Vanity by Jane Feather

Author:Jane Feather [Feather, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780786208883
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1995-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The warehouse just south of London Bridge on the south side of the Thames was a squat redbrick building with barred windows. The river lapped at the base of one wall, leaving a green slime against the brickwork.

The hackney carriage disgorged its two passengers before an iron-barred door at the rear of a narrow courtyard. The jarvey looked around from beneath lowering bushy brows. “Ye’ll be wantin’ me to wait, gents?”

Dirk Rigby wrinkled his nose at the prevailing stench of rotting weed, fish, and cesspit. He glanced at Hector, who was nervously touching the blinding white folds of his cravat. This run-down neighborhood seemed a most unlikely venue for a meeting of investors.

“Yes,” Hector said brusquely. “Wait for us.”

“I’ll ’ave me fare this far, though, guv,” the jarvey stated as his passengers turned toward the door. “Jest in case anythin’ ’appens, like.” He guffawed, wiping his eyes on a red-spotted kerchief.

“Don’t be absurd, man,” Dirk said. “We’re here on business, and you’ll remain here until that business is concluded.” So saying, he rapped sharply on the door with the silver head of his cane.

The jarvey subsided on his bench, muttering. He knew the type. They expected a man to spend half his day waiting on them, losing fares by the minute, and then he’d be lucky to get an extra shilling out of them at journey’s end.

The door bolts screeched in oilless protest and the great door swung open, revealing a dark cavernous area within. An elderly man stood in the doorway, holding a guttering tallow candle. His shoulders were hunched in a rusty black coat, grease shining on the lapels, and his hair was covered in a ratty bagwig.

“There y’are,” he said in a creaky voice. “Late, y’are. Master was about to give up on ye.” He peered around them at the hackney standing in the entrance to the court. “Best keep ’im. Don’t get much traffic in these parts. Wouldn’t want to walk these streets on yer own, neither. Not such fine gentlemen.” He cackled and turned back into the interior of the warehouse.

Hector and Dirk followed him. The old man darted backward with a sudden spritely movement that belied his age and hunched impression of infirmity. The great iron door clanged shut as he kicked it. The candle flared and guttered, and they were suddenly in darkness.

“Odd’s blood, man! What are you playing at?” bellowed Hector, hearing his own uncertainty beneath the bluster.

“Just the wind … just the wind,” the old man muttered. “’Ang on a minute.” He shuffled around in the dark, flint scraped on tinder, and the candlelight flickered and steadied again.

They were in a vast, empty space, with a ceiling so high it disappeared into the darkness. In the meager yellow light, Dirk and Hector could make out against the walls shapeless piles that could have been anything. The air was thick with dust and wood shavings, cold and damp despite the balmy evening outside.

“Damn smoky, this,” Hector muttered to his companion as their escort led them across the area toward a curving iron staircase against the riverside wall.

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