Hello lovely People
Apologies for my lack of posting. Life happens and sometimes it's just a bit pants.
N.B This story I have rated as T. Personally I do not think it needs a M rating, though others may beg to differ. If this is the case I can amend - little bit of violence, but nothing too graphic. Just a little warning in case not your cup of tea. It is a one off and will not happen in subsequent chapters.
Montague groaned; lifting his chin in an attempt to soothe the uncomfortable stiffness of his neck. He had barely moved before he was greeted by a searing pain to the back of his head which radiated with violent ferocity down his neck and shoulders.
Instinctively he went to raise his hand to his throbbing head, but was unable to do so. Groggy, his body aching, he tried again. Opening his eyes, he found himself within a dimly lit room; no not a room, a coal cellar. He made to stand, panic rising upon realisation that he could not. Glancing down he found himself seated, arms tied behind his back and legs bound to a wooden chair. Where the devil was he?
"Took your time," came a gravelly voice hidden within the shadows of the opposite corner of the room. "Normally I ain't a man predisposed to waiting. But in your case such an abnormality may have been much in your favour Mr Colville, or should I say Montague."
Cedric swallowed, his throat dry and raw. The last he could recall was leaving Mrs Yates brothel heading south onto Chapel Street, and then...
"Show yourself," he spoke in a voice far steadier than which he felt. "Show yourself; for what man of honour attacks another gentleman when his back is turned?"
"I ain't no gentleman," came the grave response, followed ominously by the shuffle of slow heavy footsteps which echoed through the dank stone chamber. "And you ain't nothing more than a lying little pig. Do you know how we deal with little piggies that find themselves where they ain't wanted? We gut 'em nose to tail."
"Now see here, you are making a most foolish error. I travel with a large party, I can assure you my presence will be missed. I cannot vouch for my companions behaviour upon finding that I am no longer..."
"Hold your breath to cool your porridge. You have no men here, no companions to claim your acquaintance. You ain't even travelling with a man servant. Do you really think we did not make enquiries of our own after your most unwelcome visit to see my son? Made my Frank a very agitated boy. And my Frank is not a good boy when his spirit is thus so altered."
"You are Benjamin Turnpike."
"Aye that I am. And yet what I want to know is why some self-righteous, fancy boy from ton is asking questions and poking his nose into matters where he is most unwanted? You sir can have no business here."
Turnpike stood but a few feet away. He looked a man in his late fifties, with spreading girth, yet still power behind his build. Montague took in his appearance, from well worn boot to his dark suit jacket with silver buttons. Compared to his son, he was well put together. His expression entirely stoic. He was no mere ruffian.
"Imagine my surprise when little Red mentioned old Bea was otherwise engaged upon my arrival. Then if you can, imagine my increased good fortune upon realisation that it was the very man I wished to speak with."
"I would hardly call this a discourse." Cedric winced, smarting from a sharp pain burning within his rib cage. "If you wanted to speak with me you only need ask. I sought your son looking for information only. I mean neither of you any harm or disrespect."
"But do not you see little piggy, you have already displeased me? Snuffling about, asking questions that ain't no one's business. Upsetting my girls."
"I was under the impression Mrs Yates and her charges were not your girls; their protection is charged directly under that of another."
No sooner were the words out his mouth than Montague felt the full force of Turnpikes fist against his already damaged rib cage. He cried at the contact, yet no sound came; the force knocking the wind right out from him. Sweat pouring from his brow, Montague gulped the thick air in an attempt to breath through the pain.
"Squeal, squeal, squeal, it will do you no good. Hold your tongue and only speak when you are spoken to. Surely a fine, educated man like yourself can see the merit of such behaviour? Now, I don't want to hurt you. I being a very civil man an' all, but I will not tolerate men getting involved in the business of other men." He moved forward, bending upon one knee in order to be at equal face height with his troublesome new acquaintance.
"Now why are you asking questions about Alfred Bingley? Is it he who has sent you? Keeping his eye on me is he? Not even out of town a fortnight and sent some fool to do his dirty work. Well you tell your employer we know our place, we know our role, and we don't take too kindly to being checked upon like some pet dog on a leash."
"You have it all wrong, I can assure you I work for no Alfred Bingley."
Turnpike leaned forward, placing his hand flat upon Cedric's burning ribcage, steadily he pushed.
"Of course you would say that, but the problem is," Turnpike continued applying more pressure, "I don't believe you."
Cedric bucked involuntary against the chair as the pain seared his side, his shirt stuck to him, soaking in sweat.
"Please for the love of God! I do not work for Alfred. Why in the devil would I come here of all places to ask questions about a man when you claim him to be my employer! I left Alfred safely in London for it is he I wish to know more of!"
"Now, now, no need to shout," Turnpike grinned enjoying the younger mans building agitation. It had been quite sometime since he had such a new toy to play with. With slow deliberation he reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather strap, with small rusty studs embossed across its length. He leaned back upon his hunches, leisurely wrapping the studded leather around his hand, covering his knuckles.
"I am nothing if not reasonable." He flexed his hand, before forming a leather bound fist. "I shall count to ten. You have until then to explain to me why you are really here. Are we ready? One...two..."
"This is absurd! I have already told you I mean you no disrespect. It is true I am employed by another and it is Alfred Bingley whom I wish to uncover, better yet his father..."
"Four..."
"I implore you, if you will but listen! My client is a relation of the Bingley's and has tasked me in the role of digging into the families past. That is all! I have no gripe with either you or your son. I have learnt that you both work for Alfred but I promise I shall take that no further."
"Eight..." Here Turnpike stopped his brow creasing down unpleasantly. "Work for Alfred Bingley? Is that what he told you? We are equals! Is this how he presents himself to the world, how dare he! He can try all he wants to curb my activities but he is not my keeper. He would be nothing without me. Where do you think he comes for his merchandise? Too full of his own importance; he can pretend he belongs to the more genteel set, but I knows better."
"I told you I mean no disrespect. Cards on the table, Alfred Bingley has threatened my client. I wish to know more of his past in order to bring leverage against any of the claims he may bring to my clients person. He wishes to destroy my clients good name and reputation."
"And what do you in turn wish to have done with Alfred Bingley? What do you hope to achieve by coming to his home town, digging around in business most unwise?"
Montague watched the older man carefully. He could see the new found curiosity. He had approached this all wrong.
"I would destroy him. I would expose him and his father if it meant persuading him to leave my client in peace. I am a man of the law. I only wish to safeguard the best interests of my client. Your activities, whatever they may be, are no concern of mine. It is not in you whom I place my interest. I cannot speak plainer."
"You mention the father?"
"It would appear my clients troubles stem from Matthew Bingley's shall we call it, preference for a particular type of young girl."
"That he did, perverted bugger too; but he is long dead."
"And dead, safely in the past is where such knowledge should have remained; however it is Alfred who has brought the matter to the present. It is he whom wishes to manipulate another through fear of exposure."
"Nothing Alfred Bingley likes more than having a hold over others." The reply was made thoughtfully. Turnpike flexed his fists, weighing up his options.
"You 'ave been asking about girls." It was a statement not a question.
"I am only concerned with the circumstances around one."
Here the former warden grinned. "Lovely little Alice Price. One of my best litter earners before Matthew forced her off my hands. Who could forget lovely Alice? Ruined old Bingley so she did, bloody fool. Deserved everything he got. If it is Alice you seek, your in the wrong place that girl is long gone. Over twenty years."
"Alice Price has long left this world."
"Such news does not sadden me. Little bitch left quite the mess."
"You refer to the dynamics between father and son?"
"You know I do. Do not play coy, you already know the son took over. His tastes are not as varied as his father's, but he is no Saint. Every man has his vice."
"Yet it would appear by word of mouth he runs this town?"
Here Montague was awarded with a hard punch to the jaw, the spiked leather breaking the skin as his head was flung to the side.
"Now see here you sanctimonious little shit. No man runs the Turnpikes. I run this town, Alfred is but an associate."
Montague tasted blood, having burst his lip from biting the flesh. If he had read Turnpike correctly he had nothing to lose.
"It would appear Alfred has a lot more influence than you give him credit. Was it not you who earlier commented to knowing your role? That does not sound equal."
The blow this time cuffed the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing followed by shooting pain. Cedric hung his head, closing his eyes in an attempt to control the exploding spots of light.
Turnpike said nothing, waiting.
It took several minutes for Montague to regain his faculties. Slowly he spoke; "It would appear neither of us are keen to allow Alfred Bingley any further influence. What if we were to be useful to one another?"
"What's in it for me?"
"To remove Alfred's standing is to question his hold. If you help me expose his character to those who deem him a gentleman I believe we shall both prosper."
"You wish to defame him and expose his real endeavours, but in doing so would you not also bring charges to my door?"
"I have no qualms with you. I am employed in one task and one task alone. On my honour, my focus is Alfred."
Turnpike stood, moving behind Montague. Out of sight, Montague could do nothing but wait. Surely he could not have read the situation incorrectly. To ruin Bingley's standing and regain dominance must be incentive enough to encourage cooperation from such a man.
Suddenly Montague felt the warm sensation of breath against the side of his face. He could smell Turnpikes breath, fowl with the undertone of booze. He felt a sharp object between his shoulder blades. He knew it was a knife, he tensed as dread clawed at his throat, he couldn't breath.
The knife was removed. The strap behind his back cut, resulting in his numb arms swinging forward most painfully. Turnpike appeared before him once more, dragging a small wooden stool which he placed directly in front of his person. He sat, the small black handled knife still unsheathed within his grasp. He leaned forward, their knees practically touching.
"What is it you need from me?"