Page 54 of A Game of Scandal

A plan came together in my mind: a reckless plan that might end badly, and yet with time running out I knew my only option was choosing the best of the bad options. Lying on my stomach, I crawled towards the door and took a deep breath. Reaching up, I tugged on the handle. The door swung wide on its hinges, flying open and then crashing back towards me. I took the impact on my shoulder as I slid forward, bracing the door open with my upper body.

The ground flew by beneath me, horribly fast, and with each bounce of the wheels I was threatened with the possibility of falling beneath them. My brain screamed that this was an awful idea, but I had no others. Gripping the gun with both hands, I twisted so that I was facing the back wheel, my shoulders clear of the carriage. The air whipped past me, a violent sting that made my eyes water.

I hadn’t lied to Sylla – I was an excellent shot, helped along by an exceptional understanding of angles and velocity. However, shooting at the wheel of a moving carriage while lying on the floor of it was no small task. I took a deep breath, using my left hand to cradle and steady my right as I lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger.

Everything happened fast then. The bullet went wide, glancing the side of the wheel rather than hitting the centre as I had intended, but this still had the effect of causing the wheel to wobble, to falter enough to slow our speed. There was also a factor I hadn’t allowed for – the sound of the gun spooked the horses, who pulled wildly. For a moment I thought I’d sabotaged my own plan as we seemed to gain speed, but then I heard the driver swear filthily as he pulled hard on the reins, trying to get the horses back under control as we headed for the corner. He had no choice but to haul the animals ruthlessly in line, and after a couple of breathless seconds we slowed significantly.

It was enough – it would have to be enough – and I didn’t allow myself to think further. I threw myself through the door, as wide of the carriage as I could manage, curling into a ball before I hit the ground.

It hurt like hell. I may have slowed the carriage considerably, but hitting the hard road was punishing. I felt every bone in my body jar, my teeth rattled in my head, and I saw stars, but I was still alive, bruised and panting, lying to the side of the road.

I scrambled to my feet, dimly registering the pain that crashed over me. The carriage was already slowing to a stop, several yards ahead of me, and so I turned, diving down a nearby alley and running like my life depended on it.

I was briefly disorientated, but then, thankfully, I recognized a building, and from there I knew how to get to the Penny. Not the front, I thought, my mind working as fast as my legs. The front was too exposed, but the back entrance that Davey had showed me – the one that allowed for clandestine comings and goings – that was precisely what I needed.

Hearing heavy footsteps behind me, I pushed myself, flying faster until the almost blind entrance to the alley loomed on my left. I turned into it and saw there was a carriage pulled up there. Without giving it much thought, I yanked on the door and tugged it open, throwing myself inside.

There was nothing then but the laboured sound of my breathing, a darkness wavering at the edge of my vision that threatened to drag me under. I forced myself to take several steadying breaths until slowly, slowly, I came back to myself.

I was, once again, on the floor of a carriage, only this was much nicer than the one I had recently vacated. Dragging myself up on shaking legs, I sat on the plushly padded bench seat behind me and pulled my knees up to my chest. I took the gun from my pocket and pointed it at the door, hand trembling. In the dim first light of morning I waited to see if I would be discovered.

I don’t know how long I sat like that, curled furiously in on myself, the knuckles on my hand white where I gripped the pistol, but no one came. I was just thinking that perhaps it was safe enough for me to try and get inside the building itself, when I heard someone approaching the back of the carriage. There was a groan and a thud as if they were hauling something heavy on to the back, tying it in place.

“I dunno what you’ve packed.” Davey’s voice reached my ears, and I decided it was absolutely understandable that I felt tears prickle in my eyes. The urge to fling myself out of the carriage and yell “Sarsaparilla!” was strong.

“I thought you were only going for a couple of days,” he continued.

“I am,” Ash’s voice replied, and one or two tears may have slipped free then. “I won’t be hanging around beyond making the essential arrangements.”

“And the funeral?” Davey asked.

There was a pause. “We’ll see.”

I was about to stagger forward and announce my presence when Davey’s voice raised: “Oi! What are you doing there?”

“No bother, mate, I’m looking for someone. Seemed she came this way.” The words were conciliatory, but I recognized the harsh voice of the man who had kidnapped me.

“This is private property,” Ash said. “So I suggest you take your search elsewhere.”

I could almost hear Davey’s knuckles cracking.

“Right you are.” A nervous edge crept into the kidnapper’s words. “I’ll be on my way.”

I sat, frozen and silent once more. I couldn’t leave the safety of the carriage while Laing’s man was still in the area. And there was Ash and Davey to think of. This man of Laing’s could have a gun of his own, the two of them could be caught up in the crossfire.

The carriage swayed as Ash climbed on to the box. “You know where to reach me if there’s any trouble,” his voice called to Davey.

“Yes, boss,” Davey rumbled.

I settled back in my seat, thinking hard. I didn’t want to risk being tracked down once more by the man who was chasing me, and I couldn’t risk going home, which was the obvious place to look for me. Ash’s words made me think he must be heading to his family for a couple of days to settle his brother’s affairs. I could let him drive me out of the area, away from my pursuer, and then ask him to help me get a message to Mrs Finch. She would know what to do.

Ash clucked for the horses to move and we rumbled away from the gambling den. I winced as I shifted in the seat, pain singing in every part of my body. It was a miracle that I hadn’t broken anything.

Now that the panic and excitement of the last hour were leaving my system, exhaustion was like a punch in the gut, and I rested my forehead against the edge of the window as the streets of London rattled by. Blackness wavered in my vision once more and this time I could feel it dragging me under. I told myself I was safe for now. My eyes closed.

PART FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN