Winter stirred. “Then she should not go.”
Temperance rounded on him in a fury. “Not go? It’s Mary Whitsun! I can’t leave her with that woman, trap or no.”
Winter began to protest, but Caire looked at him. “I’ll accompany her and keep her safe.”
“You promise?”
“On my life.”
“You can take my footmen as well.”
They all turned at the voice. Lady Caire had entered the small kitchen with her beau. Two burly footmen stood behind her. She met Lazarus’s eyes for a minute.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Caire took Temperance’s hand and then they were out the door and into the night with the footmen following.
“What does she want with Mary Whitsun?” Temperance panted as they hurried.
Caire shook his head. “She may be merely a lure. In which case she’s probably in no danger.”
Temperance shivered. “But Mother Heart’s-Ease hates me, you said.”
“According to Pansy.” He hesitated, glancing about them as they rounded a corner. “She’s already killed Tommy Pett.”
“Oh, God.” Temperance tried to control her rising panic. Why had she never told Mary how much she loved her? Why had she kept her at arm’s length? “Then she may kill her simply to spite me.”
Lazarus didn’t answer, merely squeezing her hand.
The journey seemed to take hours, but it was only minutes later when they and the two footmen made Mother Heart’s-Ease’s gin shop.
Lazarus eyed the door and broke apart his stick.
“Stay behind me,” he said to Temperance. “You two”—he jerked his chin at the footmen—“to either side of me.”
Temperance nodded, watching as he pushed the door open with his foot.
The sight within was a strange one. The gin shop was nearly empty, but the overturned tables and broken chairs told of a struggle. Two bodies lay upon the floor—Mother Heart’s-Ease’s guards. The one-eyed barmaid cowered under the remains of a table. In the center of the room stood the Ghost of St. Giles, his sword tip at the throat of the last guard. At their entrance, the Ghost glanced at them from behind his black mask but made no other move or sound.
“I don’t know where she is!” the guard blubbered. “Mother Heart’s-Ease ’eard you were comin’ and ran out the back door. She could be anywheres now.”
The Ghost merely pressed his sword to the man’s throat. The guard yipped and a trickle of blood ran down his neck.
“Don’t!” called the barmaid. “Oh, don’t hurt Davy!”
The footmen looked uneasily at Caire.
“Tell him where Mother Heart’s-Ease is, then,” Lazarus said in a calm voice.
Temperance saw the Ghost’s mouth twitch up at the corner as if in sardonic approval.
“She was going after you.” The girl pointed at Temperance.
“Where?” Temperance asked.
“To yer home,” the girl said. “Said she’d make sure you’d leave St. Giles once and for all.”
Temperance frowned, exchanging a puzzled glance with Lazarus. “Was she alone? Did she have a girl with her?”
“She ’ad one of yer lasses,” the barmaid said. “Now leave my Davy alone. She’s not ’ere, I tell you!”
“We’d best get back to the home,” Lazarus said grimly.
“But what is she about?” Temperance cried. The fact that Mother Heart’s-Ease had taken Mary with her when she fled sent chills down her spine.
“I don’t know.” Lazarus looked at the Ghost. “Are you with us?”
The harlequin nodded and with a graceful spin was out the door and running lightly down the street.
“Hurry!” Caire called to the footmen. He took her hand again and they retraced their steps.
Night had fallen fully. Signs swung overhead, creaking eerily in the wind. Now and again, they could see the moon, floating bloated and weak behind drifting clouds. The Ghost of St. Giles ran ahead, his footfalls nearly silent. As they neared the home, Temperance could see an odd orangey-red light flickering over the rooftops, teasing and coy, but becoming bolder as they ran.
And then she smelled the smoke.
“Dear God!” She couldn’t even put into words her fear.
They rounded the corner and saw. The home was on fire. For a dreadful moment, the sound seemed to stop in Temperance’s ears and all she heard was a kind of rushing noise. Oddly she focused on Lady Caire, standing by herself in the middle of Maiden Lane. Lazarus’s mother had one hand to her mouth, and she was gazing up—at the top of the foundling home. That sight was what brought Temperance back suddenly and all at once. People were shouting. Nell was there, shaking her arm, and she could smell the smoke now, a dreadful hint of the chaos within.
“Are they out?” she shouted at Nell. There were children milling about her. “Are all the children out?”
“I don’t know!” Nell replied.
“We need to take count!” Temperance shouted.
Maiden Lane was in chaos. People screamed and ran back and forth, the aristocrats who had come to view the home mingled with the everyday folk of St. Giles. A bucket line had formed. The ragged cobbler who lived in the cellar next door handed a bucket of water to a footman in full livery who handed it to the fishmonger’s wife who handed it to a lord in a snowy white wig and so on. It was a bizarre sight. Temperance turned and looked behind her at the home.
And caught her breath.
Flames were shooting out the upper windows, smoke billowing in a gray-black cloud. At that moment, Winter and St. John staggered from the house.
“Winter!” Temperance called.
He carried a small boy in his arms. “No one else is in the nurseries. I think we got them all. Did you count the children?”
Temperance turned to Nell.
“Six and twenty—all but Mary Whitsun.”
Temperance clutched at Lazarus’s arm. “Where is she? Where could Mother Heart’s-Ease have taken her?”
But when she looked at him, he was staring up at the building. “Christ’s blood.”
She followed his gaze. Atop the roof, a tall, gaunt woman in a tattered man’s scarlet military coat was picking her way across the shingles.
The harlequin flashed by them silently and disappeared into the house next to the foundling home.
“Where is Mary Whitsun?” Temperance fisted one hand at her breast. No, it couldn’t be. No one would be so terrible as to leave a child in that inferno.