Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(26)

No. I have to go there.



As the water reached her waist, she knew this was wrong. The current was too strong, pulling as the wet garments made each step harder. Cynda tried to turn, but something had caught one of her bootlaces. She pulled hard, but it wouldn’t give way. Frantic, she tried to wiggle the foot loose. When it came free, the current caught her and she flailed to regain her balance.

A hand appeared near her, and she grabbed it.

“Jacynda?”

She stared at the man. He was like the others, but his eyes looked familiar above the heavy beard.

“My God, what are you doing?” he asked.

She found her voice. “How do you know my name?”

Shooting a nervous glance at the growing crowd of onlookers, the man lowered his voice. “Why wouldn’t I know your name? What’s wrong with you?”

“Who are you?” she asked, still grasping his hand to keep from being pulled away by the current.

“I’m…” Another glance toward the onlookers. “a friend. Let’s get you out of here. We don’t want a constable bumbling into this.”

She allowed him to put his arms around her waist and lead her to the shore. He seemed to know her, seemed to care. Not like the man in the carriage, the one who had said he was her brother.

“That one’s not right in the head,” someone said as they came ashore.

“If the rozzers get her, they’ll send her to Bedlam.”

No! She tried to pull free, but her rescuer held her hand firmly.

“I won’t let them take you there,” the man told her. “I promise.”

She looked into his eyes and believed him.





Chapter 9




What a damned nightmare.

They were going toward the north shore in a boat; Keats didn’t dare hire a hansom or take the train. When he’d mentioned the Thames Subway, Jacynda had panicked and tried to run away. So he’d hired a waterman to ferry them to Wapping.

Clancy had called Keats a damned fool for risking his life over a crazy woman. That hadn’t set well. The Irishman was just worried about the reward money. Finally, Clancy had offered to deliver Jacynda to Whitechapel himself, but her level of trust was paper thin and only Keats seemed to be worthy of it.

Ramsey would be hunting him in Whitechapel; that much Keats would wager. Still, he saw no alternative but to deliver her into the doctor’s hands. She was incapable of rational thought, and there were too many who would take advantage of her weakness.

What if Alastair isn’t home? What will I do then? He couldn’t keep her with him, and in her condition he dared not leave her alone at the boarding house.

Keats slipped a look at his companion. Jacynda was asleep on his shoulder, a ragged and filthy mess. The filth could be cleaned away. It was her docile behavior that frightened him. This woman would never have confronted the anarchists that night in Green Dragon Place, thrown herself into the middle of an affray. Something awful had happened, something that had broken her fiery spirit.

By the time they reached Whitechapel he’d formed a plan of action, one that he hoped would allay suspicion: he would send a street urchin to the boarding house to summon Alastair on a medical call. It might work, even if Ramsey had the place under surveillance knowing it was only a matter of time before Keats visited his friend.

That time had come.

“Just a bit longer,” Keats urged. No reply. It was like walking with a lamppost for company. Jacynda’s shivering was worse now as her clothes slowly dried in the night air. His weren’t much better. He still felt water in his boots with every step.



It took considerable effort to find Alastair’s new location.

“Of all the times for you to move house,” Keats grumbled under his breath. They’d stuck to the back alleys, the passageways, and deserted areas, away from the main streets. It was a chore with Jacynda at his side. She moved slowly and just about everything frightened her.

Keats studied the front door of Alastair’s new house like a copper. The doctor had chosen a good place to reside, though it was just too dangerous to march up and hammer on the door. With his companion in tow, Keats worked his way behind the building and was eventually rewarded by finding a back gate. There was a light in the rear of the house.

Who else would be there? Perhaps Ramsey had laid a trap for him. His blood chilled at the thought. There was no other option but to knock and ask for help. Jacynda had put her life on the line for him more than once. It was only right that he do the same.

“Stay here,” he advised softly, pointing to a patch by the fence. It was dry and relatively clean. “I’ll go see if Alastair’s home.” He gently pulled her shawl up, like a scarf. She obediently slid to the ground. Her acquiescence, though welcomed, was profoundly disturbing.

His heart hammering, Keats rapped on the back door. Footsteps came his way.

He shot a look back at Jacynda. She was right where he’d left her.

What if Alastair can’t help her? What if she remains like this for the rest of her life?

The door edged open. Keats let out a sigh of relief when he saw the doctor’s astonished face.

“I am in desperate need of your help, my friend.”

Alastair’s mouth fell open, then closed just as quickly. “Come in! Hurry, before someone sees you.”