Chapter 40 #2
“I’m sure you do.” Elizabeth’s resolve only grew, for if Jasper were here she would get him out. This wretch needed a lesson in decency. She had a perverse desire to provoke him as much as she humanly could. So she did.
“Only I wonder, sir.” Elizabeth trained her eyes on the squat blur before her.
“Why should a man as successful as you need to entrap an innocent young woman like my sister, or kidnap an honorable man like my husband? Is it that you recognize you will never be accepted by society, no matter how great your wealth, how pure your bride? That no man or woman of class would ever stoop so low as to admire you, but will only ever revile you? That not even the lowest of scum, your army of degenerates, serve you with true fealty, their loyalty needing to be bought with blackmail and coin?” Both Li and Mary Audrey had explained how Finch gained, and wielded, power.
“What a lonely life you must lead, Mr. Finch. How sad you require both my husband and my sister to rouse anyone’s attention.
What else are you unable to rouse, I wonder?
” Somewhere in that small, mean heart of his she hoped she poked his Achilles.
“No matter whom you use, or how often you cheat and steal, you will never receive the respect you crave from those who are your betters. You are pathetic.” She shook her head at him in disgust. “Society does not even deem you a man.”
Bella let out a short, choked gasp. Did Finch now squeeze her sister’s very breath? Elizabeth heard Annabelle wheeze and flail, then watched her claw at the hand encircling her throat.
“Fine speech, miss,” Finch hissed at Elizabeth. “But if you’d rather not see th’ life squeezed out o’ yer bonny sister, you’ll apologize on yer knees t’ me, now.”
Elizabeth instantly dropped. Head bent and chest thrust forward, without thinking she assumed the position she’d been trained to perform for her husband.
Because nothing mattered but Bella now. Nothing.
“Lovely,” he crooned in his sick, rasping voice. “Just lovely, Lizzie. That’s how I likes yer, yes.”
Elizabeth heard her sister gulp air, but all hope had vanished, the stakes turned perilous.
“I see Jasp taught yer ladyship well. A right nice addition t’ me house you’d make. Tell me, Lizzie, did he tan yer bottom too? Show yer all the delights I taught ’im as me whippin’ boy?”
That noise again, iron scraping stone, and Elizabeth knew, she simply knew Jasper was in this cavernous hellhole with them. He must be.
She would not let her panic overcome her, though her heart galloped in her chest. She must do something, say something, and say it fast.
“Please. I’ll show you all I know, perform however you wish. I know how to give a man pleasure, only I beg you, let Annabelle go.” Her thoughts, and breaths, grew frantic, for Finch seemed to suck the very air from this gold-gilt cave, making her lungs struggle almost as much as Annabelle’s.
“Pleases me t’ hear yer beg, comin’ as it does from yer ladyship’s fine-bred lips.” He laughed. “An’ yer offer’s mighty temptin’. I’d be a fool not t’ sample yer wares, an’ yet…”
In horror Elizabeth watched Finch slide his remaining free hand beneath Bella’s vest, to where she’d bound her breasts.
“I’m partial t’ yer wee sister, see, as she is, after all, me affianced.”
Elizabeth’s mouth went dry as a desert. He was going to take what he’d wanted all along: Annabelle.
“An’ as I’ll need yer on th’ outside, t’ funnel Jasper’s funds t’ me coffers an’ gain me entry t’ th’ gentry’s abundant plenty, well, I can’t do that if you’re tied up in me rooms here at The Canary.
” He chuckled. “Though it paints a pretty picture, don’t it, Lizzie? Yer haughty self, bound t’ me bed.”
Mary Audrey had predicted Finch would wish to keep both Jasper and Bella here, his prisoners, and let Elizabeth go, forced to do his bidding out in the world, for however long he wished.
She must think her way out, fast, for she’d no weapon with which to strike, no hand with which to barter now that she’d already bartered her flesh. What else could she possibly offer? The arsenic hung useless about her neck.
“Mr. Finch, I beg you…”
“Beg louder, lass.” His voice turned gravelly, more lascivious in tone, as Bella struggled in vain to ward off his roaming hand.
“I’ve a mind to take Miss Annabelle right here an’ now to th’ tune o’ yer sweet beggin’, Lady Milton. How’s that fer compensation, eh? Yer sister’s ripe flesh fer yer terribly smart words.”
“Sir…” She was desperate to forestall him. “Annabelle is married to Mr. Harris. She can no longer wed you.”
“Easily annulled,” he said, tearing fabric as Bella’s lungs again gasped air. “An’ no doubt not married fer real, are yer, luv?” His hand slid inside her sister’s breeches as a voice snarled low, “Paws off me wife, Ronny.”
Harris!
But Finch cut off Bella’s air, her sister’s choked sob the only sound Elizabeth heard. She remained on her knees, Harris dead in his tracks at the threshold, where Finch’s guard, behind Harris, lay sprawled across the floor.
Elizabeth did not think, she lunged for Finch’s bollocks but met the man’s thick thighs instead. She dug her nails into his trousers as Harris rushed him head on.
Metal glinted in the light as Elizabeth screamed and Harris froze, a blade pressed perilously to Annabelle’s pale throat. The room took on an eerie glow as the hearth’s blaze licked air in a burst of orange heat—just as Bella violently refilled her lungs with a stuttering gasp.
“Now that we’re agreed, again,” Finch rasped, his knife flush at Bella’s throat, “’tis time I were more clear.
” He glared at Harris. “You’ll return to The Leaf, Arty, an’ annul yer sham marriage.
And you”—he kicked Elizabeth with his boot, where she remained crouched upon the floor—“will go home an’ await instruction. ”
Elizabeth did not move.
“As fer you, luv…”
Elizabeth shuddered for poor Annabelle, held hostage by Finch.
“You’ll stay here as me betrothed, till we’re wed nice’n proper.”
“Finch.” Harris’s tone barely concealed his rage. “As businessmen, surely we can come to some—”
“No.” Bella surprised them all, her voice faint but firm. “I’ll not be bandied back and forth between you like some object. I shall decide my fate for myself.”
***
Harris’s knees nearly buckled under the weight of Bella’s brave, clear voice. God help him, he was in awe of his wife. No, he was in love with this woman and also, madder than hell at her.
“You broke my betrothal to Mr. Finch.” She trembled as she turned to Harris, her eyes flashing him a warning, or so he thought.
“Which brought my sister this misfortune. I shall not be the cause of more misery, Arthur. I shall repair the harm done by remaining with Mr. Finch. You will indeed annul our marriage.”
Harris ground his teeth. If she thought for one second that by sacrificing herself she’d save him or her sister—
“Bella!” Lady Milton implored from the floor. “Do not acquiesce! We can come to some agreement. Surely, as businessmen they must—”
“No,” Annabelle repeated, and Harris now watched her like a hawk, saw her left hand creep to her hip.
He slid his own hand to his belt, where he kept a second blade.
“I will marry Mr. Finch, and he will release Baron of Milton. We shall be a family, Lizzie. Papa too. That is what I wish.” She placed her shaking right hand right over Finch’s knuckles, where he still held the knife to her throat.
“Please, sir, put away your blade and treat me like the gentleman you were when we courted. I wish only to reconcile. You will release the Baron to my sister, will you not? For once we marry, he shall be a brother to you. He shall be your family too.”
In the course of all her hogwash, Bella’s eyes beseeched Harris to ... what? Wait? He didn’t know what she planned, but she had something up her sleeve, or rather, at her hip.
He was terrified by what she might do next.
“Mr. Finch, you will honor your pledge if I now honor mine, will you not?”
And miraculously Finch lowered his blade, slipping it back up his sleeve, his other arm still wrapped firmly about Annabelle’s waist. She flashed Harris another look; his every nerve was lit.
“The skirt’s got more sense’n th’ lot o’ you.” Finch looked smug. “You’ll suit, Bella darlin’, ’specially if y’ continue in such docile manner as this.”
The fiend loosened his grip, and Bella slowly turned about, allowing Harris a slim opening to lunge forward.
Only Elizabeth lunged the very same instant for the man’s short legs and tripped Harris in the process.
He hit the floor hard and looked up just as Bella cupped Finch’s cheek, diverting the man’s gaze from Harris back to her.
“I promise to be a most dutiful wife, sir.” She kissed the devil hard on the lips as she thrust her left fist deep into his gut, jerking up. Just like Harris had bloody taught her.
Surprise painted Finch’s slack face, while Bella stared agape at the knife sticking out of the man’s torso. Finch staggered back, grasping the handle, as Harris sprang into action. He slit the devil’s throat from behind, letting Finch slide to the ground with a sick thud backward.
The cur clutched his throat as blood slowly seeped out. Harris determined a second cut was not needed as already, a dark stain began to pool beneath Finch’s head.
Elizabeth caught Annabelle just as she crumpled, but Harris wrenched her from her sister and crushed her to him. Safe.
The Baroness did not waste breath. “Milton is here, I know it.” She shouted into the room’s dark arches, “Make noise, Jasper, show us where you are!” Her voice bounced off the low stone ceiling as a clank of chain scraped for answer.
God’s truth, Jasp was here. Harris knew he must act, but his wife trembled in his arms, teeth chattering for shock.
“Luv,” he told her softly, “he can’t hurt you no more.”
“But I killed him, Arthur, I—”
“No, Bella, y’ merely stuck ’im one. I killed Finch, hear? Y’ did naught but wound ’im. I did th’ deed, an’ I’m not sorry I did. He were an evil man. Y’ did no—”
She fell apart in his arms, heaving dry sobs as he simply held her, held on.
***
Elizabeth blinked from her brave, breaking sister to the dark spot spreading beneath Finch’s stilled form. She would not faint. The man had deserved worse than the mercy he’d received in death.
She swallowed her revulsion and knelt in the sticky puddle of blood to search his still-warm body for his key.
After a minute she held up a strange-shaped tool with a sharp, curved end to Harris, who simply nodded yes.
She grabbed a candle from the wall and headed to the furthest end of the room, toward the lowest arch, and was immediately swallowed by darkness.
Elizabeth felt her way along a damp, stone wall, her sorry flame doing little to light her way.
She knew she was descending because the air grew more dank with each step she trod, though she’d not gone very far.
Her eyes strained in the feeble light, the corridor opening into a colder, more cavernous room.
She raised her candle to peer into the space and could just make out a shape against the far wall.
“Jasper!” She stumbled forward, in her haste nearly extinguishing the flame’s weak flicker.
Her hands met skin, the body familiar, heart beating strong. She could not see his face but felt a gag at his mouth. “Harris! Bella!” she yelled, her voice bouncing off stone.
Footsteps approached, yet in her rush to free her husband she dropped her candle with a hiss to the floor. Elizabeth cursed, struggling to undo the knot at the back of Jasper’s head, thinking only, He lives. Thank God, he lives.
“Water…” he rasped the instant his lips were freed.
Her voice broke on a sob, for she had none to give. Elizabeth gave him her lips instead, sharing what moisture she had, not caring that his own cracked and bled, his mouth as coarse as dust.
She gave what she could until Harris arrived with more light, Bella gasping at the sight.
For once, Elizabeth was grateful she could see only dim, blurry shapes.
Harris turned Annabelle away. “Head down, luv. Don’t look. Go find ’im some clothes, a blanket, anythin’ t’ cover ’im.”
Bella hurried off as Elizabeth handed Harris the key. Her hands shook too much, her sight too poor. The moment Harris unlocked Jasper’s shackles, her husband slumped into his friend’s arms.
Together, they half carried, half dragged Jasper between them, blinking into the bright glow of Finch’s gilded office. There, Annabelle wrapped a wall drape about him for modesty, as Elizabeth searched for water but found only spirits and port.
Jasper drank the port in fits and starts, hunched in Finch’s large desk chair. Harris, meanwhile, pulled Annabelle’s knife from Finch’s body. He wiped the blade on the dead man’s sleeve and handed it to her.
“I must return t’ the tables—my men await me signal. Remain here with Jasp and trust only those who give my name if they approach.”
Annabelle gripped the blade and nodded.
“And the bloke at the door’s out cold, shouldn’t stir, but if he—”
“Never mind him. Make haste,” Annabelle told him.
Elizabeth barely registered the kiss Harris gave her sister. She stood behind Jasper, unsure if she might touch him. He continued to gulp port beneath the heavy drape, buried in its crimson folds.
She did not dare.
Annabelle fetched one of Finch’s bottles and stood watch beside the guard’s unconscious body. When the fellow groaned, she removed a kerchief from her pocket, doused it with drink, and smothered the man’s face.