Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero (24 page)

“Give me a
pistol.” John fell back in his seat and held out his hand.
“Now!”

James put his
hands in his pockets and left them there, “That would be unwise.
Shooting Neilson will solve nothing, but your sartorial expenses.
After you’ve swung from a rope they’ll sew you into a woollen sack.
You’ve died enough this week. I’ll hold the pistols; you’ll hold
the girl…when we find her.”

“I should have
gone home months ago. I should have carried her off to Scotland.
She’d be safe in my arms. I can’t bear this Peter…it hurts.”

“Keep
b-breathing and try counting backwards. It helps…”

“Counting
isn’t going to save Joan. Something bad is happening to her…I know
it.”

James met
Peter’s raised eye and then glanced back at John, “We don’t know
that. Stay calm; we’ll do what we can.”

“How can I be
calm when my lark is being ravished? Oh God I need my Joan. Help
me.”

“We don’t know
anything. Sit down and take a deep breath.”

“Would you be
calm if Agnes was in the clutches of a fiend?”

“No, but then
I’d be more worried for the fiend. You’ve never seen Agnes
cornered.”

“Can’t they
make your nags go any faster? We’re crawling; I could run faster
than this.”

“Not with your
sore rump you c-couldn’t, sit d-down.” John reluctantly obeyed his
brother and muttered a garbled prayer into his sleeve as he was
jostled back and forth by the cobblestones.

Reaching
Neilson’s door John jumped free and ran to vent his fear on the
doorknocker. He pushed his way in past the bandaged footman and
looked about with clenched fists, “Neilson?” John’s anguished shout
defied the hovering servants who looked oddly reticent to stop
him.

“Master
Neilson is in his study, Sir.” The footman studiously looked away
as John jogged full speed to the study and tried the doorknob with
a vicious twist. The door flew inward. Robert Neilson was sitting
behind his desk staring blankly at nothing, his lower face and
dressing gown spattered with blood.

“I know she’s
here and I know what you’ve done. Give me my ward.”

Neilson’s
empty stare slowly shifted towards the door, “She’s upstairs…in the
gold salon. Take her away…I beg you. I pray I never see her
again.”

“You
bastard…I’m going to tear out your lying tongue and shove it…”

“John…”
Blinded by tears, John couldn’t see his brother Peter stop beside
him, “…rescue Joan while James and I have a chat with Mr Neilson.”
John spun on his heels and jogged back towards the ornate staircase
as his brothers stepped into the study and quietly closed the
door.

Neilson stood
up and stepped around to the front of his desk, “She bit me and my
servants. She destroyed irreplaceable family heirlooms. She tried
to burn down my house. I was so angry. I…I forgot I was a
gentleman. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never hurt a
woman; I’m not a monster…” Neilson fell to his knees and looked up
at his unwanted guests with pleading eyes, “Pummel me…kick me…shoot
me. Chastise me!”

James put a
hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Beating him to a pulp would be too kind,
it might ease his conscious. I say we let him stew like an apple.
Maybe he’ll think twice before trying to save another young
woman.”

“No…please
don’t leave, you must punish me. You can’t leave me feeling like
this. Come back here and punish me!” The door quietly closed
leaving Neilson moaning in despair.

John jogged up
the stairs cursing each step as he slowed the closer he got to the
top, “Joan? Where are you?” Servants silently pointed him in the
direction of an open door with the key still in the lock. John
tensed as he stepped inside, his heart flailing in his chest like a
fish out of water. His eyes took in the naked open windows, cold
empty grate, broken furniture and shards of expensive porcelain.
The room was empty.

“Joan?” John’s
voice cracked as his vision blurred with fear. He turned and
shouted down the hall, “Joan?” There was no answering call. Rushing
back to the stairs he stumbled near the bottom and fell rolling
into Peter’s arms. Pulled to his feet, his wet blinking eyes
testified he was still alive.

“Breaking your
neck won’t help Joan.”

“Joan’s gone!
He’s sold her to some vile sea captain sailing for Antigua. I’ll
never see her again.”

James pulled a
pistol out of his pocket. “Neilson will tell us where she is or
I’ll unman him.”

Smirke tore
himself from his brother’s comforting arms and jogged back to face
Neilson who was still kneeling on the floor. He looked up with hope
as John kicked open the door. “Where’s my bride?”

“In the gold
salon.”

“She isn’t in
the gold salon; where is she?”

“She must have
slipped away…”

“Slipped
where?”

“She kept
trying to escape…she wanted to get to the church in time to marry
you today. She tried to climb out a window…”

“If you’ve
hurt my Joan I’ll have you prosecuted for kidnapping. I won’t have
to kill you; the scandal will ruin you.”

James cocked
his pistol in the doorway, “Where is the girl?”

Neilson looked
at the three brothers through one dazed eye,” She’s heading for the
church.”

“Are you sure?
She’s a woman. She might want to redo her hair.”

John flapped
his hands at door, “Take me to the church. We’ll look out for her
on the way.”

“We won’t find
her if she takes a short cut through the passage ways or
lanes.”

“She won’t
take any dark lanes. Every villain worth his salt haunts those
filthy passages hoping some pretty idiot… Oh no, she
wouldn’t…you’ve got to help me find her before she’s ravished by
some drunken sod who hates me. She’ll tell them she’s my ward and
they’ll hurt her…we’ve got to find her.”

“Calm down
John, she’s not completely senseless; she’ll go the long way round
to the church.”

“Joan?
Sensible? She’s a trouble lodestone; if there’s trouble nearby
she’ll find it.”

“We’ll go to
the church and if she isn’t there Peter’s boys can help us.”

“She won’t be
at the church; she’ll be in some dark lane being ravished. I can’t
bear this…”

“We’ll find
her at the church.” James hoped he sounded more hopeful then he
felt.

John’s fertile
imagination was reeling off horrific possibilities in full colour,
“You don’t know that. Oh my sweet lovely lark…I don’t like being
love. If I wanted to feel like this I’d have stayed in Hell.”

James rolled
his eyes at Peter, “It’s the price of love. When she next steps
into your arms you’ll feel so elated you’ll think you’ve died
and…just get in the carriage.” Once seated, John tried to convince
himself that his Joan would be at the church waiting for him, but
he knew he didn’t deserve a miracle.

Her teeth
chattering, Joan stopped to warm her hands and pull the sleeves of
her borrowed yellow dress back up over her shoulders as she
pondered her options. She could either take the passage to her left
or go the long way round to the right. The long way was safer, but
longer. It was about twenty past eleven. She rubbed her nose and
muttered under her breath, “What I need is a fairy-godmother to
wave a magic wand and transport me to the church. If I was
Cinderella this hideous dress would fit and I’d be running away
from my prince; no I’m being senseless again. I’m not going to cry,
sniff. I’m going to be brave. Oh why can’t my Mr Smirke appear
around the corner in a coach and…sniff.” She looked about for a
yellow and black carriage, but the only equipage in sight was a
water cart. Impulsively she turned and hurried towards the narrow
passage that would be the best hope of reaching the church in time.
Lifting her skirts above her ankles, she ran into the shadowed lane
past the occasional dingy window and painted door. Having safely
dodged several unsteady leering gentlemen she bravely rushed
headlong into a dark narrow lane. She was feeling hopeful until a
door opened and several laughing men blocked her path. Joan slid
over slimy cobblestones, abruptly halted by a wall. “Excuse me
gentlemen, I’m in a hurry.”

“What luck,
we’re in need of female amusement in a hurry.”

“Let’s pull
her inside and see if she’s comely…”

“The last time
I saw your mistress I thought you’d gone blind. Who cares what she
looks like?” Joan turned to run back the way she came, but a strong
hand reached out and took possession of her arm. “Not so fast
little bird. We wish to put you in a cage for a few minutes and
admire your plumage.”

“Don’t you
mean we want to look up her plumage?”

“Pedant; help
me pull her inside…” Joan screamed and clawed the man holding her
arm filling the air with angry oaths. “Grab the chit’s arm before I
lose an eye.”

“Let go of me
you rats or my guardian will hunt you down and whip you.”

“She’s a
feisty wench…”

“We’ll play
with her for a few hours…ouch. The jade bit me.”

“Let me go.
I’m the legal dependant of Mr John Smirke and he loves me. When he
learns you’ve touched me he’ll kill you and then I shall cry
because he’ll end up in hell and I’ll miss him. Though I might kill
you and end up in hell…”

“We’ve caged
Smirke’s little lark; the wench he wouldn’t sell for one hundred
thousand pounds? What a piece of luck. I owe that slug for putting
a leg over my sister. I never realised revenge could be so sweet.”
Joan shivered as both men barked their mirth. “We’ll eat Smirke’s
bird and then send her back with a note tell him we had a feast.”
They laughed again as Joan was pulled and pushed through the
doorway and into a large smoky room filled with men sitting at
gaming tables puffing on long pipes.

“Someone help
me!” Bored hazy faces turned to see the female speaker and then
looked away. The two rakehells continued to pull Joan towards the
back of the room towards a closed door, swearing loudly as their
unwilling toy resisted with vicious force. Neither libertine
noticed the tall slender man bent over speaking to several seated
men. On hearing Joan’s screams, the man straightened to his full
height and fingered his swordstick. Stepping sharply up to the
writhing threesome he whipped out his blade and viciously poked one
of the men holding Joan. A male scream of pain drew the room’s rapt
attention. Did the Duke of Lyndhurst intend to rescue the girl or
steal her away for himself? The novelty pulled the smoking men from
their chairs to get a better view.

“The young
lady does not appear to desire your company.”

“We saw her
first.”

“Yeah…what’s
the idea Lyndhurst? Get your own bird. Ouch. You can have her when
we’re done if you’re so desperate.”

Lyndhurst
raised his sword at eye level, “I’ll have her now and the two of
you will go to the devil or go blind. Just so there’s no
misunderstanding, the latter would give me greater
satisfaction.”

One of the
rakes holding Joan screamed in pain as Joan kneed him in a tender
spot, “Take me to my guardian John Sebastian Smirke I beg you Sir.”
Barking laughter made Jane’s ears pop. “We’re to marry this
morning…please help me. Mr Smirke will be eternally in your
debt.”

The room
snickered, “I wish some fool would leave me a pretty wench in his
will. I’d never have to hire a whore again.”

“Please Mr
Lyndhurst; I could paint you a picture…” The crowd found the remark
amusing.

The swordstick
was applied with vigour to Joan’s captors, “Give me the girl or
I’ll poke out your eyes. Don’t be surprised if it takes several
deep thrusts to find the desired point of injury.” Suddenly free
Joan leapt away from the two rakes swearing oaths and hid behind
the tall man, clinging to his coat tail as he sheathed his illegal
weapon. Joan squeaked in shock as long cold fingers took hold of
her upper arm and frogmarched her through a dark maze of rooms and
out into blinding sunlight.

“Thank you for
helping me Mr Lyndhurst, I’m very much obliged but…” Looking up at
his face she shivered in horror. It was the man from The Maiden’s
Head, the walking corpse with frightening pale blue eyes. “You can
let me go Sir; I’ll make my own way to the church.”

“What’s your
name?”

“Joan Lark. My
father, the Reverend Lark is dead. I’m engaged to my guardian Mr
John Smirke.”

Lyndhurst
snorted in contempt, “You’re a Grayson or I’m the devil. Who was
your mother?”

“Mercy Love;
she died in childbed.”

“When were you
born?”

“1799, not
that it’s any of your business.”

“Who was your
father?”

“I told you,
the Reverend Lark. He’s dead; Mr John Smirke is my legal
guardian.”

“I’ve seen you
before. You were staying at The Maiden’s Head when I arrived
weren’t you?” He took hold of her face and turned it upward to
inspect it. “Now tell me who you are and why you’re running before
I lose my temper.”

“I’m Joan
Lark, John Smirke’s ward, and I need to reach the church before
noon. We only have a common license. You have to let me go, I must
marry Mr Smirke today.”

“The vain
fastidious John Smirke wouldn’t marry a woman who’d run through a
sewer in a stolen dress without sense or decorum.”

“I didn’t
steal this dress; Mr Neilson kidnapped me…”

“You sound
more senseless by the minute. Robert Neilson doesn’t need to kidnap
women. Are you running from an asylum? Why are there cuts on your
hands and arms? Have you been trying to harm yourself?”

“Why would I
harm myself? Let me go, I need to get to the church.”

“I don’t think
you’re running to a church. I don’t think you know where you’re
running.”

“Of course I
know where I’m running, I’m not some lunatic. And why would I tell
you my name was Lark if it was Grayson? You’re the one who sounds
insane.”