The Devil's Company (49 page)

Unwilling to face the chaos of another boat crossing, we found a hackney to take us across the bridge. Elias wrung his hands and bit at his lip, but I could tell he had control over his emotions and conducted himself with philosophy. It is a hard thing, even for one such as myself who has chosen a life often filled with violence, to see one man die before your eyes and to be in the same room with another and then learn he has, moments later, burned to death. As a surgeon, Elias was often confronted with injury and often had to inflict hurt himself, but it is quite another thing to witness violence visited upon the innocent, and he took it hard.

“What did it mean?” he said at last. “His last words about Miss Glade?”

Discovering Elias’s congress with her seemed now to be a lifetime ago, and I had no energy to spare to think of it then. The betrayal had been insignificant in the light of all that had happened, and I meant to treat it accordingly. “It could mean either of two things: that we must seek her help, or we must seek protection from her.”

In the dark of the hackney, I could see him nod methodically. “And which do you think?”

“I know nothing but that we must see Mr. Franco at once. I must learn what he knows of this Teaser fellow and Pepper’s invention.”

“He is supposed to be your friend,” Elias said. “Can it be that he serves the Company?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think it more likely that he has made some investments, perhaps knows more than he realizes, and that he was selected as Cobb’s first victim as much for Cobb’s convenience as my consternation.”

“To keep him from realizing a connection and revealing it?”

“That is my guess. Baghat and Teaser suggested he had some investment in the engine, and the engine is at the very heart of this madness. If there is a way to get our hands on the designs for the cotton-weaving device, we must get it to Ellershaw, and we must do so before midday tomorrow.”

“What?” Elias barked. “Give it to the Company? Have you not understood how monstrous it is?”

“Of course I do, but these companies are born to be monstrous. We cannot ask them not to be what they are. Ellershaw once said that government is not the solution to the problems of business, it
is
the problem of business. In that he was wrong. The company is a monster, and it is for Parliament to decide the size and shape of its cage. I shall not quarrel with Company men for seeking to make their profit, so there is great harm neither in keeping the plans from Ellershaw nor giving them up.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because the one thing I know about Cobb, the one thing of which I can be certain, is that he knows of the plans for Pepper’s engine and he is desperate to possess them. And so the plans must be found. We shall see who threatens whom if I dangle the plans over a fire or promise to deliver them to Craven House. It is time for us to drive this coach. My uncle is dead. Mr. Franco rots in jail. The men I seek to guide me end up murdered. It is foolishness to believe that we will fare much better unless we make new rules for this game.”

“Cobb now threatens only us and your aunt,” Elias said. “If we choose to ignore the threat, to elude whatever bailiffs he sends after us, he cannot stop us. As to your aunt, I have no doubt that the good lady will endure any temporary inconvenience, no matter how distressing, if you can use it to strike back at your enemies.”

Though he could not see it, I offered him a smile. It had been a terrible night for him, and for our friendship, but I knew full well what he had just said to me. He would risk Cobb’s wrath and stand by me. And I knew he risked far more than his freedom. Elias was a surgeon with a fine reputation; he had men and women of station to visit. He would risk it all to stand by my side and fight my enemies.

“I thank you,” I said. “With luck, this shall be resolved soon. We’ll know more after we speak with Mr. Franco.”

“Do you then propose that we simply go to sleep and await the opening of the Fleet Prison?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “No, I am in no mind to wait. We’ll go to the Fleet now.”

“They won’t let you visit a prisoner in the middle of the night.”

“Anything may be got at any time for silver,” I told him. “You know that.”

“Indeed,” he said. It was hard not to hear the bitterness in his voice. “Has not this whole affair been in defense of that view?”

THE COACHMAN APPEARED skeptical about taking us within the Rules of the Fleet, fearing we would refuse to pay him, and because of the peculiarities of that neighborhood, he would have no legal recourse. Paying him in advance quelled that anxiety, though he still appeared uneasy about a pair of men seeking to gain entrance to the Fleet at night. Nevertheless, he agreed to take us and await our return, though neither Elias nor I expressed much surprise when we heard his coach retreating the moment our backs were turned.

It was now well after midnight, so when I pounded upon the prison gates it took several minutes before anyone arrived to slide back the viewing latch and see who we were and what we wished for.

“I have great need to visit with a prisoner,” I said. “One Moses Franco. I must speak with him at once.”

“And I must be the king of Prussia,” the guard returned. “No visitors at night, and if you weren’t a miscreant out about nefarious work, you’d know that.” He sniffed a few times like an eager dog. “You smell like a chimney sweep.”

I ignored this observation, which I had no doubt was true enough. “Let us dispense with the games. How much to view the prisoner right now?”

The guard did not even pause. “Two shillings.”

I handed him the coins. “’Twere better if you, like a public inn, would post a slate with the day’s prices and save your customers the trouble of games.”

“Mayhap I like the games,” he answered. “Now wait here while I fetch your prisoner.”

We pressed ourselves close against the slick stones of the building, for the rain had not let up, and though it had been good news not an hour earlier, now we were cold and wet and miserable. The guard was gone for what felt like an eternity, but he finally returned, close to half an hour later. “I can’t help you,” he told me. “The prisoner has been released. He’s gone.”

“Gone?” I shouted. “How could he be gone?”

“It were a strange thing that was related to me, and I’d have been back sooner had I not paused to hear the whole story, but thinking you would wish to hear it too, I stayed to learn of it. Now, having checked the slate with the day’s prices, I find that interesting stories relating to released prisoners also cost two shillings, so hand over your silver and be glad the prison ain’t charging this week for fruitless fetchings.”

I slid the coins through the slat. The guard snatched them up. “Now, here’s what I heard. A gentleman showed up and offered to discharge the prisoner of his debts and his prison fees. Nothing unusual about that. It happens all the time, of course, but in this case the story made the rounds, for it seems that the very same fellow who come to pay the piper is the one who committed the prisoner in the first place—fellow by the name of Cobb. And what was more interesting than that was that the prisoner didn’t wish to be released to go with this fellow. Said he’d rather stay in prison. But we ain’t in the business of running an inn, despite what you might have to say, even though it took a couple of turnkeys to force the reluctant and liberated Mr. Franco into his liberator’s coach.”

A knot of fear and outrage gripped me. It had not been very long since Elias and I reasoned that Cobb could threaten me now with nothing for which I was not prepared, but it seemed he had anticipated this position. No longer content to let Mr. Franco rot in prison, he now took hold of the man himself. I was ever more determined to strike back and strike back hard, and I was now, more than ever, without any idea of how to do so.

THE NEXT MORNING, now but two days before the meeting of the Court of Proprietors, Elias met me at my rooms, as I had asked, and as early as I asked—clear signs that he was every bit as concerned as I was.

“Ought you not to be at Craven House?” he asked me, “managing affairs from there?”

“There’s nothing to manage,” I said. “If I cannot find the plans for Pepper’s engine, there is nothing to be done. I should very much like to find them prior to the meeting of the Court of Proprietors, since allowing Ellershaw to triumph can only rankle Cobb. But before that we’re going to have to rescue Franco.”

“And how do we do that?”

“I have some ideas, but first we must speak with Celia Glade.”

I saw him turn pale and then redden. “Are you certain that’s a sound idea? After all, Mr. Baghat might well have been warning us to stay away from her.”

“He might have been, but he might have been advising us to seek her out. I should hate to fail to do that which he struggled to tell us with his dying words.”

“And what if he meant those dying words as a warning? Should you not also hate to deliver us into danger?”

“I would indeed hate that. However, facing danger is preferable to doing nothing. If she is the enemy, we shall have an opportunity to confront her.”

“I advise against it until we know more.”

“I presumed you would,” I told him, “as your conduct with her must make you wish to avoid her, and the more so in my presence. Thus I took the liberty of sending her a note this morning, asking her to call upon me if she had anything of moment to say.”

Elias, who clearly had nothing of moment to say, turned away.

We spent the next several hours in conversation about how we might retrieve Mr. Franco from Cobb’s clutches, and I believed we had struck upon some very good ideas. It was nearly noon when my landlady knocked upon my door to tell me that a lady was outside in a carriage and she would very much like me to attend her.

Elias and I exchanged looks, but we wasted little time before heading out to the street and approaching a handsome silver and black equipage. Looking out the window was the most marvelously dressed lady, a rare beauty in her silk finery, and no doubt a very wealthy and distinguished figure in the beau monde. At least that was my first thought. My second thought was that this creature was Celia Glade.

“Ah, gentlemen, I’m so glad you could attend. I see I’m not the only one who found little reason to return to Craven House just now. If you two would be so kind as to join me in my equipage, we may drive about the town and speak in private. I’m sure we have much to say to one another.”

Elias shook his head, almost imperceptibly, but I saw him clearly enough. I also understood him. It seemed to me that his fear of Celia Glade could not be based on Aadil’s warning alone. No, I thought it far more likely that he now confused fear with guilt and that he wished to avoid her because her presence reminded him of his rather unamiable behavior toward me. This struck me as a poor basis for dictating strategy.

“Why should we trust a double-dealer like yourself?” I asked, more to please Elias than because I believed she would have an illuminating answer.

“I have every reason to believe,” she answered, “that when you enter my equipage you will know why.” She looked to me directly, meeting my eyes. “You may not wish to trust me, sir, but you do nevertheless, so let us not waste time upon foolishness.”

I stepped forward and opened the door. Inside, Miss Glade sat in the most gorgeous gown of verdant silk, trimmed with ivory lace. She wore delicate calfskin gloves upon her hands, and a very handsome bonnet sat upon her head. But as wondrous as her clothes might have been, what made her glow was the impish smile she wore upon her face, the look of delighted triumph. And I could not blame her for her feelings, for she had clearly triumphed quite nicely.

Sitting next to her, with his hands bound before him, his legs bound at the ankles—both with thick rope nearly the ivory of Miss Glade’s lace—was none other than Mr. Jerome Cobb himself.

She laughed as though we shared a joke. “Now do you wish to hear more?”

“You have my full attention,” I said. We took our seats, and the footman closed the door behind us.

THE EQUIPAGE BEGAN to bump along. Miss Glade sat with her hands prettily in her lap and wore upon her face the most devilishly seductive smile. Elias hardly knew where to look, but I looked at Cobb. He sat with his head and shoulders bent forward, looking more like a prisoner of war than—well, I hardly knew what he was.

Astonishingly, it was he who broke the silence. “Weaver,” he said. “You must help me. Talk to this madwoman and vouch for me. She has threatened torture and imprisonment and hanging. I cannot endure it. I understand you may take issue with my actions, but I have been kind, have I not?”

I would not give him the satisfaction he desired. He had been more polite to me than had his nephew—that much was certain—but he had been my taskmaster. Instead, I asked, “How is it that this woman was able to make you her prisoner?”

“Let us not concern ourselves with the particulars,” Miss Glade said. “For now I should hope you’d be happy that I brought you the villain who has so plagued you.”

“And do I not get to learn who you are?” I asked.

She smiled again, and may I be damned if my heart did not melt. “You may know what you wish, but I should prefer not to speak before Mr. Cobb. For now, you may ask him what you like, and later we’ll speak privately.”

I turned to Cobb. “What Miss Glade says sounds reasonable. Tell me now who you are and what you want. I wish to know why you have done as you have to me. And I want to know where Mr. Franco is.”

“Gad, Weaver, can you not see the woman is a monster?”

“I am not yet certain if she be angel or devil, but there is no doubt in my mind about you, sir. Now speak, or I’ll give you incentive to do so.”

“What, you would put me to the torture, after all I’ve done for you?”

“I should gladly put you to the torture, and more so because of these claims you make. What have you done for me that I should be so glad of your assistance? You have used me, sir, made me into your puppet and plaything, and you have kept me in the dark all the while. You have abused my friends, and because of your schemes three men lie dead: Mr. Carmichael; Mr. Aadil Baghat, the Mogul’s man; and one of Pepper’s former associates, called Teaser.”