Chapter 14 #2
Charlie had a moment of panic as he rounded the house to the side where the orangery stood and saw the maid again.
She was headed straight toward the orangery with a basket on one arm.
Part of Charlie wanted to leap toward her and warn her that she’d be sacked if she went near those forbidden buildings, but the rest of him realized how absurd that was.
And also, she appeared to know exactly what she was doing. Charlie followed, hiding as much as he could, piecing together the story of what must have been happening. The maid was very likely bringing food to Fabian.
He was almost certain of it by the time he dashed up to the side of the house, hiding around the corner from the maid as she pulled out a key to unlock the door.
As soon as she ducked inside the cottage, Charlie hurried to one of the curtained windows, pressing his ear against it to see if he could hear any conversation.
“Please, Margaret, please,” he heard Fabian plead.
The maid didn’t say a word. Charlie wished he could see whether she even looked at Fabian or how Fabian looked at her.
Minutes later, Charlie heard the cottage door shut. He pressed his back against the stone wall, heart pounding, counting the seconds until he dared to peek around the corner to see if the maid, Margaret, was gone.
He didn’t have to wait. Margaret stepped silently from the other side of the cottage so suddenly that Charlie gasped in shock.
“Shh!” Margaret warned him, eyes wide. She stared right at Charlie and said, “The door is unlocked,” before striding past him as if she’d never seen him there.
Charlie gulped, then slowly peeked around the front of the cottage. Everything was silent. Nothing looked at all out of place. He summoned his courage, then hurried forward, grabbing the door handle with a shaking hand.
It seemed like a better idea to enter the cottage quickly than to linger and risk someone catching him. As soon as he was inside the cottage, though, he was met with a terrified shout from Fabian, who sat at the table wrapped in a robe.
Charlie yelped as well, but mostly because of the shock of the moment. He was as frightened as Fabian was.
Fabian recovered first. His glassy eyes went wide, and he wheezed out, “You!”
Fear made it nearly impossible for Charlie to speak, but he nodded and approached Fabian cautiously.
“Help me, please,” Fabian said, standing from the table and taking a step toward Charlie.
The chain fastened to his ankle by a shackle clinked and scraped along the floor.
Charlie noted sickly that the skin around Fabian’s ankle was bruised and red with sores.
He must have been in so much pain, but his wounds didn’t seep pus or ooze like they were infected. Someone must be seeing to them.
“Take me away from here, Charlie.” Fabian burst into tears as he approached Charlie and grabbed at the front of his shirt. “Please help me.”
“I…I want to,” Charlie said, grabbing Fabian’s arms in turn.
Their eyes met, and suddenly nothing mattered.
Whether Fabian was a lord or not, whether he had fallen into his prison willingly or been coerced into it, whether he became addicted to opium and laudanum on his own or by trickery, none of it mattered.
Charlie felt the same kinship to the young man that he’d felt with Valentine.
“I want to save you,” he whispered, pulling Fabian into a hug.
Fabian hugged him back, sobbing. “Please, please!”
“I don’t know how,” Charlie wept with him as if they’d known each other their entire lives.
“I need to get away,” Fabian said, leaning back so he could look Charlie in the eyes. “I don’t have much time left.”
Charlie felt like his stomach might drop out. “Will they kill you?”
Fabian gulped and shook his head. “I’m too valuable to them.”
If death was not waiting at the end of whatever clock was ticking for Fabian, Charlie did not want to know what was.
“I don’t know how to help you,” he said, wiping tears from his face with the palm of his hand. He needed to be the strong one for Fabian’s sake. “I’m just a photographer’s apprentice.”
Fabian’s eyes went wide, as if Charlie had told him he was a knight from a foreign realm. “Photographer,” he whispered.
Charlie chewed his lip as he watched Fabian. It was clear he was at least partially under the effects of whatever substance his captors had given him. If that was the case, rescuing him might prove harder than either of them wanted.
“Can you tell me who you are?” he asked, thinking of Jonathan and all the questions and excuses his…friend would give.
Fabian blinked slowly, like the question was beyond him.
Then he caught his breath and seemed to understand.
“I am Fabian Barnstable,” he said, gripping Charlie’s arms tightly again. “I met a man at the Savoy in March. We…we had an assignation. He said he wanted to meet me again, but when I arrived at his house, two men kidnapped me.”
He burst into a sob and leaned against Charlie.
“I was forced to take opium and used,” he said as Charlie clung to him. “I do not know where I am now or how I came to be here.”
“You’re in Wiltshire,” Charlie whispered to him, stroking his head like he used to when his younger siblings were upset about something. “You’re at Fairford House.”
“Fairford House?” Fabian jerked back, questions in his bleary eyes. “Lord Frome’s estate?”
“Yes,” Charlie said, heart racing. “Do you know him? Do you know the place?”
“I…I’ve heard Frome’s name spoken, but I do not remember where.” He shook his head, then gripped it as if he needed to hold it to make himself still again. “Dalhurst said…purchase for a sweet penny…but London is where I will truly shine.”
Charlie didn’t understand what he was trying to say. He held tightly to Fabian, trying to make sense of it all. “Is Dalhurst responsible for all this?” he asked, not completely certain who Dalhurst was.
Fabian shook his head, then began to laugh. The sound was terrifying. “They’re all involved,” he said. “It’s a club, a band of thieves and liars.”
He still wasn’t making sense, but Charlie tried to fill in the story anyhow. “A club?” he asked. “Like The Zagreus Den?”
He was so certain The Zagreus Den was good.
Fabian stared at him in hazy confusion. “Zagreus?”
It was wrong of him, but Charlie wanted to let out a breath of relief. Fabian didn’t know what The Zagreus Den was.
But it suddenly occurred to him that Brutus and Titus might have possibly known about Fabian.
“I need help to rescue you,” Charlie said. “My friend…my master needs to help you.”
Something like recognition lit Fabian’s eyes. “Your master. You know then. You know who and what they are.”
Charlie shook his head.
But that wasn’t an entirely honest answer. He suspected he knew more about the world he and Jonathan had been dragged into than he gave himself credit for.
“I cannot help you on my own. I need help, too. But I’ll do my best to get that help, now, if I can.”
He took a step back from Fabian, turning toward the door.
“Don’t leave me!” Fabian called out, running after him.
He got as far as the length of his chain before letting out a sharp, pained cry and shrinking back.
“Your ankle,” Charlie gasped, stepping back to him and dropping to his knees so he could take a look. “You must have a care for your ankle.”
“It hurts,” Fabian sobbed. “Everything hurts.”
Charlie was too afraid to even touch Fabian’s bruised and now bleeding ankle. “You must rest it,” he said, glancing up at Fabian. “If we have any chance at all of rescuing you, you’ll need to be able to run.”
For a moment, Charlie worried Fabian was too far gone to understand. But at last, he nodded through his sobs and dragged himself back to his chair.
“I’ll go for help,” Charlie promised him as he headed for the door. “I won’t stop until I convince him to save you.”
“Hurry,” Fabian cried as Charlie grasped the door handle and turned it. “Please, hurry.”
“I will,” Charlie promised.
He opened the door carefully, then peeked outside to make certain no one was around. When he was convinced he was safe, he slipped out into the night and turned to run back to the house.
Jonathan had to help Fabian now. If he refused after what Charlie was about to tell him, then he wasn’t the man Charlie thought he was. He wasn’t a man Charlie could devote himself to.