Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (10 page)

The man set her on her feet, and she felt rough hands on her body and someone forcing her face into the lantern light.

“You’re a pretty one,” a gruff voice said. “I’ll get a good price for you from Madame Ratcliff.”

Kassidy looked at her new captor in horror. The loathsome man appeared to be wearing a uniform, but she couldn’t be sure because his clothing was filthy and smelled foul. He was tall and muscled. His nose appeared to have been broken at one time, for it lay flat against his cheeks. A long scar ran from his eyebrow down the side of his face to his lip, giving him a menacing appearance.

Kassidy wanted to scream when he ran his filthy hand up her arm, and she did manage to flinch away from his touch.

The man grinned as if he derived some sort of pleasure from her misery, and there was a vicious light in his eyes as she staggered, trying to keep her balance. Finally she stumbled backward and leaned against the cold stone wall for support.

In the distance, she heard groans of despair and cries of pain from others who must also be trapped somewhere in this dark maze of agony.

“Where am I?” Kassidy asked in a haze of pain and bewilderment.

“Some call it Newgate, little lady,” the man told her, “but you’ll call it hell.”

12

Kassidy trembled with fear as she looked at the huge man. He had little black eyes, and there was something evil about the way he leered at her.

“Please help me,” she beseeched him.

He didn’t seem to hear her words. He ran a hand down her arm, and turned her around, looking her over carefully with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “You’re a beauty, all right. I’ll get my price back for you and more.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh, you may ask. I’ll take you to a lady I know who’ll see that you learn all the ways to please a man. Newgate ain’t nothing like the prison you’ll find at Madame Ratcliffs.”

He ran his hand down her face. “But before I take you to her, it won’t damage the goods none if I have a go at you first.”

Kassidy backed away from him, a scream rising in her throat. “I’ll die before I allow you to touch me.”

“No, you won’t die.” He loomed over her. “You may even like what I do.”

She felt revulsion rise up inside her. “I’ll scream if you touch me.”

His eyes hardened, and he raised up his hand to deliver a stunning blow to her jaw. Kassidy crumpled to the floor and knew nothing after that.

Tom Brunson lifted her limp body and carried her down the long hallway, up a flight of stairs to a cell that was apart from the others. He lay her on the straw mattress on the floor and chained her wrists to the wall.

He stood over Kassidy, taking in her fragile beauty. With a grunt of regret that he must leave and make his rounds, he turned to the door and locked it behind him.

Frantic excitement throbbed through him. After he made his rounds, he had two other girls to deliver to Madame Ratcliff. Then he’d come back to this one. Only when he tired of her would he take her to Leman Street.

Tom Brunson had made the most of his position at Newgate, thanks to Madame Ratcliff’s establishment. As head keeper of the cells in solitary, where the troublemakers were confined, he had found wealth in transporting women of looks to Madame Ratcliff’s brothel. He had devised a clever way to sneak them out of Newgate, where the poor wretches would make money for him by lying on their backs. Sometimes the women were agreeable, preferring to sell their bodies instead of remaining in solitary—sometimes not.

Even if a woman objected, it mattered but little. After Tom put the fear of the devil in them, they never caused him trouble, and never reported him to the warden. Before a woman’s term of confinement was over, he would bring her back without anyone being the wiser.

After making his rounds, he went to a cell and unlocked the door. “Well now, my beauties, it’s old Tom, and he’s here to free you from this prison.”

The two women huddled against the wall. One spoke with anger. “We know where the women go when they leave here.”

Tom snorted. “That’ll save me the trouble of explaining it to you.”

The two women exchanged glances, but made no attempt to resist when he clapped them in chains and led them out into the dark corridor.

“Don’t make a sound,” he cautioned.

Down the long corridor they went until they came to a side door where the refuse was collected. Tom unlocked the door and pulled the women forward. He lifted them into a waiting garbage wagon, hiding them beneath large baskets.

He bounded into the wagon, picked up the reins and urged the nag forward, as he had done many times before. When the wagon rattled out the gates and they left Newgate behind, Tom laughed at his own daring.

“If you be clever, there’s always a way to outsmart others,” he said, pleased with his resourcefulness.

After they were safely away, he drove onto a deserted street and halted the horse. Beneath a pale moon, he unlocked the chains on the women’s wrists with a warning to them. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not give me no—“

Tom never finished what he had started to say. While one of the women distracted him, the other shoved a knife in his heart and twisted it savagely. He fell forward, twitching and kicking, a baffled look on his face.

“If you be clever,” the woman mimicked, “there’s always a way to outsmart others.”

The women jumped from the wagon and faded into the dark shadows, while Tom drew his last breath in a heap of foul-smelling garbage.

*                                          *                                          *

Back at Newgate, the guards changed shifts, but no one went near the secluded cell where Kassidy lay unconscious. No one even knew she was there.

Kassidy awoke to the sound of water dripping. Frantically groping around in the dark, she felt a damp stone wall. Her head ached and she could not think clearly— why was she so confused?

Slowly she remembered what had happened to her— the abduction, the filthy man who put his hands on her. She remembered the lewd threats he’d made to her.

“No.” She sobbed, shivering with revulsion. In her agonized mind she was sure the guard had ravished her while she’d been unconscious. If only she could wash every part of her body that the vile man had touched.

She curled up in a ball and watched the first splinter of light coming through a high window. As the dark corners lightened, and her mind cleared, she looked around the tiny cell. There was a thick iron door with a small opening at the bottom, just large enough to push food and water through. High over her head was a tiny window with iron bars. She was lying on a lumpy mattress that had been placed on the damp stone floor. When she tried to rise, she discovered to her horror that she was chained to the wall.

Finally standing up on shaky legs, she found that the slightest movement rattled the chains at her wrists. She moved along the outer wall, noticing it was damp from water seepage. The floor was foul-smelling and slimy with filth.

“Dear God, what has happened to me?” Kassidy moaned.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping when she opened them again she would discover she was having a nightmare. But no, she was cold and began to shiver as deep, wrenching sobs built up within her. This was not a nightmare—it was real!

Kassidy wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. She wondered if she was going mad. In the distance, strange voices penetrated her consciousness. Some of them cried out with hopelessness, and others were harsh and commanding. Every new sound made her fearful that her tormentor would return. She huddled against the wall, feeling sick in mind and body.

All day Kassidy lay upon her straw mattress, too frightened to move. As the light began to wane and darkness fell, she still shivered from cold and fear. No one came to give her food or water, and she was so hungry and thirsty.

It was as though no one knew she was there, or they had forgotten her.

Finally, hearing heavy footsteps outside the door of her cell, Kassidy thought it would be the guard returning. But the footsteps faded away, and she drew in a relieved breath. Loneliness weighed heavily on her, and she longed for the sight of another human—but not the guard—please, God, not that loathsome man.

As the sun went down, Kassidy watched the corners of the cell fade into shadows and then total darkness encroached.

How long had she been there? There was no way of knowing. She turned her face to the wall, too heartsick to care what happened to her.

She buried her face in her hands as tears of misery rolled down her face. She wept until there were no more tears left. Then she fell asleep, resting her head on the filthy mattress.

Jack Beale watched his brother move up the back steps and enter the kitchen.

Slapping his cap against his thigh, Gorden shook his head. “That woman’s made dolts of us, Jack.”

“Didn’t she give you the money that was owed to us?”

“She told me she didn’t have it, but if we’d wait for three more weeks, she’d double the fee. Said she’d be coming into some money.”

Jack frowned. “And fool that you are, you believed her?”

It was raining, and Gorden removed his jacket and hung it on a hook next to the cookstove to dry.

“Didn’t matter if I believed her or not—she didn’t give me the money. What was I to do, wring it out of her?”

Jack stomped across the floor and yanked his brother forward by his shirtfront. “Why’d you come back without our hundred pounds? You should’a stayed with her until she gave you the money.” Jack shoved him angrily, and Gorden was slammed against the wall.

Rubbing his sore arm, Gorden tried to explain why he had returned without the money. “I couldn’t make her give me what she don’t have. We’ll have to wait, Jack. She’ll have to pay us sooner or later.”

Jack shook his head. “No one gets away with cheating me.” He rubbed his stubbly chin, and a twisted smile touched his lips. “She don’t know that we found out who she is. And I know more about the Maragon girl, too. I can make DeWinter rue the day she went back on Jack Beale.”

Gorden looked doubtful. “What are you thinking on doing, Jack?”

“DeWinter wanted the girl to disappear real bad. Suppose the girl was to get free?”

Gorden paled and ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair. “But the girl knows about us. If she talks, we’ll be the ones behind the walls of Newgate.”

“She knows nothing about us,” Jack said with confidence. “She was so scared she couldn’t tell anything about that night. She don’t even know our names.”

“What will you do?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed with speculation. “It’s just a matter of sending a letter to the right person.” His brows met across the bridge of his nose. “And I know just who to send it to.”

Lady Mary moved quickly up the steps of Ravenworth Castle. With an impatient breath, she brushed past the startled Ambrose.

“Show me to his grace at once,” she ordered. “Tell him Lady Mary Rindhold wishes to see him on a matter of great import.”

Ambrose was startled, but he nodded respectfully. “Will you wait in the sitting room, my lady, and I’ll tell his grace you are here.”

She followed him into the room. Perhaps the letter she had received was a hoax, but she had to know for certain. Until the anonymous letter arrived yesterday, she had despaired of finding Kassidy alive.

Now, unless someone were playing a cruel trick on her, perhaps the duke could help her untangle the mystery surrounding Kassidy’s unexplained disappearance.

The man who entered the room was younger than Mary had expected. He approached her with a look of curiosity, but his manner was polite.

“Lady Mary, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, but I know your husband, George, quite well.”

“George has told me that you served under Lord Wellington. He has related to me the details of your daring feat of heroism at Waterloo. He says Parliament was most impressed. I had thought you would be older.”

“You are too kind, Lady Mary,” he said, offering her a chair. When she was seated, he sat opposite her. “Ambrose told me you wanted to see me on an important matter.”

“Yes,” she said doubtfully now that she had met the duke. “I’m at a loss as to how you can help me, though.” She handed him a letter. “Perhaps this will explain my reason for being here. Although I confess, I do not understand any of this myself.”

Raile hurriedly read the letter:

Dear Madame,

If you wish to know about your missing niece, you might want to begin your search at Ravenworth Castle.

Raile handed the letter back. “I don’t understand how I can help you. I don’t even know your niece. I can assure you that she is not here.”

Lady Mary’s face showed her distress.

“I am as much puzzled by the note as you are. You have to understand I am so worried about Kassidy I can’t overlook any clue to her whereabouts.”

Raile saw tears gathering in her eyes.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, feeling embarrassed, “but Kassidy is so dear to me, and she has suffered so much since the deaths of her mother and father and now her sister. Since her disappearance, my husband and I have searched everywhere for her. It’s as if she vanished into nothingness. Her brother, Henry, has already given her up for dead.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “You cannot imagine the grief I have lived through. First losing my elder niece, and now Kassidy. You see, they were the daughters of my dead sister, and I promised her I would look after them if anything happened to her. As you see, I have not fulfilled that promise.”

Feeling pity for the woman, but also discomfort, Raile reached for a decanter and poured a glass of sherry, then handed it to her.

“Drink this, Lady Mary, and then tell me how you think I can help.”

She took a sip and then pushed the glass away. “Please forgive me, your grace. I don’t usually act this way with strangers. It’s just that I’m so distressed. Kassidy was so alive—so sweet and kind. I cannot believe she is gone.”

“Perhaps you should start from the beginning. When did you last see your niece? And what is her full name?”