Chapter Twenty-One

Max gave a fatalistic shrug at this latest turn of events. ‘In my experience, Augustus is more than capable of looking after himself. Our priority has to be Mercy.'

Christian nodded. ‘I told the coachman to stay where he is. Hopefully the Reverend will turn up eventually, though I'd feel a lot happier if he and Percy didn't have the lad with them.'

‘They took Finn?' Adam exclaimed shaking his head in disbelief. ‘That puts a different spin on things.'

‘Well, I've no doubt Augustus is here for the same thing we are,' Gabriel commented drily, ‘so if we find Mercy, we'll doubtless run into the Reverend at the same time.' He shook his head at the idiosyncrasies of his father-in-law.

‘The Dock Master's office is close, so I'll go and speak with him,' Christian continued. ‘If he can tell us where any warehouses storing cloves are situated it'll save us tearing the whole Dockyard apart.'

‘While we're waiting, I propose we ask around to find out if anybody hereabout saw Reinhardt's carriage,' Max suggested. ‘It couldn't have been much more than an hour ago.'

‘You might be wise to warn the Dock Master that Jamie's on his way with a contingent of Runners,' Adam advised as all four climbed out of the carriage. ‘The new police force here won't be happy about having their toes trodden on.'

Christian gave a rueful nod. ‘The last thing we need is a fight between two bloody law enforcement agencies.' He looked down at his watch. ‘I suggest we reconvene here in fifteen minutes.'

As Christian strode away, the other three split up to ask those in the vicinity if anyone had seen a carriage carrying three men and a young woman. Predictably no one had seen or heard anything. By the time Christian returned, they were already back in the carriage waiting impatiently.

‘The largest clove warehouse is in the Western Dock, wharf sixteen,' the Earl announced as he climbed into the carriage. ‘We'll get there quicker if we go in via the western entrance.' The carriage was already moving as he sat down.

‘Did he say if there were any lodging houses close by?' Gabriel asked.

‘Several,' Christian answered shortly. ‘I take it no one saw Reinhardt's carriage.' He gave a humourless laugh.

‘Not even for the blunt,' Adam growled.

‘They live in a world where it's unhealthy to see or hear anything except their own arses,' Max sighed.

Christian nodded, swallowing an urge to punch something. They were running out of time. He could feel it. How long would it take them to search all the lodging houses close to the warehouse? It was like looking for a bloody needle in a haystack when they didn't even know if they were in the right field.

***

Mercy watched the door in almost hypnotic fascination as the footsteps stopped just outside. Seconds later there was a timid knock.

‘Well, answer the bloody thing,' Reinhardt snarled when his two henchmen didn't move.

They both immediately hurried to the door, jostling each other to get there first. In the end, Smith grabbed hold of the latch first and wrenched the door open.

For a second the two men blocked her view, but as one of them shifted and said, ‘Who the bloody ‘ell are you?' it took all of Mercy's control to keep a blank face as she recognised Percy Noon standing on the landing.

‘Where's Evans,' Reinhardt growled, stepping forward threateningly. He pulled his pistol out of his jacket pocket. Mercy stifled a gasp of fear.

‘He's sick,' Percy responded weakly. Mercedes knew the curate wasn't feigning his trembling. ‘I… I think it was some bad meat.'

‘Drank himself into a bloody stupor you mean,' Reinhardt ground out, his anger palpable.

‘I can conduct the ceremony,' Percy continued, his voice getting stronger. ‘But I want the fee you promised Evans.'

‘Did the idiot send you?' Reinhardt spat out. ‘How do I know you're not cutting a wheedle?'

Percy was getting into his stride. ‘I can quote the marriage service by heart,' he answered boldly.

Reinhardt visibly wavered, then he pointed his pistol towards Mercy. ‘Get on with it then,' he finally said between gritted teeth.

Percy gave a quick glance towards her as he rummaged in his cassock, eventually pulling out a dog-eared Bible. ‘May I ask the young lady's name?' he asked at length with a small cough.

‘Mercedes Stanhope.' Reinhardt snapped the words.

‘Err, will she be able to stand for her vows?' Percy queried.

The American swore softly. ‘Untie her,' he ordered.

Seconds later, Mercy was rubbing her wrists as she got slowly to her feet.

‘Please stand closer to your… husband to be,' the curate ordered. Mercy was pushed roughly towards Reinhardt, who grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her against him.

‘Dearly beloved,' Percy began, glancing behind her to the window.

Reinhardt didn't appear to notice, but Mercy had to resist the urge to look behind her. Seconds later there was a loud crash.

‘ Ah'll nae be giein ye ma purse ye tumshie, so gaun jus' bugger aff wid ye . HELP, HELP .'

Incredibly, Mercy realised the voice was Finn's and it was coming from underneath the window. She'd had no idea he could shout so loudly.

‘Ignore it,' ordered Reinhardt through gritted teeth.

‘ Ech , he be awa in the heid. HELP. Ah'm bein KILL'D.'

‘I'm afraid I'm unable to continue with such a racket going on outside,' Percy said diffidently. ‘Perhaps one of your associates might encourage the person to stop?'

HELP . Ah'm gaun tae be DEID .'

‘For God's sake, get down there and shut the little bastard up. I don't care how you do it.'

Smith wrenched open the door and clattered down the stairs. ‘Shut the bloody door,' Reinhardt ground out as the yells got suddenly louder.

Glancing at Mercy, Percy obligingly went over to the door, but before he could shut it there was a loud clang and for a second the yelling stopped.

‘Thank G…' Reinhardt began, then

‘ Ah'm bein MURDER'D. HELP. '

‘Find out what the bloody hell the idiot's doing.' Reinhardt was nearly incandescent with rage as his second ruffian took to the stairs. Waving his pistol towards Percy he bit out, ‘Get. On. With. It.'

‘Dearly beloved,' Percy started again. There was a second clang, followed by silence.

‘Dearly beloved,' he repeated, only to be stopped this time as Reinhardt suddenly held up his hand. ‘Is something wrong?' the curate asked timidly.

‘Where the hell are they?' He let go of Mercy's arm and pushed her back towards the chair, ‘Sit' he barked. Swallowing her fear, she sat down.

‘They do know they are required as witnesses?' Percy's hesitant words were apologetic.

‘I know they're required as witnesses,' Reinhardt shot back savagely. ‘That's why they're here.'

The curate gave a small cough. ‘Except they're not,' he pointed out politely.

By this time Reinhardt was waving his pistol around like he was conducting an orchestra and Mercy found herself shutting her eyes every time he directed it towards her.

She had no idea what her grandfather could possibly have done to shut the two thugs up and she could only hope that whatever it was didn't traumatise Finn forever. Not daring to move she watched as Reinhardt strode towards the window. While he was trying to see through the grimy glass, she tried to catch Percy's eye, but when the curate gave a small shrug, she realised with a surge of terror that he didn't know what the Reverend was up to either…

***

Nate managed to mount Duchess without too much trouble, though it had been a long time since the mare had been required to kneel onto her forelegs to help him. He took hold of the reins with his left hand and whistled to Ruby, who'd been enjoying all the extra attention.

Chastity took hold of Duchess's bridle. ‘Take care, Nate,' she murmured. ‘Don't do anything foolish unless it's to push Reinhardt into the Thames.

Patience gave an inelegant snort. ‘He might be able to swim. I say if you get the chance, shoot the bastard.' She paused, then frowned. ‘You can shoot with your left hand I take it?'

‘If you can't, you can always string him up,' Prudence suggested, her old spark returning.

Nate raised his eyebrows. Were all the sisters this bloodthirsty? He swiftly pulled the pistol from where it was tucked in his waistband, to demonstrate his effectiveness with his left hand, but all he said was, ‘Trust me, whatever happens, he'll never come for her again.' Then, using his knees to wheel Duchess around he cantered out onto the street, Ruby at the mare's heels.

There were fewer carriages on the roads than there had been on the way to the opera and Nate slowed Duchess down to avoid her slipping on the hard cobbles. It was a long time since he'd been inside London Docks. The last time was on his return from Belgium, when those at Wapping were still very new.

To his surprise, very little had changed, and as he entered through the Eastern entrance, he slowed Duchess down to a walk. According to the information he'd been given, the Western Star was moored on one of the jetties in the small basin known as the Tobacco Dock that linked the Eastern and Western Docks. But exactly where, he had no idea. Likely he'd be able to get the information from the Dock Master, but given the sheer number of ships coming and going, it would be quicker to simply make his way straight along the wharf and look for himself.

Throughout the journey, Nate had ruthlessly forced his concern for Mercy aside, concentrating only on what he needed to do. But as he rode Duchess down the still busy wharf, he found it more and more difficult to stifle the fear that he'd be too late. That somehow, Reinhardt would already have set sail and claimed her as his own.

He'd told Mercedes that he didn't know how to love. But that wasn't quite true. He'd known in his heart of hearts that he'd loved Mercy since the moment she walked into the stables. But now, finally, he allowed himself to surrender to the all-powerful feelings she provoked in him.

If he didn't manage to save her, how the hell would he ever save himself?

***

‘Right then, when I asked about rooms, the landlady said she's not taking any lodgers at the moment, so likely our American has the place to himself. Better still, when I asked her if she knew of any other establishments, she said she hadn't got time to stand and jaw since she was on her way out and wouldn't be back until later on this evening. So, it's all good for us since it means the place'll be empty apart from Reinhardt's room. Percy are you clear about your part of the plan?'

The curate swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘I'm to go in through the front door and ask for the American…' He paused and frowned, ‘How can I ask for him if there's no one there to ask?'

The Reverend sighed. ‘Use what passes for your brain Percy. If there's no one there apart from Reinhardt, how difficult will it be to find out which room he's in? There can't be that many bedchambers and we know his is on the back.'

The curate nodded uncertainly. ‘Once I get to the room, I tell Reinhardt that the priest he had the arrangement with is sick and has sent me in his stead.'

‘Well, you'll need to sound a bit more convincing than that.'

‘What do I do if the real one turns up halfway through the ceremony?'

‘Leave him to me and Finn,' Reverend Shackleford answered promptly.

Percy stared at the clergyman in horrified silence. ‘What will you do with him? You can't involve Finn in anything so smoky.'

‘Dinnae fash yersel, Da,' the boy said for the second time. ‘The God botherer'll nae gie us any trouble.'

‘You won't kill him?' Percy asked the Reverend fearfully.

‘Of course I won't deuced well kill him,' Augustus Shackleford, retorted, shocked. ‘Tare an' hounds, lad, what do you take me for? I'll just give him a deuced headache he won't forget. And you never know, mayhap it'll help bring the scoundrel back to the light.'

‘So, what kind of disturbance do you have in mind, Sir?' the curate asked, only slightly mollified.

‘Well, so far, I've in my head that Finn'll make a racket. Reinhardt's thugs will come down to investigate and I'll give ‘em what for.'

Percy stared at his superior in silence, waiting for the rest of the details. The Reverend stared back.

After about a minute, the curate frowned. ‘That's it?'

‘It's all you need to know, Percy my boy.' The Reverend tapped his nose and winked. His other hand was behind his back with the fingers crossed. This was seriously getting to be a habit. The truth was, he didn't have anything more to tell the curate because he had no actual idea how he was going to give ‘em what for .

Percy felt a familiar sense of dread swamp him, even more so when he looked over at Finn and saw the very same eagerness in his adopted son's face. He stifled a moan. Lizzy was going to string him up for this.

‘Now then, I think it's best if you go and get yourself into position,' Reverend Shackleford continued, desperate to forestall any more awkward questions. ‘As soon as we're ready, we'll give you a signal.'

‘What signal?'

‘Thunder an' turf, Percy, you don't need to know everything. Just watch for a deuced signal .'

‘Where do you want me to wait?'

Augustus Shackleford gave a long-suffering sigh.

‘Mebbe ye can hide roond the corner o' the lodging hoose?' Finn interrupted, earning him an approving nod from the Reverend. Percy felt his sense doom increase to Biblical proportions as the clergyman ushered him round the back of the spice shed.

‘I'll tell you as soon as the coast is clear,' Reverend Shackleford hissed, looking back towards the lodging house. ‘Try not to look too suspicious.'

Minutes later it was just him and Finn. Once Percy had given them a reluctant thumbs up from his position at the side of the lodging house, the Reverend sank down onto the wooden planking.

‘I'll be honest with you, lad,' the clergyman said after a few seconds. ‘I haven't a deuced clue how we're going to stop Reinhardt's thugs. If you've got any bright ideas, both the Almighty and I will be eternally grateful if you'd share ‘em.'

Finn thought for a second. ‘Dae ye hae onythin' at all tae gie ‘em whit fer?'

‘Not a thing,' the Reverend mourned.

Finn sat silently for a second, then abruptly scrambled to his feet. ‘Dae ye hae any coin?' he asked, holding out his hand. Grumbling, the clergyman dug into his pockets and came up with a couple of shillings. ‘Stay whare ye are,' Finn ordered, pocketing the money before tiptoeing all the way round the spice shed, clearly trying to avoid being spotted by an already distraught Percy.

Reverend Shackleford watched him dash across the wharf towards the open area containing the makeshift stalls. He actually felt quite emotional. Finn might be Percy's, but he was a boy after the Reverend's own heart.

Minutes later he came back with a large frying pan and held it out to the Reverend with a flourish.

Taking the pan Augustus Shackleford climbed to his feet, his enthusiasm entirely renewed. After swiping it this way and that, he patted the lad on the back. ‘You're a chip off the old block and no mistake Finn Noon,' he declared with a grin. ‘Come along, let's go and get the varmints.'

Waving his pan gaily at a panic-stricken Percy, the Reverend led Finn round the back of the lodging house. Once there, he looked around for something he could stand on. Fortunately, there was an old chair that appeared sturdy enough. Dragging it next to the back entrance door, the Reverend climbed up and tucked his cassock into his breeches. After a few seconds, he gave a thumbs up sign to Finn, who promptly ran round the side of the house and waved to Percy who was now so pale, he looked like a bad piece of taxidermy.

Seconds later the boy was back. ‘We'll give your da enough time to get up there, and then we give ‘em what for,' the clergyman announced gleefully.

While they waited, Reverend Shackleford gave the pan few experimental swings, then looking down at his pocket watch, he finally gave a nod.

Seconds later, Finn's shout was loud enough to wake the dead.

It was only two minutes before they heard the clatter of feet down the stairs. Reverend Shackleford readied himself, legs bent like he was about to deliver a blistering tennis serve. As the door opened, he swung the pan to the side, and as soon as the varmint stepped through, brought it down in a smack that would have felled Goliath himself.