Silent Revenge (40 page)

Simon lifted his gaze as Baron Carver stepped forward. Simon wanted to kill him. He’d destroyed any chance of finding Jessica. He’d robbed him of any hope to get her out of the hellhole into which Tanhill had put her.

Simon bolted to his feet, his hands reaching out to wrap around the older man’s neck. He stopped. The hollow look in the baron’s eyes as he stared at Tanhill’s inert body took the wind from Simon’s lungs. “He killed my son, Northcote. My boy. He shot Sydney in the back and dumped his body in the river. They found him floating there this morning.”

Simon dropped his head back on his shoulders and closed his eyes. How much more pain would Tanhill cause? How many more innocent people would suffer because of his cruelty?

Simon walked away from the gathering crowd. The authorities were there, and he had no desire to waste his time explaining anything to them. Let them conclude what they wanted. What the baron would tell them.

The tightness in his chest ached painfully. He’d failed to protect her.

“We’ll find her, Simon.” Collingsworth walked beside him, matching his long strides with equal determination. “We’ll have her home by morning.”

Simon made his way to his carriage, knowing this would be the longest night of his life.

Chapter 27

T
he next day of searching without finding Jessica bordered on eternal. And the next day just short of sending him to the brink of madness.

He and James and Ira followed a dozen false leads and sent scores of runners looking for any clue that might lead them to where Jessica was.

They’d been to each hospital for the mentally insane in London—St. Luke’s, Bedlam, and more—knowing the obvious places would leave them empty-handed. Tanhill would not have taken her where he could find her so easily.

Each institution they entered was crowded and frightening and depressing at best. Some they searched were harsh and inhumane. Filth and neglect and cruelty seemed the rule, the conditions a foul abomination to human decency. The blood thundered in Simon’s head whenever he thought of the torture Jessica was enduring.

Day and night they searched, and still there were no solid leads. “Get some rest, Simon,” James said when the carriage stopped in front of his town house. “And eat something, for heaven’s sake. You’re going to fall on your face if you don’t take care of yourself. You won’t do Jessica any good if you get sick.”

Simon raked his fingers through his hair and then dismounted from the carriage with James beside him. He hesitated as a wave of defeat pummeled him. He didn’t want to enter the house. He didn’t want to stare into the hopeful, tear-stained faces of the staff as they waited expectantly for good news. He didn’t want to see their expressions crumble when they realized he’d come home empty-handed.

“Where can she be, James? We’ve looked everywhere, and I’m out of leads. There are no more places for us to look.” Simon fought the fear eating his gut. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such terror.

“Something will come up, Simon. Perhaps we missed her. We can search the places here in London again tomorrow and—”

“No. She isn’t in London. Tanhill took her somewhere out of the city. I know it. It took him too long to get back to the docks.”

“Then maybe—”

“Master! Master!” Sanjay ran through the open front door waving a paper in his hand. “Come quick! Come quick!”

Simon raced up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe she’d come home. Maybe someone had found her. Maybe…

“A message. I found it slid under the door. No one there. Only the paper.”

Simon grabbed the paper and ran to the nearest light. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the words. His heart stopped in his chest.

Yer lordship,

If you want to have your wife back, bring five thousand pounds tonight with you to Marberry’s Park. Leave the money on the third stone bench from the front gate. The place where you can find her will be written on the paper you’ll find under the rock.

This aren’t no trick. I got proof.

A scrap of material fell to the table, and Simon picked it up. The air caught in his throat.

“I got your carriage waiting, Master,” Sanjay said. “I think in my next life I will come back as an eagle so I can carry you where you need to go.”

Simon handed James the note, then ran to his study. He opened the safe behind his desk and counted out five thousand pounds before putting the notes into a black leather bag.

“Are you sure, Simon?”

Simon handed him the scrap of material. “It’s material from the dress Jessica was wearing the day Tanhill took her.”

Collingsworth nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Follow me to the park and wait to see who picks up the money. Don’t stop him. Just see where he goes. If it’s a trick, we’ll find him later.”

Simon ran out the door with Collingsworth close behind and raced to his carriage. “Don’t let him see you, James,” Simon warned, then closed the door and raced to Marberry Park. His heart stuttered. This was it. He knew whatever he found would lead him to Jessica. In his heart he knew it would.

The carriage turned in the entrance to the park, and Simon fingered the leather bag with the money. He’d give a hundred times—no, every pound he had—to get her back and not regret it. He’d give his life to get her back and not regret it. A lump formed in his throat, and he tried to swallow past it, but failed. Dear God, he’d give anything to have her with him now. To hold her in his arms and feel her against him. To show her how much he loved her. Simon blinked back the wetness that threatened to fill his eyes. He wanted her with him always.

The carriage slowed, and Simon counted the stone benches along the path. One. Two. “Stop,” he ordered his driver and jumped to the ground and ran to the stone bench. He set the leather bag on the slab and lifted the rock. He picked up the paper beneath it and ran back to the street to read the message beneath one of the lanterns that hung on the side of the carriage. It was the same writing.

Simon showed the note to his driver, and after his driver assured him he knew the location, Simon jumped back in the carriage and they left.

The night sky was starless with a light mist falling in the darkness, blanketing the night in an even gloomier cloak. Each mile stretched on forever, and with every drum of the horses’ hooves, Simon thought of finding Jessica.

He prayed that Tanhill had not hurt her. That Tanhill had lied, and hadn’t left orders for her not to be given food or water. His heart pounded against his ribs. It had been three days. He prayed that someone had been kind to her and had taken care of her.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants and suddenly stilled when the carriage slowed. Lights glowed from the windows of a massive stone mansion up ahead, its gloomy presence made even more oppressive by the drizzling rain.

The carriage stopped and Simon jumped to the ground. “Come with me, George,” he said to the driver, and they ran to the door. Simon pounded on the rusted metal knocker in the center and waited.

A woman wearing a stained dress and an even filthier apron answered on the second knock.

“Where is she?” Simon roared.

The woman clamped her hand over her brown, rotted teeth in surprise when Simon and his driver burst uninvited through the door. She recovered soon enough, and found her voice.

“They’re gone, my lord. Frish and the others took off this afternoon, leaving Frieda and me all alone to care for all these people.”

Simon scanned the area. A score or more of the residents sat in squalor and their own refuse. His stomach turned.

“We didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. Frieda and me didn’t know nothin’ about the lady until they brought her.”

“Where is she?” he demanded again, closing his senses to the filth and the stench and the atrocious human conditions all around him. This place was by far the worst of any he’d been forced to enter in the last three days. He willed his heart to keep beating. “Where is she!”

“In there, my lord. They put her down there.” The woman pointed to a door at the far end of the room. “The key is here on this ring.”

She held out her arm and handed him a ring with several large brass keys on it.

Simon took them and ran across the room. The second key fit, and the door opened to a set of steep stairs that seemed to be swallowed by pitch blackness. Simon reached around the corner and grabbed a lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. “Find another lantern and follow, George.”

Simon held the light high and climbed down the stairs. The air was heavy and dank, and the odor was not as bad as above. But there was no light. Oh, how Jessica hated being in the dark.

Simon lifted the lantern and looked. There was no sign of her, only another locked door in this dungeon of horrors. He raced toward it and put the key in the lock. He turned and the loud click echoed in the darkness. He threw the door open and stepped inside.

There was nothing in the room—no cot, no bench, not even a chair to sit on. Only the cold, hard stone floor and the frantic scurrying of rats to their holes. A lump formed in Simon’s throat that he couldn’t work past. He lifted his lantern higher.

She was there.

Jessica’s small, fragile body lay huddled in the corner. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, and her knees were tucked tight against her chest. She kept her eyes closed to all around her as if she could close out the world by doing so.

Simon set the lantern on the floor and walked to her. He slowly reached out his trembling hand and touched her shoulder ever so softly.

“Jessica, sweetheart,” Simon whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him. “It’s me. I’ve come to take you home.”

He touched her again, then reached up to brush the hair from her face. The air stuck in his throat, a gnarled hand twisting his heart in his chest. The bruises on her face were purple and green, the cuts on her hands and wrists and fingers caked with dried blood.

“Dear God! No!” he cried, knowing only he and God heard the anguish in his voice. Jessica heard nothing. She would not open her eyes to hear anything.

Simon fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. “Jesse,” he said again, brushing her forehead and cheeks with his lips. “Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.” He heard only the slightest catch from her throat.

George came in with two lanterns burning brightly. He stood behind Simon, and when he lifted the lamps high in the air, the small room glowed like the middle of day. Simon ignored the vile curse the driver whispered when he saw Jessica’s face.

“There are some blankets in the carriage. Get them. And some water.”

“Right quick, my lord. Oh, right quick.”

George ran out of the room, and Simon turned his attention back to Jessica. There was an icy feel to her flesh as well as a bluish tint to her lips. She’d been in this cold, damp cell for three days without a cover or blanket. Simon could tell she was chilled to her bones.

“Jesse, please. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Everything is fine now. I’ve come to take you home.” Simon wrapped his hands around her fingers and lifted her hands to his face.

He gently kissed the palms of her skinned hands and the insides of her wrists where he could tell a rope had been tied. There was a slight moan from her lips, but when he looked, her eyes remained closed. Then he placed her hands to his cheeks and covered them with his own, letting the heat from his face warm her flesh.

He’d asked so much of her. He’d married her for revenge, and used her wealth to gain back his inheritance. He’d forced her to face the
ton
, and risk society finding out she was deaf. And…

A cold rush of devastation stole the breath from his lungs. He’d broken the only promise he’d made to her. His promise to always keep her safe. His promise to protect her from harm. From Tanhill.

Simon looked down at the cuts and scrapes and bruises and fought the agony tearing at his insides. He had failed. He hadn’t kept her safe. Even though the marks on the outside would heal with time, Simon doubted the pain he’d caused on the inside would ever go away.

When he could hold back his emotions no longer, he buried his face in her bruised hands and wept. Rivers of tears, kept at bay for so long, rushed to the surface, flooding in torrents of grief and guilt and regret.

Violent sobs racked his body as Simon wept for all the pain and suffering he’d caused and seen and endured. For the bitter feelings he’d harbored against his father and the woman who’d been the cause of his father’s death. He wrapped his arms around Jessica’s fragile shoulders and held her to him while he wept for dear little Sarai, who’d given nothing but love to all around her during her short life.

And for the woman in his arms, who had loved him enough to put her faith and her trust in him, asking nothing in return except for his protection.

Simon’s shoulders shook, and a heavy hand twisted his breaking heart. Hot, wet tears streamed down his face. He’d failed her. When she’d needed him most, he’d failed her. Tanhill had almost killed her because of him. If it hadn’t been for the greed of a man called Frish, Simon still wouldn’t know where Tanhill had taken her.