He was dressed for walking, looking sporting but no less piggy and cruel than the last time I'd laid eyes on the son of a bitch. A grin was stretched across his pink face that held no warmth, only a vindictive rictus of savage pleasure.
I took a step back, away, and he kept coming forward. I couldn't run, not now, not with so many eyes on us, curious about the disparity of our obvious social situations, the quality of his clothing over mine, the opulence of his gut, the way he reached out his hand to me as if we were friends. As if the last time I had seen him wasn't in a graveyard while he threatened to bash my head in.
"Go away," I hissed.
He reached out and grabbed my right hand to finished the ritual of greeting, kissing the back of my glove, against my will.
"Miss Franklin," he said, and his smile was thin and razor-sharp, his eyes calculating. He voice still sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
"Mrs. Cooper, thank you very much," I corrected with a snap. I tugged my hand back and crossed them at the wrist in the small of my back to keep any and all appendages out of grabbing range. I wasn't sure what he would do, but I knew it couldn't be much, not with people all around us and Thomas already heading back towards me, a frown sitting between his ginger eyebrows.
"Not yet, according to the banns my valet tells me he heard read in church last week. But I am very pleased to see you," Mr. Lewis said, following my line of sight to Thomas. "A surprise, to be sure! Though I did hear tale that you fled Francis and Elizabeth's wedding. They say it was heartbreak, that you couldn't stand to watch him marry another. Oh, the scandal you left behind you, Miss Franklin!" He chortled in vindictive pleasure, knowing full well all the ears turned on us.
"Nothing of the sort," I said back, just as loudly. "My time as companion to the Goodenough ladies ended, and I was finally free to take Mr. Cooper up on his offer of marriage. That is all." My heart twisted and squirmed behind my ribs to say it so baldly, and to insinuate that I had been carrying a torch for Thomas the whole time, but this was the lie I had promised myself I would tell. That I would live.
Mr. Lewis sneered. "And that that young man standing like an orange shadow behind you would be your young Mr. Cooper, I presume?" His opinion of Thomas, his red hair, and his social status was made abundantly clear by Mr. Lewis's wrinkle moue of distaste.
"Screw you!" I hissed under my breath, jerking my hand out of his grip and taking a step back into Thomas' protective sphere. "Whatever you want, you can just fuck off."
Thomas's hands tightened on my shoulders, obviously surprised by my language and my seething hatred of the man I had just greeted so cordially.
"Oh, but what I want I do not think Mr. Cooper would presume to allow me to have." Mr. Lewis simpered viciously. His beady eyes raked up and down my body, lingering at my neckline, and resisted the urge to break his nose. "Unless, of course, he knows how much you enjoy adultery, in which case--"
"Shut up!" I snarled. It was loud enough that Thomas gasped. I felt something hot ball up under my sternum and against the back of my eyes. "Don't you talk about Francis to me you sonofabitch."
"Hm. Speaking of Frank," he said. "The Goodenoughs are in town, you know. Come to chase you down like the mangy little rabbit you are."
It was a like a punch to the gut, and he knew it. Swift. Hard. Staggering. It was a blow both deliberately and professionally executed.
"No," I said, the world spinning and slipping under me. Thank god Thomas was there to hold me up.
"And as they are such good friends to you, Ms. Franklin..." He reached out and touched the tendril of hair hanging in front of my ear.
"Don't," I hissed. "I am to be somebody's wife, Mr. Lewis."
"I say, sir!" Thomas began but Mr. Lewis cut a glare up at him that halted his tongue before it really go started.
Mr. Lewis smiled, as oily as I remembered, and finished the gesture, tucking my hair behind my ear, even as I shied to the side.
"You were meant to be mine first, do not forget. And I don't like being made the gossip of the Ton, Miss Franklin," he sneered. I thought of Miss Donaldson, and how much my leaving him at the altar must have been spread around London, if she'd heard about it all they way out in Bath. "And now we will correct it. I will have you under my thumb, right were Frank promised you would be."
"Miss Franklin is my fiance," Thomas blustered. "And I'll thank you to--"
"The adults are talking, Cooper," Mr. Lewis cut across him, loud enough and commanding enough that Thomas actually stuttered to a stop and cringed back.
Oh, that poor boy, I thought. He has no idea what I've stuck him in the middle of. This can't possibly end well for him. Shit. What have a I done? What do I do now?
"'Frank' doesn't get to hand me out like a war prize!" I sneered back atMr. Lewis, pulling his attention away from Thomas on purpose. I had no plan, no idea how to get myself out of this predicament. I only knew that I couldn't let Thomas suffer because Mr. Lewis was a sadistic, possessive ass. Thomas didn't deserve to be crushed by Mr. Lewis simply for the sin of liking me. "Besides, even if he couldn't he's changed his mind!"
"Oh yes. Frank cut ties with me entirely over this affair," Mr. Lewis drawled. "Such a shame. Do you understand how Frank kept his sisters and mother afloat, Miss Franklin? Did he tell you? Do you understand how lucrative it is to have a Captain in one's pocket?"
I thought, suddenly, of what Elizabeth had said about Francis extricating himself from some bad business dealings. Then I remembered the black cargo boxes on the ship, each marked with a chalked L, in the hold where Francis didn't want anyone prying. Of the seemingly random trips into London, leaving me in the care of the Jenkins family when there was no reason to. Jesus, Francis had been doing something shady for Mr. Lewis, on the sly. Smuggling, probably.
Was that why the HMS Lyre had missed the Battle of Trafalgar?
Not to pick me up but because Francis couldn't afford to have his racket found out by having his ship involved in the action, where he could be boarded and the ship commandeered by a superior officer?
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
"Thomas," I said softly. "My dear. I think you had better run and fetch the constabulary."
"But Jessica--"
"Please," I said, without looking at him, holding still until I heard him huff in confusion and head off.
"Wise," Mr. Lewis said. "I don't think your fiance would appreciate hearing the rest of this sordid tale."
"There's nothing left to tell," I said, at the same time desperate to hear. Desperate to know. And I knew Mr. Lewis wouldn't tell all of it with Thomas hovering over my shoulder. It was a calculated risk - I had no idea what Mr. Lewis had planned, but there were enough people around us that I felt pretty confident that he couldn't punch me in the mouth in a public park.
"There's plenty!" Mr. Lewis hissed, hands flexing like he wanted to wrap them around my wrist. Or my neck. But we were still the center of attention, no matter that no one could hear what we were saying any more. They could still see us. "Did Frank tell you that their father was so far into the church that he gave away nearly all their worldly possessions upon his death. He gave their wealth to charity and left them with nothing - widow, three children, no real dowry or investments. Francis was already part of the navy, but he began to inquire around on how best to advance, who would recommend him for an officership, for whatever extra work he could do while on land. Do you understand?"
I nodded, horrified by the realization that I knew where this was headed.
"There is much room for growth for a desperate young man willing to smuggle whatever he is told to, especially when he has friends in high enough places to recommend him for a captaincy."
"Like a judge," I spat.
"Of course. And if I wanted a favor or two of my own in return, like say, a wife--"
"A fuck you can own, you mean, come on, call it like it is--"
"He sold you to me to pay for his wedding, and then he fucked you first, the selfish brat! And when you would not sign, he blackmailed me! The disloyal little cur!"
My stomach plummeted to my feet. "Blackmail?"
"He vowed to tell my little tales, of all the wives before, if I did not release him from all of his business obligations and leave you be." Lewis face was puce now, humiliated and furious. "He even worked to suppress the gossip that you had jilted me, though you know the ton - plug one hole and another crack appears in the dam."
"So? So what?" I challenged. "Who cares?"
Lews gave in to the urge and fisted my sleeve in his hand, jerking me close. "Now no one will give me their daughters to wed."
"Fuck a prostitute, then," I growled back through clenched teeth, glaring defiant up in his face.
"Oh no," he said, mock mournfully, "Those little bints tell the Runners when you smack 'em around, you see. I can't keep 'em, so I can't break 'em They're no fun."
"You're sick!"
"Uncivilized!" he snarled, shaking me once, jarring me. Then he grinned. "I like that, you know. I like spirit I can break. I cannot wait to have the revenge upon you that I want, but I think I will be satisfied with another, as well. I am not going to tell them where you are," he said, and it was with such a grin that I knew immediately that he knew that I had deliberately gone into hiding. "Frank is frantic. Margaret writes you heartfelt apology letters that she cannot deliver."
Apologies. The word crashed against my heart like a frozen tidal wave. Margaret is trying to apologize? No, no, you can't trust Mr. Lewis. Margaret made her choice and she... she meant it. She was angry, but she meant it. She had to. Because if she hadn't, if I just left and didn't let her... oh god, no, no...
"I've never begged you for anything," I whispered, reaching up and grabbing his wrist in my left hand. "I'm begging now. Just stop this. Here and now. Before the cops get here. Just go away and leave me be."
"Oh, no, Miss Franklin," he hissed, leaning close, breath heavy with beer and tobacco. "The time in which I might have felt charitable towards you has long since passed."
He jerked at me hard, throwing off my desperate grip, and reversed it. An unexpected hard thump to the back of my head scrambled my wits long enough for Mr. Lewis to shout, "Oh, dear, she's fainted! I'll bring her to some shade!" loud enough for everyone else around us to buy it.
Stars crackled at the side of my vision, my stomach heaving, my legs buckling. He renched me back into a copse of trees, the fucking asshole and I tried to kick but my stupid little slippers only hurt my own heels when the connected with his top boots.
He grinned again, and then clapped a beefy hand over my mouth, hauling me along the path in the opposite direction, until we disappeared from view into the crowd milling along the paths.
And not a single fucking person cried out or raised an alarm. They all goddamn bought it. Assholes. Or maybe they were all as scared of crazy Judge Lewis as I was. Either way, somebody would point Thomas and the police in our direction, I was sure. And if not that, the cops would know where Mr. Lewis lived. If that was where we were going. If Mr. Lewis didn't have them in his pockets too. Shit.
Shit.
On the far side of the copse was a path, and a conveniently placed carriage with a stylized "L" on the side - black, like Francis' crates. Mr. Lewis shoved me into a carriage waiting at the gates. I was barely inside, his fat body crowding in after me, before it lurched and we were racing recklessly through the streets to god knows where. The curtains were drawn, and in the half light his piggy eyes danced with greedy, angry joy.
My head throbbed and I touched the back of it. A bit of blood spotted my fingers when I checked. "You shit," I slurred, blinking hard to try to get some sense back.The carriage lurched into motion and I tipped and slouched along the seat, fetching up against a warm bare arm on the bench next to me.
Someone else was in the carriage. Hands pushed me upright, harder than was kind, and I slumped back the other way, into the wall, blinking some more to get their face to focus.
I feel like I should have been more shocked that I was to find myself staring at Rose Goodenough.
She was sitting stiffly against the other wall of the carriage, prim and proper and grim-faced.
"Bitch," I greeted her.
"Do not be ungrateful," she said, dark eyes narrowing in the gloom. "It has taken a great deal of persuading to have Mr. Lewis agree to take you as his wife after everything that has happened."
"Wasted effort," I said, struggling to get the world back under me. "I was going to marry Thomas."
Rose sneered. "A boy you can easily abandon? Oh no, Miss Franklin. I would see you firmly trapped and unable to crawl back to Margaret."
"Surprise!" I said, head starting to clear. I offered up a weak little jazz hands, which Rose wrinkled her nose at. "Margaret doesn't want me anymore. Thanks for that, by the way."
Rose shot a look of surprise at Mr. Lewis. He smirked and opened his coat to reveal a small parcel of letters in his breast pocket. Each one, as far as I could tell, bore my name.
"You--" Rose said to him, then hesitated. "But you told me that Margaret and Miss Franklin were in communication. That my sister was in danger. Why would you--"
"Lie to you?" I asked, and chuckled. Rose gasped, and well she should have. It wasn't a happy sound. "Why do you think? The further in his debt he can get you, the more he can screw your family. He's pissed off Francis told him to fuck off. You don't think he won't use you to get to him? Use Margaret if he can?"
Rose shook her head, lips tightly curled in. She crossed her arms across her stomach, shrank in the corner of the carriage, startled and not quite comprehending what she'd done just yet. But starting to get it. Oh yes, she was getting it.
"You need teaching of your place," Mr. Lewis snarled, dropping his coat and raising the back of his hand to me. I threw up my own hands to block him, but the blow never fell, hand hovering above me in clear threat.
"And you think you're the one to do that?" I shouted in his face. "You're a serial domestic abuser!"
Rose smiled then, cruel and cold. "Precisely. And he promised that if I delivered you to him, he would end his business with my brother forever, and free Francis from any further obligations."
"And you believed him?"
Rose hesitated, then firmed her resolve. "I have found Mr. Lewis to be a man of his word."
I pounced at her throat, but Mr. Lewis laid a palm hard across my face, bouncing me against the wall of the carriage and halting my lunge.
"No!" I cried and changed direction, shoving back at him. "Not this time, you sonofabitch!"
The next smack laid me flat on the floor of the carriage, and lay there, groaning, head swirling, until we reached our destination. Even in my daze, I recognized the front steps, the entryway and the parlour we passed by, the staircase and the room. I even recognized the same cowed and white-faced maid, waiting silent and miserable beside the bed I was thrown into.
"Three o'clock exactly, Susan," Mr. Lewis barked to the maid, and she bobbed a curtsy. The door locked audibly behind him.
I stared at the ceiling, waiting for the world to stop spinning, and hated Rose Goodenough with every fiber of my being.
"Your name is Susan, right?" I asked.
"Yes, Miss," she said.
I sat up gingerly. My stomach swirled but I managed to swallow the nausea down long enough to get to my feet. The room was lit with candles, even though the curtains were shut. I went over to the windows, threw back the drapes and shoved the sash upwards. Susan looked about to protest, but the fresh air was heavenly after the stifling heat of the carriage and room, and the candles guttered and blew out.
The washstand was filled with fresh, steaming rosewater and combined with the smell of the candle smoke, it made my unsettled stomach roil. I peered down - too far to jump, no good hand-holds. Damn.
"Susan, you're the one who helped me get the bananas, right?"
Susan lifted her chin and leveled a smug, knife-slice grin at me. She was missing a tooth, and I had no doubt how it had happened or why. "I was, Miss."
"Wanna help me fuck up Mr. Lewis' shit some more?"
Her grin widened. "Absolutely, Miss."
"Got the key for that second door?" I pointed to where Susan had entered the room last time I was here.
"I'm not allowed to have the key, Miss," Susan said, while pulling a key from her apron pocket and offering me a wink.
"Shame. I need paper, a pencil, and someone to send out a letter. Do you know where Miss Rose Goodenough has been staying?"
"Yes, Miss - we've had the boy out several times a day."
"And is Miss Margaret staying there as well?"
"Far as I've heard, Miss."
"Excellent," I said, pushing back from the sill. "You pilfer the writing utensils, I get myself cleaned up so he doesn't know you were gone."
Susan raised her eyes. We shared a dark, knowing look, and then she curtseyed and was gone through the narrow servant's door. She didn't lock it behind her, but we both knew that I wasn't going anywhere. Not yet.
I sat down at the vanity and brushed the warm, scented water through my bedraggled hair, and pinched viciously at the bruise that was forming on my own cheek, hoping to darken it.
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