Clarissa steps out onto the street and takes a deep breath of summer air, the sun warming her face. Her pride might be in ruins, her heart aching for what she has lost, but her mind is as sharp as ever and hungry for revenge. She thinks about all the ways she can hurt Daniel as she walks towards Westminster Abbey. Physical pain is so primitive in their line of work, psychological warfare is where the real damage is inflicted, demonstrated so aptly by the morning's events.
She will not jeopardise her people's safety for the sake of vengeance but aside from that, there is no end to what she could do to him in return. She wants to break him, inch by inch, shatter the control that he fights so hard to keep, and force him to his knees. As far as she is concerned, her old life is over, she has nothing left to give, so she will give it all to see him crumble.
She turns left at Westminster and heads down the next street, in the direction of the Parliament buildings. People stop when they recognise her, they watch her, but she ignores everyone who tries to talk to her, pushing past them and continuing onwards. She no longer cares for her reputation, for the family she tried to protect by keeping her head down and her mouth shut, she owes them nothing.
She stops in front of 10 Downing Street, looking around her cautiously. It's a lot quiter here than the other streets, a few people walk this way but no one is paying her much attention. She raises her hand and uses the lion face knocker to rap sharply on the black door. She waits patiently, and then there is a scuffle from inside.
The door opens and Wyn blinks at her in surprise, his hat askew, "Clary,"
"Hello Wyn," Clarissa smiles ruefully.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, reshuffling the papers in his arms and stepping out onto the front step. He looks up and down the street, "Are you alone?"
"Yes, I am," She replies, "And I need a favour,"
Wyn's face falls and he leans back to pull the door up till it's almost shut. When he turns back to her he is wearing a complex expression, "We watched you from outside the church,"
Clarissa raises her eyebrows, "You did?"
"You looked beautiful," He says, softly, "The whole wedding was beautiful,"
She looks away, expecting her heart to leap at the compliment, but it remains steady and quite unaffected. She frowns, raising her hand to her chest to feel the consistent beat. Where her heart once fluttered at the mere sight of her friend, it now does not change its rhythm.
"Are you well?" Wyn asks, studying her confusion.
"It's not quite as beautiful now," She admits, her hand falling away. He sighs, growing uncomfortable.
"Aren't you going tell me that you were right?" She prompts, a playful tilt to her tone.
"Was I?"
"In every way that counts,"
He exhales, "What kind of friend would I be to take victory in your pain?"
"One perfectly within his right," She replies, her smile holding no bitterness.
"I'd rather know what it is that you need," He counters gently.
She nods, linking her fingers in front of her, "I need you to destroy the contract we made, and write me a real marriage licence,"
He almost drops his papers, managing to clutch at them before they fall, "What? You want a legally binding marriage?" He says, amazed, "Whatever for? You'd lose your inheritance, you would lose everything,"
"Not everything, just my rights and my voice," She says with a half-laugh, "But I don't need them, simply being a duchess is powerful enough for what I need,"
"And what is it that are you doing to do?" He asks, apprehension in his eyes.
"I am going to do what he did to me," She says, her expression cunning, "Only better,"
Wyn swallows, glancing uneasily behind him as he leans closer, "It won't be as simple as destroying one and creating another," He tells her in a low voice, "You will need to destroy the other copies too, and the duke's signature will be required for the new one,"
"I can get rid of the other copies," She says, confidently, "But I don't need Daniel's real signature,"
His eyes widen and he hisses at her, quickly catching on, "You cannot forge a duke's signature!"
"Why not?" She tilts her head, "All of London watched me get married, there is no doubt that I am his wife. He will not be able to deny me,"
"But The Strand, your money, your land, it would all become his," He tries to reason, "You won't get it back,"
"I know, but then his name becomes mine, and that name is on everything," She says, "In his absence, it's all under my control,"
"His absence?" Wyn repeats, "What else are you planning?"
Clarissa smirks, "Well...."
"MISS!"
The shout makes both of them jump and look around to see Chuck and Simon running up the street. Wyn moves closer to the door and Clarissa steps onto the pavement, reading the alarm on her friends faces. They stop in front of her, panting. Chuck holds onto the railing, catching his breath as Simon leans over, resting his hands on his thighs and coughing.
"Chuck, what's..." She begins to say but the barman cuts her off, shaking his head.
"Miss, Peter and Daniel have been missing for over an hour," He gasps, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "No one can find them,"
"What?!" Clarissa glances from him to Simon, who looks at her solemnly, confirming the story.
"What happened?" Wyn asks, leaning around the duchess to address Chuck, "Where's Peter?"
"He and the duke left The Strand to try and find you," Chuck explains, looking at Clarissa, "We were meant to meet back at the pub at 12 in case anyone found you. Everyone has returned except them,"
"It's twenty past 1," Wyn says, checking his pocket watch, "And no one has seen them since?"
"The last sighting was on Chichley Street," Simon pipes up, "I think they went to find Jack to see if he had seen you. They thought you might have gone after Baines and Lestrade,"
Wyn touches Clarissa's shoulder, his face grave, "People don't just disappear like that, particularly not Peter,"
"Why did no one tell me?" She cries, her mind going into overdrive. She staggers against the metal spikes, gripping them for security.
"Because we couldn't find you! You vanished," Simon says, a slight accusation in his tone.
"I went to my parent's house, I didn't leave the country!" She yells back, her fear increasing her anger. The boy shrinks away but she doesn't pay him any attention as she starts to pace up and down. She raises a hand to her head as her panic threatens to take control.
"Chichley Street is on the border with Lambeth, you don't think....?" Chuck lets his question hang in the air.
"Oh, I very much think," She hisses, kicking the railing. Pain shoots through her foot, "Fuck!!"
"Clary," Wyn drops his papers and seizes her shoulders, forcing her to stop and face him, "Calm down."
She nods, closing her eyes, and concentrating on her breathing. In control, she pushes away the fear and hysteria and focuses her mind. She opens her eyes, a plan forming, and spins around to face Chuck.
"Where's John?"
"He's gone to Whitechapel,"
"Find him and send him and his men to Chichley Street as quickly as you can. Gather a spare few men from The Strand and send them there too, I will meet you there, but do not abandon the patrols, and leave a few guards to protect the people," She turns to Simon. The boy snaps to attention, ready for his instructions, "Find Iwan and send him to find George, tell them both to come to Chichley Street immediately. Then, I need you to find Jack. If you can't find him, come to Chichley as well. Am I clear?"
"At once," Chuck says, and Simon nods. They set off running in opposite directions.
"Alright," Clarissa murmers to herself, "I can do this," She turns to face Wyn, "I need to go but we can revisit this conversation later,"
Wyn nods, picking up his work and stepping back into the house, "Don't worry, go do what you've got to do,"
She smiles gratefully, then she picks up her skirts and starts to run. She runs as fast as she can, tearing down the street and joining a busier main road. Alarmed looks are thrown her way as she weaves in and out of the crowds, darting around families and skirting around stalls. Her feet pounding on the pavement and the ringing in her ear is all she can hear, her fear gripping at her mind. She crosses the bridge over the river and is almost knocked down by a horse and cart as she reaches the other side. The driver waves his fist at her, his yells following her down the next street.
It takes her less than 15 minutes to arrive at Chichley Street and when she does, it is bustling with activity with many people walking the cobbles and chattering together. She frantically searches for any sign of Daniel or Peter, walking up and down the road, but after her third case of the shops and houses, she is forced to admit that there are no clues here to their whereabouts.
She totters around in a daze, unsure what to do next and completely oblivious to her surroundings. She crashes into a family coming out of a bakery and quickly apologises, backing away. They look at her in surprise, taking in her expensive black gown, messy hair and pale face, the parents swapping unsettled looks. She spins away and a child races past her, almost tripping her up. She backs away, out of the busy pavement and leans against the wall of a bank, feeling hopeless and alone.
Daniel and Peter are missing, they are nowhere to be found, hidden within the many alleys, sewers and crevasses of London. This day has quickly turned sour as people who go missing in this city receive one of three fates; they are found floating in The Thames, their organs are stolen, or they take a pistol to the head. If someone doesn't want someone to be found, then they won't be found, such is the criminal underworld. Clarissa shakes her head, dragging her thoughts from the dark. She only has to find two of the most feared and wanted men in a population of over one million. How hard can it be?
A hand sizes her wrist and yanks her into the alley behind the bank. She immediately reaches for one of her knives but she doesn't strike when she recognises the sandy blonde hair. She drops it and throws her arms around the other Cavendish brother.
"George!"
He catches her and holds her close, spinning on the spot.
"Thank goodness you are here," She cries, squeezing him tightly.
"What are you doing here?" He asks as they break away, "I thought you were coming to my house after the meeting,"
"We were, but Daniel and Peter have gone missing," She explains, her chest rising and falling quickly, "They've been missing for over an hour and this was the last place they were seen but they aren't here..." Her voice breaks and she looks away, fighting back tears.
The colour drains from George's face, and he reaches into his jacket, "When you didn't come to the house, I went to Lygon Place and found this stuck to the front gate," He passes her a scrappy piece of parchment and she takes it with unsteady hands.
"The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children"
He took what I love, I want what he loves
Webber Street 2 o'clock or he ends up with the same fate as his mother
A wave of nausea courses through her and she scrunches up the note, "They have them,"
"Are you sure? They could be bluffing," George looks uncertain, "You can't just kidnap a duke of the streets in broad daylight. You'd have to be insane, or..."
"Hell-bent on revenge," She finishes, groaning and holding a hand to her head, angry at how she could miss it.
The certainty in her tone captures his attention and he narrows her eyes at her, "What do you know?"
She swallows, glancing down at the crumpled note, "Before I agreed to marry Daniel, I had a meeting with Baines and Lestrade, and Baines..." She sighs, searching for the right words, "Well, he said that he wanted your whole family dead,"
George frowns, "But why?"
"He said that you took his sister and killed her," Clarissa replies, remembering the vicious expression on the man's face when he spoke about it. Coldness creeps down her spine.
"But Baines didn't have a sister..." His eyes go wide in realisation, "But Daniel said he had a wife...I remember her...yes, of course, oh..." A haunted look flashes over his face, "He is quite right to hate us..."
"Did Daniel..."
"What? No!!" George looks panicked at the mere thought, "It was our father. He...he took her for fun,"
"And he killed her? In cold blood?"
"Not before he enjoyed her," George says, spitting onto this ground, "He kept her in the cellar for a month before he shot her,"
Clarissa swallows back the bile that rises to her mouth, "So that's what Baines means, he wants Daniel to pay for what your father did, my god," She collapses against the wall, "He will kill him if we don't turn up,"
"So what do we do?" He asks.
"I don't know," She cries, throwing her hands up in the air, "Webber Street is a half a mile from here. The others won't arrive in time and there's no time to send them a message, it's undoubtedly a trap and I can't think straight!"
George offers her his hand, "Then we figure it out as we go along,"
"You are coming with me?" She asks, her heart leaping in her chest.
"Of course, I can't let you go alone," He says, "How many knives do you have on you?"
"Uh, 3?" Clarissa answers as he pulls her up. She picks the blade off the floor and checks that her knives are still secured in her dress.
"4," George hands her a silver dagger, which she takes hesitantly. It's a short, thin blade, no longer than her hand, but deadly sharp.
"You are better with a blade than I," He explains, checking the pistol at his hip.
She smiles weakly and reaches under the first layer of her skirt, strapping the knife around the curve of her hip. She straightens up, smoothing her dress out and tying her hair out of her face.
"Ready?" George asks, determination etched into his features.
"Ready," She confirms.
They edge out onto the street to take a quick scan of the area before starting to sprint down the pavement. George leads the way, a few feet in front of her, moving in and out the shoppers and tradesmen, jumping around people and keeping up a fast pace. Clarissa sticks to his heels, never losing sight of his head as she slips around horses and skids around children. People stop and stare as they pass but thankfully no one intervenes or questions and they don't stop running until they reach Webber Street, a few minutes before 2.
They draw to a stop at the of the street and look around. It's a quieter road, mainly made up of houses and warehouses, with only a couple of small shops and stalls. They exchange a glance before starting to move down the side of the pavement, trying to appear as innocuous as possible, while keeping on high alert. With no exact address on the note, they don't know where to go next, and then Clarissa's eyes fall on a run-down tobacco warehouse. The company sign is the same as the one on the sign that Grace was found hanging from.
She nudges George and gestures to the dilapidated building. His eyes narrow as he recognises the sign and he nods. They creep closer to the warehouse, casting looks around as they go. After some investigation they discover that there is no door on the main street and that the entrance is down an alley to the left, hidden by darkness.
Clarissa leads the way down the small passageway, keeping her back pressed against the opposite wall until they reach the door. She takes the knife from her ankle as George clicks his pistol. They share a last look. There is no way that this isn't a trap but what else can they do?
"Ready?" Clarissa mouths at George. He nods grimly, tightening his grip on his pistol and then she slides the door open.