well pleased with his new life working with her and Jacob.
Dora took it as a favourable sign that he was recovering his spirits after the death of her brother, who had been his lover and friend.
After being ejected from the army in disgrace, he was regaining his sense of purpose. ‘Do you think I’d like her novel?’
‘I think you’d like it very much.’
The words had barely left her lips when someone threw a firecracker under the hooves of the horse.
‘Hell!’ cursed Alex as he threw his arms in front of Dora to stop her being catapulted off the bench seat.
The rapid, percussive bangs spooked the poor beast. It gave a shrill neigh and bolted, forgetting it had a carriage attached behind it.
That became yet another thing to alarm the mare as the cab rattled and clanged as it found every rut and every kerb in their wild career.
Dora held on for dear life as people screamed, shouted and dived out of the way.
A cart selling oranges went flying, then a tinker’s barrow loaded with pots and pans.
‘Do we still have a driver?’ she shouted.
Alex glanced behind them through the window in the back of the passenger compartment. ‘Can’t see him. Hold on.’
The jarvey had likely been thrown in the first charge. Piccadilly went by in a blur, pedestrians scattering, vehicles driving up onto the pavement to clear a way. People shouted and cursed, but there was little they could do to stop this.
‘We have to get the horse back under control,’ said Dora. ‘Hold me steady.’
‘Dora—’
‘Just do it, Alex.’ She could see the reins flapping about because they were still attached to the brackets on the roof that fed them to the coachman behind. If she could just get up and reach them, she could pull them down and she might be able then to stop the horse.
‘We’re almost at Haymarket,’ warned Alex. ‘We might have to bail out.’
She knew what he meant. With the Illuminations at the Little Theatre being one of the chief locations of the celebrations, the broad road would be full of revellers.
People would die if the hackney carriage mowed into them.
She and Alex would likely be killed or seriously injured in a collision if they stayed inside. No more time to think.
‘Brace me.’ She struggled up, feeling his firm grip around her thighs as he used his long legs to push against the compartment walls. The horse swerved and she would’ve been thrown out if it weren’t for Alex. She jerked forward then righted herself.
‘Can you reach?’ he shouted.
‘Almost.’ The reins danced at the end of her fingertips.
‘Damn these blasted things!’ She pushed up another inch, Alex lifting her a little.
‘Got them!’ Hauling them down with her, she shortened the straps, winding them round and round her hands and sat back on the bench. ‘Steady, girl! Steady, Sally!’
The poor mare, sweat dripping down her flanks, pulled and frisked.
Alex put his arms around Dora, doubling his hands over hers, and helped keep the pressure up on the reins.
Feeling the familiar tug on her bit, the mare began to slow.
Exhausted, she stumbled and almost went down, but recovered to a walk, then staggered to a full stop, lungs going like the blacksmith’s bellows, neck drooping to the cobbles.
Alex leaped out and went to the horse’s head to seize the bridle. With Dora holding the reins, they slowly guided the mare to the side of the road just a few feet short of the junction with the Haymarket.
But the danger wasn’t over yet. Dora clambered out and reached back in for Alex’s swordstick and her reticule. A crowd was gathering, but it was hard to tell if they were the curious or the enemy. Jacob had had his pockets picked by someone pretending to help.
‘Are you all right, dearie?’ asked one buxom lady with a flower-decked straw hat, out for a night enjoying the Illuminations. It was hard to imagine her as part of any conspiracy involving French comtes. ‘That poor ’oss looks like it’s gonna keel over and die.’
‘It had a scare. Someone let off a firecracker,’ said Dora, her heart still racing like the cab but a moment ago.
‘They should be ’anged, they should, scarin’ the poor ’oss like that!’
‘Let me help you to a chair,’ said a gentleman, a sleek-looking gentleman of fashion with his hair pomaded and primped. He was wearing a dove-grey jacket, but Dora didn’t want strangers of any description near her.
‘No, thank you. I am quite well, I assure you.’ She ducked behind Alex.
Past him, she could see two men were running towards them from the direction they had come.
It could be innocent – friends of the cabdriver come to rescue his vehicle and horse.
Or it could be someone with quite different motives.
‘Mr Smith?’ She flicked her gaze behind him.
He turned to look, then addressed the man in the grey jacket.
‘My good man, would you mind holding on to the horse while we seek assistance from the Watch? A man might’ve been injured by the idiot throwing firecrackers and my wife should go indoors to recover.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said the man, taking hold of the bridle. ‘See to the lady.’
Alex took a grip on her elbow and they made their escape down Coventry Street, the direction keeping up with the story that they were heading for the nearest Watchhouse.
‘Are we really going for the Charlies, husband?’ asked Dora as they ran.
‘What possible good would that do? Let someone else sort out the hackney; we’ve got to get away before those pursuers catch up with us.’ Alex glanced behind. ‘Bloody hell, they’re still following us. Dark brown jacket. Black jacket.’
‘Any ideas where we can lose them?’ They dodged between the people but with Alex’s height they were difficult to lose in the crowd.
‘I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.’ Alex grimaced.
‘Go on.’
‘How about Long Acre? No one will question a man taking a woman into one of the bagnios and if we pay the men on the door, they’ll keep others out.’
It was a good idea. Pretend to be a whore and a client and they would look like the myriad other couples finding cheap accommodation for an assignation at the bathhouse.
‘I’ll leave you to explain this to Jacob,’ muttered Dora, adjusting her dress to make herself look less reputable. She let her hair tumble around her shoulders. ‘All right, ’andsome, I charge five shillings. I’m no daggle-tailed jade.’
He grinned at her. ‘No. You, my dear, are in your prime and you really should charge more.’ He walked with confidence and knocked on the door of a house with a mermaid over the door.
‘Do I want to know how you know this is a house of ill-repute?’ She slouched against the ornamental doorway, hip cocked, scanning the crowds with the hard assessing gaze of the professional streetwalker.
She could see the heads of their pursuers bobbing at the back of the crowd, trying to push their way through, hats obscuring their features, but she didn’t think they’d spotted her and Alex yet.
The door opened.
‘That’s a story for another time, Sally,’ said Alex. He dug into his pocket and passed over a handful of coins to the beefy man who guarded the door. ‘We don’t want to be disturbed, Colin.’
‘Oh, it’s you. She’s not your usual type, is she, sir?’ leered the guard as they bustled past him.
‘You know me – always ready to experiment with something new.’
‘Third door on the left is free,’ said the man, getting down to business. ‘Unless you want to share and engage one of the house lads? Then you can go into the main chamber where the baths are – or watch from upstairs.’
‘Not today, thank you.’ Alex ushered her further in.
Dora span, walking backward to give the doorman a saucy smile. ‘But another time, eh?’ she said with a wink.
The door to the unoccupied room closed behind them and Alex gave a sigh of relief. ‘Safe – for the moment.’
‘Do you think they saw us go in here?’ Dora checked the walls for spy holes, then dropped her pretence when she decided they were in the clear.
‘Perhaps, but they won’t see us leave.’
‘How so?’ The sideboard had a tray of wine and biscuits so she helped herself then poured a glass for Alex. A gulp proved it a cheap and cheerful blend that drove away the chilling memory of the last few minutes.
‘Cheers.’ Alex tossed his back in one go. ‘This is one of those houses that is friendly to Molly. I happen to know there is a back exit in case of a raid.’
She patted his shoulder. Molly houses catered for men who loved men. ‘How very useful of you.’
He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze, both relieved beyond words still to be alive. ‘Anthony will be pleased that my education with him is not wasted. Let’s give them a moment to look for us and draw a blank, then we can make our escape.’
Dora looked around the room with new eyes, thinking of Alex and her brother coming here in happier days.
It wasn’t a mean establishment and smelled clean – or as clean as a bagnio could be with the passing trade of people after sex.
Music played somewhere close by, a fiddle and pipe, and masculine laughter rang out accompanied by some feminine giggles and cries of delight.
Someone was having a good time. The squeaking of a bed in the room above came as no surprise, though that encounter sounded less fulfilling for the partner involved.
She hoped Anthony had been happy here. There had been precious little happiness at home for either of them.
She sat down on the sofa to wait. How long would it be before the people who were following them gave up their search?
‘That was a reckless attack,’ said Alex, refilling their glasses. ‘If it was an attack and not coincidence.’
Dora rubbed the base of her spine. Some of the jolts had driven right through her.
‘The chances of them being able to get to us to search us was slight. Perhaps they were watching us and followed when the horse bolted, but I don’t like coincidences, not when we already have had two attacks in one evening. ’
‘What do you think they were doing then?’
‘We might need to reconsider. Perhaps their aim is not so much recovery of the comte’s last report, as disruption of our investigation.’
‘And what better disruption than killing or maiming the investigators?’
‘Exactly.’ She nibbled a biscuit. ‘Sally? Really, Alex? Do I look like a horse to you?’
He laughed and settled down to wait with her.