Who Will Take This Man?

Twenty-one

When Will and Robbie returned to the warehouse, both reporting the successful delivery of his letters, Philip breathed a sigh of relief. He paid them their quids, along with an extra pound each for proving so trustworthy. Their eyes nearly popped from their sockets at such a windfall. Pity tugged at Philip’s heart for the two dirty-faced lads. He’d seen so many like them, both here in London and abroad. Children, who through no fault of their own were forced to live on the cruel streets, fighting each day for survival. Children who viewed the world with flat-eyed expressions that hid hunger, fear, hopelessness, and despair. It was exactly what Meredith had faced, and he marveled anew at the strength, character, and determination it had taken for her not only to successfully rise above such circumstances, but to help Albert and Charlotte do so as well.

Before sending the lads on their way, he said, “If you boys are interested in work-honest work-you come see me.” He rattled off his direction.

“That’s where I delivered one of yer letters,” said Will. His eyes widened. “Were that fancy place yer house?”

“Yes.” He fixed them both with a penetrating stare. “There’s work available, but know that I will not tolerate being lied to or stolen from. Not once. The decision is yours.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now go buy yourselves something to eat.”

The boys studied him for several seconds, then dashed off. Philip watched them disappear from view, hoping that they would take him up on his offer. God knows he couldn’t hope to save all the children of London, but perhaps he could help Will and Robbie to help themselves. He’d given them the opportunity. The rest was up to them.

Alone again, Philip paced in front of the office, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. His gaze swept the area, noting the careful placement of his walking stick, hidden by the shadows of the crate it leaned upon. Everything was ready for him to confront his enemy.

His enemy. A humorless laugh pushed past his tight throat. And all this time I’d thought you were my friend…

His pacing halted when he heard the door open. A familiar voice called out, “Are you here, Philip?”

“Yes. By the office.”

Rapid footfalls sounded against the wood floor. When his guest rounded the corner and faced him, Philip stilled from the impact of staring into the dark eyes of this man he’d for so long believed to be his friend. Emotions pelted him from all sides, and he frowned. Damn it, he hadn’t anticipated that under his anger he’d experience this deep sense of loss. And sadness that it had come to this. Bludgeoning back his unwanted feelings, he said, “Glad you could come. There’s something we need to discuss.”

“So I gathered from your note. You’ve found a way to break the curse without the missing piece of stone? How extraordinary. You must tell me how.”

“And so I shall. But first, tell me, how are your injuries?”

Philip watched him roll his shoulders and flex his hand. “Improving.”

With a lightning-quick move, Philip reached out and grabbed Edward’s upper arm and squeezed. A sharp cry of pain erupted from Edward’s lips and he jerked himself free of Philip’s grasp, backing up several paces.

“It’s a miracle that Catherine didn’t break your arm when she hit you with the fire iron last evening,” Philip said coldly. “She’s quite a strong woman.”

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, then a frigid calm settled over Edward’s features, a frightening contrast to the hatred blazing in his eyes. “So you know.” He shrugged. “It was inevitable that you would discover the truth sooner or later. If you hadn’t done so on your own, I would have revealed myself to you… eventually. After I’d had the pleasure of watching you suffer the loss of those you love. But satisfy my curiosity. How did you figure it out?”

“Several things regarding your story about the night of the break-in here at the warehouse bothered me, but I couldn’t figure out what they were.” Philip’s gaze dropped to Edward’s wrapped hand. “The morning after the robbery, I noticed broken glass scattered all about the floor, which would only make sense if someone had broken the window to gain entry. Yet you claimed that you broke the glass to escape the warehouse, in which case the glass would have broken in the other direction and have been scattered outside. The guard didn’t let you in. You broke the glass to enter the warehouse, which resulted in your injury.”

His gaze dropped to Edward’s wrapped hand. “Both you and Bakari mentioned that you had glass embedded in the back of your hand. If you’d tripped, as you’d claimed, the glass would have embedded itself in your palms. But if you’d used your fist to shatter the glass to break into the warehouse, then it would have cut the back of your hand. My mistake was in blindly accepting your version of the events of that evening when they were all lies.”

Philip pinned him with a narrow gaze. “You killed the guard. You being beaten was a result of trying to escape him after he discovered your presence in here. You were the one who robbed me. And the minute it occurred to me to doubt your word, the pieces clicked into place.”

Edward inclined his head. “It is as you say. How very clever you are. Unfortunately for you, not clever enough to live to tell your tale to anyone else.”

In spite of his anger, Philip couldn’t squelch the pity tugging at him. He hated what Edward had done, yet losing his beloved wife had obviously driven him to this madness. “I want you to know, Edward, that I am deeply sorry for what happened to Mary. I never meant for anyone else to see the Stone of Tears. I kept it hidden in my cabin onboard the ship-”

“Did you think I didn’t know you were hiding something?” Edward said, the words spitting out like a cobra’s venom. “Something of great value that you did not want to share? I was determined to find it. During the storm I was finally given my opportunity to search your cabin. Very clever hiding spot, in your boot, but not clever enough.”

Philip’s heart skipped a beat. He had hidden the stone before he’d rushed from his cabin. In the confusion of the storm, the mast breaking, the details had become a blur. A layer of the guilt he carried peeled away, along with his pity. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You brought this curse down upon yourself and Mary by your own greed. I wasn’t trying to keep some treasure from you-I was trying to keep anyone else from translating that infernal stone. I’d hidden it. You went looking for it. Invaded my cabin, my privacy, and look what it got you.”

“You dare to shift the blame for Mary’s death to me? You’re the one who found the stone. If it weren’t for you, she’d be alive.”

“As she would be if you hadn’t allowed your greed to get the better of you.”

“Stop! Damn you, the fault is yours. And you’re going to pay for it.” His gaze darted about the area. “Not that it matters, as you will be dead in less than a minute, but I assume that either Andrew or Bakari-perhaps both of them-are on their way here as well?”

“No. This is between you and me.”

“Pity. Their arrival here would have saved me the trouble of going to them, but it matters not. Their hours are numbered.” With a quick movement, he withdrew a pistol from his jacket and pointed it at the center of Philip’s chest. “Unfortunately, you will not still be alive to see them die, but you will die knowing that those you hold dear will soon follow you.”

Philip shook his head. “I won’t allow you to hurt anyone else.”

A sharp bark of laughter erupted from Edward. “Indeed? You cannot stop me. You will not stop me.”

Philip didn’t move so much as an eyelash as he studied his foe. He needed time, had to keep Edward talking. “I’m sorry about Mary, Edward-”

“Sorry?” he repeated in an awful voice. His eyes narrowed into hate-filled slits. “That doesn’t bring her back, now, does it? Nothing will. Not your pity, nor your useless financial gestures. Do you think that money can take her place? Assuage your responsibility? Could money replace the woman you love, Philip?”

The mere thought turned his stomach. “If there was a woman I loved… no.”

“Don’t lie to me. ‘Tis obvious how you feel about Miss Chilton-Grizedale. Of course, I won’t have to actually kill her. You’ve taken care of that for me, by professing your love and asking her to marry you. Who knew that that would activate the curse?” A high-pitched laugh escaped him. “How bloody perfect!”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Philip repeated in a frigid voice.

Edward’s expression turned to one of amusement as he looked pointedly between the pistol and Philip. “I’m afraid I must disagree.”

“Meredith isn’t going to die because I am going to break the curse.”

“So you indicated. How do you intend to do that without the missing piece of stone?”

Philip smiled. “You’re going to give me the missing piece of stone.”

“Again, you are mistaken.”

“You have the missing piece. You wrote as much in your last note. You stole it the night you robbed me. It was in the alabaster box.”

Madness glittered in Edward’s eyes. “It was. I read it. I alone hold the answer to breaking the curse, and I will never share it with you. Never.”

Knee-weakening relief smacked Philip. Edward’s words made it clear that there was indeed a way to break the curse. Now all he had to do was get that missing piece of stone. And survive this encounter. Moving slowly, he maneuvered himself so that his walking stick was directly behind him.

“Show me the stone, Edward.”

Edward laughed. “Oh, I intend to. What better way to make you suffer than to show you that which you shall never have? It’s rather like leaving a man tied in the desert, just out of reach of an oasis.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a stone, half the size of his palm.

Philip’s heart pounded. Without a doubt, it was the missing piece of stone.

“You want to know what it says, don’t you?” Edward taunted. “Well, you’ll never know. You’re going to your grave, Greybourne-the same place you sent my Mary. And I want your last thoughts to be of losing everything you love.”

“Killing my family won’t bring back Mary.”

“But it makes you suffer. Of course, killing your family is not as important as killing Miss Chilton-Grizedale.” An unpleasant smile curved his lips. “An eye for an eye, Philip.”

“You’ll never get away with this. You’ll hang.”

“It matters not. My life is over. You and your curse saw to that.”

His gaze locked on Edward’s, Philip took a half step forward. “Give me the stone, Edward.”

“Don’t come any closer, Philip.”

Philip moved another half step. “Why not? You’re going to kill me anyway.” Another step. Then he looked over Edward’s shoulder, widened his eyes, and shook his head.

“What-?” The instant Edward swiveled around to see who or what was behind him, Philip reached for his walking stick.

Realizing he’d been duped, Edward whirled back around. Philip swung the walking stick, catching Edward across the chest. Edward’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in mad fury, but he quickly recovered, dodging Philip’s next swing. With an inhuman roar of rage, Edward rushed forward, smashing into Philip, sending him crashing against the stacked crates. The walking stick fell from his grasp.

“You bastard,” Edward heaved, trapping Philip against the wall with the full weight of his large body. Philip struggled to move, but ceased when he felt the pistol jammed directly under his ribs. One twitch of Edward’s finger would end his life. He’d heard that insanity drove men to great strength, and Edward was proving that correct. His forearm pressed against Philip’s throat, cutting off his air. Black dots began to swim in front of his face. Knowing it was now or never, he heaved himself forward, throwing Edward back several paces. He grabbed Edward’s wrists. One hand held the pistol, the other the stone. Eyes riveted on each other, they struggled fiercely.

Sweat coating his skin, muscles screaming against the strain, Philip tried to direct the pistol away from him.

“You think you’re going to win this?” Edward ground out, his face only inches from Philip’s. “Think again, you bastard. I’ll see to it that no matter what happens, you’ll not win.”

A dull thud, followed by the sound of Edward’s boot smashing down, turned Philip’s blood to ice.

“The stone is destroyed,” Edward whispered. “And so are you. I hope you rot in hell.”

The pistol fired.

The carriage had just halted outside the warehouse when the sound of a pistol shot rent the air. Heart pounding with fear and dread, Meredith grabbed Mr. Stanton’s arm. “Dear God. That came from inside the warehouse.”

“Stay here,” he said, opening the carriage door and jumping to the ground.

“I’ll do no such thing. Philip is in danger. I can help.”

He slipped a knife from his pocket. “Help? How?”

Jumping to the ground, she hefted her rock-laden reticule. “I’m armed.” She lifted her chin. “And determined. You’re not leaving me here.”

He raised his brows. “You any good with that thing?”

“Would you care for a demonstration?”

They stared at each other for several seconds, then he jerked his head in a nod. “You’ll do. Don’t make a sound, stay behind me, and for God’s sake, don’t get yourself killed.”

Clasping her hand, he led her silently forward. They’d only taken half a dozen steps when she halted and squeezed his hand. Heart pounding, she whispered, “There’s someone in the shadows.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Bakari stepped forward, a long, curved knife held in his fist.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew whispered.

“Same as you. Hope to save his life.”

Andrew nodded, then indicated with a jerk of his head that Bakari should bring up the rear. The warehouse door stood ajar, and they slipped in the opening. Moving silently forward, Meredith forced long, slow, deep breaths into her constricted lungs, fighting back her fright. If something had happened to Philip…

Keeping close to the shadows cast by the crates, they crept forward. She strained her ears, but heard nothing save the thumping of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. When they came to the final corner before they’d reach Philip’s crates, Mr. Stanton stopped. They listened for several seconds, but heard nothing. Then he cautiously peeked around the corner.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, then his agonized groan. “Philip… oh, God… bloody hell.”