Corrie watched Billy click to the horses and wave the reins. The carriage slowly moved toward the entrance of the alley, behind the mansion, onto Clappert Street.
She didn’t think, didn’t weigh consequences. She simply ran after the carriage and leapt lightly up onto the back runner, grabbed the straps and pulled herself close to the carriage. It was the tiger’s perch, and she knew it well. When she’d been younger she’d loved to ride in the tiger’s perch behind James or Jason, singing at the top of her lungs, feeling the wind tearing at her old leather hat and braid, tearing her eyes.
The only difference between now and then was that she was wearing a beautiful white silk ball gown, lovely white slippers on her feet, and no old leather hat. Nor did she have a wrap.
It didn’t matter. Three bad men had kidnapped James. Where were they going to take him?
She had to keep down, keep quiet, not fall off, and not let the men see her. Well, she’d certainly hidden from James and Jason enough times, following them, even plastering mud on her face so they wouldn’t see her in the bushes, and they’d never known she was there, watching them wrestle, throw knives at targets, practice cursing. But this was different, she’d agree with that. What would she do when they stopped, well, something would come to her, it had to.
Why had they taken James? To get to his father, of course. The note that waiter had pressed into James’s hand, all a ruse. He shouldn’t have come out into the Lanscombe garden alone, the idiot.
Thank God she’d seen everything. She drew in a deep breath as the horses lengthened into a trot. The streets were nearly empty. Thank God for the half moon. She would figure out something. She had to save James. It was that simple.
She had no idea which direction they were going because they’d gotten nowhere near the Thames. Suddenly she saw a sign to Chelmsford. Ah, they were going east. Wasn’t Cambridge in this same direction?
Corrie didn’t know how much time passed. Her arms ached, her fingers were numb.
Whining never helped unless you did it to another person, so she gave it up and hummed to herself. She held on to those straps, that was all she had to do.
She remembered when James had picked her up and tossed her into a pond near the back of her uncle’s property. Unfortunately, her breeches, stolen from the charity clothes in the sexton’s closet at the vicarage, got snagged on a tangle of reeds underwater and she’d nearly drowned. She would remember until she croaked how white his face had been when he’d realized what had happened and pulled her out. He’d nearly crushed her ribs he’d pressed down so hard to get the water out of her lungs. And he’d held the eight-year-old Corrie, rocking her back and forth, begging her to forgive him, until she’d vomited up the nasty pond water all over him.
Corrie didn’t remember if she’d forgiven him or not, the miserable sot. Of course, the next week, he’d tied her to a tree when he wanted to take Melissa Banbridge for a walk in the woods and he’d seen her following them.
She’d gotten the rope untied, but couldn’t find them. She’d slipped a half dozen frogs into his boots standing downstairs to be cleaned by the boot boy. Unfortunately, she’d heard one of the footmen say that for some reason they’d found a wagon load of frogs flying around in the mudroom and how had that come about?
Hang on, hang on, don’t think about anything but hanging on.
The temperature dropped as the night deepened. How late was it? She had no idea.
They skirted Chelmsford. She saw signs for Clacton-on-Sea, and the carriage turned sharply to the right. They were going toward the English Channel.
She heard occasional voices from inside the carriage, but she couldn’t make out any words. Had they unwrapped James? What if they’d killed him with those blows on the head? No, that was crazy thinking.
Was he conscious? Was one of the voices she’d heard his? He was all right. He had to be all right. He was fine; he’d have a headache, but he’d be fine. She had no idea what she’d do if he weren’t fine. She’d take care of him, that’s what she’d do, and then she’d kill him herself for being such a fool to go out into that garden alone.
The carriage suddenly pulled off the gutted lane onto one even smaller, so narrow that a branch hit her arm, nearly jerking her to the ground.
She pressed herself closer and prayed. She heard a noise and nearly expired on the spot. It was her own teeth chattering. Good God, was she going to freeze to death before this bloody carriage got to where it was going?
Finally, the carriage slowed. She saw a small weathered cottage at the end of a lane. The horses were now walking, then Billy pulled up.
He shouted back down, “This is the place, gots to be. Not too bad atal, nice and comfy, all ’idden away. Get ’is bleedin’ lordship all ready, don’t want no trouble from the lad! Oh aye, an’ watch ’is bloody feet!”
Augie stuck his head out the window. “We’ve got ’m all tied up, the boyo ain’t going nowheres, Billy.”
“Good. If we croaks our fancy cove, we don’t get no groats.”
They’d taken James so they could blackmail his father into an exchange. Augie and Ben were talking, grumbling, and she realized they would see her for her gown was stark white and would shine like a beacon beneath that half moon.
Thank God Billy climbed down and kept to the front of the carriage. When he opened the carriage door, she slipped around to the other side and tucked herself against the back wheel. Her legs nearly buckled, and she was clutching at the wheel to keep herself upright. She was numb, frozen, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life, and she was going to save James.
“The lad weighs as much as me mither, only she weren’t tall like this fellow, jest a little fat pigeon wot liked to smack me noggin.”
“Shut up, Billy. Okay, bring ’im into the cottage. Funny thing how the lad jest fell unconscious again. Take care, this boy’s a wily ’un. I wants to ’ave me a boy like this ’un some day.”
“That’d mean gettin’ yer pecker up an’ stiff,” Augie said. “When’s the last time that ’appened?”
Ben said, “It ’appened when ’is landlady beat ’im with a shoe, made him all lusty.”
The men laughed and grunted as they carried James, evidently still unconscious, into the cottage. Corrie remained hugging the wheel, watching. They would have to do something with the horses. She waited until they all went into the cottage, then stumbled on numb feet into the trees and began to work her way around to the side of the cottage. At least moving made her thaw a bit and got the feeling back into her feet.
She crouched down outside the filthy window and looked in. It was just one room, with a narrow cot along the back wall. There was a battered table and four chairs and a very dilapidated area where it appeared they cooked. The fireplace was off to her right.
She watched them dump James on the narrow cot, then pull the blanket away from him. She nearly fell over she was so angry. Blood had snaked down the side of his face.
Billy slapped his face a couple of times, then stood straight, looking down at him. “Still under the willow, our lad. Augie, ye said ’e came back to ’is wits in the carriage?”
“Aye,” Augie said. “Then when I tapped ’im a couple of times, jest to get ’is attention, our lad ’as the nerve to collapse again. ’E’ll come around in a bit. I’m ready to gnaw off me elbow, Ben. Ye fix us somethin’.”
Settling in, she thought, they were settling in. For how long? Closer to the sea, it was colder, but at least she was out of the wind. Suddenly it was dark. She looked up to see black clouds covering the half moon.
It was Augie who came out in a couple of minutes and led the horses to a small shed on the other side of the cottage.