Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Seventeen
The small tavern was full of the more unsavory elements of Southampton. Most of the men there would do honest work when they had to, but preferred dishonest work over it. At a small table in the back corner, a small man in a dirty waistcoat was rubbing an apple against his scrawny chest.
William Blake, formerly known by a slew of other monikers, entered the building and made straight for that table. “Is it done?”
The little man looked up. “Which part?”
“The apothecary. It’s done?” The man had come to his home the night before, asking all manner of unfortunate questions. It wasn’t a great leap to imagine that Miss Upchurch had been the one to spark the man’s interest. She would be dealt with soon enough, though.
“Done,” the man said, and took a bite out of the apple. Given how terrible his teeth were, it was a wonder the man could eat an apple without losing the half-rotted nubs. “He won’t be making no trouble for you. Won’t be asking no questions either. But he’s not your only worry. Miss Ruby sent some men round what to collect. Only there ain’t enough. Even selling off everything that squawking old bird owned that her relatives ain’t scarfed up, you’ll not get enough to cover the debt.”
“I’ve got something else in mind to cover the debt. The usual meeting place?” Miss Upchurch would serve as a partial payment. Miss Ruby held sway over the criminal elements of the southern coast. The Hound of Whitehall ruled in London and she ruled in Brighton. A young, lovely and well-mannered woman such as Miss Upchurch would command a great deal of money in any one of Ruby’s houses. That Miss Upchurch was likely virginal meant that there could well be a bidding war to determine who’d get her first. It would buy him the time he needed to cover the rest of his debt to her. Especially as Lady Parkhurst’s pockets had been far emptier than the old biddy had let on. It had taken months to have himself written into her will and longer still to be named executor.
“The Crooked Leg in Salisbury,” the man stated. “You’ll be lucky not to hang going back there!”
“Well, I can’t afford to be seen meeting with that sort here. Meeting with you is dangerous enough,” the doctor insisted.
“What about the other one? The young one,” the man asked.
“In a month, I will be able to convince her to marry me so that I can look after her all the time. I think I could convince her parents by tomorrow desperate as they are for a cure. Dupes,” he sneered. “They’d do anything to see her well, including seeing her marry so very far beneath her. It won’t be like Salisbury. They’ll give me all I ask for and more.”
The little man took another bite of his apple, and as he chewed, warned, “I best get what I ask for. I know enough of your secrets, Doctor. Don’t think I won’t spill my guts if it means saving my own hide.”
“I have your money. But I won’t give it to you in here. The alley is best. The fewer people in this establishment that know either one of us has a fat purse, the better off we are,” the doctor insisted. He did indeed have what the man was asking for. But it wasn’t money. He’d get a blade between his ribs and nothing more.
“Right. You go first. I’ll follow,” the little man said.
