With no place for me to hide, and shouts from the street indicating the nearness of the thugs, I had no choice but to set up a false trail to keep them from discovering Griffin. I dashed across the street just ahead of Merlin, who had rounded the corner at a run. He spotted me, yelled, and the chase was on.
I have no doubt that Merlin, under ordinary circumstances, could out-run me any day, but the desperate need to keep him away from the side yard that held Griffin gave me a speed I have not yet duplicated. I picked up my skirts and raced down the sidewalk and around to the next street, Merlin in close pursuit. A man and woman walked towards me. I skidded to a halt before the man and begged him for help.
“I’m being chased—a man has killed my mother and now he’s coming after me.”
Merlin rounded the corner, slowing to a walk at the sight of other people.
“There he is,” I screamed, pointing.
The woman clutched her man and tried to pull him away.
“There’s a reward for his capture!” I yelled, pushing the hapless man at my pursuer. He looked hesitant, but started towards Merlin. I turned and ran in the other direction, taking the next left. Running straight at me was Percy. I spun around and jetted across the street, narrowly missing a dray loaded with fish. Percy pounded after me as I desperately looked for any refuge. At the next intersection Merlin leaped out. He narrowly missed me, and collided with Percy, sending the pair of them down in a tangle of legs. I raced down the street, spun around the next corner and saw the shadow of an open door. Racing through it, I closed it quickly and leaned against it, breathless and gasping for air.
The door was too solid to hear through, but I gave Percy and Merlin enough time to check the street and move on before I opened it.
“Here, what’s all this?” A man with a butcher’s apron emerged from a room behind me.
“My apologies, wrong house,” I said, slipping out the door.
I peered around the corner and, seeing no one familiar, ran down the street the way I had just come. I hoped Annie had found a cab by now, not sure how much longer I could keep up the dog and hare performance.
One street away from where I had left Griffin a cab moved slowly.
“Thank heavens,” I panted to myself and dashed up to it, ready to heap praise on Annie’s head.
“Why, cousin—” a familiar voice drawled.
“You!” I gasped, snatching my hand back from the door.
“You look distraught,” Freddy said, all charm and concern as he opened the cab’s door. “Let me help you in.”
He stepped out of the cab, his arm extended to me. I grabbed the cravat around his neck and yanked him forward, throwing him off balance. Blessing my decision to wear my stout walking boots, I stamped on Freddy’s foot and kicked him hard on the knee, then harder in another, more vulnerable spot.
“Here, now, miss,” the cabby cautioned as Freddy screamed, clutching his groin as he toppled to the ground.
“This man is a criminal,” I cried, kicking Freddy in the ribs. “You must help me, he attempted to abduct another man and myself.”
“Well—” the cabby hesitated, watching as Freddy writhed on the ground.
“I’ll pay you twice the standard fare.”
“Get in,” the cabby said.
I showed him the yard where I had Griffin hidden.
“But ma’am, there’s no one there,” he pointed out as I scrambled out of the cab. “Just some trash.”
I peeled the refuse off of Griffin’s legs and moved one of the bins.
“Why, bless me, there is a man there.”
I hated to do it, knowing his cheeks would be bruised in the morning, but I slapped Griffin a few more times. His eyes flew opened but they were still out of focus. I shook his head until he protested, then the cabby and I got him on his feet. Once we had Griffin settled in the cab, I told him to drive around the area.
“But that gentleman—” He pointed down the street to where Freddy was crawling toward us.
“He can take care of himself. I’m looking for my maid. She went to find us a cab and I cannot leave without her.”
“No cabs around here, ma’am. If she’s looking for one she’ll have to go up to the Crescent.”
We set off for the Crescent. I watched fearfully out of the window, but only saw Merlin and Percy once, from the distance of a block. I doubted if they could see into the cab, but ordered the cabby to pick up the pace.
We found Annie about ten blocks away. She was exhausted and on her way back to help me, having been unable to find a cab.
“I think we did it,” I said, sinking back against the ratty seat, finally able to relax. Griffin’s head lolled over onto my shoulder. I stroked it and smiled to myself at his soft murmurs. Annie sat on the other side and watched us with just a hint of her dimples.
The debate about where to take him raged within me as we drove away from the slums. I was torn between tending to him myself, and letting his family, who must surely be worried about him by now, take care of him. “I suppose it’s only right to take him to his home,” I said after much internal debate, and gave the cabby Griffin’s address.
“I can take you there, ma’am, but it’s quite a ways away. More than two shillings. I’ll have to ask you to show me that you have the fare,” the cabby said apologetically.
“Oh, money,” I sighed. Percy had taken my bag and I had nothing in my skirt pockets.
“Annie?”
She shook her head. “Just a few coppers.”
We both looked at Griffin. I searched his pockets until I found a collection of coins that satisfied the cabby; what he must have thought of us, I shudder to think. I was disheveled, hot, and dirty from my experience on the roof and running around the streets. Griffin looked disreputable with a bloodied head and drunken appearance. Annie alone was presentable.
The Sherringham’s footman flinched when he saw me standing on the steps with my tangled hair and a torn, dirty dress, but responded to my question. “Lady Helena and Lady Sherringham are out, but Lord Sherringham is in, Miss Whitney.”
I looked at the semi-reclined figure of my hero in the cab, and my heart revolted at leaving him in the care of his brother. “Tell Miss Helena that Mr. St. John has been taken ill, and is recovering at the home of Mr. Joshua Garner.”
“Yes, miss,” he said haughtily, sniffing in disgust.
I gave the cabby the address, and in a relatively short time we were home. Mullin had the door opened before I could step down from the cab.
“Miss Cassandra! The family has been most distressed about your absence,” he said with a look of strong disapproval at my appearance.
“It’s a long story, Mullin, and not one I want to tell on the street. Is Theodore about? I need help. Mr. St. John is ill, and Annie and I are exhausted.”
In the end, it took more than Theodore and Mullin to get Griffin in the house and into a guest room. The laudanum was starting to wear off and it left him antagonistic, causing him to fight groggily, but with great strength. I did the best I could to calm him, but by the time we settled him in a bedroom, Theodore had a black eye, Mullin had a loose tooth, and Robert walked with a pronounced limp.
We propped him up on pillows, and while we waited for the doctor to come, I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to pour coffee into him. More coffee ended up
on
him than
in
him, but we made a valiant effort.
Dr. Melrose, a darling round man who was my sister’s physician, came at once. After eyeing the available footmen, he ordered everyone but Robert out of the room, saying he might need Robert’s assistance to conduct a thorough examination.
I dashed to my own room and had a perfunctory wash, then spent the rest of the time pacing the hallway. Periodic sounds of crashing and harsh yelling emitted from Griffin’s room, sending me more than once to knock on the door and ask if my help was needed. Joshua did his best to calm my fears, but Mabel insisted on knowing exactly what had happened after I ran out so early, and why Annie accompanied us home.
“That doesn’t matter right now,” I snapped. “Not until I know—until I know—oh, damn!” I kicked at a chair that insisted on getting in my way.
“Cassandra Jane! I will not have such language in my house,” Mabel started to lecture, but she was cut short when Joshua gently guided her downstairs.
Loud voices in the hall drew my attention, and with a reluctant glance at the door to Griffin’s room, I went to the head of the stairs. Standing in an arrogant posture before Joshua, Lord Sherringham was bellowing at the top of his lungs.
“I won’t have it! You have no right to hold my brother against his will. I demand that you hand him over immediately!”
The tone of his voice grated on my already sensitive nerves, but it took me no longer than a second to commit myself to action. I marched down the stairs, my jaw tight, my eyes narrowed, and my fists clenched.
“Lord Sherringham,” I said in a firm but frigid voice, “your brother is currently receiving the attentions of a doctor. You will kindly lower your voice.”
He spun around at my words and turned a hideous shade of purple. “You—you—” he sputtered incoherently.
“Yes, it is me, and I am in no mood for one of your arguments. Until the doctor informs us it is safe to move him, Griffin will remain where he is. We will keep you notified of any changes in his physical status.”
“How dare you speak to me that way, you harlot! You are to blame for my brother’s attack! How dare you stand there and pretend to protect him. I am removing him this instant to my own home, where I can be sure he will be looked after properly. Move out of my way before I take my whip to you.” He raised his riding crop in a threatening manner.
There are a few moments in my life about which I feel an overwhelming sense of pride; this was not one of the brightest, but it was one of the most satisfying. I took two steps forward, snatched the crop out of his hand, and snapped it over the banister.
“If you dare to lift one finger towards Griffin,” I threatened, “
one finger
, it will be the last thing you do.”
Joshua told me later that at that moment he was afraid—afraid that I would attack Lord Sherringham on the spot and that he would be unable to stop me. Joshua’s description comes fairly close to the emotion I was feeling at the time.
Although he continued to bluster and demand, the steam had gone out Lord Sherringham’s engine and he left after threatening to consult his solicitor. Taking the stairs two at a time, I ignored the protests of my shaking body and continued to pace the hallway outside Griffin’s room until the doctor emerged at last. He was rather disheveled, but looked optimistic.
“His head—” I faltered.
“Ah, Miss Whitney. The patient is fine, nothing more than a mild concussion and an extreme case of laudanum overdose. After he sleeps it off he should be fit as a fiddle.”
“Thank heavens. Is there something we should be doing? More coffee or other stimulants?”
“No, you’ve done just what I would have suggested. It’s a good thing you got him moving when you did, though. The amount of laudanum he seems to have consumed, combined with the concussion, might have done him harm had he been left in a stupor.”
My stomach lurched at the thought of my Griffin left to Merlin’s mercy.
“What he needs most is to be allowed to rest. He’s a little bit hostile right now, so you must be careful. For some reason he seems to think he must escape the house.”
I thanked him and hurried into the room. Robert and Doctor Melrose had managed to undress Griffin and get him into bed with only minor damage to the various articles in the room. Robert was stooped down collecting bits of a broken jug.