Chapter Twenty-Seven
Goodfellow, awkward andill at ease, stood next to Reilly’s sickbed at the Rooster’s Haven. He cleared his throat, peered down at the man on the bed, and eyed Fanny nervously. Eli knew the man—though a year or two younger than Eli himself—to be skilled at all manner of security concerns, loyal as they come, and brave. He was one of Rob Benson’s finest. He was, however, no diplomat.
“If we could speak privately, Benson…,” Goodfellow rasped.
Eli prepared to argue, but Fanny got there first. “This concerns me, Corporal Goodfellow. I will not be excluded from this discussion.”
The Rooster’s Haven, which they had reached within two hours with no further trouble, had turned out to be somewhat isolated. It was only the greatest of good fortune that a physician had been among the guests. The man pronounced Williams—the coachman—fit and Reilly “likely to survive barring infection.” The bullet that had struck Reilly’s side, he’d said, appeared to have missed major organs and, “God be praised,” his intestines. “We’ll know in due time,” he’d murmured.
The physician had pronounced their prisoner well enough to question, appeared indifferent to the highwayman’s survival after that, and suggested they leave him locked in the inn’s stable until the magistrate sent someone. “He may live long enough to be transported. Or may not,” the doctor had said.
Fanny had remained in the sickroom with Wil and Susan during the interrogation to protect them from hearing the worst and to care for the injured, but she’d chaffed under the necessity of it. As soon as Eli had returned, she’d demanded to know what they’d learned and the plan going forward.
Eli was torn between the desire to shelter her from fear and the need to keep her close. Now that he’d returned to her side, however, he didn’t plan to leave it no matter what Goodfellow proposed.
She’s mine to protect, he thought fiercely, even more determined to keep her where he could see her after what he had just heard.
“Wil, we’ve spoken for another room across the hall. I’ve ordered tea for the ladies. Would you kindly escort Susan there?” Eli asked. The boy glanced at Fanny. Seeing no reprieve there, he did as Eli asked.
Fanny’s hand brushed Eli’s where it hung at his side, sending a frisson of awareness through him. He liked her where he could touch her even better. He took it, their hands half-hidden in her skirt as she glanced down at the wounded man on the bed. “If Reilly here can bear what must be said, so can I, Corporal Goodfellow,” she murmured. “What did you discover?”
“Precious little, Miss Hancock. The weasel we captured knows only the name of the man leading the attack, and he’s dead. They were paid by someone—our prisoner claims not to know who—and threatened with retribution if they failed.” Goodfellow frowned. “It fits with what we know about the criminal enterprise.”
Eli agreed. “Low-level criminals report to local miscreants, but a more powerful figure is driving the entire filthy operation.”
“Bateson’s enterprise?” Fanny demanded.
Eli touched her cheek gently, searching her face for distress. “Likely. The prisoner was clear about one thing. They were to abduct you or die trying. Rob was right. Bateson, or whoever is behind what happened in Manchester, has not given up and will not give up.”
“That is ludicrous! Die trying? How can I matter so much?” Fanny retorted.
Eli reminded her of Bateson’s description of his buyer. “A great deal of money must be at stake,” he said.
“We may be dealing with a madman, ma’am,” Goodfellow said. “We do know he uses threats and intimidation to control his minions as well as those who owe him money. They’ve used abduction and threats to support their gambling businesses many times.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
She said “we.”Eli took strength from her trust even as her determination worried him. His little warrior would not be sidelined no matter how hard the men around her tried to protect her.
“We have few choices, Miss Hancock,” Goodfellow said.
“We know those men weren’t robbers. They were sent to abduct me. Given what he said and past incidents, we can assume they will try again. The question, then, is, How do we keep me safe without endangering the rest of you? Do I have that right?”
“Yes. We beat them back once. If our prisoner told the truth, they’ll likely try again between here and Ashmead.Verylikely if they’re under threat,” Goodfellow said.
“How safe are we here?” Fanny asked.
“I’d feel better if we could get you to Clarion Hall and the earl’s people,” Eli told her, squeezing her hand.
“So would I. This spot is isolated,” Goodfellow said. “I wouldn’t expect another frontal attack like on the road, but the inn is vulnerable. We’d have to secure every door and window in this place to guard against a determined kidnapper, and there are few enough of us.”
“I’m fit. I will help,” Reilly put in, rising on one elbow. His pallor argued otherwise.
“Would they give up if I’m not here?” Fanny asked. Eli frowned down at her, but she went on, “Reilly, Williams, Susan, and Wil are all at risk near me. Could the three of us go on to Ashmead and send back assistance?”
“We beat them back when there were four men defending. I’m not sure we can risk doing it with two,” Goodfellow said.
“Four men and a woman,” Fanny corrected tartly.
