Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

SOOTHCOOR MANSION

T here was a hard knock on the Malmsby front door a little more than thirty minutes after Lewis had left. Hearing it, Gwinnie came out of the music room and watched Stephen open the door.

"Are you Daniel?" Stephen asked, pulling the door wide open.

"No, I'm Billy and I needs to see Lady Guinevere," the lad said with arrogant bravado, his fists squarely resting at his waist.

"I'm here," said Gwinnie from the doorway of the music room.

The lad brushed past Stephen and marched down the hall to Gwinnie. "I has a message from Dan fer Mr. Martin. Is he here?" Billy asked.

"No, he is out searching for Daniel now."

The boy nodded. "Dan said if he weren't here I'ze to leave a message with you. Tell 'em that man he's search'n for is in Soothcoor Mansion, and to come quick."

"I understand. Where is Daniel now?" Gwinnie asked.

"Fillin' in fer me. I clean that street. Dan said as how someone here would most likely try to capture him so he couldn't come here hisself."

Gwinnie laughed. "You had best get back then. Tell Daniel I request he only watch the house. Someone will come soon."

The boy nodded then marched back to the door, looked up at Stephen, waiting for him to open the door again, and then marched out.

"He's a different one," observed Stephen.

Gwinnie absently agreed, contemplating what she should do with Billy's information. "Stephen, where is Mr. Cott?"

"He accompanied His Grace to the bank."

"Blast!" She ran upstairs to her room. "Rose! Help me out of this dress and into my Sarah Knolls clothing."

"Are we going to the charity house?" Rose asked as she helped Gwinnie out of her dress.

"No. You are going to take a note to Bow Street while I go to Soothcoor Mansion."

"Soothcoor Mansion!"

"That is where I believe Mr. Suthers is hiding out."

"Lady Gwinnie, that be too dangerous."

"I'm just going to join Daniel in the street watching the house, making sure he doesn't leave. I'm not going to do anything to get myself in danger. That is why you are taking the note to Bow Street."

Rose frowned. "But?—"

"I'm not like the heroines in my brother's stories. I am not going to do something to put myself in danger. I'm going to be an observer. The way my head still aches, I couldn't do anything else. Now put this dress away and get my other clothes while I write a note for Bow Street," Gwinnie said.

She pulled paper and a pencil from a small desk by the window. She had no time for ink and quill. By the time she was finished with her note, Rose was waiting with her Sarah clothes. Gwinnie donned them quickly, then took the hairpins out of her hair.

"Rose, can you tie this mass back with a hair ribbon?" Gwinnie asked as she shook her head loose from its confining pins.

"Why did you take your hair down?"

"I'm not wearing a bonnet, I'm just wrapping a shawl over my head. I'll draw less attention to myself."

"Yes, my lady," Rose said primly, obviously not in favor of Gwinnie's plan.

"Thank you. Here's the note for you to take to Bow Street. We'll leave together. I'll wait here for you to get your coat from your room."

They went down the servants' stairs and out the tradesmen's entrance to the house. They walked swiftly two blocks before Rose had to turn off toward Bow Street.

"I don't feel right about this," Rose complained. "Especially with your head injury yesterday."

"I'm fine. My headache actually feels better out in the cold," Gwinnie assured her, not admitting the occasional dizziness that struck her. Hopefully, that had all passed. "Now hurry along."

"Yes, my lady."

Gwinnie continued walking. She supposed she should have hailed a hackney, but she didn't. The mudlarks roamed all over the city on foot. She could as well, she thought with a smile. And the cold did help her aching head.

A fifteen-minute walk brought her to a corner of Grosvenor Square. She saw Billy at the other end but not Daniel. Most of the houses she passed still had the door knockers removed. Their owners had not yet returned to the city after the holidays. She walked toward Billy. When he looked in her direction, she lifted an arm to wave at him, then she immediately felt a hard poke in her back.

"No, don't turn around," said a woman's harsh voice behind her. "Just keep walking toward the corner and mews entrance on the right."

Gwinnie did as she was told. She could do little else as the sudden poke in her back had set off a wave of dizziness. Through her coat, she could not tell if what the woman held at her back was a knife, a pistol, or a stick. Given her aching head, Gwinnie did not feel confident she could overpower the woman. In any other circumstance, it would be the work of a moment. However, perhaps that was just as well. Gwinnie wanted information.

"Miss Southerland?" Gwinnie guessed.

"Shut up!"

"You are Miss Southerland. What is going on?" Gwinnie asked, slowly walking forward.

Keeping her hands low, in front of her waist, Gwinnie motioned to Billy to stay where he was and wait as she questioned Miss Southerland.

"I said shut up!" She poked her weapon harder into Gwinnie's back. Gwinnie thought it now felt like a pistol barrel.

"This way," Miss Southerland said, pushing her into the mews.

Gwinnie did not fight her. She didn't feel she could. She must reserve her strength. The pistol eased away from her back a little. "See the lantern hanging up ahead?"

Gwinnie nodded.

"That's the back of Soothcoor Mansion. I had such a sweet little business operating out of that house."

"Business?" Gwinnie asked meekly.

"Yes, a business fencing stolen goods," Miss Southerland said with a delighted laugh and another poke in her back.

"I don't understand," Gwinnie said. Though she did, all too well, and that Miss Southerland did not intend for her to leave Soothcoor Mansion alive. She had to keep her talking. She knew Lewis would come if she had sufficient time. "I thought you were the housekeeper for Lady Soothcoor."

"I was. Easy job, she had more staff than she needed, not that she knew."

"Why?"

"So they could be leased out to big parties to steal for me," she said proudly.

"You were behind the thefts five years ago where your daughter was arrested?"

"That was all neatly planned to turn attention elsewhere," Miss Southerland said with a self-satisfied tone to her voice. She opened a gate, then pushed Gwinnie through into the back kitchen garden and storage building area behind the house. She shoved Gwinnie toward the house.

Gwinnie noticed she didn't contradict Alice's relationship to her.

"See that storage building? I told Lady Soothcoor we needed it, so she had it built for me. It used to be full of stolen goods, but when she moved to Appleton, I had to move that stuff, too. Good thing my son is a carter, eh?"

"Freddie Suthers is your son?"

"Fine boy, does whatever his mama says."

"Including throwing a brick at my head," Gwinnie said sourly.

"Yes, but not hard enough," she groused. "You were supposed to either be dead or laid up for a while. Here it is a day later, and you are up and about. All you got is a big ugly bruise on your face."

"Why? What have I done to you?" Gwinnie asked.

"Go down those stairs," Miss Southerland ordered. "What have you done? You've taught those girls to be good! I can tell now I'll not be able to undo that training. I'll need a new bunch of girls to train up to be my great-house thieves."

Gwinnie felt a glow of warmth in her heart that she'd had that effect on the women. She slowly went down the dim stairs to the servants' area of the great house, placing her hand against the wall to keep herself steady. "Mrs. Albert and Miss Wooler wouldn't let you get away with that."

"They turned in their notices this morning, which suits my needs just fine. What I didn't count on was Soothcoor's interest in his charity. My sister told me he was interested. Didn't believe her. I thought he just let her run it however she wished. That's a bit of a problem. Not sure if that house is going to work out for my plan, now. Guess I didn't need to off my sister-in-law."

"You killed Mrs. Southerland! Why?"

"I told you; I wanted her house for my school."

"A school for thieves."

"Smiling, obedient, ghosts, walking unnoticed amongst the wealthy, stealing from them and bringing their stolen goods to me for a remittance," she said playfully.

At the bottom of the staircase was a worn oak door. Miss Southerland reached around Gwinnie to knock three times. The door was opened by the man in the young street cleaner's picture!

Gwinnie drew in a sharp breath.

"Lady Gwinnie! What are you doing here!" she heard Daniel say. Her heart sank at the sound of his voice.

She looked around the man to see Daniel tied to an armless wood chair before a scarred table.

"I could ask the same of you," she returned. She suddenly felt lost.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mr. Martin is gonna be so mad at us," he said gloomily.

Gwinnie allowed Miss Southerland to push her into the room. She landed on her knees.

"Lady Gwinnie!" Daniel exclaimed.

Gwinnie looked up at him and winked, then slowly rose to her feet. As voluble as she'd been, Gwinnie didn't think Miss Southerland could allow them to live, but it also seemed she couldn't decide if they might have a use or not.

Someone would get a message to Lewis— Mr. Martin— she corrected herself. He'd come, she knew, and that feeling of being lost faded away.

"What are you going to do with us?" she asked, adding a tremor to her voice. She stood hunched, though she watched them both carefully. Headache or not, she was a strong woman; however, there was no need for them to know that— and she didn't know how badly her injured head might betray her. Her head pounded.

"I don't know yet." Miss Southerland's eyes narrowed. "I want to know how you both ended up at this house."

"I doubt we would be here if you hadn't had this man—" Gwinnie pointed at Mr. Suthers, "— throw a brick at me."

Miss Southerland rounded on the man. "You were followed! Didn't I tell you to make sure no one followed you?"

"No one. I swear Mama, an' I went a twisty ways here. I on'y stopped to buys a meat pie. I was so hungry."

"You're Freddie Suthers's mother?" Gwinnie asked.

"His name is Frederick Southerland. He's a loyal, good boy, not like his twin, Alice, the bitch. Freddie dear, pull a chair behind the boy's and tie her to it, and tie the two chairs together."

"Alice Southerland?" Gwinnie asked, as Freddie maneuvered her into the chair and put her hands behind her back. "The one who was originally arrested in one of your thievery schemes?"

She looked back over her shoulder at Miss Southerland as she spoke, while interlacing her fingers together and pushing her arms as hard apart as she could. Though Freddie pulled the rope as tight together as he thought it would go, he couldn't fully see her tied hands, for Daniel's hands and ropes were in the way.

"She wouldn't have been arrested if she'd brought that spoon to me, like she was supposed to. And none of us would have been called to testify, neither. They called us in because we were all seen together and come from the same agency."

"But all charges were dropped."

"Can you believe that stupid cow left the spoon in her apron pocket? That's what got her and us pulled in."

"But since she didn't remove it from the house, the homeowner believed her story that she'd picked it up to turn in later and forgot it was there," Gwinnie said, continuing the story for her as she unlinked her fingers. Her ropes instantly sagged slightly, as she'd hoped, giving her a bit more space to move her fingers. She felt for the knots in Daniel's ropes. String musicians possessed strong fingers, she thought, repressing a satisfied smile. She used her finger strength to her advantage.

"That was the only smart thing she did," Miss Southerland said, still pointing her pistol at her.

Gwinnie recognized the firearm as like the small pistol used at Ann and Ellinbourne's engagement ball last June. The one used to wound Lord Candelstone.

"What happened after that?" Gwinnie asked to keep her talking.

"The chit fled town! Left a note saying she didn't want to be in the family business, as she called it. Weren't no family business, were my business. Then she wrote to my brother and tried to get him to leave, too. I wasn't haven' non'a that."

"You killed Derek Southerland? Your brother?"

"Nah." She walked around her and Daniel, tied to their chairs to stand in front of Gwinnie. "My Freddie done that." She put her arm around her son's shoulders and hugged him to her.

Gwinnie took advantage of Miss Southerland's new position to work harder on the knots. When Daniel's ropes loosened, she held on to them to prevent them from falling to the floor and giving her game away. She tapped Daniel's hands to signal him to loosen her bonds. It took a bit of tapping with her fingers and presenting her knots to him before he understood and started to eagerly work on the rope around her hands.

Miss Southerland's eyes narrowed. "But you evaded ma question. Just how'd ya come ta this house?"

The more she talked, the more Miss Southerland's language degenerated to the accent of the stews. Gwinnie found herself fascinated by the change. How did she acquire a refined accent to begin with? An accent that allowed her to become an upper servant in a great house?

"My gang found ya!" Daniel said proudly.

"You," corrected Gwinnie, automatically.

"You sound like Lewis," Daniel grumbled.

"What gang?"

"Us mudlarks! Can't do much mudlarking in winter so we wander the city. One of the gang was on this street, showed the picture to someone else on the street, who saw Freddie coming in and out of the house."

"I told you not to let anyone see you."

"I did, Mama. There were never anybody about."

"Well, obviously, someone saw you. We were going to have to give up this location anyway, seein' as how the earl is selling the building. Do you have everything packed up?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Even the pantry?"

Gwinnie saw a stricken look cross his face. "I gots most out," he said slowly.

"Most is not all, get busy getting everything out of there. Now!" she yelled when he hesitated.

"But, Mama?—"

"I said now . I'll watch these two, then we'll set fire to the house."

Freddie tromped down the hall toward the kitchen. They could hear him making noise moving things around.

Gwinnie felt Daniel's ropes give way. She grabbed his hand to warn against movement as Miss Southerland came closer to her. The woman transferred the pistol to her left hand, then grabbed her chin in her hand. "You're not even that pretty," she said.

"Yes she is!" yelled Daniel, leaping out of his chair.

Surprised, Miss Southerland turned toward him.

Gwinnie took advantage of her inattention to push the hand carrying the gun up. The gun went off, exactly as Gwinnie hoped. She wrestled Miss Southerland to the floor. The woman thrashed and kicked until Gwinnie sat on her.

"The ropes, Daniel!"

But Daniel was ahead of her and pushed one immediately into her hand, then went over to the door leading to the hall Freddie walked down and closed and locked the door. Then he turned toward the door that led up to the tradesman's entrance and locked that too.

"Daniel, come over here to tie her legs together."

Footsteps pounded down the stairs. "Gwinnie! Gwinnie," they heard.

"We're here. We're all right!" Gwinnie yelled back, grinning. "Daniel, go unlock that door again."

Daniel scrambled up off the floor.

"No!" screamed Miss Southerland, bucking again to get Gwinnie off her.

Though Miss Southerland's actions brought on a new wave of dizziness, Gwinnie stayed where she was.

Lewis pushed the door open and started to rush in, but stopped. Behind him was Mr. Cott. Lewis started to laugh and leaned against the door frame.

"I'd say you have things managed."

Gwinnie looked down at her position and started to laugh, too, though her heart pounded in her chest. She'd perched atop the woman's back, one hand holding down her neck, the other pressing down on the woman's arse, and Gwinnie's skirts were in a froth about her knees.

Lewis rushed to Gwinnie's side, a hand outstretched to lift her up, his eyes filled with relief and tenderness. She came up swiftly and easily into his arms. She sagged against him. Mr. Cott trundled into the room, lifted Miss Southerland, and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Gwinnie said. "Her son is around here too!"

"You mean Freddie Suthers? He's trussed up and tossed in his cart," Lewis said.

"I knew you would come," she said. "I just needed to keep her talking." She leaned her head against his.

Lewis pulled her head down to kiss her.

Gwinnie closed her eyes, a tingling in her chest descended to her lady's privates. Heat surged back up. Her breathing grew heavy, and she felt like she was sinking into him.

He drew back, his hand reaching up to cup the back of her head. His brilliant blue eyes searched her face, full of hope and uncertainty. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time. You have no idea," he whispered.

A whimpered escaped her lips as she bowed her head, seeking solace in the shelter of his shoulder, the weight of their new-found desires filling her with warmth and happiness. "I knew you'd come," she repeated with a watery smile. "I knew you would save us. I never doubted you for a moment, Lewis."

He drew back his head to look at her. "Seems you did a good job of saving yourself," he observed.

"Only because I knew you were coming and would back me up," she said.

He drew her against him again.

Gwinnie sighed, then remembered his promise that she could tease him at any time. "If only you were a few inches taller," she breathed, smiling, wanting to see his cheeky smile in return.

He stilled, then slowly released her, his expression solemn, almost angry. "We need to get you home, and Daniel back in his bed," he said curtly.

At his expression and the curious tone of his voice, Gwinnie's heart plummeted like a stone.

He led her outside, his manner slowly withdrawing from her. Gwinnie felt confused. A moment ago, he was kissing her in the most outrageously wonderful manner, smiling and caressing her, sending the pounding in her head away. Now he was all business. Bow Street Runner business.

Why? Here was the man she tried to put all manner of barriers against, telling herself she could not possibly be attracted to him. Yet she was. Had been for months.

Outside, he hailed a hackney for her, giving the jarvey instructions to take her directly to Malmsby house, and giving her a bow as the carriage drove off. She looked out the window at him until the carriage turned the corner.

Their discourse went through her mind. She remembered briefly thinking she wanted to tease him and wished he were a few inches taller. Her brow furrowed. Had she said that aloud? Had it not come out as a tease?

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She must have. It was a thought that had plagued her for months. Why? Why had she been so caught up in a gentleman's height and her demand that he be taller than her? — It had become her protection, her armor to keep men away. A habit to say.

Was height something to be concerned about? What an idiotic creature she was. She would be sure the next time she saw him to apologize and beg his forgiveness. Would he grant it? Had she hurt him too much for reconciliation when they had scarcely come to terms with their feelings? Would he ever forgive her for the walls she'd built around her heart? Could she ever convince him she was ready to let him in?

A pang of self-disgust washed over Gwinnie as she berated herself for clinging to such trivial notions as height as a measure of worthiness. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The rocking in the carriage brought back the dizziness. She held her head in her hands.

Were second chances granted for eight-and-twenty, silly widgeons? Maybe Grandmother would know.