Larken (18 page)

The pirate pulled down the shades over the carriage windows as they drove. As he did so, Larken wondered how to escape her predicament. If she darted from the carriage when it slowed, how far would she get before her kidnappers caught up to her?

As if he could read her thoughts, the pirate chuckled and pulled a length of rope from his ornately decorated frock coat.

“Yer my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, lass. We can’t have ye scampering off, can we?” He lashed her hands together at the wrists and wrapped the end of the rope around his fist. “Now sit back and relax.”

Although Larken was fuming, she said nothing. Less than a half hour later, the carriage paused its journey. A noxious smell reached her nostrils—the moist odor of brackish water. If she had to guess, she would say they were in a building somewhere near the Thames. On cue, a boat whistle let out a mournful cry. She heard a sound like a large door squeaking on its hinges, and then the horses moved forward another few yards until the fading afternoon light creeping under the shades was extinguished.

The pirate stuffed her reticule in his pocket, climbed from the carriage, and pulled her out after him. They’d driven into a warehouse of costumes, sets, and props, and Larken made the connection with the theatre instantly.
Someone from the theatre stole Theo’s letters, and that’s how they know about Mariah.

The pirate tied her rope to the carriage wheel and conferred with the carriage driver several yards off. Although they conversed in whispers, Larken was close enough to understand they were discussing the best way to sell the horses and carriage. While the men were distracted, she tried to pick the rope’s knot with her fingers. To her shock, the rope slid free of the wheel, and she darted toward the open warehouse door. Seemingly out of nowhere, a buxom woman dressed as Bo Peep stepped into her path and brandished a large shepherd’s hook.

“Gentlemen, the fish is swimming away!” she exclaimed.

Cursing, the pirate came over to pick up the end of Larken’s rope, and he gave it a savage yank. She staggered to one side and nearly sprawled to the floor.

“Be careful, captain!” Bo Peep said. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

The pirate growled, but Bo Peep grasped Larken’s arm and tugged her deeper into the warehouse. “Come on, Miss Pettigrew, let’s leave these brutes to themselves. You’ve a ransom note to write.”

In the back of the warehouse was a small office with a desk. The woman untied Larken’s hands and made her sit down at the desk with paper and pen. Larken gave her a level look.

“My hands were tied up so long my fingers won’t work properly.”

The pirate loomed in the doorway and waved his pistol. “Write or it’ll be the worse for you.”

His affected accent had disappeared, and Larken wondered why any of her captors bothered with the costumes any longer. As soon as the ransom was paid, they’d probably knock her over the head like poor James and toss her in the Thames to drown. Brandon would be devastated, as would Myles. The thought of leaving them made tears dribble down her face.

“Cry later,” the pirate said. “You’re wasting time.”

Theo and Brandon helped James into the house. As Theo lowered the driver to the stairs, Brandon rang for the housekeeper. When she arrived, Mrs. Mason let out a shriek at the sight of James’ lamentable condition.

“Merciful heavens!”

“Mrs. Mason, listen to me,” Brandon said. “Mrs. King has been kidnapped, and my brother and I are going to investigate.”

James struggled to stand. “I’ll go too.”

As the injured man swayed, Theo pushed him back onto the stair. “Sit down before you faint. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Please summon a surgeon to look at James’ injuries,” Brandon said. “If a ransom note should arrive in our absence, contact the police.”

“Yes, Mr. King,” Mrs. Mason said.

Myles appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, pale and wide-eyed. “Did something happen to Larken?”

Brandon gripped the boy by his upper arms. “Somebody took Larken, but we’re going to get her back. I promise.”

Myles’ face crumpled, and he began to wail. Brandon enfolded the boy in his arms and tried to soothe him as best he could.

“Don’t worry, lad. Larken’s the Miracle Orphan, isn’t she?”

Myles nodded.

“All right, then. If she can survive a train wreck, she can survive this.”

Chapter Twelve

Perils

G
IVEN
L
ITTLE
C
HOICE
, Larken wrote the ransom note as it was dictated to her and signed it with Mariah’s name. As Bo Peep folded it into an envelope, the pirate removed his costume and rubbed the black off his front tooth. Larken’s heart sank. Now that she’d seen the man’s face, it was a certainty she wouldn’t be allowed to live. The man examined his reflection in the mirror and combed his hair with his fingers.

“That’s better.”

He wrapped a rope around her waist and tied her to the back of the heavy wooden chair. Two smaller lengths of rope anchored her arms to the armrests. After he was sure all the knots were secure, he picked up the note.

“I’ll get some urchin to deliver this, and we’ll be in business.”

“When are you coming back, Simon?” Bo Peep asked. “Now that Neville has gone off to dispose of the horses and carriage, it’ll be just me and her.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Hetty. After Neville and I get rid of the carriage, we’ll be back.”

He hesitated a moment before producing a Sheffield folding knife from his pocket.

“What’s that for?” Hetty asked.

“You’ll see.”

When he stepped behind Larken with the knife, she gasped and braced herself for certain death. Something tugged at her hair, and moments later Simon stepped away with one of her long spiral curls in his fingers. He returned the knife to his pocket, and stuffed the curl in the envelope.

“That’s a nice touch.” Hetty nodded her approval. “You’ve a flair for the dramatic.”

“It was either that or a finger.”

Simon left. Hetty produced a bottle from a basket on the file cabinet and took a long drink. She pointed the bottle at Larken and narrowed her eyes.

“How come you left Apollo and went back to his brother?”

It seemed pointless to deny being Mariah, so Larken merely shrugged and played along. Perhaps she could gain Hetty’s sympathy.

“Money, of course. Is there any better reason?”

The woman laughed, but there was a measure of respect in her face. “You’re a heartless wench.” She took another pull from the bottle.

“What’s that?” Larken asked.

“Beer. You want some?”

“Yes, if I could have the use of my arm. Simon’s got me trussed up like a turkey.”

Hetty put the bottle down and slid a fixed four-inch blade from a sheath strapped to her thigh. “He’s not the only one who carries a stickpin.”

The woman cut Larken’s right arm free.

“Thank you.” She flexed her fingers, shook her arm to restore the flow of blood, then took a sip. The ale was vile, but she smiled anyway. “That’s good.”

Hetty drank again. “If I looked like you, I could’ve married a gentleman. I have my admirers, of course, but most of them have limited funds.”

“You’ll be well off after the ransom is paid…if Simon and Neville let you keep any of the money.”

With a grin, Hetty twirled her blade in the air. “I’m not friendless. If they try to cut me out of the deal, they’ll feel my blade in return.”

Larken forced a laugh. “I’m not the only heartless wench.”

Hetty slid the bottle of beer over again and it was Larken’s turn to drink. As she put the bottle down, she flinched.

“I hear something out front. Are your friends back so soon?”

Hetty cocked her head to listen. “I don’t hear nothing.”

“Really? It sounds like someone is knocking on the door.”

“I’ll go see.”

As she left the office, Hetty held her knife in front of her. Larken pulled the pirate coat toward her and plucked her reticule from the pocket. Inside was the nearly full bottle of laudanum she’d brought from Graceling Hall. Although it was difficult to do with one hand, she managed to unscrew the top and pour the contents into the beer. Afterward, she dropped the empty bottle of medicine into the desk drawer. Moments later, Hetty returned and set the knife down on the file cabinet.

“I don’t know what you heard, but ain’t nobody out there.”

She picked up the beer and drank.

Larken shrugged. “My nerves are on edge. Maybe it wasn’t anything…or maybe it was a mouse.”

Hetty snickered. “Rats, more likely.” Another gulp of beer.

“Rats?” Larken gulped. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“No. Rats are common near the river, but they won’t bother us as long as the lantern’s lit.”

Scant comfort, to Larken’s way of thinking, but she had other and more immediate worries. “I’m going to be murdered, aren’t I?”

“Nobody said nothing about murder,” Hetty scoffed.

“I’ve seen your faces and I know your names. Of course I’m to be murdered. You’ll not have any say in the matter, but you’ll be held culpable under the law all the same.” She paused. “You might hang, if you’re caught.”

Stung, Hetty sprang to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At least they conduct the hangings out of public view now. I wouldn’t like people to watch me choking for breath, kicking, and turning purple.”

“Shut up!”

“May I have another sip of beer?”

“No.”

Hetty drank deeply and then shuddered. Suddenly, Larken was worried. She’d meant to make the woman sleepy, not kill her outright.

“Don’t drink any more. It’s been drugged with laudanum.”

The woman peered at her. “Ha! You must think I’m stupid.”

“I’m quite serious! You’ll stop breathing if you drink too much.” She reached into the drawer and produced the bottle. “See?”

A gasp. Hetty lifted her hand to her throat. “You’ve killed me!”

The beer slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor as she staggered over to the doorway. Moments later, she swooned to the ground. Larken was relieved to see a large puddle of beer where the bottle had fallen. The stupid woman wouldn’t die, but she’d probably sleep for a long while.

Although she strained at her bindings, she couldn’t loosen the knots. Hetty’s knife would cut the ropes, but the heavy throne-like chair Larken was tied to would not allow her to stretch as far as the filing cabinet. She searched the desk, but could only find a letter opener—useless for cutting anything except paper. Desperate to escape, Larken twisted and turned, but only managed to rip her gown and bruise her left arm and her waist where they were bound with rope. Simon had done his job well; she was immobile and couldn’t escape. A cry of frustration crept from her throat as she realized knocking out her captor might have been terribly clever, but it had been a complete waste of laudanum. Worse, she’d just silenced the one kidnapper who might have pled for her life.
I expect when Bo Peep wakes, she’ll be inclined to slit my throat herself, for revenge.

As Larken sat there biting back tears, the light from the lantern began to sputter.
It’s running out of oil!
She stared in horror while the flame grew weaker. Suddenly she flashed back to the train accident, when she was trapped in the dark and unable to move for hours. Then, as now, panic obliterated her last semblance of control. Her pulse beat faster and each breath felt like her last. From the corner of her eye, she saw a large gray rat scurry across the floor just as the light went out.

Larken screamed.

When the King brothers arrived at the Adelphi Theatre, the evening’s performance was underway. Theo boldly yanked the stage door open and darted inside, followed closely by Brandon. The stage manager bristled in outrage until he recognized Theo.

“What’re you doing here, Apollo?”

“Looking for Simon. It’s urgent.”

“He didn’t show up for work today. Neither did Neville or Hetty.” He shrugged. “They’re probably home in bed with a fever—or hung over.”

Mr. Jewel appeared. “Come to ask for your job back?”

“No. My sister-in-law has been kidnapped, and I’m certain Simon has something to do with it.”