From the corner of his eye Max saw a yellow-and-black striped shape slide under the seat opposite. Evidently the gentleman was right. There was a snake in the carriage.
Max sighed again. It was going to be a long, long day.
The trap in the roof of the carriage lifted, and Ben leaned down to announce, “Vauxhall Gardens, my lady. We will take you as close to the ruins as possible.”
“Thank you,” Plum said, chewing her lip as she watched out the window. “The ruins, what would they want at the ruins? They’re not even real, no more than the faux castle and cannons and cascade are real. What on earth can they want at the ruins?”
The carriage came to a halt before Plum could puzzle out an answer. “Which way are the ruins?” she asked as she leaped down without waiting for the steps to be lowered.
“That way, through the long lawn, to the left of the iron bridge, beyond the thatched pavilion.”
“Ben, you come with me. Sam, you stay here in case Lord Rosse shows up. You can tell him where we’ve gone. Are you armed, Ben?”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Excellent. Try not to kill anyone unless you absolutely have to.”
“Right you are,” Ben said cheerfully. The two of them set off at a run across the small, delightful groves, charming lawns, serpentine walks, and shady bowers that made up some of the sixteen acres of the famed Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.
As they approached the ruins, Sam pointed and yelled that they were close. Suddenly the figure of a man burst from behind a partially standing wall, spinning and yelling and waving his arms around like he was a madman. Clinging to his back was the lithe shape of a tall boy.
“Digger!” Plum cried, and picking up her skirts, dashed toward the pair. It wasn’t easy going with crumbled bits of stone, rotted wood, and awkward mounds of grassy earth that had been artfully arranged as part of the romantic ruins, but where there was Digger, there was bound to be the rest of the children. The man Digger was beating about the head caught sight of her and bellowed a warning, then turned and lumbered back behind the wall. Behind her a shout included her name. Plum slowed and glanced backward. Thom and India and a tall, handsome young man were running toward them. She waved and spun back around, catching up to Ben as they rounded the corner of a large piece of ruins. The scene before them was of utter chaos. Plum paused for a brief moment, unable to believe what she was seeing, then with a quick smile and a whoop that rivaled those the children were making, threw herself into the fray.
If the situation had not posed danger to the children, Plum thought as she raised her skirt high enough to kick out at the man who was dragging Digger from his back, it would be amusing. Digger’s assailant clutched himself, doubled over, and rolled to the ground screaming something about his unborn children. Digger gave her a cheeky grin and the pair turned to where a ginger-haired man was trying unsuccessfully to tuck Andrew and Anne under his arms. The twins were shrieking and squirming and biting at the man, but Plum didn’t stop to lavish praise upon them for their intelligent behavior — she lowered her head and charged across the rocky ground toward the man who had her stepchildren. The cowardly miscreant took one look at her — and the three people following on her heels — and dropped the twins, spinning around to head for the scenic wood that bordered the faux ruins.
“After him,” Plum cried to the young man who accompanied Thom, falling to her knees to embrace the twins. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“Mama! Mama help me!” a youthful voice cried. Plum turned from where she was pressing kisses onto the squirming twins, jumping up to look down what was meant to represent a ruined cloistered walk consisting of a few broken archways and fallen columns.
“Digger, take care of the twins,” Plum cried as she dashed off. At the far end of the walk rose a large block of stone topped by wildflowers. The ginger-haired man stood next to the stone, a pistol in one hand and McTavish in the other. Movement behind her indicated that Thom and India had followed her.
“Stand back, all of you, or I’ll see to it this little bastard goes to meet his maker! You! You the boy’s mama?”
Plum walked forward slowly, gesturing behind her back in an attempt to warn the others off. “Yes, I am his mother. You can’t want to harm him, it will do you no good. Why don’t you take me, instead?”
“Come closer, and we’ll talk about it,” the ginger-haired man said.
Plum turned her head slightly to the right, never once taking her eyes from the muzzle of the pistol pressed to her youngest stepson’s head as she slowly paced toward him. “Digger?”
“Yes, Plum?” His voice was as soft as hers.
“Take the others to the carriage. Be very quiet and do not attack anyone. Their safety is in your hands.”
“I’d rather stay here with you.”
Plum risked a glance to the side to where her stepson stood. He looked just like Harry at that moment, a realization that wrung her heart. “I know you would, but you must think of their safety first.”
“All right. I won’t let you down.”
“Tell Sam and the other men to stay back.” Plum stepped forward, her hands spread to show she was unarmed. “Let the child go. He’s not as valuable as I am, surely?”
“That’s as may be, but I was hired to take the youngsters.” The man edged nervously around the side of the stone, his grip on the boy’s neck tightening as he had to drag McTavish over a small hillock. “No closer now, my lady. I wouldn’t want you getting heroic. You, there, in the back. Release my man or I shoot the lad.”
Plum prayed that the man who accompanied Thom would do as he was asked. Evidently he did, because a thin, weedy man with two bruised eyes and a bloody nose staggered to the far side of the walk, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
The man with the pistol nodded toward her. “Take the lady, Davey. Hold her in case the gent back there gets any ideas.”
“Who is it?” Plum asked in a whisper as the bloodied man limped toward her.
“The gentleman? That’s Nick, my burglar,” Thom whispered back.
“Tell him to be ready. I will pretend to stumble and fall toward the man with the pistol. You must grab McTavish while the burglar takes care of this one.”
Thom stepped away as the hired thug grabbed Plum’s arm, snarling an oath under his breath. His fingers bit cruelly into her arm as he jerked her forward.
Plum, mindful of the broken stones and the debris that littered the ground, knew full well that she was endangering herself and her babe, but she would not tolerate the devils having McTavish. She braced herself, spying a likely looking piece of stone over which she would stumble, but just as she was about to throw herself forward, the sound of muffled hoof beats reached her ears.
“If that’s another one of your men, tell him to stay back,” the ginger-haired man warned, cocking the pistol. “Or I’ll blow this little bastard’s head from his neck!”
Plum was incapable of speech, so furious was she, but even she paused for a moment when a riderless horse burst into the open space from beyond the ruins. Its reins were hanging loose, and immediately upon sighting the group of men, it shied and veered away. At that moment a dark shape leaped out from behind the far edge of the standing wall, seeming to fly across the empty space before landing on the ginger-haired man. McTavish was knocked forward as the two men fell, a pistol shot breaking the peaceful quiet.
“Harry!” Plum shrieked, and kicked out at her guard before throwing herself protectively over the top of McTavish. He squirmed beneath her, and she eased up enough to let him breathe, but when she saw Harry knock the pistol from the ginger-haired man’s hand, she leaped to her feet, hauled McTavish up, shoving him at Thom before running forward to see how badly Harry had been hurt.