Dark Shadows (15 page)

The room was filled with smoke, just like all the others, but flames had not yet taken hold. “Under the bed,” Isaac said.

Jacob heard a voice whimpering incoherently. The me
n
got on their knees, lifted the silk bedspread, and stuck their heads underneath the bed frame. Two women clung to each other, huddled on their sides. One was unconscious, the other bloodied and moaning, in shock and unaware of their presence.

“Julia, please. We have to get out. You have to come with me,” the woman mumbled over and over again, still unaware of Jacob and Isaac.

Jacob and Isaac pushed the bed towards the wall until the two women were in a position to reach and grab on to. Jacob couldn’t see the women’s features through the smoke under the bed, but as the bed slowly moved towards the wall, their faces and bodies became more visible.

Isaac pulled the first woman out by locking his hands behind her back and just below her shoulders, whilst Jacob pulled her towards him by her ankles. She was the youngster Jacob remembered from earlier. She was unconscious and completely naked. “Get her downstairs and outside,” Jacob said. “I’ll be right behind you with the other one.”

Jacob helped put the girl into Isaac’s arms and covered her with the bedcover. He then concentrated on the other woman. He grabbed her by her closest arm and pulled. She too had now fallen into unconsciousness.

Jacob struggled. He could feel his own lungs filling with smoke. He felt dazed and knew it was only a matter of minutes before they would both fall into an unconscious state and succumb to death. He coughed and then wiped his eyes. He pulled her towards him. Once she was free of the bed, he managed to swing her body up and over his shoulder.

She had the same long dark curls as the emerald-eyed woman, but the hair was stuck to her bloodied face and he had no time to look at her further. Whoever she was, he had to get them both out and down the staircase before it collapsed and trapped them.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Madame du Pont gave calm, clear, and precise orders to Eddie and Sam. She then dismissed the doormen and ordered Parker to accompany her. She sent orders to the coachman to bring her best carriage around to the rear entrance of the mansion and to wait there behind the trees, unseen, until she came out.

“Under no circumstances must the whores leave the building alive,” she told Eddie. There had always been the possibility of a scenario whereby she would have to make a run for it for one reason or another: an enemy’s loose tongue, betrayal, a dissatisfied customer or servant bent on spiteful retribution. This scenario involved disposing of any evidence that might be prejudicial towards her. The garden was filled with bodies of missing women, and now her current stock of whores would have to die in order to keep their mouths forever shut.

Her most loyal entourage knew exactly what they had to do. She had drummed it into them over the years. They would not let her down, for if she was arrested, they would accompany her to the gallows. This she had also made very clear.

The whores had been rounded up. Three or four were missing, and this worried her. Time was no longer on her side, but as she was always optimistic in the face of adversity, she could only hope that they had been trapped and burned to death upstairs. Either way, she had no more time to think about the missing girls. The others who had tried to flee on the shirt tails of clients had been grabbed and were already in the salon. They would be kept there until every client had cleared the premises.

She was finished here. The fire inside the house had spread too far. There could be no redemption, no business as usual tomorrow or the day after or ever again. The bloody house was falling down about her ears!

As soon as the firefighters arrived, she would be questioned, creating an assortment of problems. Not all officials were on her payroll. Some honest coppers and magistrates would not treat her well. She could not afford to have girls roaming free and accusing her of abduction and forced prostitution. A pity, she thought for just a moment. She had genuinely become quite fond of a few of the girls. She had seen them grow from young girls into womanhood, and though the law might not see it her way, she was proud of her many achievements, for she’d become a mother figure to some of the older ones.

Before she tied up her own loose ends, she had to be sure that the clients had already left. She was told they had, apart from four. She knew this because two horses and a carriage outside the main entrance were being protected by two of the four Americans she had seen earlier. The other two men, she assumed, were missing, dead, or dying. She couldn’t wait any longer to ask questions.

She marched into the salon and looked keenly at the screaming faces staring back at her. They were begging her to release them. She could see terror in their eyes and hear it in their tearful voices. She turned from them and nodded to Eddie and Sam.

“The moment Parker tells you I am in my carriage, light this room up and make sure you bolt the bloody door. Do what you have to do. Parker, you’re with me.”

For all her outward calm, Madame du Pont was in shock and devastated. Her entire life was falling apart. Her empire had collapsed, and she had just given the order to murder twenty or so girls. Their deaths would be quick and painless, she told Parker, soothing herself. They would be overcome by smoke and would not feel the flames.

Parker nodded in agreement, without emotion, as was her way.

Madame du Pont’s first destination was her suite of rooms. As she hurried across the hallway to a door, which could have been mistaken for just another wall panel by those who knew not of its existence, she grabbed at her chain with the small key attached and yanked it from within the folds of her neck. The chain broke. She did not stop to pick it up. It was the key she wanted.

She opened the panelled door with another key. Then she walked into a small hallway, where three doors stood closed, and turned to Parker. “Get me three gowns and one for travelling in, some stockings, shoes, and corsets. My three favourite wigs, face powder, rouge, kohl, and lip paints. That’s all I’m taking. Do it quickly.”

The smoke had reached downstairs and was now inside her suite. She had no more time to think or to plan. She would travel light. Money was the key to everything, and she had that in abundance. All other possessions could be replaced once she reached her final destination.

Inside the smoke-filled room, she guided herself to her locked private closet. The small key from her neck chain opened this door. She had come for her insurance, her nest egg, and she would then be finished with Liverpool forever.

Behind a loose panel, obscured by piles of garments, was a wall safe. She turned the dial to four, two, eight, and six, twisted the handle, and opened the door. She found exactly what she’d come for and smiled for the first time.

Piles of bank drafts sat in neat bundles. On top of the money were her new identity papers. She would have to wear the black wig, as she was described as black-haired in the papers. She had been dark haired in her youth but hated that colour now. It made her look older.

She looked at her real name, Margaret Mallory; false date of birth, making her five years younger than her fifty-five years; and false city of birth, Manchester.

Running an illegal business had taught her many things, the most important being that one should always be ready to make a quick exit should the occasion require it.

Rolls of notes, dollar bills, and gold sovereigns filled the rest of the safe. She shouted for Parker, who came running with two leather valises. One was filled with Madame du Pont’s clothes, requested earlier, and the other was to be filled with a couple of Parker’s garments and the gold coins that Eddie had always sworn to guard with his life. He would go with her. She could not do without Eddie to protect her; nor could she do without his young body, which she would continue to enjoy until her last breath.

Parker helped Madame du Pont off with her evening gown and then used cotton strips to bind the paper money to strategic places on her body: underclothes, stockings, and corset. She then helped her into a plain dark grey crinoline dress with a high collar. When she ripped off the madam’s fair wig, she was slapped for being too rough. She swayed backwards and then carried on with her labours, gingerly attaching the long curly black wig to a balding, bleeding head. Sticking a pile of paper money under the black-and-grey-trimmed bonnet was Madame du Pont’s idea. The head accessory partially covered the wig and was tied securely with a silk bow around her neck.

Madame du Pont studied her new matronly appearance in the mirror. She wiped the layers of paint off her face and then applied a more subtle lip colour. She took one last look at her home and swore, “If I ever find out who did this to me, I’ll bloody boil them in vinegar and then rip off their skin.”

She stood up straight in a dignified pose and with calm restored, said, “Right, Parker, go give the order to Eddie and Sam. Eddie knows what to do with Sam when they’ve finished with the whores. Tell him to use the pistol. Noise doesn’t matter anymore. And get Eddie to make sure the salon’s securely locked from the outside before he leaves. He knows where to follow us. Be quick about it.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mercy drifted in and out of consciousness. She thought she might be dreaming, for as always, she saw dark shadows and misty silhouettes floating and dancing before her. She grappled with them as one would when trying to catch a patch of mist in the hand. But these dreams were different somehow, for she felt physical pain. She had sensed pain but never actually felt it in any of her previous nightmares. She was being bounced around, and her body was thumping up and down on a hard surface. If she could only open her eyes, maybe she could understand why.

Thick smoke and fire … She remembered now. She saw the candlestick, the man, and blood spraying out of his head like a fountain. Her heart beat faster. She was putting the puzzle together, remembering certain events, but not all that had led her to this actual point in time.

She wasn’t dreaming. She was awake, yet couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to get her bearings. She was continuously losing herself to a void that contained no memory of time or events. She felt hammers striking her head. Her hand hurt, burning like a thousand bee stings. As she bounced along, images in her mind’s eye intensified. After leaving the bedroom and old man, she’d crawled into the hallway, searching for Julia, shouting her name. No, she’d been screaming out her name above an angry eruption of crackling wood, smashing glass, and shouts from people running down the smoky hallway. There was so much noise everywhere.

At some point, she’d fallen over something and her head had smashed into a sharp corner – a table or the arm of a chair, maybe. She remembered her fingers touching the egg-sized bump on her forehead, the blood seeping into her half-closed eyelids and then dribbling down her cheek. She lost time and events. Then … Julia’s face. She saw Julia, she remembered now. Julia was bending over her and screaming at her to get up. Where was Julia now?

Somehow she had gotten back on her feet with Julia’s help. She was dragged by the hand and was then pushed to the floor and told to roll under a bed. She didn’t want to be there at first, but Julia, naked, with skin blackened by smoke, had continually screamed that they’d be murdered if they went downstairs.

All her instincts had told her that they would die under that bed, but she also believed Julia. She was so tired, and her head was spinning. She felt a sticky substance all over her body. She was too tired to worry about what that was.

Julia had fallen asleep. Mercy had tried to shake her awake, but then her own conscious mind disintegrated and darkness took over completely.

Where was Julia now? she wondered again. She tried to shout out for her, but her voice was lost. She’d been struck dumb. She managed to crack open an eye. She was being carried like a sack of coal. Her head was bouncing against the small of a man’s back. Who was carrying her? Her head was pounding. She was choking and felt incapable of swallowing any more smoke-filled air. She was dangling and swaying. Her ribcage felt the hard shoulder muscles beneath her. Sam or Eddie had found her.

She was beaten, and her death would be ugly. She felt the man’s panting breath and his body’s vibrations when he coughed. She struggled to be set down. Her tiny fists pummelled the man’s back. She wiggled her upper body, attempting to fall off his shoulder. Her bare feet kicked some part of him. But they were all feeble attempts. She was tired and captured like a small bird in a large fist. She felt hands and arms grabbing and holding her buttocks and thighs even tighter than before. Sam or Eddie
would
kill her now. She had no strength left to fight. They probably had Julia too. They were going to cut their throats, just like that other poor girl. Maybe Madame du Pont would do it herself. Death was going to take her one way or another. That was her last thought before she spiralled into darkness again.

Jacob reached the hallway downstairs and staggered out the main doors. Jack and James stood at the bottom of the small flight of exterior stairs, holding on to the panicked horses.

James ran forward and took Mercy from Jacob’s arms. He laid her on the grassy verge next to the young girl whom Isaac had brought out minutes earlier. Then he turned to Jacob. “God damn it, what were you thinking?” he shouted.

Jacob waved him away and sank to his knees, trying to catch his breath and clear his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. See to the women.”

Isaac was attempting to revive Julia, who had stopped breathing.

James placed his jacket behind Mercy’s head and gently examined her bloodied face and body. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but I can only see one injury to her forehead. Where is all this blood coming from?” James asked Isaac.

“I’ll see to her in a minute,” Isaac shouted back. “I’m losing this one. James, help me. Tilt her head back and pinch her nose. When I tell you, breathe into her mouth with one long exhalation. Do you understand me?”

James nodded and obeyed Isaac’s instructions.

“Can you save her?” Jacob asked, still dazed but staggering to his own two feet. No answer.

After a few minutes, Isaac and James stopped what they were doing. Isaac put his ear to Julia’s mouth and waited. Julia shook violently, retched, and coughed. The four men sighed with relief. Isaac gave James a pat on the shoulder. “Good job. Keep an eye on her and try to sit her up.” Isaac moved on to Mercy.

Jacob’s eyes followed Isaac and finally focused on Mercy, lying unconscious. His heart soared. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He got back down on his knees and took a closer look at her whilst Isaac examined her:
It’s her
, Jacob kept thinking. The beautiful unconscious face belonged to the young woman who had captured his heart earlier. He’d been convinced of it upstairs, but her face had been hidden by hair. Whilst he was carrying her, he’d felt tingling vibrations run through his body. He had connected to her closeness. It was inexplicable, but God damn it, that’s what he’d felt.

There’s so much blood,
he thought, looking down the length of her body. It was not only on her face, which was entirely covered in it, but her body, legs, and the scant corset she wore were caked in it. “Isaac?” he asked, searching for answers.

“I don’t know, Jacob. It can’t all be her blood. She has a large bump on her head, but the cut’s not deep enough to cause this.” He looked up at the others. “Most of this blood belongs to someone else.”

At that moment, screams from inside the house redirected their attention. All four men had been under the impression that they were the last to leave. No one else was in sight. None of them had seen the madam since the first sign of smoke. The entire house was in flames now, and the roof was beginning to creak and cave in. She was probably long gone, yet they all heard screaming coming from the ground floor inside.

“The salon – I saw some women being taken in there,” Jacob said to the others, slightly mystified. “There are no windows in that room. There’s only the small glass banner that runs along the edge of the ceiling and double glass doors. If they are locked, the women won’t be able to get out. We need to go back in.” Jacob turned to Isaac. “Look after the two girls. I’m counting on you not to let anything else happen to them. Leave now. Get yourselves and the girls back to the
Christina
. Put them in my stateroom. And, Isaac, don’t leave them until you’re certain they’re all right and comfortable. ”

No one argued.

James followed Jacob. They went to their horses. Both men got their Colt revolvers and holsters from the saddlebags. “Use it if you have to,” Jacob said.

James nodded in agreement.

The salon door was shut but not locked. Screaming was clearly coming from within, sounding loud and desperate. Jacob turned the doorknobs and pushed both the heavy doors inwards. He stepped into the room with his gun cocked and ready. James followed, holding his Colt with arm outstretched.

Jacob’s eyes took in the scene before him. His stunned expression displayed a rage he’d rarely ever felt.

A man was lighting the curtains and fabrics, setting another fire. The women had been corralled in a corner of the room farthest away from the doors. Another man was holding the women hostage at gunpoint. Jacob’s instincts took over. He looked at James. Both Americans pointed their weapons towards the men. Sam and Eddie had not seen or heard Jacob and James come into the room.

Jacob shouted above the noise coming from the screaming women, “You two! Lower your weapons and step away from the women!”

Eddie turned, torch in one hand, gun in the other, and a mixture of surprise and anger crossing his face.

“I said to put the gun down or I swear to God, we’ll kill you where you stand. I said put the gun down!” Jacob shouted again.

Eddie looked at Sam. Sam, with a terrified look on his face, bent down and laid the cleaver he was holding on the floor.

Jacob and James concentrated on Eddie. James shouted, “Don’t be stupid! You don’t want to die tonight. Put the gun down!”

Eddie shot one more look at Sam, and then he too bent down, gently laying the gun on the floor. There were two guns to his one.

Sam looked into the barrel of James’s gun and raised his hands above his head as well. “Don’t shoot,” he pleaded in a high squeal.

Jacob and James took their eyes from Eddie for just a second and looked at Sam, who was now crying like a baby.

Eddie took advantage of the situation and stepped behind Jacob’s half-turned body. He reached the door in a flash and ran without looking back.

“Damn it!” James shouted. “I’ll go after him.”

“Don’t bother. Let the coward go. We need to get the women to safety. You take this sniffling son of a bitch outside and hold him.”

James grabbed Sam by his jacket collar and pushed him towards the double doors. As he left the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Jacob, hurry up! You don’t have much time.”

Jacob grunted to himself. He would have liked to have beaten the bastard that ran away within an inch of his life, but the priority now was to coax the frightened women to go with him. “Come on, ladies! Follow me. I’m not going to hurt you. We have to leave right now!”

The women clung to each other. Jacob couldn’t understand their reluctance to move. They were afraid of him. He holstered his gun and walked to the doors, opening them wide. “Run as fast as you can and get yourselves home. No one else is going to hurt you,” he told them. “Go on, get out of here!”

His words brought them to their senses, and they scattered like rabbits. Jacob checked once more that no one had been left behind in the salon. Satisfied, he joined James outside.

Sam continued to stare at James’s gun, now inches from his face. “I was just following orders,” he suddenly said with a wrenching sob. “She told me to do it. Don’t shoot me, please. Don’t kill me. I’ll give you no trouble.”

“Shut up,” Jacob told him. “James, what shall we do with this bastard? Personally, I’d like to take him to the coppers, but I’m in no mood for questions I can’t answer or for staying up half the night.”

“Let’s leave the damn coward here,” James suggested.

Jacob nodded. “We’ll take him to the nearest tree and tie him to it. There’s some horse’s tether rope in the saddlebags. He can explain to the authorities what happened here, and with a bit of luck, they’ll take him in for questioning. We’ll tie his wrists real tight and make sure it hurts him.”

Sam’s face was a picture of panic. Please, sir, if those girls get to the coppers, I’ll be done for. Have mercy, sir,” he sobbed. “I didn’t want to work for that old whore. She made me do terrible things. Don’t leave me here. Please let me go; I promise I’ll lead a good life.”

“Shut your mouth,” Jacob said, dragging him to a tree which sat just at the edge of the grassy lawn. “Tell your story to the law.”

Jacob and James secured Sam’s hands behind his back with rope. They then wrapped its remaining length around his middle and the tree trunk. Jacob pulled at the rope, making sure Sam would not be able to wiggle his body out of it. When he was satisfied, he and James mounted their horses and rode away from the burning mansion at a canter. They stayed off the main driveway, agreeing that they didn’t want any more involvement with this night’s outcome.

As they rode in the darkness, Jacob said, “I guess we can consider our memberships here terminated.”