Coming Home (17 page)

J
ULIANA WANTED TO go to her aunt at once, but John and Colly overrode her protestations.

‘You are coming home with me … er … us,' Colly said.

Her heart gave a hopeful little flip. He wanted her with him. Also, she noticed how he had said ‘home'. He now looked upon Trewbridge as his home. That was good, very good.

But she did not feel at all happy when she interpreted what their prisoner had to say. The scruffy fellow sat in the kitchens, gulping down a large mug of water. They had thought it prudent to question him there rather than above stairs where he could run his eye over the household appointments.

Twoomey shooed all the kitchen staff off to their quarters. They'd been pleased to have an early night, but had all been
very
curious to know what was going on. Juliana heard Twoomey making them a vague explanation that actually said nothing at all. In spite of his nosy, finicky ways, he was a great asset to Trewbridge.

The prisoner was not forthcoming. He leaned away when Colly brushed past him but treated John to another of his hard-edged stares that contained a certain amount of contempt.

Until John stood up and strolled towards him.

Colly and John both had experience in questioning prisoners of war and John was the more experienced. He stood behind the prisoner and pressed his hands on the man's shoulders. The prisoner jumped and screwed around, trying to see John's face.

‘Sit still,' John growled. His wife and parents looked on in surprise.

‘Wh-what are you doing?' the prisoner asked.

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.'

‘I don't believe you!' Again, the scruffy fellow tried to move and John pressed down hard.

‘I said to keep still.'

Their captive licked his lips and tried another tack. ‘Here.' He held
out his empty cup, probably hoping that John would release him and take the cup.

Colly stalked across the room to join them. ‘I'll take that,' he said.

And now the wretched man was sandwiched between two uncompromising, seasoned campaigners whose stance had subtly altered. There was a short silence, then the prisoner babbled, ‘I'm not to blame. Just acting under orders.'

He worked for Mr Sholto Colebrook, he said. John grunted and cast a meaningful glance at his father.

But that was the simplest part of his story. Juliana found his words very difficult to translate because of his broad accent. And she was desperate to know what he was saying because the man might possess vital knowledge about Tilly and Kit.

Sitting near the dying embers of two big ovens, they tried to sort out the stumbling explanation from the prisoner. It seemed that Sholto Colebrook had long ago expanded his employment business beyond the gates of the Hungerford Charity Homes. He employed several scouts, one of whom was their captive, to search out suitable children and young women. They concentrated on those who were orphans or friendless.

‘If they'se come from outside Lunnon, they often be cleaner and fresher, if y'know what I mean,' the scruffy man explained. ‘There be a good market for new blood.' The cadences of his sing-song voice failed to hide the horror implicit in those words.

Juliana swallowed.
Please
God, keep Tilly and Kit safe. ‘Why did you follow us?' she asked the man. ‘I saw you at Portsmouth and then you came here, searching for me. Why?'

‘You wasn't supposed to notice me at Portsmouth, miss. I got too close. Didn't expect you to see me.'

‘Why?' she demanded.

‘Mr Colebrook reads all the shipping news, he does, and since you wrote to him a year ago, we all been primed to keep an eye out for ships from Portugal. When you come, you was to be a feather in 'is cap, you was.' The creature nodded at Juliana. ‘We need a nurse 'cos some of the children get awful sick. Plenty more where they came from o'course, but sometimes they're favourites. Men ask for 'em specifically.'

Juliana shuddered, and the marchioness pulled her skirts tightly around her ankles as if to avoid all contact with the miserable creature in front of them.

He didn't notice, intent on his story. ‘Your uncle thought you'd be a
real hasset to the business.' Then he shook his head in sorrow. ‘But when you arrived, you wasn't what we expected. Not a real Colebrook 'tall, Mr Colebrook says.' Here, the prisoner lapsed into gloomy reflection, no doubt ruminating upon the waywardness of females.

Juliana stared into the fireplace. She did not dare look at anyone. What must they think of her appalling family? Nauseated, she pressed a hand to her stomach.

‘Miss Colebrook?'

Twoomey was holding out a glass of sherry. ‘Th-thank you, Twoomey,' she murmured, flicking a quick look at the marquess. The marquess was not looking at her in horror, however. Instead, he was looking thoughtful.

‘Tell me, my man,' he said to the prisoner, ‘is there someone in London who runs the business from that end? Someone else apart from Mr Colebrook, that is.'

The prisoner's entire demeanour changed. He shrank within himself and muttered, ‘No, no. You don't want to tangle with 'im, my lord. No. He's evil. Please, sir—'

‘His name?'

‘Dunno,' whispered the wretched creature. ‘Doan't want to know. Please—'

‘Where does he live?'

‘Doan't know. Whitechapel mebbe?'

‘No doubt,' the marquess said drily. ‘Unfortunately, Colly, that has probably put paid to the idea of keeping the whole thing quiet. We can't control an unknown individual whom we have no jurisdiction over.' He turned to Juliana. ‘I'm sorry, my dear. We will do what we can, but I fear your name will no longer be a reputable one.'

Had it ever been, she wondered? She stared at the marquess, struggling not to cry as a ball of tears burned her throat. Oh God. Could the Colebrooks sink any lower? At this rate she and her aunt would find themselves in Newgate. ‘Why did you search my room?' she asked her attacker.

The fellow blanched and shuffled his feet. ‘It were 'im from Lunnon sent word I was to do that. Colebrook wasn't to know. The Lunnon man wanted to know all about you.'

‘What did you tell him?' Colly asked.

‘Sent word you was just what you said. Colebrook's niece. A nurse.' The fellow shrugged.

Colly looked at him in silence, an unpleasant expression curling his lips.

‘What are you going to do with me?' Juliana's attacker asked fearfully.

‘Give you back to the evil man in London,' John said, carelessly.

The man folded up like a set of bellows in summer. ‘No! Please, sir. I'll do anything … anything …'

‘In that case,' Colly said acidly, ‘be quiet and let us think.'

Eventually it was decided to feed the man and send him on his way – south, back to where he'd come from.

‘If we hear you are back in these parts, I shall have you in Newgate before you can say Cornwall,' the Marquess of Trewbridge warned him.

‘It were a job, my lord, just a job. No jobs to be had in Cornwall.'

‘Try the tin mines. Now get out,' his lordship replied bitingly.

Twoomey grabbed the man's arm and dragged him out of the kitchen.

Everyone looked at Juliana. She could feel the pressure of unshed tears sitting on her chest and couldn't prevent a small sob escaping.

Colly reached for her, but the marchioness got there first. She tucked her arm around Juliana. ‘Come, my dear. You need to sleep.'

Sleep? Juliana lay in the beautiful bedchamber allotted to her and wondered how the Marchioness of Trewbridge could possibly imagine that having an uncle who had committed such heinous crimes would be conducive to peace of mind. Dear Lord, she came from a despicable family. Her father had certainly not been lily-white. He'd been involved in the most awful scandal in Egypt over some artifacts that had turned out to be replicas. And now her uncle … What on earth had made the two brothers like that? Mãe had been honest and true, and Juliana could not imagine what she had seen in Philip Colebrook to invoke such blind love.

She rolled over in the big soft bed. It wouldn't be long before the marquess decided to wash his hands of the whole débâcle. A man in his position could not afford to be connected to people like the Colebrooks.

She wondered if the Runners had arrested Pettigrew. If they had, he would incriminate her uncle to save his own skin. Colly had whispered as he handed her down from the carriage earlier that her uncle seemed to have disappeared.

What was going to happen to her? The Hungerford Charity Homes would not want her as an employee now that her uncle was implicated along with Pettigrew.

A tear slid down her cheek. All that bright promise of a new life had sloughed away. She was alone again.

Hours later she slid into an exhausted sleep wherein she was chased by strange creatures. She seemed to be running towards something or someone but she wasn't sure where she was going.

S
HE JOLTED AWAKE when a maid eased back the heavy velvet curtains. ‘Sorry, miss. They said to wake you. There's a gentleman downstairs waiting for you. I brought your hot water.' She bobbed a curtsy.

She had also brought a cup of hot chocolate. Such luxury! Juliana wriggled her toes and stretched before realizing what Dora had said. ‘Dora! It
is
Dora, isn't it?'

‘That's right, miss. Now don't you worry about your dress. I've pressed it right and tight and Lady Brechin sent along brushes and combs for your hair.'

Juliana finally managed to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. ‘Someone is waiting for me, you said?'

‘Yes, miss. Sir Alexander Mortimer, his name is.'

‘Oh! Dora, please send word that I shall be ten minutes only.'

‘Ten minutes?' Dora asked doubtfully.

But Juliana had already bounced out of bed. She glanced down and saw she was wearing an embroidered night rail, not a flannel one as usual, but a fine lawn one, delicate enough to crush and hold in one hand. Marguerite again. Juliana had been so exhausted last night she hadn't noticed what Dora had slipped over her head. Dear Marguerite was a good friend. Juliana would miss her.

‘Ten minutes is all I need,' she assured Dora.

And she was true to her word, although gulping down hot chocolate first thing in the morning was not the best thing for her digestion. As she hurried along the hallway, Dora trailed behind her, pinning up loose tendrils of hair.

Sir Alexander Mortimer sat in the small withdrawing room reading the
Observer
. He flung the paper aside and sprang to his feet when she entered. ‘My dear Miss Colebrook, I believe you had a dreadful time of it yesterday. It wasn't that we forgot you, but our business took longer than we expected.'

‘Sir,' she broke in, ‘have you found Kit?'

Sir Alexander shook his head. ‘It took us a long while to wring any useful information out of Pettigrew. And although we now know which part of the London rookery the children are sent to, there is one glaring problem that only you can rectify.'

‘I?' Juliana asked. Was he going to question her about her uncle's involvement? She knew nothing that would help. And she shrank from returning to the Colebrook home although she knew she must. Not only were all her possessions there, but she felt honour bound to ensure her aunt was cared for.

After that, family or no family, she would avoid any further connection with them.

‘My dear, you are the only one who knows what Kit looks like. Also, your maid, I believe, is missing. We need you to come with us to London to identify Kit and – what is your maid's name?'

Juliana thought wryly that Tilly was far from important in Sir Alexander's mind. He needed Juliana to help him search for his grandson so he was obliged to humour her.

‘Tilly,' she said. ‘Her name is Tilly. She will protect Kit as best she can,' she added. ‘Tilly is resourceful.'

‘Provided they are still together,' Sir Alexander said with a shudder. ‘Pettigrew told us of the various houses he and ah … others own in the rookery, but even he was unsure if the proprietors kept the children together with the women.'

Sir Alexander seemed to be skipping over the horrific facts as best he could in order to spare her feelings. She noticed the finesse with which he avoided naming her uncle and tensed. Had Pettigrew said that Sholto Colebrook was the leader of their revolting enterprise?

Then without ceremony Colly strode into the room, followed in a more leisurely fashion by the marquess and Lord John.

‘This is a very early visit, Sir Alexander, is it not?' the marquess enquired, inclining his head in acknowledgment of Sir Alexander's bow.

‘Now that we have some idea where to search, we must look for my grandson straight away,' Sir Alexander said, waving his hands restlessly.

‘We shall find him.' The marquess was kind but firm. ‘I had people out searching as soon as Miss Colebrook apprised us of the situation. And with Pettigrew's additional information, we will find them soon.' He smiled at Juliana. ‘I trust you had a good sleep, my dear. We learned very late last night that Tilly and Kit are at a house in Whitechapel.' Then he turned back to Sir Alexander. ‘We need to make careful plans if we are to take the villains by surprise.'

Juliana could see that Sir Alexander was taken aback. He had
expected to rush off immediately. The old gentleman twitched with anxiety, and although Juliana understood his impatience, she was not sure she could trust him. This man had cut off his only son because the boy had married someone not of his choosing. He might now be remorseful, but he had indirectly caused the deaths of Kit's parents. Although she pitied him, she could not find it in herself to like him very much.

Colly herded her into the breakfast room as if she were a recalcitrant bullock. She understood that he, too, wanted to curb Sir Alexander's impetuosity. From their behaviour she presumed he and the marquess had a plan they did not want the authorities to know about. For her sake they were trying to recover Kit and Tilly without implicating her uncle. She had no intention of joining Sir Alexander on an ill-thought out, fruitless expedition that might jeopardize the marquess's plan.

Having decided thus, she helped herself from the chafing dishes on the sideboard and prepared to sit at the table.

She found Colly at her elbow. He pulled out a chair for her.

‘Thank you, Brigade-Major.' She remembered how Lord Brechin had found them yesterday, cuddled together, and avoided Colly's eye.

Colly did not seem to find the situation at all embarrassing. Under cover of the general conversation he enquired, ‘Are you well after yesterday's incident?'

She smiled shyly. ‘Very well, thank you,' and felt a blush heating her face.

Colly murmured, ‘Don't fret about your uncle's wrongdoing, Juliana. It seems there is nothing one can do about awkward relatives.'

‘Is there no news of my uncle at all?' she whispered.

He shook his head. ‘He has disappeared.'

‘Which is tantamount to admitting his guilt,' Juliana said despairingly. ‘Nothing the marquess can do will help him now. How much did Pettigrew implicate him in the child-selling racket?'

Colly toyed with his toast. ‘I'm sorry, Juliana. Pettigrew was trying to save his own neck. He insinuated that Sholto Colebrook was the prime instigator. However, that did not save Pettigrew. He is on his way to Newgate.'

She put down her knife and fork. ‘Then that is the end of my employment. I had hoped … well, I don't like the place. Naturally I wished for something better. But Colly,' she touched his hand fleetingly and felt his skin twitch, ‘I
need
employment. I have no money at all. None.' There. Now he knew how desperate she was.

‘Excuse me, Miss Colebrook. Can you be ready to accompany Sir
Alexander in fifteen minutes?' the marquess asked. ‘And Colly, I think you should go, too, in order to protect Juliana's er … interests.' He nodded to Colly. ‘Let us work out how best to go about this thing.' He rose from the table and headed for his study.

Colly excused himself, picked up his coffee cup and followed the marquess.

Sir Alexander said indignantly to Juliana, ‘Fifteen minutes? Does he not realize the urgency of this mission?'

‘He does, Sir Alexander,' she soothed. ‘But he knows more than he is saying. Do have another cup of coffee and I shall be with you in a trice.'

As the three of them climbed into the large carriage, the marquess handed Colly a note. ‘These are the names of the men to liaise with, Colly,' he said. Then he turned to Sir Alexander. ‘I trust you will be guided by Brigade-Major Hetherington, sir. My men have been searching the rookery all night and have some information which they will pass on to Mr Hetherington.' He nodded to Colly. ‘It's in your hands now, Colly.' Then he stood back for the groom to shut the door.