Page 15 of The Society Catch
She took the valise from her brother’s hand and opened it, sorting roughly through its contents. She removed a nail file and a pair of scissors then tossed it into the room. ‘There. Now, rest and do not try to make a noise. There is no-one to hear you and you will not want to annoy Thaddeus. He would not leave a mark on you, naturally, but you would be sorry, none the less.’
The door closed and Joanna heard the sharp click of a lock, then the further sound of two bolts being drawn. Shaking, shesank down on the bed and tried to think, tried to plan, but all that was in her head were those obscene words. Someone was going to pay to…to…No. She buried her face in her hands and still the Thoroughgoods’ words invaded her mind, a violation in themselves. Pay to watch…pay handsomely to watch…
It was impossible. Of course men went to brothels, she knew that. But surely they went because they wanted women who knew what they were about, who would know how to give them pleasure? How could they want to watch a terrified girl being assaulted, let alone carry out the act? The sheer perversity and wickedness of such a thing steadied her as she applied her reason to it.
There were people who got pleasure from being cruel to animals, there were bullies, people who maltreated their servants, so perhaps this was an extreme example of that. But that there should be so many men that a brothel keeper could grow rich from them was appalling. Had she met such men? Could they go about in Society hiding such evil behind a mask of respectability?
The thought brought her back to her own fate and for all her courage she suddenly gave way, curled up on the musty counterpane where, she supposed through her misery, other girls had sobbed in despair before her. Other girls. Joanna sat up, scrubbing the back of her hand across her wet eyes. Other girls. If she did nothing, not only was she damned to this hell, but all the others who followed her would be. Under no circumstances was she worthy of Giles if she gave up now.
Joanna blew her nose, got to her feet and examined the room. Her legs felt like string, every now and again a sob escaped her, but she forced herself to search. There was nothing that could be used as a weapon. The bed was screwed to the floor, the sheets were thin with age and would tear easily. The washstand was bare of ewer or basin and under the bed the chamber pot wasmade of such thin china that it would hardly raise a bruise if she struck someone with it.
The door, as she expected, did not move when she pressed against it and there was no handle on her side. The window was barred, not with wood, but with iron set into the frame, and the opening sash had been screwed up.
Joanna stared out down the front drive to the glimpse of road at the gate. Could she attract attention if someone passed? No, she would have no warning of their passing, the hedge was so high.
So, she could not escape from here. Then it would have to be the carriage when it came. From what the Thoroughgoods had said there might be other girls in it, girls in the same predicament. That seemed too easy because a carriage full of frantic, healthy young women would be difficult to control. In their shoes, if it were possible to imagine inhabiting them, she would drug the prisoners. Which meant she must not eat or drink anything, dispose of what she was given, and then feign the right kind of reaction to an unknown drug.
Difficult… Joanna paced away from the window. The practical problem of escape was mercifully blocking out the true horror of her situation, but it lurked in the back of her mind, surfacing every now and again to send shocks of terror through her before she could wrestle control back again.
Giles… What would Giles do if he were captured? The thought steadied her again, gave her courage, something to fight for. If she never saw him again, if these evil people defeated her, she would at least know she had done all she could and had not been a feeble victim.
There was the sound of carriage wheels on the drive outside and she ran to the window. Surely this was not the threatened Milo Thomas so soon? But all she could see was a curricle, the reins looped around the whip, a pair of handsome matched greysin the shafts. They stood steaming, their heads down.
Probably a friend of the Thoroughgoods. But what if it were not? What if this were some innocent neighbour or passer-by? Joanna looked around the room again. Faintly from below came the thud of the knocker sounding. How could she open the window? The door below must have opened and she could just hear the rumble of masculine voices. Desperately she snatched a sheet from the bed, wound it around her fist and punched a hole through the glass.
‘Help. Oh, help!’ she screamed, hitting the glass again until it showered down onto the front step below. ‘Help!’ There was a scuffle from below, then silence.
Joanna snatched up a long sliver of glass from the floor and ran to the door, standing at the hinge edge, desperately trying to quieten her gasping breath. There was a noise on the landing and the sound of bolts being dragged back. The visitor? Or Thaddeus Thoroughgood? If it was Thaddeus she was going to stab him, she had no doubt about it, not even the slightest qualm. The back would be the place…
The door swung open, she took a step forward and a voice she could not believe she was hearing said, ‘Joanna?’
‘Giles?’ She must be hallucinating, delirious, the whole thing was a dream. Then he came into sight around the door and she stumbled into his arms, the lethal glass dagger falling to the floor. She was saved and saved, miraculously, by the man she loved. ‘Giles, oh Giles. However did you find me? These people…’ Over his shoulder she saw Lucille, a poker clenched in her fist, her arm upraised to strike. ‘Behind you.’
Joanna had never seen a fight, let alone men boxing, but even she could appreciate the economy and power of the single blow which Giles delivered as he swung round. It took Lucille perfectly on the point of the chin and she went down with a thud, quite still.
‘Damn it.’ Giles knelt beside the recumbent form. ‘I’ve never hit a woman before.’
‘I hope you have broken her neck,’ Joanna said vehemently, startling him. He had expected tears, fainting, but not such fierceness. She must have been terrified and he recalled the feeling of her quivering body as she hugged him so fiercely. ‘Where is her brother?’
‘Unconscious on the hall floor. Joanna, never mind them, are you…’
‘Yes, I am fine, thanks to you.’ she said, regarding Lucille with a wary eye. She did not appear to understand what he was really asking, and he did not persist. Time enough for that. ‘Giles, we must not risk these two escaping before we can get the magistrate. I cannot begin to tell you how evil they are.’
Giles had formed a very good suspicion of exactly what he was dealing with as soon as he heard the landlady’s tale of the kind clergyman and the string of unfortunate young ladies who all had their pockets picked on the stage. The last few miles, springing the already tired horses, had been a battle between his imagination and years of disciplined calm under extreme pressure. Now he simply nodded, accepting what she said without questioning her. ‘Is there a room where we can lock them up?’
Joanna put her head around the adjacent door. ‘This one.’ She broke off, turning to him, her eyes wide with horror, ‘Giles, look.’ The room had manacles bolted to the wall at the bed head.
She had gone so white that Giles thought she was about to faint. He put an arm around her and she looked up into his eyes, her own dark with, he realised with a jolt, burning anger. ‘Put them in here,’ she said fiercely. ‘Shacklethemto the bed.’
Before he could respond she was running downstairs, the poker in her hand. ‘Joanna, stop!’ For a horrible moment he thought she was going to strike the unconscious man whosprawled on the dingy tiled floor, but she was only standing over him, watchful for any sign of returning consciousness.
Giles crouched, hauled Thaddeus over his shoulder and stood up in one clean movement, with a slight grunt of expelled breath. The man was well-fed.
Joanna ran upstairs after him, and when he turned from dropping Thoroughgood onto the bed she was already dragging his sister into the room by both arms.
He picked up the unconscious woman and laid her on the bed beside her brother then snapped a shackle around one wrist of each. ‘Now, where are the keys I wonder?’
‘Here.’ Joanna picked up the key from the bare washstand. She bent over Lucille, pulling the hair pins from her head and the reticule from her waist. ‘They might pick the lock,’ she said tersely. ‘What has he got?’
