Runaway (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 4) Page 2

  “I caught him climbing out of a window not but an hour ago, I must say. I tried to tell your aunt about it, but she wasn’t answering.” Mrs Taunton threw her a dour look and shook her head as she sucked her teeth in warning. “You are just as foolish. Why, I have never heard anything as preposterous in my life as that young boy being allowed to travel alone like that.”

  “T-travel?” Molly asked weakly.

  “To Oscar’s favourite place,” Mrs Taunton nodded with a piercing look. “Where is that, by the way? I can’t believe I have ever heard him mention it before.”

  That’s because he wouldn’t tell you anything, Molly thought waspishly.

  Molly knew where Oscar’s favourite place was, though, and it gave her a very good clue where she could find her brother. Unfortunately, she just had no idea if she had enough money to get there.

  “Well, I must say, there will be no good coming from keeping secrets,” Mrs Taunton warned, clearly annoyed that Molly wasn’t forthcoming with the information she wanted.

  “There will be no good come from trying to pry into other people’s secrets either,” Molly warned darkly.

  Mrs Taunton looked outraged for a moment, clearly offended that Molly thought she was being nosy. Molly didn’t care. She was sick and tired of nosy women like Mrs Taunton, who were completely unwilling to just go about their own lives and mind their own business.

  “Well, if the inquisition is over, I shall be on my way,” Molly announced when she couldn’t stand the lengthy silence that had settled between them any longer.

  Molly nodded briskly at the old woman and hurried down the alley at the back of the house, her gaze locked firmly on the main street ahead. Her heart pounded because she knew, in those few moments she had been delayed by the nosy neighbour, there was every possibility that either Edith or Denzel would appear and demand her return.

  With her feet on the path of the main street, Molly hastened a glance back, and cursed when she saw Mrs Taunton letting herself into the yard at the back of Edith’s house.

  “Damn you,” she hissed, cursing her luck at being stopped by the town’s worst gossip.

  Urgency clawed at her. Molly was aware that she had only a few minutes to make good her escape. If she failed, Denzel would catch up with her, force her back to the house, and she would then be kept on a very short leash and never allowed out without Denzel as an escort. That, as far as Molly could see, was the very worst scenario she could ever face. Now, she could only hope Oscar had run away, and wouldn’t innocently return to the house and have to live with Edith but without his sister for company.

  “Denzel is worse than Edith,” Molly muttered in disgust.

  With that, she ducked her head and lengthened her stride to the coaching inn.

  Her heart was pounding with fear by the time she reached it. She hurried to the ticketing desk. Molly placed her bag at her feet and rested her folded hands on the counter while she waited impatiently for the ticket officer to join her.

  “Where does the next coach go to and when does it leave?” she asked of Mr Bakerson, the ticket officer, when he finally noticed her and ambled over.

  He lifted his brows and peered over his spectacles knowingly at her. “Now where would you be wanting to go, Miss Egerton?”

  “Where does the next coach leave for and when does it depart?” Molly repeated.

  Mr Bakerson sighed. “It is going to London, like the last one. We have two going to London this morning, and one going just beyond London this afternoon, finishing in Kent. The last morning coach to London this week is leaving in about ten minutes.”

  Molly mentally cursed because she didn’t have ten minutes. She was going to be lucky if she had three.

  “I would like a ticket for it, please,” she murmured quietly.

  She handed Mr Bakerson the requisite money and accepted her ticket with a gracious nod, but Mr Bakerson wasn’t done yet.

  “Making good your escape then, eh?” he whispered conspiratorially. He leaned somewhat theatrically across the counter and looked up and down the empty hallway as he tapped the side of his nose. “Don’t blame you, I must say.”

  Molly met the man’s astute gaze. She nodded, her face grim.

  “I must confess, I didn’t think it would take you this long,” he added.

  “You didn’t?” She frowned when Mr Bakerson slowly shook his head.

  “Have you seen Oscar?” Everything within froze while she waited for his answer.

  “He has gone to your Uncle Barry’s house in Camden, I believe,” Mr Bakerson replied.

  Molly’s heart leapt with hope. “You have seen him?”

  Mr Bakerson nodded. “He didn’t have the money for the ticket, so I leant it to him.”

  “Oh, please let me pay you,” Molly offered.

  She fumbled around in her pocket, mentally praying that she had enough money to cover the cost while at the same time trying not to panic about whether she would have enough money to purchase food once she had paid for two tickets.

  “No. No. I won’t hear of it. He was determined to leave but assured me that he wasn’t running away. Your aunt is going to be annoyed, I must say,” Mr Bakerson added.

  “I don’t care. We don’t belong there,” Molly protested.

  “No, I didn’t think so either. That Edith is a right one, I don’t mind telling you, and she has a nasty reputation around these parts,” Mr Bakerson assured her. “She will report Oscar missing, I don’t doubt, if only to set the magistrate on you.”

  “Please don’t tell her, or Denzel for that matter. I am not under her guardianship. I am not committing any crimes, so you won’t get into trouble. We have to go to Uncle Barry because it is just unconscionable for us to stay with Aunt Edith. She won’t arrange for us to go because she says it costs too much. We are miserable.” Molly winced and forced herself to settle down when loomed and her voice cracked.

  “And you are sure that this – Uncle Barry – will be able to accommodate you, are you?” Mr Bakerson asked suspiciously.

  Molly nodded but didn’t speak because she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him any more than she already had. Uncle Barry had died several months ago, but Mr Bakerson didn’t need to know that.

  “I won’t say a word, not even if the magistrate asks,” Mr Bakerson assured her. “People around these parts won’t be at all surprised to learn that you have left that woman’s house, I can assure you.”

  When Molly was sure she could speak clearly she asked: “Oscar definitely left on the last coach then?”

  When Mr Bakerson nodded, Molly almost wept with relief.

  Mr Bakerson looked thoughtful for a moment. “Are you sure you are not running away?”

  “Mr Bakerson, I am two and twenty and am not under house arrest. I am at liberty to go wherever I please. Edith is just of the opinion that I am a member of staff rather than a relation, and objects to me going anywhere because the chores don’t get done if I am not there. Moreover, that awful boyfriend of hers will want me there because he likes to play lord and master. Meantime, my brother is heading off to London all by himself. He needs me. Edith doesn’t, it is as simple as that.”

  Molly knew her voice was far sharper than it should be but refused to apologise for it. She was sick of having to explain herself to people. Besides, being forceful helped to quell her tears.

  “I don’t care what my aunt has led people to believe, I am not a wayward nincompoop.” Molly tipped her chin up and gazed challengingly at him.

  “I know, my dear,” Mr Bakerson replied quietly, his gaze as muted as the worried look he gave her. “We all know what your aunt is like.”

  “Then you won’t mind not saying anything to her about us leaving, will you?” Molly replied. “Now, is there anywhere I can wait that is out of the way, and can I rely upon your discretion if Denzel arrives to fetch me back?”

  “You can,” Mr Bakerson assured her. “I can show you somewhere you can wait where you will be undisturbed. As I a
m sure you are aware, the coach will only stay in the yard long enough for the horses to be changed, then it will be off again. It won’t be here for more than a few minutes at the most. You have to be quick getting on board or it will leave without you, ticket or not. So, stay in the barn out back. I will tell Mr Walgrave that you are going to wait there, and to make sure you get on it. If that Denzel fellow does ask about you, I shall tell him that I haven’t seen you. Keep yourself out of sight, mind. If he sees you, I shall have no part in arguing your cause.”

  “Thank you,” Molly whispered fervently. For a moment, she almost cried but was distracted from doing so by Mr Bakerson, who waved her hurriedly into a small corridor next to the waiting room. Seconds later, she arrived at the side of the stable block, next to the barn.

  “Wait here. I will go and have a word with Mr Walgrave and tell him you are here. The coach will be the next one in, so watch for it and make sure you get on board. I have given you a ticket for a seat inside,” Mr Bakerson informed her with a wink.

  Molly gasped and stared down at the ticket in her hand.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, a little awed that he would be so generous.

  Mr Bakerson smiled at her. “Just stay out of sight. It isn’t right for a young lady such as yourself to be sitting up top getting cold and wet, now is it? Have a safe journey. I hope you find your brother.”

  Molly nodded and once again found herself battling tears as she studied the coaching yard before her.

  Stable hands raced this way and that as a new set of horses were prepared for the swift change that was to take place in a matter of minutes, just as soon as the coach arrived. Mr Walgrave, the ostler, yelled orders at his staff and passengers from all walks of life milled about helplessly while they waited to depart. It was frantic, noisy, chaotic, but no less worrying than the prospect of Denzel appearing to thwart her plans. It was difficult to know what she would do then. Her life, her survival, and that of Oscar’s, depended on her being able to escape.

  When the coach did rumble into the coaching yard, Molly gathered her bag with white knuckled hands and braced herself. Rather than step toward it, she watched it start to swing in a wide arc in the centre of the square stable yard. Molly threw a desperate glance around the yard, and gasped when she saw Denzel in between the gates, scowling heavily as he studied everyone. She jerked back in horror when his gaze turned toward her. She had thought she was nervous moments earlier, but now knew what true fear felt like. Closing her eyes on a silent prayer that he hadn’t seen her, Molly tightened her grip on her bag and tried to quell her nerves. It took an age before she felt bold enough to risk another glance out into the yard. When she did, she saw Denzel again, this time talking to one of the stable lads. Without even glancing in her direction, the young lad pointed to the inn. Seconds later, Denzel disappeared inside. When he had gone, the young lad returned to his chores, completely oblivious to the impact his casual actions had had on Molly.

  Molly, wasting not a moment of the opportunity before her, hurried across the narrow space to the coach. She scurried around it just as soon as it had rumbled to a stop.

  “Get her on,” the Ostler yelled to the coachman who jumped down. He lifted his brows and hesitated for a moment before, with a scowl, he handed Molly into the darkened interior of the coach.

  Molly, too terrified to do anything but huddle into the darkest corner of the coach, tugged the hood of her cloak up to cover her face. She nervously smiled her thanks at the Ostler who nodded once at her, very, very, slowly. Their eye contact was then broken by the embarkment of the other passengers who, well aware that the coach wouldn’t linger, quickly scrambled aboard. At the front of the carriage, the horses had already been changed and the fresh horses were in the process of being harnessed.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Molly waited.

  Her heart raced.

  She mentally began to pray as she slid along the seat until she was wedged tightly in the middle of the thin bench by the other passengers. Still, she refused to look up. A small bead of sweat trickled slowly down her neck, partly driven by the fear that pummelled her, partly because she was so darned hot in the claustrophobic confines of the carriage while pressed against other people wearing a thick cloak.

  Suddenly, with a heavy jerk and a loud toot of the coachman’s horn, the carriage sprang into life. Startled, Molly looked up, her eyes wide in the darkness. Her heart hammered as she watched the coaching yard disappear. There was little she, or Denzel could do now. She was on her way to London, and that was that.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A few weeks later

  Jasper yawned widely and fought an acute sense of boredom as he lounged negligently against a soot laden wall beside a darkened alley. He glanced over his shoulder when he got the distinct sense that he was no longer alone but took no refuge in the emptiness of the space in the claustrophobic confines of the narrow passage. He tried to remain as relaxed as possible, but when the urge to move grew stronger he couldn’t resist.

  When he tried to take a step, Jasper suddenly found a sharp object jabbed into his side.

  “What do you want?” Jasper growled as he stared fixatedly at a spot on the street before him and forced himself to remain perfectly still.

  “Give me your money,” a guttural voice hissed into his ear.

  Jasper’s brows lifted, not least because the voice didn’t sound like a backstreet urchin, or an uncouth element of little education. The tone was roundly cultured with overtones of aristocratic demand that rankled Jasper. Whoever this thief was, Jasper doubted he really wanted his money.

  “I don’t have any,” Jasper replied calmly but firmly.

  “I know the cut of that clothing of yours. You have money all right. Give it to me.” To reinforce the threat to Jasper’s welfare, the thief jabbed the sharp tip of his knife into the fine material of Jasper’s shirt.

  Jasper winced and edged away from the pain.

  “Stand still,” the thief ordered. “Try running and I will cut your throat before you take more than a step.”

  Jasper snorted. “I should like to see you try.”

  He shook his head in consternation. It would be laughed about for months, even years to come if his colleagues got wind that he had been mugged while on a mission.

  “What do you really want?” Jasper sighed. “You might have all night, but I don’t.”

  As he spoke, he was only partly paying attention to the fiend in the passage behind him. He couldn’t drag his attention from the sight of his quarry, a questionable young fop who had just left the brilliantly lit confines of the large warehouse a little down the street to the right. Rather than join the pedestrians, the fop raced across the narrow road and jumped onto a waiting carriage, which immediately jolted into motion.

  “Damn,” Jasper sighed as he watched it rumble past.

  He frowned when he shifted his weight again and realised that his would-be mugger was still jabbing the knife into his side.

  “Look, damn it, just what in the Hell do you want?” Impatience was rife in his voice, but Jasper didn’t care.

  When he received no response, Jasper stepped out of the alley and to one side in a smooth motion that put him out of sight of the mugger behind him. As soon as he disappeared, the thief swore, but with those cultured tones didn’t generate anything more than another heavy sigh from Jasper, who was annoyed at the audacity of the young thug and his own abject failure to follow his quarry.

  Adept at disarming his enemy, Jasper waited for his thief to appear in the alley’s entrance. To his disbelief, as soon as he disappeared he heard the rapid clip of footsteps fade into the distance. Jasper stepped into the alley’s entrance again, just in time to watch a dark figure vault agilely over a high wall several feet away with a speed that was shocking. What Jasper also noticed in the faint glow of the street light was that his half-hearted assailant was not much older than his target: a little known aristocratic gentleman called Ernest Smidgley. Addit
ionally, the hair and build were similar.

  “I wonder if you are related?” Jasper mused, suspecting he had just been purposely distracted.

  With a heavy sigh, Jasper set off after the knifeman. He raced down the alley, vaulted over the wall and jumped down on the other side only to then realise his colossal error. There, right before him, was not only the dark carriage atop of which the young fop, his target, was seated, but beside it was four thugs, ably abetted by four more who disembarked from the carriage the moment Jasper’s boots hit the floor.

  Jasper looked over his shoulder at the height of the wall behind him and knew it would be impossible to climb from the bottom. To get over it he would have to take a run at it, like he had in the alley. He had no choice but to stay and fight. The odds were stacked against him. His chances of survival were not good given he was outnumbered ten to one.

  “This is a little much for just the contents of my pockets, isn’t it?” Jasper called with an amiable air he really didn’t feel at all.

  “We know who you are,” Ernest growled.

  “Really? How?” Jasper lifted his brows at the young lad he now suspected was Ernest’s brother, a lad called Rupert.

  “We are going to teach you a lesson about sticking your nose in,” one of the men warned. He slapped a short chain into his palm for emphasis.

  Jasper looked at it, aware of how it would be used to strike excruciating blows upon him in a way that would disarm him almost instantly. He knew that he had to target that assailant first and use the chain himself if he had any hope of getting out of this alive.

  “Got a problem, Bob?” Oliver suddenly drawled from the darkness at the opposite end of the empty yard.

  Outwardly, Jasper’s demeanour didn’t alter. His handsome features remained cold and aloof. He barely acknowledged Oliver, not least because he daren’t remove his gaze from the threatening thugs who would kill him within seconds if they chose. Inwardly, though, he was cheering wildly with the relief that Oliver’s appearance brought him. While the odds were still stacked against them, with each member of the Star Elite who arrived to lend a hand, the chances of surviving the forthcoming skirmish increased.