Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (9 page)

The coat was given up without a struggle and Gwyn hung it on a peg beside her own coat. The girl’s bonnet and umbrella were already lying on a chair. “My name is Gwyn,” she said, “and you are?”

The response was so low that Gwyn did not hear and asked the young woman to repeat it.

“Well, now, Gracie, did you come with a friend, a sister, someone I can fetch to take you home?”

Gracie closed her eyes and shook her head.

Gwyn was becoming alarmed. The girl was still shivering. It didn’t help that there was no fire lit, but no one expected the office to be used today. She had to keep the girl warm.

She felt her own coat. She’d been first to arrive at the library to open it up, as she usually did on the days she was working, and she’d missed the worst of the downpour. Her coat had dried out nicely.

“Here, this will keep you warm,” she said, and helped Gracie into it, Gwyn then opened the bottom drawer of the desk, withdrew the bottle of medicinal brandy, and poured out a neat shot.

“Drink it,” she ordered. She kneeled in front of the chair, held the glass to the girl’s lips and kept it there till she was satisfied that at least some of the brandy had gone down Gracie’s throat.

Some moments passed, then Gracie opened her eyes, heaved a sigh, and gave Gwyn a tremulous smile.

“Feeling better?” Gwyn asked.

Gracie nodded. Suddenly her smile vanished and she sat up, her fingers curling tightly around the armrests. “You’ve got to help me, miss,” she said. “I must speak with Lady Octavia. I think my friend is in trouble, real trouble. He didn’t come back last night, you see, or the night before that. He went to collect his wages. They must have found him and now they’ll be after me, too.”

Gwyn sat back on her heels. “Who is after you, Gracie?”

Gracie moistened her lips, and she shook her head miserably. “I must speak with Lady Octavia.”

“Don’t be afraid,” said Gwyn. “You’re among friends here.”

“I know, but … you don’t know him, miss. He’ll do anything to stop me.”

This was not the first time Gwyn had heard these words, or words very like them. Desperate women from all walks of life, women who were trapped in intolerable marriages, often came to their doors seeking
Lady Octavia’s advice. Sometimes, if they didn’t mind leaving the marriage with little but the clothes on their backs, or if there were no children involved, Lady Octavia could help them. But more often than not, they went away disappointed.

Gwyn understood only too well. Short of murdering one’s husband, there was no escape, not if he was determined to make his wife stay. She was lucky. She was a widow. For women like Gracie, it was hopeless.

She’d told Lady Octavia once how useless she felt.

“Tea and a little sympathy,” said Lady Octavia, “can often work wonders. Your job is to listen, not advise. It’s clarity they need, and they must come to that themselves.”

So that’s where she spent most of her time, in the tearoom, dispensing tea and a little sympathy.

She got up and gave the glass to Gracie. “Lady Octavia is introducing the guest speaker to all our visitors, but when she’s done, she’ll come back. Meanwhile, I’ll light the fire and see about a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches. How does that sound?”

Gracie sniffed and nodded. “I haven’t eaten in ages. I think that’s why I fainted.”

The tinder box was on the mantel. The tinder caught on Gwyn’s first try, and she quickly set it to the kindling in the grate.

“You did that,” said Gracie, awed, “as though you’d been in service all your life.”

Gwyn smiled. “You mean getting the tinder lit?” Gracie nodded, and Gwyn laughed. “I’ve had a great deal of practice. I don’t have servants to light fires for me, you see.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Gwyn Barrie.”

A look of enlightenment slowly dawned on Gracie’s face, and she gave Gwyn a shy smile. “She talks about
you all the time. Her ladyship, I mean. She says that you’re ever so brave. You have a son, don’t you, called Mark?”

“Yes, but I’m surprised that Lady Octavia—”

Her words died. The sound of shattering glass, followed immediately by ear-piercing screams came from the other side of the door, then men’s voices yelling across each other. Gracie jumped to her feet.

“It’s all right,” Gwyn soothed. “It’s just some young men playing a practical joke. Really, there’s nothing to fear. Now sit down in that chair and I’ll get that tea and sandwiches.”

When Gracie sank back in the chair, Gwyn nodded and left the room.

It was just as she thought, a practical joke, only no one was laughing. She saw two of the ‘cavalry,’ Mr. Needham and Major Sommerville, wrestling with a young man as they dragged him to the front door. People were shouting to be heard above each other, but there was no panic.

She saw Judith at the entrance to the tearoom and elbowed her way through to her. “What happened?” Gwyn asked.

Judith was shaking with anger. “A young hooligan, dressed up as a gentleman, tossed a brick through the bay window in the lecture room. Don’t worry, he’ll pay for it in more ways than one. Major Sommerville knows his father, and, as he said, young Tommy will be wishing he had never been born.”

Gwyn said, more to herself, “Why do they hate us so much?”

“Because,” said Judith, “we want to change things, and that frightens them. They can’t beat us with words, so they break windows instead.”

Gwyn was more concerned about Gracie than broken windows. “Judith,” she said, “could you bring some sandwiches and tea to the office? There’s a
young woman who fainted, and I don’t like to leave her.”

“Of course. I’ll see to it right away.”

Gwyn turned around and made for the office. She wasn’t really surprised to find that it was empty. Gracie had been frightened to start with. It wouldn’t have taken much to throw her into a panic.

She was just about to shut the door when her eyes were drawn to the coat that was hanging on the peg. A blue coat, like hers, but it wasn’t her coat. It was Gracie’s coat. There was no sign of her own coat or the bonnet and umbrella that had lain on the chair.

She turned around and made for the front door. All she could see was a sea of umbrellas as ladies hastened toward their carriages.

Gracie would be back, thought Gwyn, not only to return the coat, but because they always came back.

Gracie unfurled her umbrella even before she stepped outside the library’s front door and she kept her head well down in case anyone was watching for her. She knew, now, that something terrible had happened to Johnny, and that something terrible would hapen to her if she didn’t get away. He’d been there, Mr. Wheatley, her master’s attorney, the man her mistress feared almost as much as she feared her husband. She’d seen him when Mrs. Barrie opened the door.

She shivered, anticipating at any moment to feel the press of his hand on her shoulder. Her instincts told her to run, but she was so hemmed in by ladies making for various carriages that were stationed in the square that she could do no more than follow along.

The temptation to glance back was almost irresistible. But that’s what he would be looking for, a
woman who knew she was being pursued. She had to get a grip on herself. She wouldn’t run until she came to the last carriage in the square, or until she felt him breathing down her neck.

When the ladies beside her waved to others who were climbing into their carriages, she did the same. No one seemed to notice that she didn’t belong. That’s what she wanted, to melt into the crowd so that no one could pick her out.

At the corner of Frith Street, she made her move. As though her carriage was waiting for her around the corner and she didn’t have a care in the world, she turned and waved good-bye to her startled companions, then she darted into Frith Street and took off.

She couldn’t have chosen better, for Frith Street had business premises in almost every building. The first shop she came to was a printer’s shop. She was through the front door and out the back before anyone could stop her.

The Angel was only a short walk away, but she made detours and it took her a long time to get there. She was so terrified of discovery that when she came to the door of her room, she was afraid to enter it, but she heard someone’s step on the stairs and that frightened her even more. Once inside, she locked the door and flattened herself against it. When the footsteps receded, she staggered to a chair and sank into it, hugging herself with her arms as her teeth began to chatter.

They’d been waiting for her at the Ladies’ Library. Johnny told her they were watching it, and it wasn’t safe to go there, but she’d thought it was worth the risk. She had to do something. And if anyone could help her, it was Lady Octavia.

Gracie remembered Lady Octavia very well. She’d already been to the house once and forced Gerrard
to let her see Lady Mary. But she’d gone away thinking Lady Mary was ill. She wasn’t ill. She was browbeaten, and maybe sedated. Things were much worse now, for shortly after that, she and Johnny had tried to get Lady Mary away.

Gerrard would make his wife pay for her defiance in ways that Gracie didn’t want to think about.

She had to let Lady Octavia know that Lady Mary was being held against her will. Lady Octavia was her best hope, not only of saving her mistress, but of finding Johnny as well.

What she couldn’t understand was why Gerrard was so determined to hunt her and Johnny down. Johnny’s friends had warned him that some nasty character was asking questions about him and he’d better make himself scarce.

If only he hadn’t gone to collect his wages! But their money was running out. What else could he do?

Maybe she should go to the magistrates. But what could she say?
The high-and-mighty Mr. Gerrard won’t let his wife out of the house?
They wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t listen to her, a mere maid. And they wouldn’t care that Johnny, a mere footman, was missing either.

She heard footsteps in the corridor and she jumped to her feet, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs. When the footsteps stopped and she heard a door opening and closing, she shuddered in relief, then sank back in her chair.

She couldn’t stay here. There were too many people about. But she had no friends, nowhere to go. Her eyes strayed to her bags.

Her bag was already packed, and not only hers, but Lady Mary’s as well. The sight of those bags brought tears to her eyes. They’d saved the bags but they hadn’t managed to save Lady Mary. If only luck had been on their side, she and Lady Mary would have been in Hampstead right now, starting a new life. It
was all set. There was a nice little cottage, right on the edge of the heath, where they could live in peace and quiet.

“You’ll be my companion, Gracie,” Lady Mary said, “and just so that you’ll look the part, I’ve ordered new garments for you.”

“I’m sorry, your ladyship,” Gracie whispered, as though Lady Mary were right there beside her. When she’d caught sight of Wheatley, she hadn’t stopped to change coats. She hadn’t even thought about it. So now, the most beautiful coat she had ever possessed was hanging on a peg in the Ladies’ Library, and she doubted that she would ever see it again.

She sat huddled in her chair for a long time, trying to think things through. When she’d started on this adventure, it had seemed so simple. A wife trying to leave her husband wasn’t a hanging offense. But now, everything was different.

What should she do? Where could she go?

Finally, she scrubbed her wet cheeks with her knuckles and breathed deeply. There was only one place to go and that was to the cottage in Hampstead. Johnny knew about the cottage. And if Lady Mary managed to escape her husband, that’s where she would go. Then they would start the new life Lady Mary had set her heart on, and Johnny would be safe there, too.

And if her ladyship or Johnny didn’t turn up?

She covered her face with her hands and wept bitter tears. She didn’t know why things had turned out like this. She’d only wanted to help her mistress.

The occupant of the room next to Gracie’s was stretched out in bed, fully dressed, calmly smoking a cheroot. He, too, had been at the Open House, and when Ralph Wheatley pointed the maid out to him,
he’d been aware of her every move. Gracie, thought Harry, hadn’t stood a chance, though he gave her credit for trying. But a young woman in a blue coat with a black umbrella out walking in the rain, when sensible folk were indoors, wasn’t hard to follow. And he was a master of the game.