Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mungo fought the need to drop to his knees and rock.
“I’m strong,” he rasped, striding across the cell and back again. Just six steps both ways.
No exit. The walls were too close. This was his hell. A hell he’d lived only once in his life before and, when he’d escaped, vowed never to again. He blamed his brother for this fear like he blamed him for many things.
He focused on that. His brother stuffing him into that wooden bin with the dirty coal, and leaving him there for too long. He’d come out whimpering, and Calder had realized the damage his simple prank had done. A fear had been born that would not die, no matter how much he fought it.
“But this is different,” he reminded himself. This was in a watchhouse in London, and Bram was coming. He had to come.
Sweat trickled down his back and slicked the palms of his hands as he paced. Movement helped. Movement meant he was free, no restraints, no one holding him down.
He heard the roar then but couldn’t make out the words. Even so, he’d bet his life on those words coming from Bram.
The thud of boots minutes later had him reaching for his jacket and shoving his hands into his sleeves. He would not meet whoever stood outside in a shirt drenched with sweat. He pulled out his handkerchief, rubbed his face with it, and then smoothed his hair as best he could.
Mungo inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly twice before the door swung open. Constable Clutterbuck looked at him, face pale and sweaty. His clear anxiety made Mungo feel a great deal better.
“I believe my friends have arrived,” he said and managed to keep his voice steady.
“Seems there was a witness to that night.”
“Who?” Mungo snapped.
“A woman.”
How was it possible? The only woman who had witnessed what took place that night was the one that man was hurting. How had she known to come here?
“Out now.”
“Please.”
The constable’s teeth snapped together before he said, “Please.”
Mungo walked by him.
“For a servant, you have friends in high places, Mr. Fraser.”
“I choose to be a servant. I don’t have to be, and that is the difference between you and me,” Mungo taunted the man.
With every step he took away from that small dark hell, he felt his strength returning.
“And who has come to collect me, Constable Rumble?”
“A viscount and several noblemen. Plus the woman.”
Leo was a viscount, so he knew he was here. Mungo didn’t say anything more, just walked and breathed freely again. Most of the fear that had almost crippled him was slowly ebbing away. The residual lingered, but when he stepped out into the smoggy, cold London air, that would leave him too.
I’m safe.
“Through there,” the constable said, and as there was only a single door ahead, Mungo walked through it.
The room wasn’t large, and the quantity of people in it made it less so. Bram was the first to see him, stepping free from the group and coming toward him.
“Are you all right?”
“Aye.”
“Mungo—”
“I’m well now, Bram, dinnae fash.”
“You’re speaking Scottish, so that means I should fash,” his friend said, worry marring his brow. “I also know you just endured something close to hell.” His friend gripped his shoulders, and they looked at each other.
Bram was here, and Mungo was safe. His friend had come, as he’d known he would. Mungo then looked at the others in the room.
“You found a Sinclair to help you,” he said, instead of acknowledging that he had been to hell.
“He was outside, so I enlisted his services.” Bram managed a tight smile.
“Constable Rumble said a woman helped.” Mungo searched the people in the room. Alex stepped to the left as Ram stepped to the right, and it was then that he saw her. Miss Downing. “Why is Miss Downing here?” But even as he asked, he already knew.
She’d been the one the man had attacked that night. It made sense to him now, considering his immediate reaction to her.
“She was the woman you rescued from Parson’s clutches. Just something else you haven’t told me in a long list of things, when you take into the fact your niece was here—”
“I have no idea who Parson is, and we don’t need to thrash that out again here, Bram.”
“He’s Ellington’s son.”
The breath hissed from Mungo’s mouth. “She worked for him?”
“It was her last day, but I’m sure she can tell you the story.”
“I’d ask you to remember how you’d feel if we kept things from you, Mungo,” Bram added.
Mungo snorted. “As if anyone in this family can manage to keep their gob shut for longer than a second.”
“Harsh but true. How are you, Mungo?” Leo asked.
“Well.”
Ram and Alex followed, and then Captain Sinclair came next. Miss Downing, he noted, stayed back.
“You have my thanks,” Mungo said.
“It was a slow day,” Captain Sinclair said.
“You’ve added some excitement to it. Now I must return to see what mayhem my family has created, which will likely need my mediation.
It’s my hope to see you again soon at a Crabbett Close wedding.
” The man’s words were followed by a wink, which Mungo had no idea how to interpret.
He left, and Bram, Leo, and Alex began to interrogate the officers, which left him alone with Miss Downing.
“Thank you.”
They both spoke the words at the same time.
“It was me you saved that night, so thank you again, Mr. Fraser,” she rushed to add. “I’m unsure what would have happened had you not arrived when you did.”
He knew exactly what would have happened, but he kept that thought to himself.
“You’re welcome, and thank you for speaking out today on my behalf. I know that can’t have been easy.”
He’d thought her eyes were brown, and they were, but so dark, they were almost black. Eyes a man could get lost in, Mungo thought. An auburn lock had escaped her bonnet and was curled over a shoulder. He had the foolish urge to reach out and touch it to test the texture.
“It was the right thing to do, and Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale have been kind enough to allow me to stay in their employ—”
“Why would they not?” He was close enough that her scent reached him. Nothing alluring like some perfumes women wore. No, hers was clean, like starch and soap.
She didn’t lower her eyes but kept them steady on his face. Her voice had a faint trace of something he couldn’t pinpoint. Well-spoken, polite, but he’d heard her fire that night of her attack. This was no meek maid as her facade suggested.
“Many blame the staff for any and all the things they do not like that happen within their household, sir.”
“You owe Miss Downing a great deal, Mungo. I hope you’ll remember that when you return to Crabbett Close and start ordering us about again,” Alex said, stepping into the conversation like he had every right, which was usual for anyone in this family.
“I have thanked her.”
The fear was leaving, even if his hands were still clenched. He needed to walk. Get out onto the street and move. Be free to do what he wished and know he could. He was no longer trapped in that cell.
“So, what I want to know, Sergeant Haversham, is what is to be done about this travesty?” Bram said behind him.
Alex moved away to join the conversation, leaving him alone with Miss Downing again.
“Are you all right, Mr. Fraser?”
“Aye.”
“Your hands are clenched,” she said so only he could hear.
Mungo made himself release his fingers, opening each slowly and feeling the relief in the cramped joints.
“Do you have a fear of small places, sir?”
“Pardon?”
She was smiling gently at him. Mungo didn’t want to respond to the question. Didn’t respond because he would not show her his weakness. She was no one to him.
“I wondered if you disliked enclosed spaces. I had a—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off, then turned his back on her, heart pounding.
Mungo wasn’t used to anyone other than Bram seeing what he was thinking or feeling. That this woman had unsettled him. It was not a state he liked to be in.
“Am I free to go?” he demanded in a harsh voice.
“Yes, and I’m looking at pressing charges for what has happened to you,” Bram said.
“No. Leave it. Let’s go, or the children will be worried.”
Mungo walked out the door without looking at Miss Downing again. He didn’t stop until he reached the carriage. Benjamin, another Nightingale footman, was holding the horses.
“Mungo. You’re free.”
“Aye. Now I’ll drive. You open the door, as the others are coming.”
“You’ve no overcoat.”
“I’m not soft like you,” Mungo said, climbing into the driver’s seat.
He inhaled a few more times to steady himself. How had she known he didn’t like enclosed spaces?
“Here.” A blanket was thrown at him from below.
Looking down, he saw it came from Leo.
“It’s freezing, and while you appear to be made of granite, I know you’re not.”
Mungo grunted something neither of them understood. Then when Benjamin was settled beside him, he flicked the reins, and the horses started toward home.
“Would you care for some of the blanket, Mungo?”
“No.”
His mother had always said that his stubbornness would likely one day be his downfall, and there was little doubt she was possibly right, he thought as the icy wind sliced through his clothing.
No scarf or gloves—only a hat that didn’t cover his ears.
He’d be a bleeding block of ice before they arrived at Crabbett Close.
“Miss Downing seems nice,” Benjamin said.
“You’ve not spoken a single word to her, lad, so I’m not sure how you formed that opinion.”
“She’s pretty, then,” he added.
“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”
His tone was obviously cool enough to dissuade further conversation, so Mungo was able to steer the horses toward home. As they passed the tea shop where he and his niece had met many times over her time in London, he once again felt that deep pang of loss because Fenella was gone.
Seeing her had brought back all the memories he’d blocked out of his homeland and family.
The hatch behind him opened, and Alex’s face appeared.
“What?” Mungo barked.
“Stop at the bakery!”
“You can walk back.”
“It’s frigid out there. Don’t be mean, Mungo.” The hatch snapped shut.
He’d played a hand in who these Nightingales had become. He knew what they were and could do and was proud of each of them. Not that he’d ever tell them that. But no one could annoy him quite like Alex, unless it was Ram, who also had the knack.
Sighing, he pulled the horses to a halt in front of Appleblossoms Bakers ten minutes later. The carriage door opened, and out stepped Alex, Ram, and Leo.
“I’ve half a mind not to get you anything,” Alex fired up at him. “Not you of course, Benjamin, but that grumpy Scottish behemoth at your side.”
Benjamin fought his laugh by coughing into his hand.
“Get on with you,” Mungo said. “The horses will get a chill.”
Leo moved closer to look up at him. “You’re frozen through, aren’t you? And yet, Benjamin is wrapped in the blanket. I wonder at your stupidity sometimes, Mungo.” Shaking his head, the man then walked inside the bakery.
“I often wonder if he sleeps on a bed of nails just to prove how unbreakable he is,” Mungo heard Ram say as they headed into the bakery.
“Not a single word,” Mungo said to Benjamin. Wisely, the man kept his thoughts to himself.
After the brothers had gone inside and shut the door, it burst open again, and out ran Tabitha Varney.
“And this is all I need to improve my day,” Mungo muttered.
“I could—”
“Move an inch, and I’ll have you fired,” he said softly to Benjamin. The lad wisely sat still, eyes forward.
“Oh, Mungo! I heard you were taken away by that horrible constable. Are you well?” Tabitha cried as she reached the carriage.
She wore a dress that was low-cut and showed off her breasts, which most of the people in the street were already well acquainted with.
“It’s cold out, Tabitha. I’m well. Go back into the bakery,” Mungo said.
She clasped her hands together, eyes damp. The woman should be treading the boards, as she was an excellent actress.
“Would you like to come for tea? I’ll bring some cakes home from the bakery. Mrs. Peeky is helping me to perfect a ginger cake that I know you’ll love.”
“I can get tea at 11 Crabbett Close. Now go on with you.” Mungo hadn’t outright insulted the woman, but he’d shown her in every way possible that he had no interest in any liaison or future marriage with her, but as yet, he’d not managed to dissuade her.
Looking behind him, he wondered what conversation was going on inside between Bram and Miss Downing.
“Tabitha! Get back here! We’ve two batches of scones needed for the afternoon rush!” Mrs. Douglas called from the doorway. “Good to see you home safe, Mungo!”
Tabitha sent him a saucy wink and hurried back inside.
He was exhausted, and the day still had many hours left in it. Plus, he had to come to terms with the fact that Miss Downing had saved him as he’d saved her, and not only that, but she was now living in the Nightingale household. But there was more to it than that.
Eliza Downing had something about her that touched him. Her beauty, yes, but there was something more, and he had no time in his life to be noticing the governess who he’d have to see every day for however long it took to get the children ready to enter society.
Knowing them as he did, he thought it would be many months.