THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER THIRTY

                                CHAPTER THIRTY

MEANWHILE, AT THE PHOENIX CLUB

Jake was jostled as he pushed his way through the thronging men at the back entrance to the yard at the Phoenix Club.

    News had got around that Lord Langdon was to beat the living daylights out of another toff, and no one wanted to miss that.

    The yard was a big one, enclosed by the outside back wall of the club itself; high stone walls on both sides and the stables buildings at the rear. The ground was shale and earth, so if it rained the yard would be a quagmire. But this was high June so everything would stay dry.

    Jake wanted to see the boxing ring preparations. In the centre of the yard men were driving thick wooden stakes into the ground. Stout ropes were tied to these to form a square.

    Further stakes were planted a foot or two outside the inner square and ropes tied again forming a barrier. A man armed with a bull whip would patrol inside this inner space during the fight, driving back over-eager, excited spectators who would invade the ring and engage with the fighters if they could.

    Jake knew that in the crowds were pickpockets and cutpurses, but he had his two sovereigns inside his shoe. Although it was painful to walk at least he knew his money was safe.

    Nearby a man in a ragged coat and dusty hat was waving slips of paper over his head.

    ‘Two to one!’ he shouted. ‘Two to one on Langdon.’

    Jake approached him and held out a shilling.

    ‘I takes two to one on Langdon,’ he told the man eagerly.

    The man regarded the shilling sceptically. ‘Ain’t you got no more than that?’ he asked. ‘This is a sure thing.’

    ‘All I got in the world,’ Jake lied easily as the man took his shilling and handed him a piece of paper. Jake glanced at it. He didn’t know his letters but he understood a betting slip.

    ‘Who’s the toff fighting Langdon?’ he asked.

    ‘Warburton is his name, poor devil. Langdon will kill him,’ the man said. ‘Rumour has it this is a grudge fight over some ladybird. The claret will flow tonight!’

    Jake rubbed his hands together gleefully. ‘A grudge fight, eh? Them’s the best kind,’ he said. ‘I ain’t going to miss a punch of this.’

    Jake knew better than to stay close to the ring. When the fun started and the blood began to flow the crowds would get worked up into a frenzy. A man could get crushed and stamped on. He intended to climb up somewhere high.

    He moved towards the further end of the yard near the stables. He noticed a coach placed near the stable wall. He had seen it there often, and recognised it as belonging to Lord Langdon. His lordship was a frequent visitor at the Phoenix Club.

    That would be his perch, Jake decided. He climbed up and lay face down on the roof of the vehicle, having a perfect view of the ring. Of course, other men would have the same notion, but he was here first.

As they neared the back lane behind the Phoenix Club Granville called to the hansom cab driver to stop.

    ‘This is near enough,’ he said.

    ‘Need help, governor?’

    ‘No! Be about your business and keep your mouth shut.’

    ‘Right you are, governor.’

    Granville climbed out of the hansom and then manoeuvred the body of the unconscious girl over his shoulder. She seemed no weight at all and he carried her easily.

    He waited while the hansom moved off. He took a moment to glance at his pocket watch; a quarter of the hour to ten o’clock. The fight was due to start at ten and men were everywhere in the street, moving to the back entrance of the club. But none looked his way.

    With casual gait he walked to the entrance and edged his way in. A coach was standing almost against the stable wall. He did not want to be noticed in the yard itself and he decided there was enough room to push through the gap between the coach and the wall.

    As he pressed on the girl’s shoes scraped along the door of the coach. Granville hesitated a moment, listening. A lamp was lit in the stables and he could see and hear the horses’ restless movements. But there were no men there.

    Satisfied he had not been noticed he moved on walking as close to the stable wall as possible. Eventually he reached the bottom of the outside iron staircase that led up to the rooms above the stable.

    With one last look around, he climbed the steps, slipped the key in the lock and entered. He needed no light to find his way through the rooms. He made for the last room where there was a bed.

    He threw his burden down on the bed and lit the candle on the table next to it.

    By the light of its flame he looked down on Eleanor Wellesley’s unconscious form. At last she was at his mercy, but he would show her none.

    With hands that shook a little he unwrapped the blanket about her. She could scream as much as she wanted but with the din outside which was growing with every moment, no one would hear her; no one was even know she was here.

    He lifted both her arms above her head and with rope he had already placed in the room earlier, he tied her wrists together and attached them to the cast iron rungs of the headboard.

    He then removed her shoes. He separated her legs so that she lay spread-eagle. He tied one ankle to the right-hand side the iron footboard and then tied her other ankle to the left-hand side.

    He stood looking down at her, fingering the scar on his temple and cheek.

    Tonight and every night henceforth until he was tired of toying with her, she would pay not only for the disfigurement she had inflicted on him, but also for the disdain she had shown him. She had dismissed him as though he were nothing and no one.

    She had dishonoured him and now he would dishonour her. He would take away her pride. He would take away her will to live. He would destroy her utterly.

    Sweat broke out on his top lip as he envisaged what he would do to her; the degradation he would heap upon her.

    A tar torch attached to one of the walls outside flared into life.

    It startled him out of his fantasy. Meanwhile, he would enjoy the fight. He could not wait to see Warburton beaten and bruised. And while he watched that spectacle, he would be looking forward to returning to these rooms and to taking his revenge.

    She would be awake by then, and terrified at being tied up, not know where she was or what was to happening to her. But soon she would find out.

    With one last look down on her, Granville left the rooms. He locked the door and went down the staircase to the yard.

    Pushing through the crowds he crossed the yard and entered the club. He had rented an upstairs room for the event and would watch the fight in comfort and ease. Everything was going well for him, and he felt well content.