Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (30 page)

The way he spoke of them made her skin crawl. She stepped down then dug into her
pocket to find the proper coins, grateful she carried some with her. As she reached in, the cold steel of her father’s pistol reassured her.

She handed
the money to the driver. His hat hid his face almost completely, but what she could see appeared much younger than she’d remembered.

“Thank ye,” the driver said as he tipped his hat to her with a wink. “Ta-ra. See you soon.”

She stared up at him, wondering at his words. Could he be one of Stephen’s associates? Before she could ask, the hackney jolted away at a fast clip, leaving her standing by Simmons. A little flame of hope flickered inside her. She had to believe Stephen would soon know where she was and come to her aid.

“Where are my sisters?” she
demanded. Sophia and Olivia must be frightened out of their wits by now.

“
In here.” Simmons withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of a large, dark building.

Abigail
warily stepped inside the dark interior while Simmons locked the door behind them.

T
he strike of a match broke the eerie silence. The glow of a lantern emitted a small circle of light, easing back the darkness.

“This way,” he directed her as he lifted the lamp and moved toward the rear of the building.

The large open space appeared empty except for three tall objects draped in canvas. As they passed them, the dim light revealed several doors at the back of the warehouse, most of which were shut.

Muted voices could be heard from behind the door where
Simmons stopped. Abigail held her breath as she listened closely, desperate for the sound of Olivia and Sophia.

He pulled out another key and unlocked the door. With a gesture for her to go first, he held the lantern with one hand and withdrew his knife w
ith the other. Did he expect her sisters to cause trouble or did he intend to use that on her?

“Get back, all of ye,” he said in a loud voice, “else I
’ll be using my blade to carve out yer hearts!”

Shocked
by his threat, Abigail opened the door.

Loud gasps drew her gaze as Sophia and Olivia
rushed toward her. “Abigail!”

She
gathered both of her sisters in her arms, relief weakening her knees. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, we
’re fine,” Sophia said, her trembling form clinging to Abigail.

“We
’re so glad you found us,” Olivia added, her face buried against Abigail’s shoulder.

But they weren
’t the only ones in the small room. Far from it.

As she held the girls, others
moved forward out of the dark corners. Nearly a dozen children filled the small space, all boys except for Sophia and Olivia. They ranged in age from perhaps as young as five to closer to the twins’ age. All had the look of street urchins or orphans with their thin faces and ragged clothes.

“What on earth is going on?” Abigail
glared at Simmons. “Why are you holding these children?”

The man
watched the boys, his knife at the ready. “Stay back and none of ye will be ’urt.”

“Release t
hem at once,” Abigail demanded.

“They
’ve volunteered to participate in a very important scientific experiment.”

“We did not!”

“He’s tellin’ ye a lie, miss!”

Abigail turned at
a familiar voice to find Hubert nearby. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story, miss.”

“Let us go!”

“Don’t listen to ’im!”
Their voices rose, all in disagreement at the claim Simmons had made.

“Here now! You filthy little
—”

“Do
not
speak to them like that.” Abigail refused to stand by and listen to him berate the poor boys, regardless of the knife he held. “Release them at once!”

“Not a chance,” Simmons said. “They
’re devotin’ their lives to science.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Abigail
’s outrage knew no bounds.

Simmons laughed, an unpleasant sound. “Yer not the first to ask me that.”

Abigail had had enough. “Children, come along. It’s time to go.” Fear pulsed through her but she kept an arm around each of her sisters and moved toward the door.

Simmons set the lantern outside the
room and blocked their path, still wielding his knife. “None of ye are leavin’.”

Sophia gasped as Olivia shouted, “You told us you
’d free us when our sister arrived.”

Her heart sinking, Abigail tightened her grip on the girls and addressed him. “
You have the stone. Now let us go. All of us.”

She
phrased it as a statement, not a question. For the briefest moment, she’d forgotten of what this man was truly capable. He’d killed her father. She needed to remember that. The children’s lives and her own depended on it.

“You’
re not goin’ anywhere until my uncle has a look at the stone.”

Sophia stood in front of Abigail, blocking Simmons’ view of her hands. Without looking down, Abigail
reached into her pocket, gripped the pistol, and cocked the hammer, easing Sophia behind her. “You’re leading us out of here. Now.”

Simmons
’ eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the gun. “Give that to me. Remember what ‘appened last time. You don’t want to ‘urt someone again.”

“You
’re right. I don’t. Lead us out.” Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hold the gun steady. His reminder of how she’d shot Stephen made her hands shake even more.

Sophia whimpered
behind her.

“Ye
’ve been nothin’ but trouble since day one,” Simmons said, his disgust obvious.

“
Move. Now.” She gestured to the door with the pistol, her finger trembling on the trigger.

Simmons scoffed, but turned to walk out the door.

Abigail drew a breath of relief then gasped when he spun back and dove for the pistol. She gritted her teeth and tightened her finger on the trigger.

Olivia screamed and
grabbed for Simmons’ arm but bumped Abigail in the process. The pistol went off, the blast deafening in the small room.

“Damn you!” Simmons cursed, holding his shoulder. “You shot me.” He yanked the now useless pistol out of her hand before she could
stop him and tucked it in his pocket. “You and that bloody gun! Nothin’ but trouble. Now you can all rot in here.”

He slammed the door, leaving them in the pitch black of the small room. She heard the grate of the key turning the lock and the soft cries of one
of the boys.

She pound
ed on the door. “Let us out of here!” With little hope, she found the handle and twisted. It didn’t budge.

The sound of fading footsteps made her heart sink. Now what was
she to do?

***

Stephen paced the front step outside his home, unable to sit inside and wait. One of the servants should’ve been back by now. Where the hell were they? Something must’ve gone wrong.

As he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, the
rattle of an approaching carriage gave him hope. He waited, straining to see through the mist.

But he soon realized it was Weston
’s. Damn.

The conveyance pulled to a halt and Farley and Weston both alighted.

“I picked up Farley on my way here after I got your message,” Weston said, frowning. “Thought we might need assistance. What are you doing out here?”

“Simmons has Abigail.”

“Blast it all!”

“You might be o
verdressed for a rescue attempt.” Stephen frowned at Weston’s formal evening attire.

“I was on my way to a ball, but your message
sounded urgent.”

“Do you know where he
has her?” Farley asked.

Stephen quickly
told them what he knew. Before he’d finished, footsteps pounded toward them out of the fog. Relief filled him as he recognized one of his footmen. “Here are our directions now.”

They piled into Weston
’s carriage and were off, the footman directing them.

Farley scowled. “And here I thought I’d finally see the inside of your residence.”

Stephen smiled. “If we manage to save Abigail and her sisters, you’re welcome to visit any time.”

S
oon they picked up another servant who told them where to turn next. Each servant had stopped where the hackney had turned a corner then ran back to where they’d left the previous one, leaving a trail just as Markus had promised.

In a short time, they
passed a hackney whose driver hailed them. The man pulled off his hat, and Stephen was surprised to see Markus with a huge grin. One of Stephen’s other servants was with him as Markus had picked him up on his way back.

“
I don’t know how you managed to replace the hackney driver, but I appreciate your cleverness.” Stephen shook his head in amazement, grateful for the boy’s resourcefulness.

Markus
shrugged. “It’s amazing what a few coins can buy. Simmons took her to a warehouse near Pearson’s Lane, not far from the docks. A big warehouse from what I could see.”

Relieved beyond words, Stephen
smiled. “Well done. Show us the way.”

He patted his pocket for the twentieth time. The meteorite was still there. As a last resort, he intended to offer
it in exchange for Abigail and her sisters. Though he still hoped to discover who was behind this whole affair, the safety of Abigail and her family was his first priority. The last half hour of waiting had taken years off his life.

Markus turned around the hackney and they followed
, the horses hooves echoing on the quiet streets until at last they halted outside a building near the docks.

“This is interesting
.” Weston looked around with curiosity. “I received word earlier today of another address leased to Leon Smith and I think this is it.”

“With luck, we
’ll not only be able rescue Abigail and her sisters, but discover the identity of Mr. Smith.”

Markus led the way to the
entrance of the warehouse.

“The offices are probably in the rear of the building. That would be the most likely place to hold the girls,” Weston said.

“You take Farley to investigate the back,” Stephen said. “Markus and I will see if we can get in the front door.”

Weston looked down at his elegant evening attire
and sighed. “I like this jacket, but clothes can be replaced. Let’s go, Farley.”

“Keep watch, Markus,” Stephen bid the boy. “I
’ll see if I can open the door.” He could only hope they’d arrived in time.

“Vincent, what is going on out there?”

“That woman shot me!” Vincent slammed the door
of a neighboring room behind him and looked down at his arm. Anything to avoid looking at his uncle’s face. The sight of the scars still turned his stomach.

“Miss Bradford? How resourceful
of her.” Uncle Joseph stepped closer to examine Vincent’s arm in the dim light of the lantern. “It appears to be merely a flesh wound. Nothing serious.”

“It bloody freakin’ ‘urts!”

“I’m sure. There are some rags over there if you care to wrap it.”

His uncle’s lack of sympathy only stirred Vincent’s anger more. “She’s a pain in the
—”

“Vincent, do you have the stone?”

It was all he could do not to throw the damned thing at his uncle. His single-mindedness was enough to make a man want to punch something. Instead, he clenched his jaw and handed him the rock. He moved to the pile of rags, searching for a clean one with which to bind it.

His uncle handled the stone with reverence, hefting it in his hand as though to determine its weight. He
limped over to the table against the wall where a collection of coils, circuits, and resonators lay along with a myriad of other items Vincent could not name.

While
Vincent admired his uncle’s knowledge, his obsession with electromagnetism made him uneasy. How he could waste so many years tinkering with a bunch metal parts? Nothing had yet come of the devices he’d built, or the promises he’d made Vincent.

Muttering under his breath,
Vincent wrapped a long piece of linen around his arm. “Could you help me tie this?”

But his request was lost on his uncle
who turned the stone over, peering at it closely. The glow of the lantern on the table lit the good side of his uncle’s face.

With a sigh, Vincent managed to tie the binding one-handed
with the aid of his teeth. What he wouldn’t give to leave this place—the bratty kids, the blasted woman, and his obsessed uncle—and grab a pint at the pub down the street where he knew he could find a sympathetic ear. However, his uncle had forbid him from visiting such places, insisting on secrecy. Vincent had agreed at the time, but he’d had about enough of this. He hadn’t survived his time in prison only to answer to Uncle Joseph’s every tedious demand.

He
wanted freedom but had yet to figure out a way to get it. Not without money—preferably a lot of it. Uncle Joseph was his best chance for wealth.

“This stone is quite interesting.”

The proper diction of the words grated on Vincent’s nerves. While he’d be forever grateful to his uncle for arranging the switch in prison, his uncle wouldn’t have bothered had it not been for the unique set of skills and information Vincent possessed.

Vincent
nearly smirked as he thought of his own cleverness. In reality, he’d stolen his uncle’s notes and papers ten years ago, hoping to sell them, but events had prevented him from doing so. He was in sole possession of all those years of research. That bargaining chip was what had kept him useful to his uncle and forced him to arrange the switch.

Now he was
returning the papers in small doses—enough to keep his uncle happy. Uncle Joseph might be smart when it came to books, but Vincent was much smarter when it came to looking out for himself.

“Unfortunately, this is not the correct stone.”

“What?” Rage filled Vincent, numbing the pain.

“Can’t you do anything right?” His uncle shook his head.
“You’re no better than your mother.”

Hurt mingled with anger
as his uncle’s words struck an old wound, but Vincent shoved it aside. “Are you sure?”

Uncle Joseph turned to him with a ‘you’ve disappointed me once again’ sigh of which he seemed so fond. “Of course I’m certain. Let us speak with Miss Bradford and obtain the proper stone. It seems I must do eve
rything myself.”

Vincent held his tongue
, knowing from experience that any protests would only bring another lecture. His uncle donned his cloak and pulled up the hood, carefully arranging it to cover most of his face, then reached for his cane. Not once did he look at Vincent’s arm or ask as to his well-being. He merely pointed toward the door with his cane.

With a curse, Vincent approached the door,
determined to make Miss Bradford pay for her lie.

***

Abigail’s chest tightened as panic took hold. Several of the boys behind her whimpered and Sophia’s breath hitched. The darkness was disorienting and added to her worry.

“I
’m so sorry, Abigail,” Olivia said. “I didn’t mean to bump you. I was only—”

“It
’s all right. You were trying to help. Perhaps he’s wounded worse than he seemed.”

“I hope so,” Sophia said vehemently. “He
’s absolutely dreadful. What are we to do now?”

Abigail couldn
’t think. She had no idea what she could do or say to calm the frightened children. The idea of being locked in this dark room for any length of time was horrifying.

“It
’s all right,” she said automatically. Then she repeated it in a firmer voice, saying it for herself as well as the children. “It’s all right. We simply need to devise a plan to escape. Hubert, where are you?”

“Here, miss. Did
Lord Ashbury come with you?” The hope in his voice brought a lump to her throat.

“I fear not, but we must
hope he’ll arrive soon.” They couldn’t wait though. They needed to escape as quickly as possible. “Are any of you able to pick a lock?” Normally that wasn’t a question she’d ask of a child, but these boys had been raised in a different world where cleverness took many forms.

“I
’m pretty good at it, but I don’t got no tools,” claimed one of the boys.

“I
’ve just the thing for you.” She removed one of her hat pins. “Come toward my voice so I might hand it to you.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark
and she could now see vague outlines. Not much help, but better than absolute darkness. The boy touched her hand. She carefully gave him the pin, helped him locate the lock and let him start work.

She thought back to what she
’d observed when she’d arrived in the room. She’d been so taken aback to see the all the boys, she’d noticed little else. Pallets were scattered on the floor for the boys to sleep on, but those were of no use.

If it was similar to the rest of the building, it had a high window
. But there wasn’t anything in the room upon which to stand.

“
Hubert, come this way if you please.” Surely giving the children something to do would provide both hope and a distraction and, with some luck, help them out of this mess.

“What can I do, miss?” he asked from her side.

“Is there a window?”

“Yes, but we can
’t reach it. Not even if we stack our beds.”

“I
’ve an idea. We’ll need volunteers and I need your assistance in organizing them. First, someone who’s strong.”

“That would be me, miss,” said a boy to her right.

“Stand near the window. Hubert, help me lift him on my shoulders. He might be able to reach it.” She was a good five or six inches taller than Hubert and with the boy on her shoulders, he should reach the window with ease.

“But there aren
’t any latches on the windows to open them, miss.”

“We
’ll break it. Sophia, hand me your shoe.” She knew the girl’s shoe had a small heel as she hated being shorter than Olivia.

Sophia quickly removed it
and passed it to Abigail.

“Excellent. Girls, find some sort of cloth he can wrap around his hand
to protect it from the glass.”

Abigail heard the tearing of fabric and could only surmise that one of the girls had torn off a piece of her gown.
With Hubert’s help, Abigail managed to assist the boy onto her shoulders. She staggered under his weight. He was heavier than she’d expected. His boots dug into her shoulders as the shoe and cloth were handed up to the boy.

“
Sam, wrap yer hand and use the heel to smash the window,” Hubert urged him.

It took several tries for
Sam to succeed, each movement wearing on Abigail, but at last they were rewarded with the sound of breaking glass.

“Good work,” Abigail said,
lurching as he shifted, balancing him with Hubert’s help. “Now break off all the sharp edges with the shoe. Be careful.”

Several long minutes passed as the boy completed the task. Abigail
grew hot and shaky from her efforts as well as her nerves. She hoped the noise didn’t alert Simmons of their impending escape.

“
Can ye jump down without hurtin’ yerself, Sam?” Hubert asked.

“Ahh...”

His hesitation sank Abigail’s heart. It must be too far for him to jump. All this effort for nothing. She staggered, her shoulders aching under the strain.

For the first time, she was glad of the dark
, for it hid her despair from the children. What else could they do? She had no other plan. The boy picking the lock still worked at it, but without success.

“There
’s someone below,” Sam whispered from his high perch.

Abigail
’s stomach clenched with fear. She had a sudden vision of Simmons standing below the window, knife in hand and that horrible smirk upon his face.

“He
’s dressed all fancy.”

“Ask him if his name is Lord Ashbury,”
Hubert called out.

A muffled bit of talking occurred, then the boy turned back to tell them, “Nay. He
’s Lord Weston and there’s a Mr. Farley here as well.”

Relief made Abigail
’s legs tremble. If they were here, Stephen had to be nearby, too.

“They
’ve come to help us,” Abigail called up to the boy. “Can you get out with their assistance?”

“I
’ll try.”

The weight lifted from Abigail
’s shoulders as the boy hoisted himself up then scrambled out the window. “Hubert, do you want to go next?”

“No, miss. Take
Matthew.” He took the hand of the boy who’d volunteered earlier. “He’s awful scared.”

“
Matthew, come on then. Hurry. Up you go.”

The boy sniffled then crawled onto Abigail
’s shoulders. Though too short to reach the window by standing on her shoulders, Abigail managed to lift his small form high enough so he could pull himself onto the window ledge.

Alr
eady she was weary, her muscles protesting, and there were more children to go. But they had to hurry. Simmons could be back at any moment.

“
Who’s next?” She hoisted up another boy with Hubert’s help and then another.

“Miss, let
’s get yer sisters out,” Hubert suggested.

Olivia pushed Sophia forward with little argument, assisting her onto Abigail
’s shoulders along with Hubert’s help. Sophia trembled so much that Abigail knew how frightened she was.

“Let us
help the small boys out before I go,” Olivia suggested. “They’ve been here much longer than I.”

Abigail squeezed her sister
’s hand, proud of her for her courage. The children seemed to jump out of the window with relative ease, and she had to assume Weston and Farley were catching them. A few more minutes and they’d have them all out. She refused to worry that she’d be left by herself at the end.

Olivia at last agreed to go after Abigail told her she
’d be needed on the outside to help calm the younger boys. Abigail breathed a sigh of relief knowing her sisters were safe.

“Miss, you go next. I think I can lift you,”
Hubert told her. “I’ll help the rest.”

“That is very brave of you, but
they’re going to need you out there, too.” She knew the boy wasn’t tall enough to lift anyone, not to mention the fact that he was still recovering from his stab wound. It was up to her to finish this.

As she lifted the next boy, the door rattled. Shaking with fright, she thrust the boy up as the door swung open.
A light blinded her, and she shaded her eyes to see who’d arrived.

Simmons held a lamp aloft, a shadowy
, cloaked figure behind him. Simmons’ arm was in a makeshift sling. “Here now! What’s goin’ on?” He snarled at Abigail. “What did ye do with those kids?”

“You
’ve no right to hold these children—”

Simmons pointed to the broken window above Abigail
’s head. “Get back here!”

She turned and looked up, horrified to see the little boy
’s legs still dangling from the window.