The Rogue (45 page)

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Collis
and Ethan found the pony in a grimy hostelry a mile east of the
Liar's Club. In his panic, Ethan had resorted to dismounting and
grabbing every man he saw by the lapels. "Have you seen a pony
with Prince George on his arse?"

He
definitely qualified for Bedlam now.

At
last, astonishingly, one fellow had blinked, sputtered, then said,
"Yes, sir!"

The
pony and cart had been traded to the hosteler for a horse and surrey,
with the addition of an outrageous pile of coin. The hosteler was
unrepentant. " 'E said 'e 'ad to get his sister out o' the
chill. Said 'e was takin' her somewhere warm by ship. She looked ill
enough to me. 'Ow was I supposed to know she were kidnapped?"

Ethan
tried not to think about what condition Jane might be in to be so
obviously ill. She was alive and he was finally on the right trail.
Still, he sent Collis an anguished look.

Collis
nodded. "I'll send word to Dalton at the club. He'll have Dr.
Westfall waiting for her." He looked around. "Ethan, we
should gather the others."

"The
others are on their own," Ethan said grimly. "Let them
catch up as they can. Didn't you hear the hosteler? Even with a lame
horse, it would only take an hour to reach the docks from here!
They're nearly there now!"

He
put his foot into the stirrup and mounted his horse. "You can
wait if you like." With that, he reined the horse around and
kicked it into a gallop, heading in the direction taken by the
mysterious man with the "ill sister."

Jane
ached from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. For a
moment, that was all she was aware of. Then other sensations rose to
the fore. She was cold. She was wet.

She
shifted her body away from the wet only to realize something else.
She was pinned beneath something heavy. Alarm coursed through her,
bringing her entirely to consciousness.

She
was facedown on the muddy ground, her cheek half-submerged in a
puddle. Something—the surrey?— lay across the backs of
her legs. It didn't hurt, but she could not move. She pushed her
upper body up out of the mud as best she could and looked around her.

The
overturned surrey covered her like a canopy. The rain had stopped but
the dark and deserted road beyond was still soaked. The other
carriage lantern must still be burning, for Jane could see light from
beneath the edges of the surrey.

A
sound behind her made her twist to peer from under the other side.
The small man was mounting the bedraggled horse bareback, having
stripped it of its traces. Other than a singed tail, the horse looked
to be in better condition than Jane was.

Jane
almost cried out to him for help but stopped herself. He obviously
thought her dead or too injured to journey with him. Let him think
so. She was fine where she was, only damp and uncomfortable and sore,
aside from the pounding in her battered skull. Only let him get out
of earshot and then she would bring London itself down with her
howls.

She
carefully lay back down, keeping an eye on the horse's hooves as it
was turned away from her. She watched it leave the circle of weak
light from the lantern and listened until she could no longer hear
the stumbling clop-clop of the poor thing's hooves on the cobbles.

She
forced herself to wait just a bit longer, counting backward from one
hundred. Her gown was soaked through to her skin in front and she was
beginning to shudder violently from the chill. Inhaling deeply, she
began to cry for help with all her might.

She
shouted, she bellowed, she screamed so loudly she had to cover her
own ears against it—yet there was no response.

The
frantic horse had carried them past the warehouse and customs
district into the marshland surrounding this area of the docklands.
It was a wasteland, where her cries only mocked those of the seabirds
inhabiting the marsh.

Finally,
her throat sore and her ears ringing, Jane let her forehead fall onto
her arms. The cold ate through her, multiplying all her aches and
shading her fear with grim necessity. The surrey pressed fiercely
into her flesh and her position—her ever bedamned
helplessness
—made
the panic begin to rise once more.

She
braced her hands on the cobbles and tried again to pull her legs out
from beneath the surrey. Then she twisted frantically, trying to
shove at any part of it she could reach, hoping to dislodge it. She
jostled it mightily, only to feel it settle more firmly down onto
her.

"No!"
She tried again, harder, rocking it to and fro above her. Nothing
happened. Breathless, she stopped and tried to control her panic. She
would be found soon. After all, she lay to the side of a finished
road. Roads carried traffic, so all she had to do was try to stay
warm until someone passed—

A
sharp familiar smell drifted beneath the surrey. Jane sniffed, trying
to place it. As she watched, something began to drip down the side of
the surrey to land on the marshy ground before her eyes.

Rain?

She
touched a finger to it, then lifted it to her nose.

Lamp
oil? Oh, no.

In
her struggles, she must have spilled the lantern's reservoir. That
could be dangerous if the oil set fire to the surrey's wooden frame.

Jane
held very still. At first, she saw nothing, heard nothing. She
relaxed slightly. If it was only spilled oil, she had nothing to
worry about.

Then
she smelled the first wisp of smoke.

Ethan
trotted his horse eastward down the dark corridor of warehouses known
as Commercial Road. If this was, indeed, the route Jane's captor had
taken, it would have provided complete secrecy at this time of early
dawn. Later the place would be bustling again with the transfer of
goods to and from the docks, but now it was as silent as a grave.

The
road forked and Ethan paused. To his right, the warehouses continued,
clear to the East India Docks. That way would provide excellent cover
for a kidnapper.

To
his left, the road traveled over unused marshland. It was a fast
route to the docks, bypassing the warehouses, with open spaces all
around and no shipping-industry traffic to block it. Most passengers
likely went this way.

As
he hesitated, he heard hoofbeats coming up from behind him. He didn't
bother to turn. He knew who it would be.

Collis
reined in his horse next to Ethan. "Shall we split up then?"
he asked without preamble.

Ethan
nodded, relieved. There were some advantages to this partnership, it
seemed. He rarely had to explain anything to Collis.

"I'll
go to the left." He had no real reason for his choice, only that
the windswept dimness seemed to call to him.

"I'll
ride with you," Collis said. He signaled for some of the others
to take the right-hand route and rode beside Ethan at an easy canter.

For
some time there was nothing to see but gray mist. Ethan was forced to
slow them to a stumbling trot, for the horses could not see ahead at
all.

"I'm
thinking we ought to have stopped for torches," Collis muttered.

Ethan
peered ahead. "Someone has a fire going up ahead. Probably some
mudlarks warming their hands. We can take a burning brand from that
if you like." He wasn't willing to stop, but this snail's pace
was eating at his nerves. He wanted to fly after Jane. They had to
catch up to them before they reached the ships or they would never
find them in the sea of masts waiting at the docks.

He
urged his horse faster, toward the small orange fire in the distance.
Someone must be burning wet wood.

The
smoke from the wet wood and the scorched horsehair-stuffed cushions
sliced into Jane's throat like a knife. She coughed and gagged, but
never stopped her frantic activity.

Reaching
as far as she could, for she'd already used up everything near her,
she scooped up another handful of sloppy black mud and smeared it
energetically into her hair.

Above
her, the fire crackled and smoked. On the bright side, the surrey was
quite wet. On the dark side, the wet wood burned anyway when covered
in lamp oil and smoked mightily while doing so.

She
had already coated what parts of her gown she could reach. She was
fairly sure that her exposed ankles and calves were sufficiently
dampened from the mud around her.

The
smoke filled the canopy of the overturned surrey, floating like a
threatening black fist above Jane. She twisted herself to lie as
close to the edge as possible, gasping for the cleaner air that the
flames above her pulled beneath like an inefficient draft.

Suddenly,
it wasn't dark beneath the surrey any longer. Twisting, Jane gazed up
in horror as the floor began to burn through. As she watched, the
fire found the drier interior and flared with hot new life.

Ducking
her head, covering her hair with her hands against the falling shower
of sparks, Jane screamed until her burning lungs gave out.

Ethan
held up a hand to halt the others. "Did you hear that?"

Collis
pulled his horse back and turned his head. "What—"

But
Ethan was gone, kicking his reluctant horse into a full gallop. The
fire ahead was brighter now, larger. As Ethan neared it, he saw with
horror that it was a surrey matching the description of the one taken
by Jane's captor—what was left of it, anyway.

The
thing was overturned and engulfed in flames. Ethan flung himself from
the saddle, ripping his coat off as he ran.

"Jane!
Jane!" Oh, God. She could not be inside, could she? Had he heard
a scream coming from it or had it only been a seabird's cry?

A
single small cry came from beneath the crackling roar of the fire.

"Jane!"
He dove at the surrey, slapping at it with his coat, trying to find
some way to her. Hands pulled him back. "No! Let me go! She's
underneath!"

Collis
and several Liars dragged him back from the flames. Ethan struggled
desperately. "No! No, she's—"

"Ethan,
it's too late," Collis cried hoarsely. "It's too late!"

Ethan
fought against their restraining hands, punching and kicking wildly.
They dragged him to the ground, pinning him there with the weight of
several bodies.

Collis
shouted for the others to find water and the Liars scattered to fill
their hats with any standing water they could find.

The
surrey burned on, lighting the scene with hellish orange light

Suddenly
the pile of bodies surged upward. "No!" Ethan fought his
way free, taking down any man who reached for him with Herculean
strength. He laid Collis out with a merciless blow to the jaw and ran
to the flaming surrey.

Careless
now of the heat, he took hold of the side of the surrey. The metal
trim was so hot it seared right into the flesh of his palms. He
didn't release his hold, but only ducked his face away from the
flames that danced over the undercarriage.

With
a single mighty heave, he lifted the surrey up and pushed it over.

It
fell crashing and splintering upright onto its flaming wheels,
leaving only a blackened still form behind it on the ground.

Cold
water splashed Ethan as he fell to his knees next to Jane's body.
Without much caring, he realized that his sleeves were on fire. The
Liars around him beat the flames down, using wet hats and coats to
put them out.

Then,
when he was no longer aflame, they backed silently away, leaving him
next to the burning surrey with Jane.

"Janet?"
His voice broke in his throat. Horrified, he reached one hand to her
blackened hair, expecting it to crumble to ash beneath his touch.

Instead,
his fingers met wet slime. Mud? Just then, she sputtered hoarsely.

Ethan
gave a laughing, startled gasp. He reached for her, pulling her limp,
soaked, muddy form into his lap. "Janet?" He pushed her
filthy hair back from her face with equally filthy hands. "Janet,
breathe, my darling. Breathe."