Birds of a Feather II

Molly

"Ya can stop right there or I'll shoot the three of you dead."

Molly instantly recognized one of the three trespassers as he stepped closer to her lantern's luminescence. "Ah, Miss O'Shea, what an absolutely marvelous delight to see you alive and well!"

She didn't lower her pistol. Mr. Trelawny oozed charm, but she wouldn't be taken in quite so easily by his false sincerity. He was mostly his own agent, but she knew who he ultimately worked for.

"Spare me the pleasantries, you trickster. If you're here to harm Jean-Marc, I won't be showin' ya mercy at all."

"Hold on a damn minute," she recognized another voice as Arthur intruded. "Molly? What the hell's goin' on here?"

Somehow, she wasn't surprised by his presence. Roughening up an innocent man for money was just the sort of job Arthur would get himself mixed up in. She told him, "I knew Henri was working with thugs, but I didn't think he'd hired the worst of the worst."

Molly didn't have a clear view of Arthur from her angle in the doorway, but she heard him take a step on the porch in her direction and she swung the pistol his way. "I mean it, Arthur. I'll shoot you where you stand if you try anything. If you've killed Jean-Marc..." Her eyes glanced at the ground, where she could somewhat make out in the dark a still, crumpled body and her heart leapt with fear.

Arthur dared to claim, "He ain't dead."

"Then why isn't he movin'?" she screeched at him.

"He's unconscious. He fell on his own and likely has the goose egg to prove it."

She wanted to believe him, but she knew these men were liars. They'd say anything to save their skins. The gun started to tremble in her hand.

"Miss O'Shea," an unexpected calming feminine voice spoke next, startling her. It was Charlotte, the third member who Molly had originally aimed her pistol. Charlotte's palms were still raised, the only obedient one of the three. "Perhaps we might go inside and discuss this?"

Molly was torn at the suggestion. Arthur standing over her knocked out fiancee made her rabid, but Charlotte had been kind to her. Not only that, her words had ultimately helped extract herself from Dutch's clutches.

"I can tend to Jean-Marc," Charlotte offered. "I have some passing medical knowledge."

"You do?" Arthur asked her with surprise.

Unless something had drastically changed since the last and only time they'd spoken, Charlotte was a normal person, not an outlaw or a thief or a liar. At this time, Molly was still willing to believe her.

"Anyone else here, Mrs. Balfour? Lurkin' in the bushes or up the street?"

"No," Charlotte said patiently. "It's just us three."

That settled it for her. With Jean-Marc injured, she'd have to reluctantly take Charlotte's word and trust her until there was a reason not to.

"Bring him inside," she ordered Arthur, finally lowering her gun. She turned, stepping back in the house and set her pistol on the credenza by the doorway. She opened the door wider for their entrance, trusting that this was not a ploy of some sort.

Arthur shouldered Jean-Marc with a grunt and she pointed as he crossed the threshold. "Lay him on the sofa, Arthur. Through the door on your right."

Molly followed him, leaving Trelawny and Charlotte responsible for closing the front door. Arthur slowly and delicately set Jean-Marc on the sofa and she swept up next to him, inspecting Jean-Marc's face for any bruising.