Shattered Dreams (13 page)

“
Can I ask you something?” Tilly asked. For some reason it
suddenly seemed incredibly important that she find out.

“
Go on then, but quickly because I have got to go,” he
warned.

The
sound of footsteps could be heard in the distance. They both knew
that they didn’t have long before they were interrupted.

“
Why are you still here in the women’s wing? I mean, you are a
young boy,” she asked.

“
I told them that Suzanna is my sister. They keep siblings
together. She isn’t in the register either.” With that, he hurried
off.

She
stared blankly through the door at the wall opposite for several
minutes before she turned and sat on the bed. What on earth did
that mean? How many people resided at the poor house but weren’t
listed anywhere?

Ostensibly, while anyone was a resident at the poor house,
and didn’t fill out any paperwork, they were non-existent. If
nobody knew they were there, anything could happen. There was
little chance of rescue, help, or escape.

Panic
suddenly began to take hold as the seriousness of her situation
began to sink in. Her stomach began to churn, and fine tremors
swept through her fingers as fear for her safety grew. She tried to
assure herself that this was an institution, and a large one at
that. People simply wouldn’t vanish from it. That wasn’t possible.
However, Zack’s words that the woman had just ‘vanished’ echoed
hollowly in her ears, and seemed to build on the panic that had
already taken root deep inside her.

She had
only been at the poor house for a few days, but it already felt as
though she had been there for an entire lifetime. She felt old,
worn, cold and hungry. From what she had seen in the other
residents’ faces, such harshness seemed to be an accepted part of
being in such an awful, soulless place.

It was
only now that she had experienced life in a poor house that she
realised she would have been much better off catching the first
post chaise out of town, and trying to find work doing something –
anything – that would put some food in her mouth.

At some
point, her luck was bound to change; wouldn’t it?

The day
ticked endlessly by. People eventually started to return to the
wing, and begin the clear-out of the rooms. The buckets needed to
be emptied to start with. Today was laundry day, and the bedding
needed to be stripped. The floors needed to be swept, and the walls
scrubbed. The list was endless. The daily grind;
relentless.

About an
hour later, the rattle of the door was accompanied by the sound of
the bolt being slid back. Unfortunately, she recognised the top of
the head through the bars, and immediately dreaded the forthcoming
confrontation with Taylor, the female warden.

“
Out. Now,” the woman growled as she pushed the door
open.

She
didn’t bother to wait to see if Tilly would comply, and marched
down the hallway without a backward look. The arrogance outlined in
the warden’s broad, almost manly shoulders poked at Tilly’s temper.
She wanted to refuse, just to see what the woman would do. However,
she was hungry, thirsty, and so very cold that she didn’t want to
do anything that would deprive her of some basic
necessities.

To her
dismay, the warden didn’t seem inclined to want to let Tilly eat at
all today, because she headed in the opposite direction to the
dining hall. Tilly smelled the rather pungent aroma of what smelled
like boiled potatoes and cabbage, and shuddered in
revulsion.

Maybe it was best that she didn’t eat today after
all
, she thought wisely, as she hurried
after Taylor.

While a
part of her wanted to eat, another part of her couldn’t stomach the
thought of the awful concoction they presented as food. She
suddenly had a yearning for the sweet, freshly podded peas, and
newly dug carrots from the gardens at Attingham House, and blinked
away the sting of tears that came with the now familiar longing for
the good old days.

When the
warden slammed to a stop outside a door, Tilly hid all trace of
emotion from her face and glared at the older woman.

“
I demand to see the governor today,” Tilly growled. “I refuse
to work until I have seen him,” she declared flatly, and crossed
her arms defiantly for emphasis.

“’
Ain’t ‘ere,” Mrs Taylor growled. “You ain’t goin’
nowhere.”

The
satisfaction in the woman’s voice made Tilly’s blood boil. “I am
going to get out of this place if it is the last thing I do,” Tilly
snapped, only to lapse into silence at the speed in which the large
woman turned on her.

“
It will be the last thing you do, too,” the warden warned
sinisterly before she threw Tilly a dismissive look, and pushed
open the door beside them to what appeared to be another, smaller
community room. “Now get to work.”

Harry
felt his temper boil as Marcus hammered on the door for the fourth
time. They had waited for someone to answer the door for at least
ten minutes now. He couldn’t help but wonder if someone had seen
them in the driveway, and weren’t going to answer the door because
they knew what he wanted.

Still,
he absolutely refused to be ignored today. Tilly was coming home,
and that was that. If he had to shoot the bloody locks of the
doors, then that is what he would do.

Harry
moved to stand beside Marcus, and they hammered on the door
together. To everyone’s relief, the bolts on the door were slid
back beneath the din. Before the warden could open it fully, Marcus
threw his full body weight against it and slammed it back on its
hinges.

Together, both he and Harry forced their way inside, quickly
followed by Barnaby, Joshua and Joseph.

“’
Ere, you can’t barge you way in here like this,” the warden
protested. His eyes dropped to the gun Marcus held, and he stared
at it with a frown. “What’cha doin’?”

“
We are going to search this place for someone you have a
prisoner here,” Harry declared harshly. His eyes met and held the
warden’s panicked gaze, and silently challenged him to deny
him.

“
You ain’t allowed to fetch anyone out of ‘ere,” the warden
argued.

Unsurprisingly, five more wardens quickly appeared from
various wings of the main building. This was of little consequence
to the men from the Star Elite though, who had seen and done it all
before.

“
This isn’t a prison,” Harry warned the warden. “By law, you
are not allowed to keep anyone here against their will,” Harry
pierced the man with a look. “Get the Head Warden. Now.”

“
He is busy,” the man snapped.

“
What’s your name?” Harry challenged.

“
Murphy.”

“
Murphy. You are going to jail today. I strongly recommend
that you get the Head Warden here now.” Harry’s voice was as cold
as the challenge in his eyes as he pierced the warden with a
ruthless stare.

Murphy’s
gaze moved to each of the heavily armed men in turn before he
looked at one of the other wardens.

“
I am the Head Warden today,” Murphy admitted reluctantly.
“Cruickshank isn’t on duty.”

“
Today, we are looking for someone who I know is in this
building somewhere,” Harry drawled.

“
I could get you arrested for barging in here like this,”
Murphy challenged.

“
Try it,” Harry warned. “One of us is going to prison today,
and I can promise you, here and now, that it won’t be
me.”

He waved
to Joshua. “This is my colleague from the War Office. He is going
to escort you to the office. You will give him direction for the
governor, all of the Board of Trustees, as well as hand over all of
the registers and staff records.”

When
Murphy opened his mouth to speak, Harry turned his back and stared
hard at another warden, who suddenly jumped and looked
guilty.

“
Who are you?”

“
Masterson, sir,” the young warden stammered. He cast a
worried look at Murphy, and swallowed harshly.

Harry
knew immediately that he had found the one person in the prison he
could easily bend to his will.

“
Masterson. We are going to make a list of everyone in the
building today, including the staff.” He turned toward Murphy, and
stared hard into the warden’s eyes. “I warn you now that there will
be dire consequences for you, and your men, if there are residents
in this poor house who haven’t been documented in that
register.”

“
That’s the governor’s job. He is the one responsible for
that,” Murphy argued.

“
But wardens let people in here all the time. I have seen that
with my own eyes. You are all to blame, because you should not
allow anyone into this building if nobody is here to process them
accurately. It is your failure to carry out your duties properly,
nobody else’s.”

“
You can’t come in here and do this,” Murphy challenged. “I am
going to send for the governor.”

“
Please do. While you are at it, you can send someone for the
magistrate as well,” Harry countered, although knew it was a waste
of time because they had already met with the man last
night.

If all
went according to plan, and the magistrate remained true to his
word, he had gone to Battlington Jail just before dawn this morning
to round up several jailers, and the prison cart, and would be at
the poor house within the hour.

“
Who is the governor here?” Joseph demanded, as he eyed the
man nearest to him. Although the wardens were big and burly, he was
fairly certain that they were more used to wrestling with a set of
keys than a real person. “Why is he not here? It is early in the
morning, man. He should be at his desk by now. Where is
he?”

“
The governor is Mr Cragdale,” Murphy replied with a scowl.
“You can come back later to speak with him.” His tone was
dismissive, and he tried to move to the front door only for Harry
to physically yank him backwards.

“’
Ere!” He protested, but was ignored.

“
I am not going to come back. I am going to take a look around
this place,” Harry assured him. “Now, you either stand back, or I
will arrest you for hindering an investigation.”

Marcus
marched across the hallway, and gave Masterson a look that warned
him not to argue. He silently held his hand out for the keys, and
watched the young warden look toward Murphy for a moment before he
reluctantly handed the large mound of ironwork over.

The
tension within the hallway was so thick that Harry felt certain it
could be cut through with a knife, but none of the wardens seemed
to have the back-bone to argue with heavily armed men.

“’
Ere! That’s the women’s quarters. You can’t go in there,”
Murphy protested.

“
You do,” Harry growled, and threw the warden a dirty look
that effectively cut off any further protest.

It took
Marcus a couple of minutes to find the right key and, when he did,
satisfaction swept through him. He yanked the door open, and threw
a triumphant look at both Masterson and Murphy, who suddenly began
to look worried.

“
You will come with us,” he growled, and pushed Masterson
through the door ahead of him.

Harry
turned to Joseph. “See if you can find some parchment.” He pointed
one long finger to a warden closest to the door. “You can
write?”

“
Course I can,” the man snapped defensively.

“
What’s your name?”

“
Able.”

“
Able, you can make a list of all of the residents we come
across.”

“
Right, everyone sit with your backs to each other. Empty your
pockets. Put your keys on the floor at your feet. Anyone who hides
anything will have to explain themselves to the magistrate,” Joseph
ordered.

It had
been agreed last night that there would be no mention of who Harry
and his men actually did work for because they didn’t want to alert
the Dandridges’ to the fact that danger was afoot. Thankfully, none
of the wardens had pressured them yet to identify themselves in
more detail, but they knew it was only a matter of time before
someone, possibly Murphy, did.

Harry
shared a dark look with Joseph, who nodded and began to gather all
of the keys from the wardens. Joshua prodded them to move to the
centre of the room. At first, nobody appeared inclined to follow
orders, and had to be threatened again before they began to move.
Eventually though, once they realised the futility of arguing with
someone who brandished a gun, everyone did as they were told and
dutifully sat in the middle of the entrance hall.

As soon
as they had been tied together, Harry was thankfully, free to try
to find Tilly. He left his colleague to his work, and followed
Barnaby and Marcus into the main body of the building, reluctantly
assisted by Able, with his parchment, and Masterson, who carried
the keys.

The
thick, heavy silence that fell over them was broken only by the
sound of their boots on the cold, stone floor. The deeper they went
into the building, the thicker the atmosphere seemed to grow until,
by the time they reached the inner sanctum of the sleeping
quarters, they all felt decidedly claustrophobic, and more than a
little on edge.