No Place for a Lady (43 page)

"Louise?" Fantine gasped, horrified at the girl's colossally bad timing. The diminutive child was sauntering in on her toes, lightly carrying a tray of... soup?

"Wot?" came the girl's high voice.

It was only then that Fantine noticed the odd things. First off, the girl held the tray high, hiding her face. Fantine knew who it was, of course, because other than general size and build, Louise was the only child she knew who perpetually walked on her toes. The other thing she noticed was that the girl was dressed childishly, in clothes she must have rooted out of the bottom of her wardrobe. She could not have looked younger if she had put on nappies! Louise was nearing thirteen, but she looked seven at the most. And the face that twisted and turned from beneath the tray was so blandly innocent that Fantine knew the girl was up to something.

"Blimey," Louise called out in her most childish voice. "Oi can't see anything from behind this tray. Where are you, Fanny?"

"Right here," she said with a sigh. Then, after a curt nod from Hurdy, Fantine stepped forward. "Hold still or you will spill it. Louise! Louise, do not wiggle so. Louise!"

The soup went tumbling down, spilling scalding hot liquid all over Hurdy.

The criminal screamed while Fantine quickly grabbed the tray. Pushing Louise to one side, she began swinging the heavy wood with all her might. Hurdy went down, still bellowing from his burns. His henchmen were next as Fantine spun, searching for another target.

But there were none.

Instead, there was Marcus, alive and furious, right in front of her, striking brutes down one by one with all the fury of a rampaging bull. He was magnificent, and soon all she need do was step back and watch.

"Coo, he is good," whispered Louise. "Jes think wot 'e'd be like in bed!"

"Louise!" she cried. Then she tensed. Ballast was rising up, fury mottling his features, his men surging to their feet as well. Apparently they had been waiting for just the right moment to strike.

But again, Fantine's services were not needed. Marcus had seen them coming, knocking them down before they gained their feet. Those he could not catch were dispatched by Wilberforce, cackling in delight. "I may be old, but I am not completely useless, am I?" he cried.

Then he plopped back down in his chair, completely winded from his exertions.

Meanwhile Marcus spun, once, twice, and a third time as he made sure all the brutes were down. Suddenly there was the sound of many feet scrambling up the stairs to her door. Would this never end?

Fantine raised her tray. Marcus readied his fists. Even Louise lifted the empty crock of soup while Wilberforce once again struggled to his feet.

Jacob appeared at the door.

Marcus was barely able to pull back the blow aimed square at his coachman's face. "Jacob! Bloody hell, man, announce yourself first!"

The man stopped dead in his tracks, surveyed the scene before him, and paled to a pasty white.

"Cor blimey, my lord," he breathed, "you are good!"

Marcus did not answer. He merely returned his gaze to the floor, then stepped forward, and neatly cuffed one of Ballast's men who was struggling to his feet. "We need something to bind them with."

"No problem, guv," answered a high voice.

Fantine looked up to see Giles, Nameless, and a series of ebullient, dirty boys scurry in with long leather strips in their hands. It was not until they began tying men up that Fantine realized what they were using.

"Those are your reins."

"Aye," answered Jacob. "It was what we had on hand."

"You did fine," answered Marcus, his voice low.

Fantine had not realized how close he was, how very near to her body he was, until he spoke those words. She turned slightly, moving into his embrace without conscious thought, and he pulled her close.

"I thought you were dead." She breathed deeply, savoring his earthy scent, knowing it meant he was alive.

"I am very much alive, thanks to Giles. Thank God the boy cannot follow simple orders. After Hurdy and Baylor left, he crept in and cut me free."

She felt him touch her chin, tilting her head so he could see her face. She did not even remember her bruises until she felt him tense, anger and horror mixing in his expression.

"I am fine," she said softly. "Truly." Then she closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest, reassuring herself that he was well. "Hurdy said he sent someone to kill you."

"The man met with an accident," he whispered against her hair. "It would take more than Hurdy and Ballast and all the knives in the rookery to keep me from you."

Fantine swallowed, not at all surprised to realize her face was wet with tears. He was alive. She had been so afraid...

"Gawd, kiss her, already," cut in Louise, giving Marcus a little shove. "Are all the lords as slow as this one to take a lady?" she asked Wilberforce. "If so, then I 'ave a miserable life ahead of me." Then her voice changed somewhat, becoming more canny as she crossed to the MP's side. "Unless some kind stranger would pay fer just a few o' me dance lessons..."

There was more, of course. Louise would not stop pestering Wilberforce until he had given her thrice what she needed for a dancing career. But Fantine was no longer listening.

Marcus was kissing her, his touch strong, his passion seemingly as fierce as her own. He nearly crushed her to him, and yet she longed to be closer. He was alive! They were alive!

And she loved him.

"If she ain't 'is mistress by now, I wager five quid she will be afore the night's out." That was Louise again, her voice barely registering over the pounding of Fantine's head. But then Marcus drew back, his expression grave.

"No," he said softly. "She will not be my mistress."

Fantine tensed. He did not want her? Surely...

He must have read the panic in her eyes, because he pressed his finger to her lips, effectively holding back her pain for a moment. A bare second, but it was all he needed.

"I love you, Fantine. I want to marry you, if you will have me."

All her words stopped in her throat, and Fantine stared at him, caught between the sinking horror of a second ago and the sudden surge of elation now.

"Coo..." breathed Louise.

Then before Fantine could answer, Marcus suddenly buckled, his knees going out from under him as he sank to the floor.

"Marcus!" she cried, but she was stopped by Nameless's dirty face.

"Daft bugger," the boy said with a grin. "Don't 'e know 'e's supposed to be on 'is knees?"

Then Marcus shifted and glared at the boy. "You need not have kicked me! A simple word would have sufficed."

"Oi'll kick you again, if'n ye don't do it right."

"What?"

"Yeah," chorused the boys. "Do it proper, guv. Right now!"

Beside them, Jacob merely shook his head. "You best do it, my lord. They's a fearsome lot."

Marcus stiffened, making himself imposing even from his knees. "Would all of you please excuse us a moment so that I may be private—"

"Not wise, my boy," cut in Wilberforce. "We cannot leave until the magistrate arrives. The criminals might rise up again, you know. I could not risk your safety or that of the lady's."

"They are bound and gagged!" cried Marcus.

"Nevertheless..." returned the MP, apparently enjoying the scene as much as everyone else.

"Go on, guv. Do it." That was Nameless again, looking threatening as he readied another kick at Marcus's shins.

Marcus tried to stare him down, but the boy did not flinch.

"Enough, Nameless," Fantine cut in. "I have no wish for you to terrify him into... into..." She could not get the word out.

"Proposing!" supplied Louise cheerfully.

Marcus cleared his throat. He made to rise up onto one knee, but a single glare from Nameless was enough to make him change his mind. Remaining on the floor, he drew her hands up to his lips. "I wish that this were a more proper place and time," he said, casting an annoyed glance about the room, "but nevertheless, I know the truth now and will not turn from it."

He kissed first her left hand, then the right before continuing. "You have given me such joy. Such terror and wonder and anxiety as well, but mostly you have opened my eyes. You make me a better man, Fantine Delarive. You teach me things and see things I cannot fathom. I love you. Will you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife?"

Fantine felt a rush of emotion surge through her. It could not be true. Marcus could not be proposing to her, could not be saying he loved her. And yet he was.

Then she bit her lip, remembering everything he said, hoping she had heard right. Then she frowned. "You want Fantine Drake, do you not?"

He shook his head. "I want you. Not Rat, nor Fanny, nor Miss Drake. I want you, Fantine Delarive, to be my wife. And so I shall say in front of everyone if you will have me."

She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Louise stepped forward, tapping her on the shoulder. "Remember to get everthing out in the open. Negotiate first."

"But—" began Fantine.

"Do it. A girl 'as to remember business."

Fantine hesitated. This was a glorious moment for her, one that she never dreamed possible. But a part of her did worry. It could not possibly be true.... "I have talked to Mr. Wilberforce," she began slowly. "About working in the rookeries. There are a number of things I intend to do here."

Marcus just stared at her, his eyes wide and uncomprehending.

"I want to help Nameless and his friends—"

The boys cheered.

"Then there is Louise and some of the other girls who want a real future—"

"'At's right, Fanny," piped in the girl. "Make sure 'e understands."

"You will not try to stop that, will you?"

Marcus still just stared at her.

"I want to do these things," she repeated.

Marcus nodded. He made to get up off his knees, but Nameless kicked him again, so he cursed and stayed where he was.

"Marcus?" she asked.

He merely stared at her. "Fantine, what has any of that to do with marrying me? A simple yes or no would suffice."

"But I do not wish you to stop me—"

Marcus sighed. It was clear his knees were beginning to pain him. "Good Lord, Fantine, you have half the rookery here telling me how to propose to you and kicking me when I have not got it right. What do you think they would do if I tried to lock you up somewhere? I would fear for my very life!"

"Yeah!" That was from the boys. They liked the idea of striking terror in a gent.

"So you will let me do as I wish?"

"Haven't I always?"

The change came quickly, but Fantine felt every split second of joy as it grew within her, coursing through her veins, until she felt as if she glowed with it. She dropped to her knees, embracing Marcus with all the strength in her body.

"I love you, Marcus."

"I love you, Fantine."

Their kiss was as passionate, as heartfelt as all the ones before, but this time there was an added dimension. There was shared wonder and the expectation of a lifetime of adventures to come.

Then at last they separated, and Marcus made to get to his feet.

"Not yet, ye don't," cried Nameless. "She ain't said yes yet!"

Marcus turned imploring eyes on her. "Please, Fantine, for the love of God, say yes, or I shall be forced to stay like this until my legs break off."

Fantine grinned, finally speaking the words out loud. "Why yes, my lord, it will be my greatest honor to become your wife."

Then they were mobbed by everyone who was not bound and gagged. The surge was so quick and so overwhelming that Marcus was forced to remain on his knees for a full ten minutes more.

Epilogue

Marcus Kane, Lord Chadwick and Miss Fantine Delarive were married in St. Paul's Cathedral on April 1, 1807, with all the pomp and circumstance appropriate to the occasion. A particularly elegant bridesmaid added to the event by literally dancing up the aisle, charming everyone with her grace and style.