Shattered Dreams Page 8

  “What?”

  Harry groaned at the sight of Cruickshank; the man who had answered the door yesterday. Before he spoke, he suspected he wasn’t going to get Tilly today either, but tried nonetheless.

  “We are here to collect Miss Tilly Fenton,” Harry replied as he peered through the open door and into the darkness.

  He wasn’t altogether certain that the man was still there and, when nobody answered his demand, pushed the door open wider and took several steps inside. He threw a glance at Barnaby, and together they walked into the huge, cavernous entrance hall where they searched the gloom for signs of life. The temperature inside was several degrees cooler than out and immediately goose-bumps broke out on Harry’s chilled flesh. He shook his head in disgust as his breath fogged out in front of his face, and wondered how anyone managed to live their lives in such a miserable environment.

  As soon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the only man in the entrance hall; the same one who must have opened the door, and walked toward him.

  “She ‘ain’t ‘ere,” Cruickshank growled.

  “She came in yesterday,” Harry replied. “I know because I saw her come in.”

  The warden pointed to the register, and glared up at him as he slammed the aged book closed with a heavy thump.

  “The last person to come in here was a man, and he arrived last Tuesday. There is no woman in the book,” Cruickshank replied with a scowl.

  “I saw her walk through that door yesterday, I tell you,” Harry persisted as he pointed to the huge front door. “Seconds before you answered the door to me in fact; so don’t lie about it.”

  His frustration rose, and he shared a look with Barnaby, who was busy checking out the various doors around the hallway. Behind the warden was a door which led to an office marked ‘Governor’, however Harry doubted that there was anybody inside.

  “Who else was here yesterday, about tea-time?” Harry demanded. He had to clench his fists against the urge to grab the man by his collar, and give him a rough shake until he produced Tilly.

  “Murphy was here yesterday with me, but he is not on duty now,” Cruickshank replied dismissively. “We are not here all the time, you know.”

  “Look, I am not lying,” Harry sighed. “I work for the War Office.”

  The man merely shrugged unconcernedly, and didn’t give him the opportunity to say anything else. He skirted around the desk and hurried across the entrance hall toward the main door.

  “I don’t care who you work for, there ain’t no woman in the register.”

  “Check again,” Harry persisted.

  This seemed to anger the warden, who merely glared so hard at him that Barnaby moved to stand beside Harry in a silent show of solidarity that wasn’t lost on the officious warden.

  “I suggest you go and check for your woman somewhere else because she ain’t ‘ere,” the warden groused. With that, he yanked the door open and stood back to allow them both out.

  The message was clear; unless they wanted to cause a rumpus, they had no choice but to leave.

  “Where is the governor?” Harry snapped and frowned at the closed office door.

  “Ain’t ‘ere.”

  Harry pierced him with a stare. “The governor should be at his desk regularly. I can’t help but wonder where the man has gone.” He kept his voice thoughtful, but the warning was evident in his eyes.

  Cruickshank immediately began to look evasive. “He ain’t ‘ere all the time either.”

  “He is never here, according to you,” Harry countered. “We will see what my boss at the War Office has to say now, won’t we? I mean, if the man is never at his desk, then the wardens are left to run the place, and that is illegal.”

  He caught Cruickshank’s worried look before it was quickly replaced by a bland watchfulness that was a little too emotionless to be believed.

  “I will be back. The next time, I will have a warrant, and the magistrate,” Harry promised.

  He contemplated the empty doorway for a moment, but his gaze was captured by the warning look Barnaby gave him.

  With one last, hard look at the warden, Harry stalked out of the building.

  “We will send for the magistrate,” Barnaby sighed when Harry reluctantly joined him outside. “Come on, we are going to get nowhere.”

  Reluctance dogged Harry’s every step as he quietly followed his friend to the waiting carriage. He stopped to look back at the now closed door when the heavy thump behind him met their ears.

  “We need help,” Harry sighed. “At least four wardens appeared in that entrance hall while we were there, and there were undoubtedly more inside the main body of the building. It’s impossible for the two of us to divert all of their attentions.”

  “I know. I cannot help but wonder why they don’t have her listed in the register,” Barnaby growled. He shared a look with his friend, and saw the worry in his colleague’s eyes. “She wasn’t in there, Harry. You saw that book.”

  “I know, but she definitely entered that building, Barnaby. What do you think is going on?” Harry threw one last look at the building as the carriage turned out of the driveway and let his curses flow.

  “I don’t know,” Barnaby sighed. “What’s more important is finding out whether the Dandridges’ are involved.”

  Harry frowned at that. “I can’t see how they could be. I mean, bringing her to Tooting Mallow - yes. The Rectory seal had been used on the letter Tilly received. The Dandridges’ have been the only people there apart from me, so nobody but them could have used it. Are they responsible for sending her into the poor house where she has ostensibly vanished? No - definitely not. I mean, if we cannot get her out, how in the hell would the Dandridges’ be able to?”

  “Unless the Dandridges’ have contacts in the poor house, and they want her in there for some reason. I don’t know.” Even as he spoke, Barnaby knew that he sounded completely implausible.

  Harry seemed to agree because he was already shaking his head. “We just don’t know. At the minute, we have to find a way to get her out of there. We can establish why nobody registered her entrance once she is back at the Rectory.”

  “We have to get Sir Hugo in on this, Harry,” Barnaby warned. “The poor house has already broken the law by not registering the details of every resident they have.” He looked at his friend. “I can’t help but wonder how many other people are in there without the appropriate documentation.”

  Harry scowled down the road. “One thing I want to know is; why we were allowed into the entrance hall today?”

  “I know,” Barnaby sighed. “Yesterday, you didn’t even get one foot over the threshold. Why today, of all days, have we been allowed in only to be told the same thing, and then thrown back out again?”

  Harry frowned and shook his head in disgust as the questions began to tumble through him. Thankfully, Barnaby was driving. It gave Harry the perfect opportunity he needed to think about what in the world he should do next; and just how he was going to get Tilly free.

  “But, I really want to leave now. I don’t have any debts. I don’t owe anyone any money. I have coins,” Tilly argued as she hurried after the warden who stalked down the corridor ahead of her. She nearly ploughed into his back when he suddenly slammed to a halt.

  “I am telling you to get back to your room,” the man growled.

  Her eyes darted downward and she saw his fist clench threateningly. For one brief moment her eyes met his, and she wondered if he really would hit her. Somehow, in this awful place, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

  She had been here a week now, and had yet to find anyone in charge who would even listen to her. She had been bullied, threatened, and blatantly ignored. Despite asking numerous staff to be allowed out, she had seen nothing of the governor, and now began to doubt whether he really even existed.

  The female warden, Mrs Taylor, was downright sinister, and seemed to take delight in scaring the residents with threats that one day; she would lock th
em in their rooms, and forget where she left the key. It was deeply unnerving to see the hopelessness that lurked in the depths of all of the residents’ eyes, and witness the fear on their faces when they knew that Mrs Taylor was around.

  “I want to see the governor. I demand to see the governor – now. I am not a prisoner. I haven’t committed any crime, and shouldn’t be here. I made a mistake and demand that you release me,” she declared firmly.

  She lapsed into startled silence, and took a hasty step back when the warden suddenly leaned toward her with an almost feral snarl on his lips.

  “I have told you that the governor ain’t here, and I ain’t taking you anywhere. Now get back to your room, or you forfeit your food for the next day.”

  Tilly tipped her chin up, and glared back at him at the same time that she crossed her arms.

  “Let me write a letter then,” she demanded, and carefully ignored his disgusted snort.

  Although an inner sense of self-preservation warned her to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told, she knew that she was fighting for her freedom, and couldn’t afford to be bullied into staying silent. She couldn’t just allow herself to be forcibly kept a prisoner by anyone, but she was at a loss to know how to get someone to listen to her.

  “I warn you here and now that I know your name, and I know that you are breaking the law by keeping me here like this. I will get out and, when I do, I will make sure that you get to feel the full weight of the law for this. This is false imprisonment.”

  She gasped in pain when he suddenly grabbed her elbow in a fierce grip, and all but dragged her down the long corridor toward her cell.

  “I am not going to be silenced, and forced to remain here against my will,” she muttered through gritted teeth “I can get myself out of here, and I will.”

  In spite of that, she was thrown mercilessly through the door of her room, and landed on the bed with a heavy thump. The sharp edge of the wooden frame bit painfully into her hip, but she stumbled back onto her feet and clutched the bars of the now locked door with tight fingers while she peered out into the hallway. Now that she was alone and had the door to act as a barrier, she felt considerably braver, and had no qualms about raising her voice so that the warden could hear what she had to say.

  “I am going to make sure you go to prison for this. Then see how you like it,” she yelled as bitter frustration swept through her.

  The only sound that met her ears was the rhythmic clip of the man’s boots on the stone floor as he walked away. Disgust made her kick the door. She immediately wished that she hadn’t when pain lanced up her big toe, and brought tears to her eyes, but it had felt good to be able to let loose some of the anger that had built within her over the last few days.

  When silence settled around her, she had little choice but to sit on her bed with an annoyed huff. She studied the black walls of the small square space and knew that it was a cell; not a bedroom. Calling it a bedroom, or even a room, indicated that it was somewhere someone might wish to spend time. This was a cell; a place of confinement and punishment. It was awful, and by far the very last thing she had expected when she had briefly considered that the poor house might be the place she should be.

  As the hour ticked by, the lack of heat within the room began to draw the last of the warmth from her skin, and made her already chilled flesh begin to shiver. She curled up on the bed, and wrapped her arms around her knees to try to retain some of her precious warmth while she attempted to work out what to do next. For a moment she buried her nose in the meagre warmth between her knees, but couldn’t ignore her frozen toes.

  She valiantly battled the wave of helplessness that swept through her and, as exhaustion began to draw her into sleep, she locked her thoughts on the one person who seemed to haunt her dreams more and more with each day that passed; Mr Harrington Tingay.

  Sure enough, as soon as she closed her eyes, he was there; waiting. His image was as fresh as the day she had first seen him, and hung over her like a guardian angel while she slept.

  She couldn’t help but wonder where he was; and what he was doing.

  It was difficult to understand just what the pang of hurt deep inside her was all about. Right at that moment, she daren’t consider it too closely because she wasn’t at all sure she was comfortable with what she would discover.

  She desperately tried to block out all thoughts of him, and turned her attention to the most important issue she had to deal with first thing in the morning: how on earth she was going to get out of there if none of the wardens would take her to the governor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Harry clutched the missive from his friend, Sir Hugo, and heaved a sigh of relief. He shook hands with his colleagues, Marcus, Joseph and Joshua.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly,” Harry said fervently. “Come on through.”

  He led them into the study, and caught sight of Charles Dandridge outside the window. He had no doubt that the butler was trying to find a good position beneath the window in order to listen in on their conversation, and was probably desperate to know who the latest arrivals were.

  However Harry, used to working with the Star Elite, was well ahead of him. He poured everyone a brandy before he took a seat close to them in front of the fire. He waited for everyone to lean forward, and kept his voice low so only those within the circle could hear him.

  “Dandridge listens at doorways, so be careful what you discuss,” he warned quietly and nodded toward the window behind them. “I am not sure how much Sir Hugo has told you.”

  “Well, he has told us all about your reason for being here,” Marcus replied obliquely, and glanced out of the open door which led to the hallway. He took a moment to close and lock it before he resumed his seat.

  Harry explained about the forged letter, and the events surrounding Tilly’s disappearance, and lapsed into expectant silence. He was immensely relieved that his colleagues had managed to get there so quickly and, for the first time since Tilly had left his house, felt hopeful that he would finally be able to get her out of the poor house.

  The letter from Sir Hugo had effectively assured Harry that he was on his way. Meantime, however, Harry had full authority to act on his behalf in every regard.

  It was all Harry needed to ensure that he could now gain access to the poor house, with the help of the local magistrate, and anyone else in authority he needed. He could then force the staff out of the way so that he could search for Tilly.

  “Have you got any further with the case of the forged letter? Who stole the parchment?”

  “The Dandridges’,” Harry growled. “It is irrelevant whether it was him or her, really. Either one of them did it. What we cannot figure out is why they would bring her here, and then leave her in the poor house.”

  “Is she still there?” Joshua demanded with a scowl.

  Harry sighed and wished that he knew for definite. Both he and Barnaby had taken to making two visits each per day in an attempt to get Tilly back, but to no avail. The last time they had been, only earlier that afternoon as a matter of fact, they had threatened the wardens with legal ramifications if they didn’t get to see the governor first thing in the morning. However they had still come away empty handed.

  “For a busy poor house, the governor is never there. Whenever we call; morning, noon, or night, he is always out. Nobody seems to know when he is going to be back,” Barnaby sighed.

  “Has anyone checked his house?”

  “We can’t find out where he lives,” Barnaby replied. “I have asked around town, but everyone is afraid of the place. Nobody seems to have any idea what goes on in there, and nobody wants to even talk about it. Whenever you mention it, people just close up and change the subject. It’s impossible to know what’s going on without getting inside.”

  Marcus frowned and glanced out of the window at the huge building on the horizon. “Have you asked the magistrate if he knows?”

  “He is just as wary of the place, and has no
idea who runs it,” Harry sighed.

  “The wardens cannot be running the place, surely to God? What about the Trustees?” Joseph challenged.

  “We cannot get inside to know how that place is being run, or by who,” Harry snorted in disgust. “Nobody on the outside knows. One thing is certain; the wardens are definitely letting people in, and not bothering to put their details in the register.”

  “Jesus. So, the residents effectively vanish as soon as they walk through the door,” Joseph grunted.

  Barnaby sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. “What worries me about that place is that nobody in the area seems to know all that much about it. People go in, but don’t come back out again. None of the staff appear to live in Tooting Mallow. It’s damned odd, if you ask me.”

  “I am glad we arrived when we have,” Marcus growled.

  “What do you want to do when we get the girl here?” Joseph asked. “I mean, if you are at risk from whatever the Dandridges’ are up to, do you really want an innocent party being brought into the middle of all of this?”

  “She is already involved,” Harry replied firmly. “When she was sent the letter, she was dragged into this.”

  He briefly explained Tilly’s story in a voice that was as low as he could manage, and gave the men the Bolsworthy woman’s description.

  “Are you sure Tilly is still there, and hasn’t been moved?” Joseph whispered with a frown. “How do you know she didn’t leave straight away?”

  “Because I was in town,” Harry sighed. “Nobody left that building.”

  If he was honest, he couldn’t be sure that Tilly hadn’t left as soon as she had arrived, and that was why she hadn’t been listed in the register. However, his gut instincts warned him that she had done no such thing, and was stuck inside that hellish mausoleum.