Down Weaver's Lane (50 page)

‘I’m the owner, too,’ George declared angrily.

The doorman shrugged again.

Another voice interrupted them. ‘Ah, I see my little parcel has arrived.’ Marcus walked into the room, smiling to see Emmy Carter so helpless. This time she wouldn’t get a chance to escape.

Although he was much shorter than the other men there, he dominated the group with his air of confidence and his well-tailored clothes. They were used to doing as the gentry wanted and in a place like this, the gentry sometimes wanted strange things.

‘Take her up to the top attic,’ Marcus ordered. ‘And if she tries to make a noise, gag her.’

George stood chewing the corner of his lip, then shrugged and let them go. But he was not happy about this situation. He had not forgotten the girl who’d been murdered or the one who had left for London. ‘Don’t make too much noise and don’t hurt her,’ he told his partner as they carried the girl through.

Marcus smiled.

George did not like that smile. Not at all. He turned on his heel and went to the front of the house, waited a few minutes then ran lightly up the stairs the customers used. In the attics where the girls slept he opened the door that led to the small upper chamber, then jerked back quickly and slipped into a nearby room as someone started to come down the stairs towards him.

When Gus had gone George opened the door again and tiptoed quietly up into the roof space. Moving carefully, he squeezed behind some boxes near the door of the room Marcus was using, knowing there was a peephole in the side wall. He set his eye to it, grimly determined to make sure that his partner didn’t go too far.

And if what he discovered confirmed certain suspicions he had been nursing, then there were going to be some changes round here, some very big changes.

 

‘Well, Emmy Carter, so I have you at last,’ Marcus said, looking down at the bound girl on the bed. ‘And this time you definitely won’t escape.’

She said nothing, holding her fear at bay by sheer will-power.

‘Nothing to say for yourself, girl?’

‘They’re looking for me. They’ll find me, too!’ she managed to say on a note of defiance.

He laughed. ‘No, they won’t. You’ll only be here tonight and if you’re still alive in the morning I’ll have you moved again. I’ve done it before. It’s not hard to fool people. Even my partner has no idea what I get up to.’

Outside George stiffened.
If you’re still alive in the morning!
Was the sod planning to kill her? Oh, hell, what was he going to do about this? And who exactly was looking for her? Was this just an empty threat or was someone really on Emmy’s track?

Marcus began to remove his outer garments. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said in a quiet conversational tone as he moved towards her.

Not too much, you’re not, George thought. I’m not having you murdering Madge’s girl. But he saw Marcus’s sword stick on a chair and that worried him. He didn’t intend to rush in and get himself stabbed.

 

The house the caretaker had sent them to was dark, with not a sign of life to it. Jack didn’t wait for Isaac but jumped out of the cab and went over to some men lounging under a lamp post. ‘I thought there was a whore house here,’ he said, pulling a coin from his pocket. ‘The Red House?’

One of them straightened up. ‘There was. It moved.’ He held out his hand.

‘When you’ve told me where,’ Jack said quietly.

‘Why do you want to know? You’re not the sort as uses a place like that. It’s gentry only. But I can find you a lass as won’t look down her nose at you.’

Jack forced a laugh. ‘It isn’t for me. Another time, perhaps. This one is for my master.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the cab.

‘Ah. That’s different.’ The man rattled off an address and held his hand out. ‘They call it The Golden Swan now, though.’

Jack dropped the coin in it and went to tell the driver the new address. ‘Do you know the place?’

‘Aye. Going up in the world, aren’t we?’

In the darkness inside the cab Isaac said quietly, ‘Remember, when we get there you’re not to go barging inside, Jack.
Jack?
Are you listening to me?’

‘If I think Emmy’s in there, I’m not going to sit and wait for another man to come and rescue her,’ he said in a low, fierce voice. ‘And if that bastard has touched her . . .’

Which made Isaac worry even more. Eli had sent them to Manchester specifically to keep the young man out of trouble, but if Armistead was here, Eli had guessed wrongly and they’d be right into the thick of things. It’d do Emmy no good to have her young man charged with assault by a man of means.

The large house they reached next was very brightly lit and in front of it a carriage had stopped to disgorge two drunken gentlemen.

‘Go past and stop round the corner!’ Isaac called up to their driver.

They drew up in the shadows near the entrance to a back alley. Jack reached for the door handle. ‘I’m going to have a look round.’

‘Jack, don’t—’ But Isaac was talking to himself.

Hugging the shadows and moving quietly Jack crept along the back alley. No mistaking which house he wanted. Only one place was lit up in every room. And outside the back entrance another carriage stood waiting. Why was it standing here when the others pulled up at the front? He sucked in his breath as it occurred to him that it might be Armistead’s, concealed for a reason.

He was about to creep back to tell Isaac what he suspected when someone drew on a pipe, sending out a pungent cloud of smoke.

‘I bet he’s having fun in there,’ a man said.

‘Well, I feel sorry for the lass. He’s a nasty sod, that one is.’ Another puffing sound was followed by a second cloud of smoke.

‘Ah, what’s that to us?’

‘It’s our lives if he kills this one an’ the law finds out, that’s what it is,’ the pipe smoker snapped.

Jack recognised the voice suddenly. Gus Norris! The new proprietor of the Horse and Rider alehouse in Northby. Emmy
had
to be here! Torn between forcing his way past the two men and breaking down the back door, or going back to Isaac Butterfield, he hesitated.

‘It’s bloody cold out here. I don’t know why you won’t wait in the kitchen.’

‘I prefer it out here, cold or not!’ Gus snapped. He could slip away from here if he had to.

His companion shrugged then turned towards the house. With a laugh he pointed up to a skylight in the roof. ‘Look, he’s only just lit the place up. That’s where he takes the special ones.’

There was the sound of footsteps moving towards the house and another voice asking, ‘Who’s that?’ The back door opened and slammed shut. Which told Jack there was a man on guard there. He could definitely do nothing on his own, then. Moving very carefully he went back to the cab and told Mr Butterfield what he had heard, his voice breaking with anguish and fear for the woman he loved.

‘We’ll have to wait for Eli,’ Isaac told him. ‘I know it’s hard, but you’ll do more harm than good if you try to break in on your own.’

‘How can I wait when Armistead’s got her in there?’ Jack thought hard for a moment then said, ‘I’m going back. There has to be some way to get inside and help her.’

‘Jack, no!’ But again Isaac was pleading with thin air. He got out of the carriage, shivering as a chill breeze suddenly blew up. He looked at the cab driver, hunched up under his greatcoat, and debated going after Jack, but didn’t move. His night vision was poor and in the darkness of that alley he would be like a man half-blind.

Jack crept towards the whore house again. There had to be a way to get into the place. There just had to.

 

George frowned as he watched Marcus take his time undressing the girl, poking the tender flesh and laughing as she winced and tried in vain to evade his marauding fingers. What a way to treat a pretty lass! Once, for no reason that George could see, Marcus slapped her across the face.

Something about Emmy’s tearful, terrified expression reminded him suddenly of Madge. Eh, he still felt guilty about turning her out. He’d sent her to her death, there was no getting away from that. And now, if he didn’t do something, her daughter was going to be badly hurt. Only how could he manage to prevent it? He needed a weapon, he decided, still worried about that sword stick.

Inside the attic Marcus was enjoying himself greatly and about to add a further frisson to his pleasure. Emmy wasn’t going to get away from him this time. He took a step back to prolong the moment and decided to indulge himself, take it the whole way. When the men moved her on to the next place, he’d wrap her in a blanket and tell them she was drugged. He’d done that once before.

Smiling and speaking in a light conversational tone, he shook her and said loudly, because she was weeping again and not paying attention, ‘I killed your mother, you know. And before this night is through I’ll have killed you as well.’

Outside George stiffened in outrage as the soft voice went on taunting Emmy and telling her exactly how it had happened with her mother. Time to put a stop to such doings once and for all. He felt like vomiting, especially when he thought of Madge and the way she had made him laugh sometimes before she got too deeply into the gin. Poor lass, you didn’t deserve to die like that, he thought, all you wanted was a little kindness.

And your daughter doesn’t deserve it, either.

 

Isaac could not sit still and began to pace up and down the street. When a carriage drew up outside the front of The Golden Swan, he did not think much of it until he saw Samuel Rishmore get out and turn towards the steps. Hurrying along the street, he called, ‘Samuel, wait for me, old fellow!’

Samuel turned round and moved towards him. Mindful of the doorkeeper watching them he smiled and clapped Isaac on the shoulder. ‘Thought you weren’t coming.’ In a low voice, he said, ‘What are you doing here? You were supposed to be keeping Staley out of the way.’

‘He wouldn’t be held back.’ Isaac’s voice softened. ‘The girl he loves is inside that place. He’s keeping watch at the rear. Would you just leave her there if she were your fiancée?’

‘No, I suppose not. Eli suggested I go inside and have a look round, pretending I’m not sure if I want a girl or not.’ He grimaced. ‘As if I’d even touch a harlot! While I’m doing that he’s going to look round the back.’

‘I need to speak to him, then. Jack went round there a few minutes ago and hasn’t returned.’

‘Damm!’ Samuel turned and moved back to the carriage where the two men explained to the constable what had happened.

‘You say there’s a cab round the side?’ Eli asked. ‘Then this is what we’ll do.’

Jack crept up to Gus Norris and got him in a strangle-hold before he could do anything. ‘Tell me what’s happening in there or I’ll break your bloody neck,’ he growled in the man’s ear.

Gus stiffened for a minute, then squinted sideways at him. ‘It’s Jack Staley, isn’t it? I knew your father, lad. You don’t need to hold me. I won’t do owt to stop you.’

Jack shoved him away, remaining watchful and ready to pounce again, but Gus stood there with what looked like genuine relief written all over his face.

‘Where is she?’ Jack demanded.

‘Up yonder.’ Gus pointed to the lighted skylight of the upper attic.

‘With Armistead?’

The other man nodded. ‘Aye.’

‘How do I get to her?’

Gus shook his head. ‘Buggered if I know. They’ve got guards inside, big fellows an’ all. You’d have no chance of getting past ‘em on your own. You’d better fetch help.’

‘There’s others on their way already. Only they might be too late.’ Jack scanned the back of the house. It was a solidly built place and if a man were desperate, which he was, there were surely enough footholds and handholds to climb up to the roof. But he needed to get a start. The fancy brickwork didn’t begin till well above a man’s height. ‘Is there a ladder anywhere? I reckon I could climb up to the roof an’ get in that way.’

Gus followed his eyes and gasped. ‘You’ll never!’

‘My lass is in there and I’m getting her out now, before it’s too late.’

‘It could be too late already. She’s been in there a while.’

Jack’s voice was quiet and deadly. ‘Then I’ll kill him.’

Gus swallowed hard. ‘If I help you, I want your word you’ll not tell Eli Makepeace I were here. I’ll be off as soon as I’ve helped you up to the roof. That Armistead fellow’s a mad bugger an’ gets worse every time I see him. If I weren’t frit of him, I’d not be here tonight, I can tell you.’

Jack stared at him. ‘What do you mean, “every time”? You mean, he’s captured other women before my Emmy?’

Gus nodded. ‘I thought the first one was willing though she seemed to be drunk. But I realised later she were drugged.’

Jack could barely force the question out, so afraid did he feel. ‘Was Emmy drugged?’

‘Nay, there wasn’t time. Constable Makepeace were after us.’