Dark Shadows (7 page)

Chapter Nine

The carriage, exhausted horses, two men, and ten abducted girls finally reached the Liverpool suburbs. It was mid-afternoon, and the weather was fair, but it was much cooler than the blazing London heat they’d left behind.

Eddie’s head bounced on his neck. He was unaware of the traffic build-up, the city noise, ships’ horns, and putrid smell penetrating the carriage’s wooden walls. He’d slept for at least three hours on this last part of the journey. Sam had cursed more than once at the ease with which Eddie seemed to shut out everything going on around him, including him. He had needed Eddie to talk to. Eddie talked a load of crap most of the time, Sam thought, but his company would have made the last bit of the journey more tolerable.

“You’re a right selfish bastard,” Sam stated in a loud voice. He kicked Eddie’s legs, which were stretched out over the wooden bar that partly connected the horses to the carriage. “Wake up, ya lazy bugger; we’re nearly home.”

Eddie yawned and stretched his arms. He threw Sam a thunderous look. “Wait a minute – let me come to, will you? Christ, it’s not as if you didn’t sleep enough earlier.” Eddie yawned again.

“Well, we’re in the city, just about. Keep a lookout for coppers or anyone else that might stop us for some reason. I don’t like the look of all this traffic. The bloody Americans must be in port. I’m going to see if we can get down one of these side streets.”

“Jesus, the whores are stinking well this trip,” Eddie said, finally fully coming to.

“I know. Smells worse than the London stink in there. I can’t wait to get cleaned up and have a good kip.”

“Me too. My fucking neck feels as though it’s broken,” Eddie said, massaging his neck and shoulders.

Sam glared at him. “You’ve got a nerve. If you had snored any louder, I was going to break your bloody neck for you. Now look lively, Eddie boy. We’re almost there.”

The coach turned off the busy port thoroughfare, which ran parallel with the docks. It turned right onto a long wide road, lined with storage yards, livery stables, and an omnibus terminus. From there, they headed west and continued in this direction for about a mile. They then took a sharp turn into a side street and then into another connecting to it. These streets were full of old low-rent houses, and even Eddie and Sam hated going through this particular area. Thieves and drunks lived there, and most of them made their livings stealing money and luggage from immigrants.

When they reached the final bend of the third street they’d gone through, they carefully manoeuvred the carriage onto a narrow dirt road which led to the edge of a park. The carriage steadily followed one of the many paths branching off like veins through the grassy tree-dotted expanse until they eventually came to another street which bordered it on the far side.

The street they were now in was different to the ones they’d left behind. The houses were large and gated. They were in the heart of Mansions Row, where the upper class resided. Those who didn’t know Liverpool well could be led to believe that they were in the countryside instead of just a couple of miles from the docks. Most of the mansions were invisible from the street, for they sat at the end of long, winding driveways and were surrounded by high walls and trees.

Finally, the carriage turned right and stopped in front of iron gates. Eddie jumped down, unlocked them, and opened them wide. He waited until the carriage was inside, and then he closed and locked the gates behind him.

A gatehouse stood just inside the gates. When Madame du Pont was open for business, two men were always on hand to monitor who was coming and going.

Madame du Pont’s mansion and the business therein were accessible for members only. The membership document was nothing more than a fancy piece of paper embossed with a silver-leafed frame, the customer’s name in the centre, the house rules, and Madame du Pont’s signature. But this document was all-important, because without it there was no entry onto the premises until a thorough background check and interview had been conducted. Only the elite passed through these gates, whether it was for one night only or on a regular basis.

The driveway snaked its way around manicured lawns and trees. The carriage finally came to the rear of the mansion and turned sharply to park up inside the stable.

Both men sighed with relief.

Sam jumped down and stumbled as though he’d just reached dry land. He stretched his body, rubbed his arse, and then rolled his head from side to side. “Ah … pure fucking luxury,” he said.

Eddie joined him on the ground and did the same dance movement, swinging his hips and bending over frontwards and then backwards. “Christ, I’m as stiff as a board. I thought I’d lost all feeling in my arse forever. Thank God that’s over. We did well, Sam.”

“That we did. It was a bloody hard one. I can’t wait to see the madam’s face when she looks over the bounty. She’ll be right pleased, I bet, especially with that last piece of cunt we picked up.”

Two young boys smiled and waved to Eddie and Sam as they approached the carriage. One of the boys said, “It’s good to see you back, sirs.”

Eddie nodded and then growled harshly, “Get the horses unhitched. Wipe them down and feed them well – and take a look at one of the mares. It looks as though she’s gone lame on her left foreleg.” Whilst the boys did as they were told, Sam closed the stable doors.

Eddie crossed to the far corner of the stable. There was a door situated there. He waited for Sam to join him, and when he did, both men opened the door and stepped onto a landing that led to a basement, ten stairs down.

The large underground room had no windows. A fire was necessary to keep it warm, winter and summer. It was also very dark, with only small ceiling vents allowing in air and a shimmer of light.

Straw mattresses lay on the ground in two neat lines. There were four bathtubs, towels, washbowls, soap, and rows of filled water buckets. Sam lit the logs in the fireplace and placed the first of the water buckets on a bar that sat above them.

They were aware that Madame du Pont didn’t like her girls catching cold. She couldn’t care less about them as people, but they were her bread and butter and she cared about her income. The place had to be cosy before the girls got down there to bathe and sleep. This was rule number one.

They walked back up the stairs. Eddie spoke to one of the stable boys and ordered him to get the serving women. When he’d done this, he joined Sam, and both walked towards the carriage.

Experience had taught them not to open the carriage door until they’d covered their noses and mouths with cotton masks. The stench emanating from the carriage was at its worst now that the coach was in a confined space and behind closed doors. Both men had been known to vomit.

The ten girls were in various positions inside the carriage. Some had woken up and were sitting as stiff as pokers, whilst others struggled to reach consciousness and were wobbling dazedly on the bench. Some were in shock and trembled, whilst others looked as though they were just about to keel over and die.

Sam was first to speak to them. “Right, wake up and listen here, all of you,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’m going to untie you one by one. My friend here,” he pointed to Eddie, now holding a pistol, “will shoot you between the eyes without a minute’s hesitation if you make a bloody sound or try to run. When you’re free of your ropes, you’ll get down from the carriage and stand in line. I’ll say again: if any one of you so much as moves or says the wrong thing, he’ll shoot you for that too. Am I clear? Nod your heads and tell me you understand, for I’ll not be saying it a third time.”

The girls, eyes wide with fear, nodded in understanding.

They were untied one by one, grimacing but silent, and, as ordered, tried to get down from the carriage. Some stumbled and fell as soon as their feet reached the ground. Legs bound for more than a day and night felt numb and had not an ounce of strength in them to hold their bodies upright.

Those on the ground crawled like babies and then attempted to stand, hanging on to other girls’ skirts for support. When the last of them left the carriage, it was towed away into a somewhat larger stall, where it would be cleaned and disinfected, a task the stable boys hated with a vengeance.

Chapter Ten

Mercy, dazed, bewildered, and terrified, stood in a bedraggled line with the other girls. She was afraid to move a muscle, even though her aching limbs demanded that she do so in order to free herself of painful cramps. She was terrified of being noticed or of allowing a sound to leave her mouth. Cold air was not responsible for making her teeth chatter. No, they clicked together in a song of fear. She was exhausted, sick, and trying her utmost to stand on unsteady feet.

Her wrists and ankles were raw and covered in dried blood in places because of her determined efforts to free herself from the ropes that had bound her. Her face was stinging, swollen, and bruised as though she’d been punched. Her mouth was still half open due to the painful hours she’d spent gagged, and her lips were swollen to twice their normal size with several doses of chloroform.

Horrific images floated through her mind, but she was not having a nightmare. She was not dreaming this. This was a conscious experience that she could neither comprehend nor associate anything with.

The chloroform was still lingering in her system, but she attempted to focus her thoughts on exactly what had happened to her. She had offered to help a man who was worried about his wife. The man in question was now standing alongside another man right here in this stable. She couldn’t believe stupidity and trust had led her to this. It was an unimaginable horror.

Getting tied up was not an experience she had any recollection of at all. She had woken up on the floor with back-breaking pain. Only then had she discovered her tethered body. She remembered sporadic drinks of water because of the painful procedure involved. The smelly rag that gagged her mouth had been pulled off her face and then replaced, stinging her skin. The drops of liquid poured on it had sent her into an abyss of darkness, without dreams each time.

Her tongue was numb. Her mouth was so dry that it was difficult to swallow her saliva. She had no clue as to her whereabouts. Was she far from home or was home close by? No, she determined, home was not nearby. London was not that big, and they had been on the road for a long time. She had to conclude, therefore, that they were nowhere near London or its suburbs.

Her hungry belly was rumbling, yet the thought of putting food into her mouth made her want to vomit again. Her new gown, drenched in pee and dried vomit, was a degrading and shameful sight. The dress was torn on the left side, from her underarm right down to her waist. She was desperate to take it off and wash.

Pride and vanity had been but a fleeting experience for her. That day in the dressmaker’s shop and her experience in a beautiful tea room in front of St Paul’s had been the first time she’d ever thought of herself as more than a girl from a poor London borough. Her own vanity had brought her to this!

This was the end of innocence and sweet dreams. How could she ever feel pure after what she’d seen and felt? She felt like an animal, no better than that. She felt like one of those black slaves she’d heard about. She was being treated like livestock at market.

What would her family be thinking right now? It was the first time the thought had occurred to her. Would they be out looking for her? She just knew they would be, but she also assumed they would look no farther than the dressmaker’s and Mrs McCallum’s house – certainly no farther than the confines of the borough of Southwark. It wouldn’t enter their minds to cross the river to look for her, for that had been forbidden to her, and she’d always been obedient.

Had they gotten the truth out of poor Doreen and Agnes, who had shown nothing but kindness and understanding? She was horrified at that possibility. They would be in big trouble right now with her family and especially with Big Joe. If she were able, she would take all the blame on her own shoulders. She had deliberately played on the women’s pity.

Girls were sobbing now. She looked to her left and then to her right. One girl was crying so loudly that Mercy thought she might get shot for it.

Just then, a girl keeled over and hit the ground with a thud. Mercy thought she might fall too – she wished she could hold on to something or someone. She would not cry again if she could help it. She thought about Grandpa Carver. He would belt her if he were here to see her crying like a sissy.

She continued to glance at the two men, who were talking in whispers and standing near the stable doors. She felt bile rise in her throat and realised that her body was beginning to sway backwards and forwards. She wasn’t sure how long she could stand on her feet like this. She was sure she was going to faint any minute now, and she hoped that if she did, she would never wake up again.

Chapter Eleven

A door opened. Mercy heard soft-footed steps coming closer from somewhere behind her. She didn’t turn to look.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw three women. They walked slowly, one behind the other, down the line, passing her and paying no heed to any of them. Mercy looked and presumed by their black-and-white uniform dresses and crisp white frilly caps that they were house servants. All three wore aprons that began at the neck like bibs, were tied at the waist with wide bows at the back, and fell right to the floor. They were well groomed, and the aprons and neat hair led Mercy to believe they had come from a grand house. She was confused more than ever. She got the impression that the three servants had seen captive girls many times before, given their total indifference and passive expressions. They approached the two men. Mercy tried to hear what they were saying, but all she saw were lips moving. A discussion was going on – about what, she didn’t know.

“Right, let’s get this done, Missus Parker,” Eddie said in a gruff voice. “Madame du Pont will want to inspect them, and we’re already late. You get the firepit going outside, Sam, and I’ll make a start on the girls.”

Sam cursed him and stood with his hands on his hips, ready for an altercation. “Who made you the boss? How come I always have to do the fire and you get all the fun? I did the fire the last time.”

“Aw, for God’s sake, shut your trap. Just do it or we’ll both be in the shit. You know she won’t come down here until we’ve got them disinfected, so stop whining like a woman and move your arse. I want a beer, and then I want my bloody bed.”

Mercy watched the man called Sam march out of a side door, banging it shut behind him. He had inflicted pain on her and the others inside that filthy, disgusting carriage.
He’s a pig, just like the other man, the trickster
, she was thinking. Mercy now studied the actions of the remaining man. He was the one who had lied to her at St Paul’s with false tears.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Mercy!
her mind was screaming.

He spoke to the servant women, pointing to the far end of the line. The women nodded. All three walked past Mercy and those next to her, again ignoring their existence.

Eddie brought out a knife from a leather holster on his thigh and ran his fingers gently down the length of it, from the hilt to the point.

Mercy drew in her breath. Surely he wasn’t going to kill them? That wouldn’t make sense. He hadn’t brought them all this way just to end their lives. If she were the one holding the knife, she’d gut him. She wouldn’t hesitate.

Eddie went to the first girl in the line. The girl was crying. Mercy closed her eyes. She couldn’t block out the sound of moaning and tearful begging, but she didn’t have to watch. She heard ripping and tearing from both ends of the line now, left and right.

She finally opened her eyes. She had to see what was happening, for she would have to endure the same as the others when they got to her.

Eddie walked nonchalantly past the first girl and on to the girl right next to her. Mercy watched in horror as he took the knife to the girl’s gown and sliced the entire length of it, from neckline to thighs. Her hooped underskirt came off next, then bloomers, leaving the girl in a corset and unsuccessfully trying to cover her half-naked breasts and pubic region. Eddie walked outside with the first two lots of stinking garments and reappeared a moment later.

Mercy steeled herself. She was next in line.

Eddie ignored Mercy’s hatred, emanating like a blinding beacon from her eyes. She could smell his rancid breath now that he was but inches away from her face. He looked her in the eye and moved in closer. Mercy tried to take a step backwards but was stopped in her tracks. The knife blade was at her throat.

“I remember you the most,” Eddie told her. “You delayed our journey, but I’ve got a feeling you’ll be well worth it. Do you like me? Tell me you like me.”

Mercy swallowed the bile rising again in her throat and stared back at him with that same shining hatred. “I like you, sir,” she said.

She closed her eyes, only to open them wide a second later when she felt his wet tongue licking her face. She cringed. What was this revolting man doing? Her stomach turned over. He leaned in even closer. His tongue was in her ear, out and then in again. Afterwards, it slithered back to her face, following a path down her cheek and along her chin until it finally came to rest on her mouth. He parted her swollen lips. Then his tongue was inside, whipping her teeth and dancing with her own swollen tongue.

Mercy shuddered. The smell, taste, and feel of his wet tongue and saliva inside her mouth enraged her. She wanted to kick, punch, and stab him with his own knife, but instead she stood as still as a statue, her eyes staring defiantly into his. Her undeniably contemptuous glare seemed to unnerve him, and she wondered if he would punish her further.

Mercy continued to stare at him even when the knife cut into her dress and nicked her skin at the neckline. A dribble of blood ran down her cleavage and disappeared between her full breasts. She stood then like a soldier to attention, watching and hearing every rip and tear. The puff sleeves came apart. He then went back to her already torn and bloodied neckline. He pulled at the silk with one hand and sliced it down to her waist with his knifed hand. The gown parted like a pair of curtains.

Mercy felt him pull the material at the waist and cut until the entire dress fell off her in two halves. When she wore nothing more than her brand-new corset, he turned from her, picked up her beautiful gown and petticoats, and marched outside again.

At this point, Mercy dared to look up and down the entire line. The three women were finishing off the remaining girls, using dressmaking scissors. They did not look up from their work, nor did they utter a word. Girls were openly crying, some begging to go home. One girl fainted and was consequently slapped across the face and dragged once again to her feet.

Mercy found herself fighting tears now. This was not new to her, for she’d fought the pleasure of a good cry all her life. But she was almost naked, humiliated, and afraid of what was to come. She wanted her grandparents and her own bed. She wanted to go home, marry Big Joe, work in the grocer’s shop, and let him take her night after night. She would gladly have gone back to a life she’d dreaded rather than face a future which was, with every passing moment, becoming sickeningly clearer. She suspected that she and the other girls would never see home again.

After some minutes, Sam and Eddie walked back into the stable. Mercy wondered if Sam and Eddie were done with them. As she looked at the other girls sobbing, she deduced that out of all of them, she would be the strongest. These girls were
real
ladies. They weren’t common like her. Their garments, before being ripped off, had been made with quality materials and were probably very fashionable, just like hers had been. Their hair, hair adornments, bonnets, and jewellery also displayed classic signs of wealth and were what she expected well-bred ladies to wear.

She came from a dark place in London, a place she believed none of these well-bred girls had ever seen, heard of, or imagined existed. Her home was in an area where fights broke out in the streets on a daily basis, blood was shed, and people were killed for debts owed. She had gone to school with rough girls who could bloody a nose just as quickly as any boy could.

She was not a lady, not like these young women. She was more streetwise than these sheltered high-class girls were. She felt like laughing, but it would have been a scornful laugh, for she’d not been very streetwise at St Paul’s Cathedral!

Her thoughts were interrupted. Eddie was speaking to the servant women. “Right, they’re all yours,” he said with a measure of relief in his voice. “Tell Madame du Pont we’ll be here at eight tonight for her inspection and instructions. You’d better get a move on, Parker. You’ve got a full load to get through here, and we arrived late, thanks to bloody London and its modernisation. I wouldn’t dilly-dally if I were you.”