Chapter 18 #2
Another man stood from a chair near the fireplace where he’d been watching the brute beat Thornton. He turned to greet them.
“Hammond Abbey,” Audrey said, recognizing Mr. Gye’s steward.
He cut a grin, but she could recall seeing the grotesque devil mask with its pronged, lolling tongue.
“Let her leave, Abbey. She’s nothing to do with this,” Thornton slurred, his mouth glistening with blood. His nose looked broken, and a gash ran alongside one eye.
The rest of the great hall was empty. Where was Hugh?
“When a lamb walks into the Sanctuary, we don’t just let it leave.” The steward strolled forward. “Well done, Stevens. Taking the initiative, I see.”
“Gye knows about you,” the Bow Street officer said, practically shouting in Audrey’s ear. “She says foot patrols and the magistrate will be coming.”
Mr. Abbey’s slick grin fell off. “Is that so. Well, Stevens, why are you still standing here? Go head them off. Or else what use are you to me?”
Stevens released Audrey’s arm and darted her a look.
The barest trace of guilt and indecision lingered in his expression.
He must have been the one to inform Abbey about Lord Stromburg and Madame Lee’s visit to Bow Street.
Had he also given up Harlan Givens as an informant for Officer Tyne?
And now, he was leaving her to her fate.
She rubbed her arm, where he’d held her in his bruising grip.
“You are nothing but a coward,” she told him.
Stevens averted his eyes, and then hurried from the room.
“You are correct, Your Grace. He is a coward,” Abbey agreed. “But a useful one.”
“What should we do, Mr. Abbey?” the man standing over Thornton asked. When Abbey twitched his head, turning his ear sharply toward him, the man repeated, louder now, “Mr. Abbey, what should we do?”
Audrey stilled her hand. The bruise on her arm went numb as she blinked and gaped.
“You’re deaf,” she said, and when Abbey didn’t respond or react, she raised her voice. “You’re deaf in one ear, aren’t you?”
He heard her this time. He seared her with a glare before it flashed over to humor.
“The left ear,” she added, thinking of which ear had been taken from the three bodies left in the pleasure gardens.
“Clever. Stevens told me you were a shrew, but I didn’t quite believe it. My mistake.”
Audrey heard the telltale sound of his deafness now. His vowels and consonants weren’t fully formed, something that would be a challenge for anyone who was unable to fully replicate speech.
“Why cut off their ears?” she asked.
For a moment, she thought Abbey might gesture for his brute to grab her and take her away.
He could easily turn on his heel and leave the room, ignoring her question.
Instead, he strolled across the hall toward her.
Instinct demanded that she back away from him, but she held firm to her spot on the floor.
“So many people think that because I am deaf here”—he touched his left ear—“I am also deaf here.” He touched his right ear.
“When someone betrays me, I like to demonstrate how, even with just one working ear, I know everything that is said about me or my Sanctuary. When I cut off their ear, I tell them they are about to die. By the look in their eyes, they hear me perfectly well.” He grinned. “Even with just one working ear.”
At that deranged grin of his, her tongue went heavy and useless. She’d met criminals. Killers. This man, however, seemed to take such pleasure in what he’d done. He frightened her as no one ever had before.
But he seemed to enjoy talking, and for the moment at least, she was still breathing.
“What have you done with Gwendolyn Bertram?”
“You should concern yourself with what I’m going to do with you.”
Fear chilled her veins. Cassie had been tasked with sending Bow Street patrols to this place, but what if they weren’t fast enough?
What if Sir Gabriel dismissed Cassie? What if Sir was still completely clueless as to what was happening, and Mr. Gye had gone back to his office to continue packing?
Or what if Stevens was able to head any constable off as he’d been ordered to do?
She needed time to find some way out of this. Keeping her wits, and keeping Mr. Abbey talking, was one avenue—even if she didn’t know where it would lead.
“All this because you wanted the lease to Vauxhall?” she asked.
Mr. Abbey laughed. “And you have derived that as well. Impressive. No, it was merely a good opportunity that arose out of the need to keep order. Members know the rules. Including the punishment for crossing them.”
“Gwendolyn isn’t a member,” she said.
His chilling grin resurfaced. “After tonight, she will be. And she will not be able to speak of it without suffering the consequences.”
Audrey let out a breath of relief. She was still alive, then.
Thornton, his head drooping forward, arms bound behind the chair backing, gurgled a laugh through his bloody nose and mouth. “You won’t make it until tonight.”
Mr. Abbey rolled his eyes and swished his finger through the air. “Martin?”
The man standing over Thornton drew back his fist and brought it down across his jaw again. Audrey winced as Thornton grunted.
Where was Hugh? Abbey had made no mention of him yet. Neither had Thornton. Audrey met the physician’s eyes as he spit blood, and he gave the barest shake of his head. A signal to stay quiet about Hugh, she deduced.
“Bethany Silas,” she said, wanting to keep Abbey talking. “What happened to her?”
She was nearly afraid to hear the answer.
“Unfortunately for her, she befriended Comstock,” he replied with a blasé shrug of his shoulder. He inspected his nails. “She was a willing aspirant.”
Aspirant. The word made her stomach roll.
“Why would she ever wish to join a club like yours?” Disgust drenched her words, and by the slipping of his easy, amused expression, Abbey heard it. That smirk was his mask, she realized. His true countenance was the one he’d worn while glaring at Mr. Gye at the Cascade. One of bitter hatred.
“The Sanctuary is no club,” he said. “This is a brotherhood, one my father founded. It has been building in strength for decades, operating out of sight, protecting its brothers and its sisters—”
“You call passing young women around for some twisted initiation and strangling them protection? You are deranged.”
Martin moved away from the bleeding physician and came toward Audrey. But Abbey raised a hand to stay the brute.
“Most members can restrain themselves. Sadly, Comstock was not one of them.” He kept strolling toward Audrey, the firelight from the hearth glowing over the black superfine of his jacket.
She stood a few strides away from the dining table, which was dressed for dinner with silver cutlery and china plates.
Audrey pretended to scuttle back, away from him in fear, and she went in the direction of the table.
“Things tend to become heated during our initiations,” Abbey said, stalking her. She made a show of backing up into a chair at the table and being startled by it. If she reached behind her, she could close her hand around a fork or knife.
But Abbey must have foreseen her plan. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her to him before she could grab for a utensil. He spun her so her back sealed to his chest and wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms into place at her side. His other hand closed around her throat.
“Comstock had a penchant for asphyxiation,” he said, his lips at Audrey’s ear.
“Release her, Abbey!” Thornton shouted, but Martin only struck him again.
The fingers around Audrey’s throat closed with slightly more pressure.
“I gave him a second chance after what happened with Stromburg’s initiate.
” The woman from the Red Lotus, Audrey thought as her pulse began to throb in her ears.
Comstock had been the one to strangle her. And then, he’d strangled Bethany too.
“But we must weed out troublesome members before the rot sets in,” Abbey whispered into her ear. “You, Your Grace, are very troublesome. As is the Viscount Neatham. Where is he? Oh, I know he would never allow you to come here all on your own.”
Her ears were pounding now, her breaths constricted. But elation still managed to weaken her legs. They may have captured Thornton, but not Hugh.
“He’s about to bring Bow Street down on your head,” she rasped, her words barely able to form for the pressure on her throat.
Air shuttled into her lungs as Mr. Abbey released her and shoved her away. She fell to her knees, lightheaded from the sudden influx of oxygen.
“The viscount is here, I am certain of it now,” Abbey said. “Martin, put her in with the other. Then send Trunchett and Boggs to search the rooms and passageways. Don’t overlook the stables. He could have come in through there.”
Martin hauled Audrey to her feet, her vision tipping. Thornton thrashed at his bindings in the chair as she was dragged out of the hall.
Abbey was right. Hugh was here. Somewhere.
Audrey only prayed that he had a plan.