Don’t Cry Alone Read online

  As they rushed out of the building and on to the dimly lit street, both men were instantly alerted to the scuffle taking place at the mouth of the alley. Dragged from his lofty place, the carriage driver was courageously grappling with one of the burly attackers, while inside the carriage an even fiercer struggle was going on. ‘God Almighty, she’s in trouble! Beth’s in trouble!’ Ben’s frantic cry soared above the din. Tyler was already running, but on hearing the shout, surged forward, his face set like granite and his powerful fists clenched in readiness. Leaving Ben to help fight off the rogue who was attacking the driver, he flung open the carriage door to launch himself on the dark bulky figure that was writhing with another on the floor of the carriage.

  Tyler’s intervention was not a moment too soon. When the intruder pounced, Beth soon found herself pressed between the two seats, bucking and fighting, her small sharp nails scoring the podgy flesh of her assailant’s face and causing him to cry out. But he was not deterred by her spirited defence, seeming only to become even more excited. Thrusting his arms out to grasp her flailing fists into his own, he leaned into her, his putrid breath fanning her face. ‘Feisty little bitch, ain’t yer?’ he growled, his tiny smiling eyes almost lost in the ugly rise of pock-marked flesh above each cheekbone. Pinning Beth in a twisted painful position where she found herself unable to move, he inched his grotesque body forward, rising and falling on her in anticipation of imminent pleasures.

  His hopes were swiftly shattered when an iron grip locked itself round the scruff of his jacket and hoisted him effortlessly through the air. ‘Hey! What the bleeding… ?’ His shout became a muffled moan when Tyler’s bunched knuckles caught him full force in the face. Reeling with pain he fell backwards, blood spurting from his nose. His instincts caused him to reach into his pocket. Tyler never saw the knife. He felt only the sharp searing pain as the blade sliced deep into his shoulder, then again into the soft flesh of his upper arm as the ruffian fell on him, drawing out the blade with the intention of sinking it deep into Tyler’s heart. But he hadn’t reckoned on the awesome strength of his opponent. During the ensuing bitter struggle, and though Tyler was badly injured, the ruffian was soon fighting for his own miserable life.

  In desperation he pitched himself through the open carriage door to land with a muffled thud on the hard jutting cobbles below. Without pausing for a backward look, he seized his chance and fled down the narrow alley. Finding himself outnumbered, his accomplice soon followed suit, the sound of their retreating footsteps echoing into the night, and the old man’s voice screaming after them, ‘Garn, yer cowardly buggers! What kinda rascal sets on an old feller an’ a helpless lady? Shame on yer! SHAME ON YER!’

  ‘You did well, old man,’ Ben reassured him, at the same time retrieving the old one’s cap from the cobbles and handing it to him. For all his bravado, it was clear the old fellow was badly shaken.

  Beth was even more so. When Tyler drew her out from the small space beneath the seat where she had been trapped, she felt mortally ashamed. The front of her blouse was ripped open, exposing the milk-white skin of her breasts; her hair was dishevelled and there were angry red scratches running down her neck. In the soft light from the street lamp, she saw the look of horror on Tyler’s face as he lovingly folded her into his arms. His voice was low and trembling as he reassured her, ‘You’re all right, sweetheart. You’re safe now.’ When he felt her shiver against him, his voice became hard as he asked gently, ‘Did he… did that swine… ?’

  She raised her head. The look in his eyes was terrible to see. ‘No,’ she murmured.

  One word, just one word. It was enough. Relief flooded his face. ‘Thank God! I swear, Beth… there would have been no hiding place for him!’ Now he turned his anger on her, ‘What in God’s name was so desperately important that you could even think of coming into Whitechapel… especially at this time of night?’

  ‘I had to see you.’ Her dark eyes were filled with pain. ‘I know I promised to think about… our relationship… to give it a week before we saw each other. But, oh Tyler, I don’t need to think about us. I love you. I was so afraid you planned to go away.’

  ‘Without telling you?’ Half smiling, he shook his head. Suddenly, the pain was like a tide inside him. His shoulder was on fire and he could feel both blood and strength ebbing away. Even as his eyes sought Beth’s loveliness and his arms crushed her to him, his senses were dimming. When Ben poked his head into the carriage he was greeted with, ‘You should never have brought her here! For God’s sake, Ben, get her home.’ Slipping out of his jacket, Tyler wrapped it about her naked shoulders. ‘Take care of her, Ben.’

  ‘I won’t go until you agree to see me. Tomorrow!’ She was adamant.

  Gently pushing her into the seat, Tyler promised. ‘We will talk, Beth. You have my word on it.’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’

  In the lamplight her dark eyes appraised him, boldly studying his features, the handsome strongly chiselled features, the thick wayward hair that fell over his forehead like dark splashes against a bronze canvas, and the eyes, darkly green, intense. Now, her gaze fell to his chin, square and determined, the broad muscular shoulders… a sense of fear flickered through her. Something was wrong! In an instant she was on her feet, her outstretched hands reaching towards the vivid ruddy stain that ran from his shoulder and was spreading even as she watched. ‘BEN!’ Her shrill cry echoed into the night. She glanced towards the doorway where her brother was already clambering into the carriage. ‘He’s badly hurt,’ she said, her dark eyes frantic.

  One look at the wound confirmed it. ‘She’s right,’ Ben agreed. ‘You’ve lost a deal of blood.’ Ignoring the other man’s protests, Ben eased him on to the seat. ‘We’ve got to get you to the Infirmary… and quickly.’

  ‘No Infirmary!’

  ‘Don’t be crazy, man. You’re bleeding to death.’

  ‘Just get Beth home.’ Tyler’s only thought was that she should be taken home as quickly as possible after her frightening ordeal. He suspected also that she had defied her parents in coming here. Tonight’s experiences had only confirmed what he had always believed – that, in loving Beth, he would bring her nothing but trouble.

  ‘I’ll be the one to decide when I should go home,’ Beth told him angrily. Turning to the driver, who was leaning in at the doorway, she ordered, ‘The Infirmary… and for God’s sake, hurry!’ Alarmed, he nodded and began to scurry away.

  ‘NO!’ Tyler’s harsh shout brought the driver back to the doorway. Realising that he was rapidly losing consciousness, and knowing how Beth would have insisted on accompanying him into the Infirmary, with all its consequences, Tyler appealed to her brother. ‘No Infirmary, Ben,’ he murmured. ‘Send the carriage to my home, number twelve Lewisham Street.’ In that moment before his senses slipped away, he saw the other man nod in agreement. Ben understood. He knew his sister better than most. All the same, the younger man was mortally afraid that, in complying with Tyler’s instructions, he was condemning him to certain death.

  Chapter Two

  ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Ward, you look as though you’ve got the weight of the world on your pretty little shoulders.’ Tom Reynolds was a small shrewish man with silver hair and a disturbing habit of watching people with such intensity that often they were driven to take refuge out of his sight. It was well known that he suffered an intolerably lonely life, his only company being a mangy terrier who possessed a fierce and uncontrollable appetite for human flesh. On the one occasion when Tom had brought the animal to work with him, it had created such pandemonium that Richard Ward was obliged to send his chief clerk home with the unfortunate creature – offering him the choice of returning to the office alone, or not returning at all.

  The remaining two office staff – an aged dogsbody by the unlikely name of Methias Worry, and a giggly young man with a unique talent for soothing irate business clients – had each secretly hoped
that the despicable little man might choose not to return. However, he did, and Richard Ward for one breathed a sigh of relief, for though Tom Reynolds was without doubt a born trouble maker, and somewhat evil in character, he was also extremely clever and meticulous in everything he did. Not one brass farthing escaped his eagle eye, not a single mistake was allowed to pass his scrutiny. Using his ill-gotten skills, he had slyly wormed his way into Esther Ward’s personal favour when he discreetly brought it to her attention that a certain Tyler Blacklock – on the payroll of the Ward Development Company – had ‘dared to set his cap at your daughter’. Then, not satisfied with causing enough mischief to rouse Esther Ward’s darkest suspicions, he had gone on to point out how he felt it was his ‘… bounden duty to report how I saw the young man in question, in the company of your daughter, strolling through Regent’s Park, with all the world looking on’. Later, when Richard Ward was in turn confronted by his wife, he felt obliged to question the source of her information. Realising that in Tom Reynolds she had discovered a snoop who might well be of use in the future, Esther Ward had refused to disclose the source. Consequently, Richard was obliged to demand an explanation from Beth herself – and so the truth was out.

  Beth did not regret that. She regretted only that her love for Tyler had created an even deeper rift between her father and mother. She suspected that Tom Reynolds was at the root of it all and many was the time when she had been sorely tempted to accuse him outright, but she had no proof and knew how invaluable he was to her father’s business. Reluctantly she had let the matter lie. But she made no secret of her dislike for the fellow. It was in her eyes as she glared at him now, and it was in her voice when she told him coolly, ‘How kind of you to trouble yourself about me, Mr Reynolds, but, there is no need, I assure you.’

  Leaning on the edge of the small mahogany desk, he continued to stare at her, his tiny pinkish eyes slitted in a half smile, his whole face slyly contorted. He thought her to be inordinately proud. Proud and bewitching. And desirable. Oh, yes! He thought that, in particular, Elizabeth Ward was desirable; the most desirable creature he had ever set eyes on. If he regretted anything at all in his life, it was that he had never had a woman; that he did not yet know what it was to experience that certain power over women which most men enjoyed. He laughed inwardly. Most men maybe, but not his employer Richard Ward, because he was thumb-nailed, dictated to and manipulated, with the same ingenious skill with which that foolish man’s own ledger-clerk manipulated the figures put before him. But then, what man could rise above a ruthless woman the likes of Esther Ward? Such a woman could suck a man dry, and was to be avoided at all costs; unless, of course, a body could make himself useful to her in a subtle way that might bring its own reward… Her daughter Elizabeth, though! Now, there was a different kettle of fish altogether. She was a woman to be watched, to be coolly desired at the busy time of day or craved in the dark solitude of a long lonely night. She was a woman of exceptional spirit and beauty. Oh, but what chance would a man like him have, especially with the Tyler Blacklocks of this world to sweep such a woman off her feet? No chance at all… on the face of things. But he was not a man of faint heart. On the contrary, he was most vigilant, alert to every opportunity that might fall his way; and though his hair was white, he was still a man only two and thirty years of age. Passion flowed through his loins in exactly the same way as it did through the loins of any man. Oh, but he was cunning too. More cunning, he’d be bound, than any other man on the face of the earth. Cunning in every way imaginable. And his cunning was never sharper than it was now, at the very moment when he found his gaze locked with the bold and beautiful dark eyes of Elizabeth Ward. Straightening his slight form he told her in a syrupy voice that sent a shiver down her back, ‘I’m glad to hear that, Miss Ward. However, should you feel the need to confide in a fellow, or to seek comfort from anything that might be troubling you…’ His smile broadened and he paused for a moment. Then, in a more intimate voice, he murmured, ‘You only have to ask.’ He reached out to touch her, but when she instinctively backed away his small eyes glittered angrily. ‘There may come a day,’ he told her in an unpleasant voice, ‘when you will be glad of my friendship.’ He knew of Beth’s unhappy relationship with her mother and he had long sensed trouble brewing there.

  The brief response Beth afforded him was half-heartedly to incline her head and tell him patiently, ‘If you don’t mind… I do have a great deal of work to do.’

  ‘Of course! Of course!’ He sensed her dislike, and it rankled with him. How he would have enjoyed turning her dislike around; perhaps even to admiration. He wondered whether such a thing could ever be, and not for the first time felt a pang of bitterness. But the feeling was short-lived. Almost at once his arrogance rose above it. Time and patience, he thought, and a deal of precious cunning; worthy virtues that had been known to work wonders – and in all truth, there was no man more aware of time than he was; no man more patient, no man more devious, and no man more ruthless when it came to the bare bones of an intriguing puzzle, especially when that certain ‘puzzle’ was a lady of exceptional loveliness. But of course, beauty was not Elizabeth Ward’s only attribute, although he was not really one to dwell on such things as money and prospects; however he could not deny how gratifying it was to see the Ward Development Company gaining a very important footing and enviable reputation in its own particular market. He had always thought himself to be a man of simple tastes. But men changed, sometimes out of all recognition. More often than not it was a woman who changed them – and since Elizabeth Ward had graced this small office with her exquisite presence, he found himself changing by the day. Now, when he turned away from Beth, he felt like the cat who had got the cream. Or a taste of it.

  Inwardly relieved when the obnoxious little man moved away, she bent her head to her duties and, as always, her thoughts turned to the man she loved. So much had happened in the week following the attack in Whitechapel. One thing in particular, causing Beth many sleepless nights and making her fearful for the future. Even now she had not dared to breathe her awful secret to anyone; not even to the very person who could put her mind at rest.

  ‘Penny for them, Miss Ward.’ Methias Worry had stood in front of Beth for some minutes before he ventured to coax her from her deep reverie.

  ‘Oh!’ She glanced up, a look of guilt written on her face which the old man was quick to perceive. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, a slight blush refreshing her unusually pale and pinched features.

  The old fellow nodded his head. ‘Daydreaming, was you?’ He chuckled. ‘And why not, eh? A young and pretty little thing such as yourself.’

  Congenial and much respected, Methias Worry knew when to mind his own business. It was obvious that Richard Ward’s delightful daughter had more on her mind than the requirements and problems of their many clients. Even a blind man could see that she had far greater problems of her own; problems that weighed heavy on her. The friction between Elizabeth Ward and her own mother was not a very well kept secret, and no doubt that state of affairs was as much a heartache to the young lady as it was to her father. All the same, Methias somehow felt that Beth’s troubled mood had little to do with her mother. He believed it was something far closer to her heart.

  There had been rumours concerning a certain young man by the name of Tyler Blacklock, the very same who had not been seen at work for over a week now, the very same who, if he had returned to the site, would have found his marching orders waiting for him. Esther Ward had given the instructions herself. Tyler Blacklock was never again to be given work on any site associated with the Ward Development Company. That vindictive woman had also made it her business to warn other companies as to the young man’s ‘unreliable and suspect nature’. They had no real reason to doubt her word, for though she was known to be a ruthless and formidable creature, she had earned herself a greater reputation for being unusually knowledgeable in the field of land conveyancing, this being all the more astonishing since she was a w
oman. Good builders were hard to find and quite often the construction gangs were packed with rogues and ruffians. One bad word against a particular labourer and he would find himself frozen out of every working site in London. Esther Ward had put the word out on Tyler Blacklock. The name would be remembered. The man himself would be avoided at all costs.

  Beth greeted the old fellow with a warm and genuine smile. ‘What’s that you’ve got there, Methias?’ she asked, pointing to the sheaf of papers clutched in his gnarled fingers. ‘More work for me, is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Miss,’ he told her, his wide grin displaying a surprisingly good set of teeth. He was always most proud to boast that: ‘Good teeth is a blessing that runs right through the generations. Good strong teeth that’ll tek me to me grave an’ last a blessed sight longer than old Methias hisself!’ It was a pity his old bones did not serve him so well, because as he bent forward to place the documents on Beth’s desk, his joints were heard to creak in protest. ‘Your father requested a duplicate of these plans and the schedule of work so far carried out. I understand he’s calling back to the office before he makes his way home. He wants the originals locked into the safe as always, but the others he wants to examine at leisure this evening.’ He squinted at the clock high on the wall behind her. ‘It’s almost four-thirty now,’ he told her, glancing around as though afraid to see Richard Ward walk into the office. Shaking his balding head he explained how his ordinary work had piled up because ‘These papers were more complex than I realised’, and that was the reason it had taken him most of the afternoon to go through the legalities. ‘So, if you’d be so kind, Miss, I wonder if you might put aside whatever you’re working on and prepare the duplicates.’ He lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as though suddenly realising that he was talking to the boss’s daughter, but then he reminded himself that Elizabeth Ward carried no airs and graces. Indeed, she seemed like any one of them, always friendly and eager to do her share of the work. Her industrious attitude was most welcome because as yet this particular company was only just beginning to acquire major contracts. Even now it was early days, and Richard could not afford to take on the extra staff needed. ‘I know I should have had them done an hour ago, and I know it doesn’t give you much time, but I would be that grateful, Miss… seeing as how your father did say they were important.’ A look of anxiety shaded his features and he began nodding nervously, the way he always did when he thought he was about to be reprimanded.