Coleen Kwan - Darke London

Nellie glared at Sir Thaddeus. Pain reverberated through her arm where his cane had struck her and found its echo in the headache pounding against her skull. “Why are you here?” she flung at Sir Thaddeus. His fastidiously dressed figure filled her with revulsion. At the back of her mind lurked the sour possibility that she and Julian had walked into a trap set up by Madame Olga and Sir Thaddeus. “Why are you so concerned about Pip’s visits to a spiritual medium?”

Sir Thaddeus flicked at some dirt on the sleeve of his coat. “I’m interested in everything he does. I have to be, or that foolish boy will wander into more trouble.”

“You enjoy your power over him, don’t you? To you he is a mere commodity, a pawn in your machinations. You cannot abide him slipping out of your control. That’s why you took the trouble of visiting Madame Olga and paying her to say certain things to Pip. You would stop at nothing to maintain your hold over him.”

Sir Thaddeus pulled a face. “Pah, the boy’s a nincompoop, but he is still an Ormond and my only son and heir. I won’t leave anything to chance. I had a specific arrangement with the filthy witch who lives here. Where is she?”

Nellie’s heart sank. Madame Olga had made no mention of Sir Thaddeus visiting her tonight. Perhaps she’d forgotten, or, more likely, she hadn’t cared, her greed for Julian’s money overriding everything. Nellie cast an anxious glance at the curtain. What was that brute doing to Julian back there? She could hear some shuffling sounds which did not sound like blows, and for that she was grateful.

“You’ve played some hoax on my son. I see that now.” Sir Thaddeus glowered at her as he took in the full detail of her dress. “The devil take you, you hellcat. What nonsense did you fill that boy’s head with?”

He poked the end of his cane hard against her stomach. She choked with anger and thought about lunging at him with her claws unsheathed. If she aimed correctly, she’d hook his cheek nicely. But just as she tensed her hands, he jabbed at her again, harder this time, causing her to stumble backwards. With chilling speed, he grabbed her gloved hand by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. The bruised bone and muscle of her injured arm cried out in protest, but she bit her lip to silence herself.

“Pip is frightened of you,” she managed to pant out, “but he’ll never respect or love you. Never.”

“As if I care tuppence about that.” He wrenched her arm harder. “It’s naught to me as long as he marries the girl I’ve picked out for him.”

“Oh, yes. The so-called message from beyond the grave you paid Madame Olga to deliver. So who is this Miss Montague? Some weak-chinned inbred miss with high arches and thin blood?”

“Hold your tongue, harpy.” He cuffed her across the head. She ducked, but he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her upright. “Now move,” he ordered. Her scalp stinging, she had no option but to obey.

She staggered past the curtain and into the room beyond. They were in some sort of grubby kitchen which reeked of stale drippings. The shabbiness of the room only highlighted the horror of seeing Julian lying on the floor, arms and legs bound with stout rope, a filthy cloth gagging his mouth. His eyes were shut, and he appeared insensible, while the bestial lout stood over him, one dirtied boot resting on Julian’s shoulder.

“What now, guv?” From his coat Kray drew out a long knife and ran his thumb along the wicked edge, his eyes never leaving Nellie. “I wouldn’t mind finishing the job I started on this hoyden. I could add a few more stripes to ’er face. Make ’er real pretty.”

At the sight of that familiar knife Nellie shuddered, the scars on her face itching and tingling at the memory.

“You’re all talk and no show, I’m beginning to suspect,” Sir Thaddeus grumbled. “Why should I pay you when I have to correct your bungles?”

The man kicked pettishly at Julian’s comatose form. “Killing ain’t as easy as it looks.”

“Of course it is. You just have to go about it with purpose.” He pushed Nellie forward. “See to the wench. Tie her up properly.”

Nellie’s determination to struggle dissolved as the knife blade glinted closer. That same knife had carved into her face, had sliced through her fingers, had stabbed at her defenceless body. Dread and loathing numbed her as Kray dragged her to the far side of the kitchen. He fished out a length of rope from his pocket and swiftly bound her hands behind her back. Forcing her to the ground, he tied her ankles together, his hands jerking the rope viciously, then shackled her to the leg of a cumbersome table. When he balled up a greasy rag and kneeled down, she twisted her head from side to side in protest, but to no avail. He stuffed the loathsome cloth into her mouth until she was almost gagging.

“Don’t you look dainty?” He pinched her scarred cheek hard. With both feet, she aimed a kick at his exposed ankle. He yelped and backhanded her across the face.

“Stop that racket,” Sir Thaddeus barked. “I can hear someone on the outer stairs.” A knock sounded on the front door. Fixing his glare on Nellie, Sir Thaddeus muttered, “You’ll keep your mouth shut. One peep out of you and Kray sinks that knife into his gut.” He pointed at Julian.

Kray hunkered down next to Julian’s inert body and positioned his blade at Julian’s exposed stomach. Her mouth dry from fear and the noisome cloth, Nellie could only nod her acquiescence.

Sir Thaddeus disappeared past the curtain just as the knock was repeated, louder this time. There was a creaking noise as if the door was swinging open, and then Nellie heard Pip’s voice, sharp with shock.

“Father! What the…what are you doing here?”

“I could say the same of you,” Thaddeus retorted.

“I-I came to speak with Madame Dariya. W-where is she? What have you done with her?”

“You’ve already spoken with the woman. Why did you return?”

“How do you know that? Have you been following me?” Pip’s voice pitched upwards. “Oh my heavens. Is there nothing you won’t do to manipulate me? Why can’t you just leave me be?”

“You’re my heir, the last of the Ormonds. Your wishes are the least of my considerations,” Thaddeus thundered. A thud followed as he kicked over a piece of furniture. “From now on there’ll be no more visits to fortune tellers. You’ll do as I say and marry the Montague girl, and that’s the end of it.”

“It—it’s not the end of it.” The desperation in Pip’s voice made Nellie’s stomach contract. “I have a few questions for you, Father, and I d-demand your answer.”

There was a brief silence. “Oh? And what questions might they be?” Thaddeus asked in a deceptively mild tone.

Pip swallowed audibly. “Nellie’s disappearance and death. D-did you have any part in that?”

“What! What poppycock. Who told you that? I’ll have his guts for garters, I swear.”

“So you deny any involvement in my wife’s d-death?”

Nellie leaned her head back against the table leg and shut her eyes as relief of sorts trickled through her. Pip had just proven he’d known nothing about his father’s plans to get rid of her. Cold comfort now, but it was something to know he hadn’t betrayed her so completely.

“That fortune hunter was not your wife,” Sir Thaddeus said. “You promised yourself to the Montague girl.”

“Only under duress.”

“Why did you come running back to me then as soon as your little gold digger’s back was turned? Answer me that, son.”

“I came to you asking for assistance.”

“And I gave you the best possible assistance. Now you’re free of that tawdry association, you can start behaving like a proper Ormond.”