Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“And how do I look?” Thomas asked his valet, stretching his arms.
It was the day of Vivian’s charity soiree, and Thomas was getting ready to go to the venue. She had decided it would be best to do it outside their home; after all, she wanted to invite not just the ton but wealthy merchants and all sorts of people.
Thomas had barely seen her; she had been so busy with the preparations, and he had been hunting down the last descendant of the witch.
“Handsome as always, my Lord.” His valet bowed.
Thomas laughed. “You have to say that, old chap, but I have no reason to doubt you.”
“You are in a good mood.” His valet brushed the shoulders of Thomas’s coat.
“I am excited. The Marchioness has been working so hard on this event, and I cannot wait to see the fruit of all her efforts.” Thomas glanced at his pocket watch. “And if I leave now, I will even manage to get there early. Very early in fact.”
Thomas strode out of the room and down the hallway. He wondered what dress Vivian would wear. She had refused to tell him anything but the color.
“I want it to be a surprise.” She had said to him, her eyes blazing.
Thomas grinned and adjusted his cravat, a navy to match her dress. As he approached the front door, his butler rushed to meet him. “My lord, a moment, if you please.”
Thomas did not slow; instead, he kept walking. “You can tell me on the way to the carriage; I want to get to Endsley Palace.”
“It is most urgent, my lord, and of a rather sensitive nature.” His butler gave him a meaningful look.
Thomas shook his head. “Whatever it is, it can wait. I do not want to let my wife down.”
“I do not think you will want to delay.” The man looked around and then leaned forward. “They have found her. They have found Miss Jaqueline Watts.”
It took Thomas a moment to realize what he was saying, but when he did, he stopped dead in his tracks. Today of all days—I cannot tell if this is a good omen or a curse.
“The witch’s descendant.”
“Yes.” His butler nodded.
He rounded on the man, his eyes wide. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain? We have had false leads before, and I will not risk everything for some wild-goose chase.”
I am so close. Hope and panic filled him in equal measure. They had found her, finally found her, and he could be rid of this blasted curse.
His life could begin.
“Yes, my lord, beyond all shadow of a doubt.” His butler swallowed. “It is her. I have checked and triple-checked. But you should make all haste; she is not well, my lord.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas’s heart thundered in his chest as ice filled his veins.
“They are uncertain whether she will survive the night.” His butler recoiled as Thomas swore.
If she dies, everything will be ruined. He glanced at his pocket watch. He still had a couple of hours to get to Endsley Palace. That should be plenty of time. Please let her live close.
“Where is she?” Thomas asked, his voice sounding far away even to his own ears.
“She lives in East London, my lord, not a half hour’s carriage ride from here.” His butler handed him a slip of paper with the woman’s address written on it.
Thomas furiously calculated journey times in his head. “I should be able to make it in time. With any luck, this will not take long. I have to convince her to undo the curse, and then we can all go our separate ways.”
“Do you wish for me to send her ladyship a message?” the butler asked.
Thomas hesitated and then shook his head. “No. If this does turn out to be a dead end, I do not want to spoil her night with news of it.”
“Very well, my lord.” His butler bowed. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will. You have done well.” Thomas clapped the man on the back. “If all goes as planned, I will return here a free man.”
“I shall pray for you, sir.” He swallowed.
Thomas nodded and sprinted out of the house. He handed the driver the slip of paper and barked. “As quickly as you can—this is a matter of life and death.”
“Of course, my lord.” The driver hopped into his seat, and the horses galloped forward into action.
The streets of London were crowded, and with every passing minute, Thomas felt his fear grow.
Please let her be alive.
He glanced at his pocket watch as the carriage swerved and stopped. There is still time.
“I will need to go another way, my lord. There is an accident ahead.”
“Then do it, man, and be quick about it,” Thomas growled. “We cannot afford to waste any time.”
He felt the carriage turn. Every movement felt impossibly slow to him—so slow that he could have sworn they were moving in reverse.
He glanced at the watch. “Still plenty of time. It will be all right. I will explain it all to Vivian as soon as I see her.”
He pictured it in his head. Imagined swinging her into his arms and spinning her about the room, letting all propriety be forgotten. He could practically hear her laughter, and it soothed the tension in his shoulders.
The carriage came to a stop, and the driver barely had time to announce their arrival before Thomas burst out onto the street.
The street was little more than a slum, a hodgepodge of houses cobbled together. It reeked of stale urine and other, more unpleasant things that Thomas did not want to think about.
Perhaps I should have worn different boots. He placed his feet carefully. He could feel hostile and suspicious eyes upon him. He knew why. This was not the sort of place one expected to find the aristocracy.
He stopped an old, hunched woman, gently grabbing her arm. “Excuse me, madam. I am looking for Miss Jaqueline Watts. Do you know where she lives?”
“There is no one of that name around here.” The woman’s eyes were wide and frightened. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“There will be trouble in spades if you are lying to me, do you understand?” Thomas made his voice low and firm; he had no time for charm or kindness. “You can see my clothes, so you know that I have both power and money.”
“I swear I don’t know any Jaqueline Watts.” The old woman shook, and Thomas released her.
He spotted another person and summoned him over. “Miss Jacqueline Watts?”
“Down that way, I think. Or maybe this way. Hole in the roof, or maybe it’s the door?” The man swayed slightly, and Thomas realized he was drunk.
Panic rose in his chest as he walked around the street, asking strangers whether they knew a Jacqueline Watts. He was sent first one way and then another, turning round and round, but getting no further.
His temper strayed closer and closer to the surface, and with each second that passed, his body shook more and more with the effort of keeping it under control. I am going to be late at this rate.
“I know where Jackie lives,” a voice said from behind him.
He turned to find himself looking at a grubby-looking street urchin with greasy hair that may have once been blonde, but was so matted with dirt and grime it was impossible to say. “Where?”
“What’s it worth to you?” The urchin crossed his arms across his chest.
Thomas fished out his coin purse and shook it. The boy’s eyes widened as Thomas took out a guinea and threw it to him. “There’s three more on top of that one if you do not lead me astray. Lie to me or try to trick me, and you will be sent to the magistrate.”
“This way, sir,” the boy said as he began to run through the crowded maze of slums. “Follow me. And mind your step.”
Thomas followed close on the boy’s heels. More than once, he had to jump out of the way of someone emptying a chamber pot. But he did not care. He was so close, he could practically taste his victory.
They rounded a corner, and he saw a small crowd gathered outside of a particularly dilapidated door. The boy pointed to it. “She lives in there.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said, but he did not hand over the coins. Instead, he asked one of the crowd. “Is this the home of Jacqueline Watts?”
The man nodded. Thomas slipped the coins to the urchin, tucked his coin purse away, and opened the rickety door.
In front of him was a flight of narrow and creaking steps.
With each foot he placed on the floor, he feared he might fall through.
It was with gargantuan effort that he managed not to leap every step.
He heard a cough, and his heart soared. She was still alive. He reached the landing and walked into the room. Several people opened their mouths as though to object, but he quelled them with a look.
Before him stood a woman ashen as the grave. Her face was riddled with marks, and her breath came out in horrible gargles.
“Jacqueline Watts?” he stepped toward her.
She turned in his direction, blinking slowly.
Relief flooded through him. “You may not know who I am, but I have been searching for you for some time. Your ancestor put a curse on my ancestor, and I am here to beg you to lift it.”
She raised a hand toward him, pointing her finger at him. “Curse?”
Her voice gurgled in a way that set every hair on his body on end. “Yes, a curse. Please. I need you to lift it.”
“I…” She drew in another gargling breath, the sound rattling around the room. “I…”
He took another step forward. “Yes?”
“I do not know… of any… curse.” She swayed, her eyelids flickered. “I do not… know you…”
“Your ancestor, your grandmother I think, she cursed mine. The men in my family, they all die young, ever since then.” Thomas tried to keep the panic from his voice.
Jacqueline’s eyes were glassy and she shook her head. “There is… no curse… Grandmother was not… a witch…”
Thomas felt the people stir uneasily around him. “I am not accusing you, I am just repeating what I know. What my father and grandfather believed. I will not tell another soul, I only wish for what was done to be undone. Surely we have paid for our sins?”
Is she lying to me? He knew that to be accused of witchcraft was a death sentence. The curse was the only explanation for his symptoms. He would die if it was not lifted.
“I cannot help… you.” Jacqueline’s breath rattled. “There is no… curse.”
A part of him wanted to trust her, to believe her, but he could not let him. He had to be sure. He could not risk the curse being true. Even if there was no curse, what if it was something else? What if there was some weakness in his family – some thing that made them all die young?
Her hand dropped. The rattling sound stopped. Thomas fell to his knees and cried out. “No! Please! You cannot be dead!”
Unblinking, unseeing eyes stared back at him. He had been too late. The curse would never be lifted. His heart shattered, and he fled from the room, unsure if the screams were his own or the mourners’.
I have failed.