so frightened tonight? Perhaps the events of the past few days had been too much for her nerves. She was strong but everyone had a breaking point. She was jumping at shadows now.
She crept silently toward the tradesmen’s entrance. Her talent was sparking in reaction to her fear. In the dim light she could see the psychical fog created by the prints of the many people who had come and gone through the door—deliverymen bringing provisions for the household, carpenters and painters who had been summoned to perform repairs, coachmen, gardeners and all those who had come to the door in hopes of gaining a post in the mansion.
The decades of tracks had formed a layer of murky energy that swirled on the floor. But one set of footsteps stood out above all the rest. They glittered with a terrible iridescence. She recognized them instantly.
The man with the skull for a face had come through the door—not once but on several occasions in the past few months.
The fact that he had used the tradesmen’s entrance told her all she needed to know. He worked for Victor Hazelton.
There was another creak from the floor above and then a nerve-shattering silence. It was impossible to be certain from where she stood but intuition told her that Victor had stopped at her bedroom door.
She took out her stocking gun and opened the tradesmen’s door, half expecting to come face-to-face with the assassin. But there was only moonlit darkness on the other side.
Joshua thought that he had set a trap, but he was wrong. He was walking into one.
Forty-Four
She hurried through the empty streets, her senses skittering. Every doorway and every alley was filled with ominous darkness. She dared not take shortcuts through the parks. Her small pistol would be useless against a gang of footpads.
It seemed like an eternity before she managed to hail a hansom cab. She knew what the driver thought when she hiked up her skirts and stepped up into the small vehicle. Respectable ladies did not go about in hansoms. Only fast women allowed themselves to be seen in the swift little cabs. And only a prostitute would have a reason to be out alone at this time of night.
“Lantern Street,” she said crisply. “Hurry, please.”
“Got a customer waiting, have ye?” the driver asked genially.
But he obligingly snapped the whip. The horse lurched into a hard trot.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the door of Flint & Marsh. Beatrice navigated the narrow cab steps down to the pavement and paid the driver. The hansom rolled off into the darkness.
She went up the front steps of the agency. Not surprisingly, the lights were off. She banged the knocker several times but there was no answer.
Instinct made her take out the stocking gun. Cautiously, she tried the door and was shocked when it turned easily in her hand. Mrs. Beale never forgot to lock up for the night.
She knew she had made a terrible mistake but by then it was too late. The subtle scent of incense wafted out into the night air.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Beatrice,” Victor said from the shadows of the front hall. “It took you long enough to get here. Always hard to find a cab at this hour, isn’t it?”
She started to step back, intending to whirl and run.
“If you don’t come inside, I will kill all of them,” Victor said. “I have nothing left to lose, you see. At this point I can guarantee you that they are all still alive.”
He turned up the lamp. She saw Abigail and Sara sprawled on the floor behind him. Both were in their nightclothes. Both were unconscious.
“The housekeeper is in the other room,” Victor said. “I have no wish to kill all three women but their lives are in your hands. I will do whatever it takes to obtain your cooperation tonight.”
“Dear heaven,” Beatrice said. “You truly do think that Clement Lancing can bring your daughter back to life, don’t you?”
“She is all I have,” Victor said. “I will do anything to save her.”
“Including sending the man you say was like a son to you to his death at the hands of an assassin?”
“Take heart. Joshua may survive the encounter. At one time he possessed considerable skill in such matters. It’s true, he has lost much of his speed and agility, but he is still formidable. If I were a betting man, I might place a wager on him. But in the end it does not matter