See Part One for story details.
Vastra scrambled down the wall, heedless of her own safety but suddenly aware that there was no sign of Jenny below. She had expected her companion to be fending off any trouble in the yard, awaiting her own arrival to effect their escape.
There was only another servant, this one as unsuitable in his person as Locke; a small, wiry man with a pockmarked face and a nasty smile. He came at Vastra as she made her descent and she was forced to drop down the last few feet, landing just in front of the man and punching hard at his face. His nose exploded in blood and bone with such a satisfying crack that Vastra hesitated.
It almost cost her her life, for Locke was hanging out of the window above and fired off two shots. One brushed close to Vastra's arm and she imagined a burning sensation across her scales. She ignored it and the second shot threatened her assailant more than herself. He had his hands pressed to his face, his eyes burning with hatred. Vastra gave him another reason to hate her as she snapped his elbow back with a second loud crack and then ran for the outer wall.
She vaulted it in one remarkable leap and was clear of the wall in a moment. Jenny was not waiting for her there either and Vastra felt an unbearable fear overtake her before she forced herself to flee.
There was much movement and noise in the room and Jenny had to force herself to remain in her hiding place. She started at each subsequent gunshot, thinking only of Vastra and her safety but knowing that she would most likely get in the way of Vastra's escape should she expose herself now. So instead she waited and listened to the creaking floorboards and the angry voices, all the time hoping that no-one would think to look where she had taken refuge.
She waited and feared at each moment for her discovery but there was only more noise; more scuffling, raised voices, loud comments of an unpleasant nature and then Kennedy's familiar voice saying things about Vastra that made Jenny's blood boil. Her knuckles gripped white with rage and she had to fight to calm her own anger, to hold her tongue and her position.
She listened with dismay at the discovery of her lockpicks, cursing her own stupidity for dropping them in the first place. How could she be so foolish, so careless as to loose her most prized tools? The self-recriminations at least gave her something else to focus her mind and filled the long, long minutes until the room door shut.
Jenny waited longer still, ears straining to pick up any sign of human life within or outside of the room. There came none and eventually she had to take the risk to leave her hiding place. The cupboard door opened and a very stiff Jenny rolled out. She froze in a most undignified position on the carpet, body locked in discomfort but head tilted to listen for movement beyond the door.
When she was sure that no-one was abroad, Jenny forced her aching limbs to unfurl and slowly found her feet. She wavered dangerously for a moment but used the small table to keep herself upright until all of her limbs appeared to be functioning again. Giving her left foot one last shake, Jenny considered the cabinets.
They had certainly been opened and checked upon discovery of her lockpicks but they had been carefully resealed once more. Still, Jenny's sensitive ears had allowed her to gleam a few pieces of vital information while Kennedy had been doing so. And she was not bereft of tools either, Jenny reminded herself and plucked the handsome pin from its place at her lapel.
She returned to stand before the cabinets and considered them for a moment before setting to work. The outer locks proved less of an obstacle than Jenny had expected and she gave a grunt of satisfaction when first one cabinet and then the next was exposed to her eye. Inside were the many individually locked drawers and Jenny wondered if they all held great riches or if perhaps Kennedy had removed most of them for this strange auction of his.
"Only one way to find out," Jenny muttered to herself and set to her task.
She paused only when there came the sounds of people leaving the house. There was much chatter, most of it drunken in nature, some of it less than friendly if Kennedy's bawling was anything to go by. Each time it was soon followed by the rumble of a carriage, the clip-clop of horses as the guests returned to their homes or moved on to their fancy clubs.
Jenny was drawing the first gem from its bed when a noise at the door made her freeze. Jenny's head whipped around to stare at the door as the handle began to turn. She cursed her own lack of attention and then thought that perhaps whoever was outside really had moved remarkably quietly, since she had always kept an ear to the door throughout her work.
Too late now and Jenny could only pocket the pin and the gem - a fine emerald that she thought might make a pleasant hat pin for Vastra - while turning to stare down whoever would be joining her. The door opened slowly, as if the person beyond was reluctant to enter. Eventually it was ajar sufficiently to admit one small form.
Jenny gave a sigh of relief and held up her hands to calm Mosa. The round, dark face widened in shock and Jenny waved frantically, one hand coming to her mouth to shush the girl. Mosa glanced back over her shoulder as if checking that no-one else was approaching the room and then closed the door with a gentle click.
"Mosa," Jenny smiled, "thank god it's you!"
"Miss Flint," Mosa said, her dark eyes taking in the open cabinets as she hissed, "you have to leave. What if Mr Kennedy finds you? He is always angry since your last visit; things have not gone well for him."
"I'm heartbroken," Jenny said, "I just need a little more time, Mosa," she held the girl's eyes, "help me and I'll get you out of here."
Outside, tucked deep into the foliage of a nearby residence, Vastra and Archie peered at the house with growing concern. Archie could feel Vastra's mounting panic and was struggling not to fall prey to it himself. His eyes darted from the tall form at his side to the front of the house. There had been much movement inside, much searching without and a great deal of shouting...but never a sign of Miss Flint.
All of Kennedy's guests appeared to have left and the man himself did not seem happy about that. There'd been a couple of visits from the neighbours and Archie would bet good money that they hadn't helped Kennedy's mood either. Whatever he and that bruiser Mr Locke had said to them had had the neighbours turning tail in no time and not one of them seemed to have sent for the police.
It was dark now and the lamplighter had made his rounds, dim illumination casting pools of light on the street and pavement. They needed to do something, Archie knew, but he did not know what and much to his surprise, Madame Vastra appeared paralysed by her fears for Miss Flint.
Archie looked up to Vastra, feeling the panic radiate from her tense body. He reached out a hesitant hand and patted her arm.
"Reckon she's a good'n; she'll be looking after 'erself."
"I pray that you are correct, Archie. Though I fear," Vastra's voice wavered and she gave a little cough before saying, "I almost lost her you see, quite recently, and I would not have that for all the world."
Archie patted the tense arm once more before withdrawing his hand. As he did so, he noticed again the strange bracelet at Vastra's wrist. He'd wondered about it before as it was most uncommon, even for this uncommon woman, and it didn't seem to have any purpose. Madame Vastra had never struck him as the sort to indulge in fripperies, least of all fripperies of such an unattractive kind.
Vastra followed the lad's eyes to her wrist and gave a hiss of surprise. In her rising anxiety she had utterly forgotten the device that she had been wearing all along. Any worries about the efficiency of the Vortex Manipulator, any lingering concerns about the work that she had done on it were dismissed instantly. Vastra pulled Archie from their hiding place by main force, depositing the lad in a little alcove and standing before him.
"Archie," she said in a low, deadly tone, "you will now see something that you must never," Vastra leaned in to him, "ever discuss with another living soul."
Archie nodded, mute in the face of such naked - if veiled - menace. And then Vastra reached up and removed her veil in one slow, deliberate movement...and he was mute for quite a different reason.