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Authors: Rebecca King

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Cinders and Ashes

BOOK: Cinders and Ashes
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Cinders And Ashes

 

The Cavendish Mysteries

Book Two

 

 

By

Rebecca King

 

 

REVISED EDITION

29
TH
APRIL 2013

 

 

 

 

Cinders And Ashes

Rebecca
King

Copyright 2013
by Rebecca King

Smashwords
Edition

 

 

 

TABLE
OF CONTENTS

FOREWORD

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FOREWORD

PENNY DREADFULS & DEATH MASKS

 

Penny Dreadfuls

 

During
the 1700s, execution broadsides were sold amongst the crowds who
flocked to view hangings of convicted criminals. They would show a
drawing of the hanging (or person being hung), and would detail the
crime, people involved and sometimes even include a confession from
the criminal. Although they weren’t always an accurate depiction of
events, the criminal would sign the top with an X (if they couldn’t
write their name).

Due to
the gruesome nature of the crimes the broadsides detailed, and the
fact that they cost a penny each, they were given the nickname
‘Penny Dreadful’ by the crowds who purchased them.

In the
Victorian era, Penny Dreadfuls became very popular featuring
fiction stories, which were often gory horror stories targeted at
young boys. They became an early form of serial
magazines.

 

Death Masks

 

As
artist drawings weren’t always accurate (and there was no
photography), death masks were often taken of criminals as an
accurate way of taking images of people hung.

Once the
convict was dead, they were cut down from the gallows. A cast was
taken of the face, which was then bronzed. The body was covered in
quicklime; before being buried in a pauper’s grave which the
convict had dug themselves the day before their
execution.

Although
very few death masks still exist, three have been loaned by
Derbyshire Constabulary and are currently on display at Derby
Gaol.

 

Original
Penny Dreadfuls detailing hangings at Derby Gaol and Friargate, and
three death masks of convicts hung at Friargate, are on display at
Derby Gaol’s museum.

www.derbygaol.com

 

 

My
sincere appreciation goes to Edd Felix at Derby Gaol, for his help
and assistance. Also, to Pete for his fabulous ghost walks (you got
me in the end!).

 

My
thanks also go to the British Library Rare Books Team for their
invaluable expertise.

 

 

 

** My sincere appreciation also goes to Julia Gibbs for her
professional input on grammar, punctuation, spelling and
consistency of this manuscript. ** 29
th
April 2013

PROLOGUE

Bitter
frustration rose within Sebastian Cavendish, as he glanced through
the open door of the wildly swaying carriage into the gaping black
void beyond. Consciousness, when it had returned moments earlier,
had thundered through his head with shockingly brutal speed. He
wished it hadn’t. He was about to die, and there wasn’t a damned
thing he could do to prevent it.

Swearing fiercely, he tugged ineffectually against the tight
bonds on his wrists.
He couldn’t die yet.
He simply couldn’t.
He hadn’t even
scratched the surface of the things he wanted to achieve with his
life. Marriage. Children. Old age. Now, it was all going to be
denied him by the ruthless actions of the man opposite.

Fighting
growing desperation, Sebastian glared across the small space at his
kidnapper with hatred in his eyes.

Howling
winds drove the rain sideways, lashing the sides of the rocking
coach as it sped through the night. Sebastian’s shoulders were
soaked as he stared in dread at the brief flashes of hedgerow
barely visible through the doorway. He considered the chances of
getting out alive. It didn’t look good.

The
heavy rumbling of the carriage wheels, together with the banging of
the wildly swinging carriage door, was deafening. Accompanied by
the rapid thud of horses’ hooves, the volume of noise matched the
heavy pounding in his head with equal fervour.


Stand up!” The low growl of his captor was accompanied by the
tightening and jerking of his sodden shirt as he was
unceremoniously dragged into a sitting position.

Sebastian’s head swirled in protest. For a brief moment, he
thought he would lose the meagre contents of his battered stomach
all over the man’s boots. For some godforsaken reason, he had the
wild urge to laugh at the absurdity of his captor’s order. His
hands were painfully bound behind his back. With the carriage
rocking and swaying beneath them, it was an impossible order for a
healthy person to carry out. It was a damned near impossible task
for someone who had been kidnapped, and starved for days before
being beaten unconscious.

Belligerently, Sebastian spat a defiant epithet and watched
cynically as Rat staggered left and right as he tried to keep his
balance in the wildly swaying carriage. The hand he pushed against
the roof of the carriage did little to help him remain upright
against the dipping and jostling movement. Once or twice Rat
cursed, and pushed himself to his feet, only to fall onto the
opposite side of the carriage with another curse.


Stand up, I say!” Rat ordered. He was clearly unaware of how
ridiculous he looked.

Sebastian’s lip curled in arrogant contempt. With slow
deliberation, and no small measure of satisfaction, he ignored the
myriad of aching bruises along his back and ribs and slumped lower
onto the filthy floor. He glared defiantly at his tormentor as he
pushed his back against the seat of the decrepit
carriage.

The
tall, almost cadaverous man staggered over to him. Eventually, he
braced his hands on the seat on either side of Sebastian’s broad
shoulders, and peered down into his face with a cruel, mocking
smile.


Take a look, my lord.”
His tormentor
grinned toothily at him, as he pushed his grubby face closer.
Cruelly he grabbed a handful of Sebastian’s thick black locks,
snapping his head back painfully. Sebastian closed his eyes rather
than meet his captor’s stare, only to snap them open again when his
head was yanked around to face the open carriage door. He felt the
hot putrid breath of his tormentor in his ear.


Listen to the winds,” Rat whispered tauntingly. “See the
ground. With luck, you’ll break your legs and have to wait for the
weather to get you.” The glee lacing the whisper was followed by a
cold snigger of malicious delight at the prospect of Sebastian’s
slow and painful demise.


Do you really think my brothers will allow you to get away?”
Sebastian’s voice was merciless as he studied the open doorway
dispassionately for a moment. Slowly he turned to glare directly
into the eyes of the man he had nicknamed Rat, cold belligerence in
his steady regard. “My brothers will hunt you down. They won’t rest
until they have vengeance.”

Sebastian longed to be able to break the bonds, and pound the
thin man until the life left his body. He took little consolation
from the slight hesitation he could see in Rat’s confident
boasting.


You know who we are, and the connections we have. There is
nowhere you can go, and nothing you can do, to hide from your
crimes. So far you have committed kidnap, assault and murder.”
Sebastian’s voice dropped to a low growl and he took a random
guess. “Your boss had better have paid you well, because he has
paid you for your life.”

He
watched as the smirk left Rat’s face completely; leaving Sebastian
in no doubt that there was a mastermind behind his brutal kidnap
two days ago. A mastermind who apparently wanted him
dead.


Do your worst.” Sebastian’s deliberately turned his face
forwards once more and stared blankly at the seat opposite, waiting
for the inevitable.

A groan
locked in his throat when Rat’s boot made solid contact with his
already bruised ribs. Sweat beaded his brow, as burning pain lanced
through his side with stunning ferocity. Cursing fluidly beneath
his breath, it took every ounce of willpower Sebastian possessed to
stoically keep his face impassive.

It took
several moments before his eyes focused once more on the torn
material of the seat opposite, and he could begin to breathe again.
Despite the pain, he felt a brief flicker of satisfaction that his
cool acceptance of his fate had stymied Rat’s delight.

As a
brief moment of silence fell, Sebastian felt the pervading sense of
doom thicken as his final moments drew closer. Any moment now, Rat
would push him out of the carriage. At the speed they were tearing
through the storm-tossed night, if he didn’t hit a tree on his way
out, he would certainly hit the ground far too heavily. There would
be little chance of surviving the injuries the impact would leave
him with. If he didn’t break his neck, as Rat had gleefully pointed
out, he would have to lie and wait for death to claim him. It would
be a slow and merciless death indeed.


Time to go.”

Sebastian wondered briefly if he should just take matters
into his own hands and jump out, but his fighting instinct wouldn’t
allow him to hand himself over to death meekly. He had fought the
French, and returned in one piece - almost. He wasn’t going to go
at the hands of a little rodent; whoever his boss was.

Digging
his heels down and dropping his shoulders, he knew his weight was
significantly more than Rat’s. The thinner, lighter man would have
to work hard to get him out of the carriage.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on his sodden clothing and
the filth on the grimy carriage floor easing his slide towards the
door.

Despite
his bravado, Sebastian’s stomach lurched as he slid closer to the
doorway. Cold winds blew inwards, grasping at his bare skin with
icy fingers. The carriage jolted heavily as it lurched through a
deep dip in the road. Sebastian swore as his shoulder slammed into
the door frame, pushing his head out of the carriage door.
Immediately, cold rain pelted down onto his head, soaking his jet
black hair. He stared at the myriad of stones and dirt passing too
quickly beneath the carriage, and cursed again.

It took
every ounce of strength he had to twist his hips around enough to
pull himself upright, bringing his sodden head back into the
carriage with a shudder. Shaking rainwater out of his eyes, he
wondered why Rat hadn’t just pushed him out while he had had the
chance. All the man had needed to do was lift his legs up, and
Sebastian would have disappeared into the night as
planned.

Through
the gloom he spied the skinny man braced on the opposite side of
the carriage, desperately trying to gain purchase with his feet as
the carriage dipped and swayed alarmingly.


For God’s sake, Danvers, slow down. We’re to kill him, not
us!” Rat’s frantic shout was immediately snatched by the howling
winds.

His
orders made little difference to the coach driver who, Sebastian
suspected, had long since left the conveyance. No carriage driver
who knew what he was doing would attempt to drive through such a
fierce storm, at such breakneck speed, without having a death
wish.

As an
experienced horseman, Sebastian knew the panicked squealing of the
horses indicated the reins were loose, allowing the horses freedom
to run wild. They were scared and confused, and would probably run
for miles until they fell, or the carriage broke apart behind
them.

BOOK: Cinders and Ashes
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ads

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