At last her eyes closed.
The sheriff stepped up to cut down the bodies, and that was when the trouble started.
The Irish group surged forward, trying to get past the guards to the scaffold. The constables fought back, and the javelin men joined in, stabbing at the Irish. Blood began to flow.
“I was afraid of this,” Jay said. “They want to keep their friends’ bodies out of the hands of the surgeons. Let’s get clear as fast as we can.”
Many around them had the same idea, but those at the back were trying to get closer and see what was happening. As some surged one way and some the other, fistfights broke out. Jay tried to force a way through. Lizzie stuck close to him. They found themselves up against an unbroken wave of people going the other way. Everyone was shouting or screaming. They were forced back toward the gallows. The scaffold was now swarming with Irish, some of whom were beating off the guards and dodging the lunges of the javelin men while others tried to cut down the bodies of their friends.
For no apparent reason the crush around Lizzie and Jay eased suddenly. She turned around and saw a gap between two big, rough-looking men. “Jay, come on!” she shouted, and darted between them. She turned to make sure Jay was behind her. Then the gap closed. Jay stepped forward to push his way through, but one of the men raised a hand threateningly. Jay flinched and stepped back, momentarily afraid. The hesitation was fataclass="underline" he was cut off from her. She saw his blond head above the crowd and fought to get back to him but she was stopped by a wall of people. “Jay!” she screamed. “Jay!” He shouted back but the crowd forced them farther apart. He was pushed in the direction of Tyburn Street while the crowd took her the opposite way, toward the park. A moment later he was lost from sight.
She was on her own. She gritted her teeth and turned her back on the scaffold. She faced a solid pack of people. She tried to push herself between a small man and a big-bosomed matron. “Keep your hands to yourself, young man,” the woman said. Lizzie persisted in pushing and managed to squeeze through. She repeated the process. She trod on the toes of a sour-faced man and he punched her in the ribs. She gasped with pain and pressed on.
She saw a familiar face and recognized Mack McAsh. He, too, was fighting his way through the crowd. “Mack!” she yelled gratefully. He was with the red-haired woman who had been at his side in Grosvenor Square. “Over here!” Lizzie cried. “Help me!” He saw her and recognized her. Then a tall man’s elbow jabbed her eye and for a few moments she could hardly see. When her vision returned to normal Mack and the woman had vanished.
Grimly she pressed on. Inch by inch she was getting away from the fracas at the gallows. With each step she found it a little easier to move. Within five minutes she was no longer squeezing between tightly packed people but passing through gaps several inches wide. Eventually she came up against the front wall of a house. She worked her way along to the corner of the building and stepped into an alley two or three feet wide.
She leaned against the house wall, catching her breath. The alley was foul and stank of human waste. Her ribs ached where she had been punched. She touched her face gingerly and found that the flesh around her eye was swelling.
She hoped Jay was all right. She turned around to look for him, and was startled to see two men staring at her.
One was middle-aged and unshaven with a fat belly, the other a youth of about eighteen. Something about their stares frightened her, but before she could move away they pounced. They grabbed her by the arms and threw her to the ground. They snatched her hat and the man’s wig she wore, pulled off her silver-buckled shoes, and went through her pockets with bewildering speed, taking her purse, her pocket watch and a handkerchief.
The older man shoved the spoils into a sack, stared at her for a moment, then said: “That’s a good coat—nearly new.”
They both bent over her again and began to pull off her coat and matching waistcoat. She struggled but all she achieved was to rip her shirt. They stuffed her garments into a sack. She realized her breasts were exposed. Hastily she covered herself with the shreds of her clothes but she was too late. “Hey, it’s a girl!” cried the younger man.
She scrambled to her feet but he grabbed her and held her.
The fat one stared at her. “And a pretty girl, too, by God,” he said. He licked his lips. “I’m going to fuck her,” he said decisively.
Seized with horror, Lizzie struggled violently, but she could not shake off the young man’s grip.
The youth looked back along the alley to the crowd in the street. “What, here?”
“Nobody’s looking this way, you young fool.” He stroked himself between the legs. “Get those breeches off her and let’s have a look.”
The boy threw her to the ground, sat on her heavily and started to pull off her breeches while the other man watched. Fear flooded Lizzie and she screamed at the top of her voice, but there was so much noise in the street she doubted whether anyone would hear her.
Then, suddenly, Mack McAsh appeared.
She glimpsed his face and a raised fist, then he struck the older one on the side of the head. The thief rocked sideways and staggered. Mack hit him again, and the man’s eyes rolled up into his head. Mack hit him a third time, and the man slumped and lay still.
The boy scrambled off Lizzie and tried to run away but she grabbed his ankle and tripped him. He measured his length on the ground. Mack picked him up and threw him against the house wall, then hit him on the chin with a punch that came up from below with all his weight behind it, and the boy fell unconscious on top of his partner-in-crime.
Lizzie got to her feet. “Thank God you were here!” she said fervently. Tears of relief filled her eyes. She threw her arms around him and said: “You saved me—thank you, thank you!”
He hugged her closely. “You saved me, once—when you pulled me out of the river.”
She held him tight and tried to stop shaking. She felt his hand behind her head, stroking her hair. In her breeches and shirt, with no petticoats to get in the way, she could feel the entire length of his body pressed against hers. He felt completely different from her husband. Jay was tall and supple, Mack short and massive and hard.
He shifted and looked at her. His green eyes were mesmerizing. The rest of his face seemed to blur. “You saved me, and I saved you,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m your guardian angel, and you’re mine.”
She began to calm down. She remembered that her shirt was torn and her breasts were bare. “If I were an angel, I wouldn’t be in your arms,” she said, and she made to detach herself from his embrace.
He looked into her eyes for a moment, then gave that wry smile again and nodded, as if agreeing with her. He turned away.
He bent and took the sack from the older thief’s limp hand. He took out her waistcoat and she put it on, buttoning it hastily to cover her nakedness. As soon as she felt safe again she began to worry about Jay. “I have to look for my husband,” she said as Mack helped her put her coat on. “Will you help me?”
“Of course.” He handed her the wig and hat, purse and watch and handkerchief.
“What about your red-haired friend?” she asked.
“Cora. I made sure she was safe before I came after you.”
“Did you?” Lizzie felt unreasonably irritated. “Are you and Cora lovers?” she said rudely.
Mack smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Since the day before yesterday.”
“My wedding day.”
“I’m having a wonderful time. Are you?”
A sharp retort came to her lips then, despite herself, she laughed. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips.
“I’d do it all over again for a kiss like that.”
She grinned at him then turned toward the street.