Shattered Dreams Page 9

  “How do you want to go about getting her out?” Marcus asked as he leaned back in his seat and studied Harry over the top of his brandy.

  He read the worry and fear in Harry’s eyes, and wondered just what the full story was. There was a little too much angst on Harry’s face for this to be just another mission for Sir Hugo. Unless Marcus had imbibed too much brandy, and was reading far too much into the situation than he should be, Harry’s involvement with this mission had turned into something that was very, very, personal.

  “We have told the wardens that I will be back for a meeting with the governor in the morning,” Harry sighed. “Somehow though, I really doubt that they will even answer the door to us.”

  “I think we have no choice but to storm the damned place, and refuse to leave until we have searched it from top to bottom,” Barnaby growled as he nudged his gun on the table beside his elbow for emphasis. “If she is there, we are going to find her.”

  Joseph and Marcus grinned and nodded, but their smiles died when Harry gave them a warning look.

  “Once she is here, we need to keep her under constant protection. She has been brought to Tooting Mallow deliberately. At the moment, we don’t know why, but we cannot take any chances that the Dandridges’ will do something desperate to get their hands on her once she is free from there,” Harry warned.

  “Tomorrow morning then?” Marcus asked casually, and glanced around the small group of men.

  To Harry’s immense relief, everyone nodded.

  “What time do we head out?” Joshua asked around a yawn.

  Harry grinned conspiratorially. “Just before dawn. We can take a good look at the entrance and exit points, and wait for daylight.”

  After several moments of relaxed silence, they all listened to the creek of a floorboard in the hallway outside the door, and began to make plans.

  Tilly listened to the doors being unlocked, and the soft footfall of people outside the door. She waited, then waited some more. Her frown grew when she listened to the doors on either side of her room being opened. To her horror, her door remained untouched. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the bars in the door in confusion. The top of the warden’s head passed by the door; he didn’t stop to let her out. Her stomach flipped nervously when she realised that he wasn’t going to come back either.

  “Hello?” she called, just in case he had forgotten all about her. Nobody answered. “Can anyone hear me?”

  She stared into the empty corridor outside and rattled the door, but it was locked tight. Panic began to build, and she wondered what she could do now. Her stomach rumbled hungrily. She didn’t want to eat, but she needed something. They weren’t going to starve her any more, surely to goodness? She gave the door one last rattle before she flopped back down onto the bed with a sigh. With little else to do, she had no choice but to wait.

  Had they left her in the cell so they could take her to the governor? A wild thrill of hope swept through her but, as the hour ticked by, it slowly faded again.

  A quiet knock on the door made her jump. She leapt off the bed and raced to the door, and almost wept at the sight of Zack standing outside.

  “Are you alright?” He asked as he glanced furtively up and down the corridor, clearly afraid of being caught.

  “They won’t let me out,” she whispered. “Don’t get into trouble, Zack,” she added, although was delighted that he had taken the time, and the risk, to talk to her.

  She suddenly felt incredibly afraid, which was silly really because she was locked in a room and really had nothing to be fearful of. However, the fact that she was now trapped, and had to rely upon the decency of one of the wardens to let her out, made her more than a little uneasy. She didn’t want to be at the mercy of anyone, least of all any of the staff here.

  “I won’t,” he whispered. “I will see if I can get you some bread or something.”

  “Why won’t they let me out of here, Zack?”

  “Because you keep asking to leave,” he replied. “You are being punished.”

  He jumped up and down several times in an attempt to see her a little better, and winced when he fell backward and landed on his bottom with a heavy thump.

  “The last time someone asked to be let out, she didn’t get to go either. Then, one day, she just vanished, and nobody heard from her again,” he gasped as he pushed himself upright.

  A wild thrill of hope swept through her again, and she stared at him with eyes that were suddenly alive. “Did she go home?”

  Zack threw her a dark look. “There are rumours, you understand,” he whispered somewhat awkwardly.

  She felt slightly sick as she studied the worry in his eyes. It was evident that he didn’t want to tell her anymore, and an uncomfortable silence settled over them for several moments.

  “I will see what I can find out. Someone will have heard the wardens talking at some point, I have no doubt,” he sighed.

  “Can I ask you something?” Tilly asked. For some reason it suddenly seemed incredibly important that she find out.

  “Go on then, but quickly because I have got to go,” he warned.

  The sound of footsteps could be heard in the distance. They both knew that they didn’t have long before they were interrupted.

  “Why are you still here in the women’s wing? I mean, you are a young boy,” she asked.

  “I told them that Suzanna is my sister. They keep siblings together. She isn’t in the register either.” With that, he hurried off.

  She stared blankly through the door at the wall opposite for several minutes before she turned and sat on the bed. What on earth did that mean? How many people resided at the poor house but weren’t listed anywhere?

  Ostensibly, while anyone was a resident at the poor house, and didn’t fill out any paperwork, they were non-existent. If nobody knew they were there, anything could happen. There was little chance of rescue, help, or escape.

  Panic suddenly began to take hold as the seriousness of her situation began to sink in. Her stomach began to churn, and fine tremors swept through her fingers as fear for her safety grew. She tried to assure herself that this was an institution, and a large one at that. People simply wouldn’t vanish from it. That wasn’t possible. However, Zack’s words that the woman had just ‘vanished’ echoed hollowly in her ears, and seemed to build on the panic that had already taken root deep inside her.

  She had only been at the poor house for a few days, but it already felt as though she had been there for an entire lifetime. She felt old, worn, cold and hungry. From what she had seen in the other residents’ faces, such harshness seemed to be an accepted part of being in such an awful, soulless place.

  It was only now that she had experienced life in a poor house that she realised she would have been much better off catching the first post chaise out of town, and trying to find work doing something – anything – that would put some food in her mouth.

  At some point, her luck was bound to change; wouldn’t it?

  The day ticked endlessly by. People eventually started to return to the wing, and begin the clear-out of the rooms. The buckets needed to be emptied to start with. Today was laundry day, and the bedding needed to be stripped. The floors needed to be swept, and the walls scrubbed. The list was endless. The daily grind; relentless.

  About an hour later, the rattle of the door was accompanied by the sound of the bolt being slid back. Unfortunately, she recognised the top of the head through the bars, and immediately dreaded the forthcoming confrontation with Taylor, the female warden.

  “Out. Now,” the woman growled as she pushed the door open.

  She didn’t bother to wait to see if Tilly would comply, and marched down the hallway without a backward look. The arrogance outlined in the warden’s broad, almost manly shoulders poked at Tilly’s temper. She wanted to refuse, just to see what the woman would do. However, she was hungry, thirsty, and so very cold that she didn’t want to do anything that would deprive her of some basic
necessities.

  To her dismay, the warden didn’t seem inclined to want to let Tilly eat at all today, because she headed in the opposite direction to the dining hall. Tilly smelled the rather pungent aroma of what smelled like boiled potatoes and cabbage, and shuddered in revulsion.

  Maybe it was best that she didn’t eat today after all, she thought wisely, as she hurried after Taylor.

  While a part of her wanted to eat, another part of her couldn’t stomach the thought of the awful concoction they presented as food. She suddenly had a yearning for the sweet, freshly podded peas, and newly dug carrots from the gardens at Attingham House, and blinked away the sting of tears that came with the now familiar longing for the good old days.

  When the warden slammed to a stop outside a door, Tilly hid all trace of emotion from her face and glared at the older woman.

  “I demand to see the governor today,” Tilly growled. “I refuse to work until I have seen him,” she declared flatly, and crossed her arms defiantly for emphasis.

  “’Ain’t ‘ere,” Mrs Taylor growled. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  The satisfaction in the woman’s voice made Tilly’s blood boil. “I am going to get out of this place if it is the last thing I do,” Tilly snapped, only to lapse into silence at the speed in which the large woman turned on her.

  “It will be the last thing you do, too,” the warden warned sinisterly before she threw Tilly a dismissive look, and pushed open the door beside them to what appeared to be another, smaller community room. “Now get to work.”

  Harry felt his temper boil as Marcus hammered on the door for the fourth time. They had waited for someone to answer the door for at least ten minutes now. He couldn’t help but wonder if someone had seen them in the driveway, and weren’t going to answer the door because they knew what he wanted.

  Still, he absolutely refused to be ignored today. Tilly was coming home, and that was that. If he had to shoot the bloody locks of the doors, then that is what he would do.

  Harry moved to stand beside Marcus, and they hammered on the door together. To everyone’s relief, the bolts on the door were slid back beneath the din. Before the warden could open it fully, Marcus threw his full body weight against it and slammed it back on its hinges.

  Together, both he and Harry forced their way inside, quickly followed by Barnaby, Joshua and Joseph.

  “’Ere, you can’t barge you way in here like this,” the warden protested. His eyes dropped to the gun Marcus held, and he stared at it with a frown. “What’cha doin’?”

  “We are going to search this place for someone you have a prisoner here,” Harry declared harshly. His eyes met and held the warden’s panicked gaze, and silently challenged him to deny him.

  “You ain’t allowed to fetch anyone out of ‘ere,” the warden argued.

  Unsurprisingly, five more wardens quickly appeared from various wings of the main building. This was of little consequence to the men from the Star Elite though, who had seen and done it all before.

  “This isn’t a prison,” Harry warned the warden. “By law, you are not allowed to keep anyone here against their will,” Harry pierced the man with a look. “Get the Head Warden. Now.”

  “He is busy,” the man snapped.

  “What’s your name?” Harry challenged.

  “Murphy.”

  “Murphy. You are going to jail today. I strongly recommend that you get the Head Warden here now.” Harry’s voice was as cold as the challenge in his eyes as he pierced the warden with a ruthless stare.

  Murphy’s gaze moved to each of the heavily armed men in turn before he looked at one of the other wardens.

  “I am the Head Warden today,” Murphy admitted reluctantly. “Cruickshank isn’t on duty.”

  “Today, we are looking for someone who I know is in this building somewhere,” Harry drawled.

  “I could get you arrested for barging in here like this,” Murphy challenged.

  “Try it,” Harry warned. “One of us is going to prison today, and I can promise you, here and now, that it won’t be me.”

  He waved to Joshua. “This is my colleague from the War Office. He is going to escort you to the office. You will give him direction for the governor, all of the Board of Trustees, as well as hand over all of the registers and staff records.”

  When Murphy opened his mouth to speak, Harry turned his back and stared hard at another warden, who suddenly jumped and looked guilty.

  “Who are you?”

  “Masterson, sir,” the young warden stammered. He cast a worried look at Murphy, and swallowed harshly.

  Harry knew immediately that he had found the one person in the prison he could easily bend to his will.

  “Masterson. We are going to make a list of everyone in the building today, including the staff.” He turned toward Murphy, and stared hard into the warden’s eyes. “I warn you now that there will be dire consequences for you, and your men, if there are residents in this poor house who haven’t been documented in that register.”

  “That’s the governor’s job. He is the one responsible for that,” Murphy argued.

  “But wardens let people in here all the time. I have seen that with my own eyes. You are all to blame, because you should not allow anyone into this building if nobody is here to process them accurately. It is your failure to carry out your duties properly, nobody else’s.”

  “You can’t come in here and do this,” Murphy challenged. “I am going to send for the governor.”

  “Please do. While you are at it, you can send someone for the magistrate as well,” Harry countered, although knew it was a waste of time because they had already met with the man last night.

  If all went according to plan, and the magistrate remained true to his word, he had gone to Battlington Jail just before dawn this morning to round up several jailers, and the prison cart, and would be at the poor house within the hour.

  “Who is the governor here?” Joseph demanded, as he eyed the man nearest to him. Although the wardens were big and burly, he was fairly certain that they were more used to wrestling with a set of keys than a real person. “Why is he not here? It is early in the morning, man. He should be at his desk by now. Where is he?”

  “The governor is Mr Cragdale,” Murphy replied with a scowl. “You can come back later to speak with him.” His tone was dismissive, and he tried to move to the front door only for Harry to physically yank him backwards.

  “’Ere!” He protested, but was ignored.

  “I am not going to come back. I am going to take a look around this place,” Harry assured him. “Now, you either stand back, or I will arrest you for hindering an investigation.”

  Marcus marched across the hallway, and gave Masterson a look that warned him not to argue. He silently held his hand out for the keys, and watched the young warden look toward Murphy for a moment before he reluctantly handed the large mound of ironwork over.

  The tension within the hallway was so thick that Harry felt certain it could be cut through with a knife, but none of the wardens seemed to have the back-bone to argue with heavily armed men.

  “’Ere! That’s the women’s quarters. You can’t go in there,” Murphy protested.

  “You do,” Harry growled, and threw the warden a dirty look that effectively cut off any further protest.

  It took Marcus a couple of minutes to find the right key and, when he did, satisfaction swept through him. He yanked the door open, and threw a triumphant look at both Masterson and Murphy, who suddenly began to look worried.

  “You will come with us,” he growled, and pushed Masterson through the door ahead of him.

  Harry turned to Joseph. “See if you can find some parchment.” He pointed one long finger to a warden closest to the door. “You can write?”

  “Course I can,” the man snapped defensively.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Able.”

  “Able, you can make a list of all of the residents we come across.�
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  “Right, everyone sit with your backs to each other. Empty your pockets. Put your keys on the floor at your feet. Anyone who hides anything will have to explain themselves to the magistrate,” Joseph ordered.

  It had been agreed last night that there would be no mention of who Harry and his men actually did work for because they didn’t want to alert the Dandridges’ to the fact that danger was afoot. Thankfully, none of the wardens had pressured them yet to identify themselves in more detail, but they knew it was only a matter of time before someone, possibly Murphy, did.

  Harry shared a dark look with Joseph, who nodded and began to gather all of the keys from the wardens. Joshua prodded them to move to the centre of the room. At first, nobody appeared inclined to follow orders, and had to be threatened again before they began to move. Eventually though, once they realised the futility of arguing with someone who brandished a gun, everyone did as they were told and dutifully sat in the middle of the entrance hall.

  As soon as they had been tied together, Harry was thankfully, free to try to find Tilly. He left his colleague to his work, and followed Barnaby and Marcus into the main body of the building, reluctantly assisted by Able, with his parchment, and Masterson, who carried the keys.

  The thick, heavy silence that fell over them was broken only by the sound of their boots on the cold, stone floor. The deeper they went into the building, the thicker the atmosphere seemed to grow until, by the time they reached the inner sanctum of the sleeping quarters, they all felt decidedly claustrophobic, and more than a little on edge.

  Marcus jiggled his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the disquiet that settled over him as he walked deeper into the increasingly murky corridors. He wondered just what the hell would drive anyone to seek out such a desolate refuge, and traded a look with Harry while they waited for the warden to reluctantly open a locked door in front of them.

  When he moved to lock the door behind them, Harry stopped him. “Don’t. This isn’t a prison,” he snapped and threw the door open. “These people are residents here, not prisoners. None of them should be locked up like this.”