Page 40 of A Silence in Belgrave Square (Below Stairs #8)

I struggled mightily, but to no avail. My captors were large men in homespun breeches and woolen jackets such as Daniel wore.

The faces I’d glimpsed were clean-shaven, and their lack of odor told me they regularly saw a bath, but I knew at once these were hard men who would have little mercy with me.

The feeble contents of my handbag clattered to the worn cobblestones. One lout pawed through them while the other held me in an iron grip. I could not move even to strike out or attempt a kick.

The man going through my things abruptly swept them aside in disgust. The one who held me dug my face harder into the wall.

“Where is it?” he barked.

I gulped for air. “What?”

“Whatever you took from that scum Peyton’s.” His accent was nondescript, as though he’d practiced to sound neutral, as I had when I’d gone into service.

“The police have anything important.” There was no use in lying. They’d beat the truth out of me if I tried to put them off.

“The police and their rotten spies are done for,” the man who’d rifled through my bag vowed. He gave my things another kick, sending my pencil and notebook slamming into the wall beside me.

I prayed he did not take the notebook, where I’d listed so many details about this case. Either he wasn’t able to read what I’d written when he’d opened it or else he thought a cook’s scribblings were unimportant.

They could have released me and run off once they knew I had nothing they needed, but the first man kept a clamped hold of my neck.

“We’ll show ’em what we think of spies.” He shook me, and I cried out in pain.

He and his friend were prepared to kill me, and I knew it. Whether they’d leave my body here or throw it into the Thames, I couldn’t guess, but there was no doubt they had murder on their minds.

The Thames was the most likely, I reasoned. Surely these were the men who’d disposed of poor Mr.Howard, leaving the post open for Daniel at Lord Peyton’s.

“Why did you kill the secretary?” I asked them. If they were going to murder me, I might as well find out what I could. “Did you think he was a spy?”

“Orders, weren’t it?” the man who held me said chillingly. “He were even easier to catch than you.”

“Stop talking to her,” the second man said. “Get on with it.”

Pleading for my life would not work, I knew. I could weep that I had a child I would leave alone and destitute, but to my last breath I would not give these men Grace’s name.

If they’d been following me, they’d already know about her, but somehow, I thought these were not the same watchers I’d been evading in the past weeks. I’d not sensed them, meaning they were professionals, plus they hadn’t hesitated to grab me off a crowded street.

I love you, Grace , was all I could think. And you Daniel, my heart-mate.

I continued to struggle, because I would not tamely let them cut me down, but both men had immense strength.

Pounding footsteps sounded behind us, and I heard a grunt as the man who’d gone through my things suddenly folded over onto himself. I felt a hot pain as a knife scored my neck, and then my captor was ripped from me, a massive fist crashing into his face.

“Knife,” I called in warning, but Mr.Grimes already had it twisted out of his opponent’s hand.

Three more ruffians about Mr.Grimes’s size had sailed in with fists and clubs, and they began to beat my captors remorselessly.

The men who’d nabbed me cursed and groaned as they fought, but they were outnumbered and couldn’t withstand the assault. I might feel sorry for them if they hadn’t been about to cut my throat.

A small hand gripped mine, and I looked down to see Albie, my loyal lad. “This way, missus.”

“Help me with my things.” I bent down and started to scrabble for my coins, notebook, and pencil.

Albie studied me in disbelief, then he got down on his small knees and grabbed my belongings, stuffing them back into the bag.

I didn’t have so much in my life that I could afford to lose the bits and pieces I carried with me. Besides, Joanna had given me that notebook.

Once I had everything, I let Albie tow me back to Ludgate Hill.

Mr.Grimes joined us after a moment. From the sound of it, his friends were giving the assassins a thorough going-over. Two more men jogged past us, Mr.Grimes nodding at them to join the fray.

Mr.Grimes looked none the worse for wear, with only a small bruise on his cheekbone to show for the battle.

“Let’s get you indoors, Mrs.H.,” he said. “Home is best, I think.”

I nodded shakily. As much as I wanted to rush to Grace and hold her tightly, I did not want to risk leading any other toughs waiting for me directly to her. I would forego my need to be with her to keep her safe.

“Please keep watch on Joanna’s house,” I begged him. “In case they send others to Grace.”

“My men are already there,” Mr.Grimes assured me. “No one’s going near that house or your daughter.”

“These men deal in explosives.” Panic was overtaking me. “They can set up their dynamite and flee.”

Mr.Grimes shook his head. “They won’t get close to the road, even. We don’t feel sorry for those who hurt and murder others only to gain attention. Cowards.”

I’d glimpsed his colleagues beating the lives out of the men who’d assailed me. While I did not condone such savagery, at the moment, I could only be grateful to them.

Mr.Grimes hailed a hansom, which came to us without hesitation. Daniel and Lewis must have recruited every cabbie in London to speed to my aid.

Mr.Grimes not only handed me in, my legs still wobbling, but he climbed in beside me. Albie touched his hat and ran off before I could ask him why he’d left Belgrave Square, and the cab lurched forward.

“Thank you for your timely rescue.” I tried to sound normal, but my words wheezed, and I had difficulty catching my breath.

“The boy Albie followed you from Belgravia,” Mr.Grimes said.

“He saw those villains tailing you and had one of my lads alert me. Albie thought you’d be all right once you were at Scotland Yard, but he said they were still lurking.

I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner,” he finished morosely, his gaze despondent.

“You were soon enough.” I’d known in those seconds before he reached me that I was going to die.

It had been unreal, as though another woman had been standing in my place, waiting for the end. I couldn’t quite grasp that they’d been about to kill me without contrition, but at the same time, I’d known it with all my heart.

Sitting in a hansom now instead of being dead in the lane was almost as unreal.

“You’re all right, Mrs.H.” Mr.Grimes clasped my shaking hands, his voice kindly. “Remind yourself of that. You’re breathing air, with your feet on the ground. Or at least in a hansom.”

The cab jolted over a hole, jarring us and reminding me that I could still feel.

I took a long breath, then another one. Mr.Grimes held my hands the entire time, watching me encouragingly. In his violent life, he must have made this speech many times, comforting those in his gang who’d escaped a dire fate.

When I could breathe somewhat normally again, I squeezed his large fingers. “Thank you. You are a good friend.”

“As you are to me.” Mr.Grimes smiled at me, his words ringing with sincerity. “Better now?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t worry if you ain’t happy for a while. It was a close-run thing. Just keep on with what you do, and don’t let what they almost did stop you from living.”

I suddenly wished I’d had this giant of a man to pat my hand when my husband had disappeared, leaving me with a baby on the way and nowhere to turn. Of course, I’d likely have been terrified of Mr.Grimes—I’d been much unnerved the first time I’d seen him, before I’d known his true character.

The baby I’d feared for all those years ago was alive and well and being looked after by the best friends on earth.

I huddled in the cab all the way back to Mount Street, feeling rather sick. Mr.Grimes noticed and passed me a flask, wiping the mouth of it with a handkerchief first.

I was not one for spirits, but I readily downed a few swallows of the fiery liquid inside.

Not gin—Mr.Grimes didn’t have the half-drunken, red-eyed look of one taken with gin.

Whiskey, and not a bad one. I used whiskey in some of my apple dishes and had to have a nip of it now and again to make certain it had the flavor I needed.

I thanked Mr.Grimes and handed him back the flask. He wiped it again and took a long drink himself.

I insisted the cab let me off in South Audley Street. I did not need to be lectured by Mrs.Bywater about getting above myself swanning about in cabs. Not today.

Mr.Grimes helped me down. He forestalled me rummaging in my handbag for shillings by telling me he’d already paid the fare.

I clung to him a moment, trying to get my feet back underneath me. He was a rock, this man, kind to me and to Daniel. Others would consider him a villain, and I’m certain the police would be happy to question him about his past, but I knew few kinder men in the world than he.

“Good night, Mr.Grimes,” I said. “And thank you. Turn up any evening, and I’ll save the best of what I bake for you.”

His grin split his face. “No need, missus. Though them crullers were a treat.”

“I’ll make a special batch for you. Now, please make certain Daniel doesn’t fall prey to these people. I’m certain they know he was in Lord Peyton’s house to discover their plans.”

“You leave it with me.” Mr.Grimes pressed my hands again, then released me. “You’ve no cause to worry with me and me mates looking after you.”

I thanked him one more time—the words would not cease coming out of my mouth—and made myself stride purposefully toward Mount Street, wiping blood and dirt from my face with my handkerchief. Mr.Grimes rather ruined my quiet exit by waving and bellowing a good-bye to me.

The ordinariness of my kitchen closed around me like a warm blanket as soon as I entered it.

Elsie sang as she scrubbed pots, the sleeves of her work dress rolled to her elbows. Tess was lecturing a footman who presumably had come in to pinch a tidbit from the work table. Tess waved her chopping knife in emphasis, to the footman’s alarm.

Mr.Davis and Mrs.Redfern were having a loud discussion about linens in the passageway between kitchen and butler’s pantry. Pots burbled on the stove, and the scents of broth, roasting meat, and baking rolls wafted to me.

I let out a long breath of relief as I hung up my jacket and hat.

Tess caught sight of me and beamed me her usual grin. The footman, startled by my sudden presence, scuttled away.

“Cheeky lad,” Tess said to the footman’s retreating back. “Had a nice day out, Mrs.H.? How’s that sweet Grace?”

I sank down into a chair, uncertain that this afternoon I’d actually performed a false séance, searched Lord Peyton’s house, taken the map I’d found to Scotland Yard, and then been attacked and nearly killed in a street I’d walked along for most of my life.

“It was fine,” I forced myself to say. “But I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea. A strong one, if you’d be so kind.”

* * *

If I’d been the lady of the house, I’d have gone straight to bed with plenty of scalding tea laced with brandy and a hot brick to warm my feet. I’d have remained there as long as I liked, being waited on by anxious servants, not rising until my trembling ceased.

As it was, I had to get on with finishing supper for the Bywaters. A domestic in a large house was not allowed to let anything, even nearly being murdered in a back lane, prevent her from finishing her duties.

I did not fancy going to bed anyway. I’d only lie awake, hearing the man’s snarling voice and feeling his hot breath on my neck, followed by the cold touch of a knife.

The blade hadn’t drawn blood, I saw when I changed my frock.

Mr.Grimes had reached me quickly enough.

I had a faint mark on the side of my throat, along with bruises on my neck from where the wretch had held me against the wall.

My left cheek was scratched, but when I washed what little brick dust I hadn’t wiped away already, the scratches scarcely showed.

I’d come out of the affair with few injuries, thanks to great good luck and Mr.Grimes’s rescue.

I returned to the kitchen. Tess barely glanced up at me, so hard-pressed was she to have the vegetable dishes finished in time.

I took up a knife and helped her, noting that my hands stopped shaking once they were busy doing what they knew best. I let myself work, the routine consoling me, as did the satisfaction of turning out a dish well done.

We cleaned up after supper was finished and had gone upstairs, Tess and I partaking of a bit of the roast and fresh string beans she’d prepared.

She’d braised the beans then dressed them with a bit of butter and parsley, with a snipping of chives to finish off. All her own idea, Tess said with a mixture of pride and apprehension. I praised her for keeping the dish simple yet delicious, and she flushed with pleasure.

I sent Tess to bed soon after that, as usual on my days out, as she’d carried the burden of the workday by herself.

Once the rest of the staff retired, I turned down the gas and lit my candle, opening my notebook to add to my lists.

My pencil stilled where it touched the page, however, refusing to write. The sound of the villain’s voice in my ear came to me as clearly as if he stood over me now, and I gasped, my stomach roiling.

I closed my eyes and drew a long breath, reminding myself what Mr.Grimes had said in the hansom.

You’re all right, Mrs.H. Remind yourself of that. You’re breathing air, with your feet on the ground.

I inhaled another long breath, trying to quell my rising hysteria. I’m certain I’d have given way to quivering sobs, had not a knock on the back door made my eyes pop open.

Did I freeze in terror, believing more villains had come to find me? No, I knew exactly who’d come, and I flew across the kitchen and through to the scullery to open the door without hesitation.

Daniel pulled off his cap as he stepped inside, and I plunged straight into his arms.