Warning: Some graphic descriptions of bloody stuff and strong language. Not super bad, but just wanted to warn some of our gentler souls.

Also, Trigger Warning; there is reference to rape within the institution of arranged marriage.


The heavy mass of Ken Fletcher fell upon the wagon's floor. The bloody stump of his severed arm was trapped beneath him. The pain pulled him back from the precipice of unconsciousness. Down on the floor, the air was clearer. Grasping at his arm, Ken saw blood seeping out of the stump with each pulse of his heart. He'd seen enough injuries in his time to know what to do. Without thinking, he yanked off his belt with his remaining hand and wrapped it around his right forearm. He pulled it as tight as he could, ignoring the pain by focusing on the terrible things he was going to do to the daughter of Henry Grovesner.

Ken hadn't risen through the ranks of the gang based on luck and nepotism alone. He was a resourceful man; crude and rough, but resourceful. He used the knife to trim the belt short so that it would not bother him as he moved. Staying low, Ken moved to Lewis' side. Ken could see how weak his pulse had become as almost no more blood was coming from Lewis' arm.

The dry wood of the wagon was burning quickly and the heat was increasing rapidly. Ken realized that saving Lewis would endanger his own life. 'Poor sod's as good as dead anyway.' The most important thing was to survive himself. Ken knew that the smoke would overwhelm him quickly if he stood. Did he dare try the door again? None of the windows were large enough for him. Frustration was building when Ken noticed that it was strange how the smoke had not filled the wagon. The smoke was escaping somehow. He watched the flow of the smoke for a few seconds and realized that there must be a hatch in the roof. He'd seen wagons like this before; a hatch was a good likelihood.

He took a deep breath and stood up, forcing his good arm straight up at the place in the roof where the smoke seemed to be escaping. He felt the hatch fly open. Ken ducked down below the smoke, which was escaping at a much quicker rate now, and pulled a stool into the middle of the wagon. One more deep breath and Ken propelled himself through the roof of the burning wagon. He rolled off the roof quickly and onto the ground. The fall almost jostled the belt loose from his arm, but he still managed to struggle to his feet and dash away from the flames before nearly collapsing against a tree.

Leaning there briefly, Ken fought the need to close his eyes. Ken had lost blood before; he'd been knifed several times on the streets and in prison. This was more blood than he'd ever lost, but he refused to succumb. Ken ignored the shaking of his body and the cold in his feet and hand. There was no time for shock.

'That bitch is going to pay.' The thought kept him focused as he forced himself to stand up straight and walk on.

-00-

"The hospital is sending an ambulance," Daisy reported. "They'll be here soon, Mr. Molesley, you just hang in there."

They'd made Molesley as comfortable as they could in the courtyard, not wanting to move him. He sat propped up against the wall with several blankets covering him to keep him warm. They had tied a mass of bandages to the wound as firmly as they dared. Miss Baxter knelt beside him, holding his left hand.

"Thank you, Daisy, that's what I plan to do." Joseph gazed dreamily up at Phyllis who smiled lovingly down on him. "Like an angel," he sighed.

"What's that?" She knew she needed to keep him awake.

"You look like an angel,"Joseph repeated, louder this time and clearer. "Or what I think an angel must look like."

"Well, it will be a long time before you can confirm what angels look like, I hope."

"As do I." He pulled Phyllis' hands to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist gently. Dormant synapses fired deep inside of her.

"Oy, that's a married woman you're kissing, mate."

Phyllis knew that voice. It had haunted her days and nights since she was seventeen years old. The lovely tingling in her lower stomach turned into a sharp pain as Phyllis turned to face her husband. The differences between the man she married and the man she loved were extreme. Ken was muscular and confident. Joseph was thin and nervous. Ken was cruel and selfish where Joseph was kind and giving. The biggest difference was how they each made her feel. Never in all her years of marriage, in all her nights of obedient intimacy with her husband had she felt any fraction of the heat that stirred within her when Joseph only smiled at her.

Ken had tried to be patient when they were married, but after a month where his young bride would not perform her wifely duty, he had invoked his right as a husband. It wasn't that he couldn't relieve his tensions with any number of London whores. He had been embarrassed when his mates surmised that he hadn't even slept in the same room as his wife. He'd come home from the pub after a night of ridicule and burst into her room. He was drunk and rough and strong. Phyllis knew better than to resist him. It was over quickly and he was gone before her first tears fell. For ten years it was the same.

He usually contented himself with his whores, but he didn't leave her alone entirely. The worst part was that she never knew when the mood to be Master of His House would strike him. For over ten years she had cringed at the sound of an opening door. When her Uncle Lewis had questioned why Phyllis hadn't given Ken a child, the abuse became a nightly occurrence. It was this treatment that finally drove her to leave.

Seeing him again after all this time brought back that meek and timid woman who had suffered silently in an arranged marriage.

"I said, you're kissing someone's wife. My wife, to be exact." Ken walked further into the courtyard. Phyllis noticed another difference between Ken and Joseph; whereas Joseph had misfired when he had held the pistol on Mrs. Butte, Ken held the gun in his left hand steady with deadly aim. Phyllis felt Joseph's hand squeeze her hand almost imperceptibly.

"I'll be seeking a divorce, Ken." She said bravely. Phyllis knew this was not the time and place for such things, but she wanted Joseph to know that she did not want to be with Ken.

"You can seek all you want, my filly, but you ain't gonna get it." Phyllis tensed at his use of what he thought was a cute pet name for her. The memories and connotations associated with the name stole back some of the courage she'd gained from Joseph's touch. Ken pointed the pistol at Molesley. "Someone left your gun shed unlocked, mate. That's a mite dangerous."

His sneer was just as she remembered it. "Come here, filly. Come to your dear husband." With the gun leveled at Joseph, his meaning was clear. If she did not obey, Joseph would be the first victim.

Phyllis pried herself away from Joseph's weakening grasp and went to stand beside her husband. Daisy and Mrs. Patmore stood to the side, holding each other's hands. They were grateful that this business did not involve them but frustrated that there was nothing they could do.

"I've missed you, my filly. I'm glad to see you ain't dead." Ken gave her a sloppy kiss, holding him to her with his injured arm as well as his left. She felt the pistol pushing into her backside as he tried to fondle her bottom around the gun he held. Phyllis did not respond to his kiss.

"When I got out of prison, the first thing I did was ask for a timid, mousy whore. She reminded me of you." He continued to hold her against him and she was not surprised to feel the hardness of his excitement against her. Ken had always been stimulated by violence. It brought out the alpha male in him, she supposed. He kissed her roughly again, grinding himself against her like an animal in heat.

"But that will come later, love." He whispered a promise that he honestly thought would excite her.

"Right now, I'm looking for the bitch who cut off my hand." Ken held up his arm, which was a mess of dried blood. "She says she's the daughter of Henry Grovesner."

Phyllis nodded. "Her name is Lucille Butte."

"Where is she?"

"She's gone to the ice house."

"Show me." He gestured with his bloody arm. "And if any of you lot get ideas about following…" He didn't finish the sentence but waved the gun at them before pointing it at Phyllis.

The reunited husband and wife turned in unison to leave, but Phyllis stopped abruptly and turned. She looked at Joseph. He was gripping the blanket in his hand until his knuckles were white. He would not risk her life by provoking this monster, but watching Ken paw at the woman he loved had obviously angered and hurt him.

There were a thousand things Phyllis wanted to tell Joseph. She wanted to say how he had brought joy and tenderness into her life. She wanted him to know that he had given her faith in humanity when she thought the world was only filled with men like her family, her husband and Thomas. She said as much as she could with her eyes. With her lips, she simply said, "I love you."

TBC…


AN/ Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. I'm glad Ken's appearance was a surprise. He was never going to die that easily; not without seeing Phyllis.

FYI, I am hoping to post again later today... we are VERY near the end.