"What'er ye doin'? Learn ta' manage yer horse!" The coachman called out, in a distinctive Cockney accent. Most assuredly, not Essie's driver.
Cross dismounted and strode towards the unfamiliar man.
"What—" Cross reached up and pulled the stranger down on the left side of the carriage. Not giving the man an opportunity to cry for help, he gave him a right hook across the face, sending him unconscious into the filthy London gutter.
One down, one to go.
"What's the meaning of this?" A man's voice asked from the other side of the carriage. Cross bent, hiding behind the opposing side; looking under he watched, seeing only a pair of boots as the man disembarked from the carriage. He waited until the man walked toward the front of the carriage and then he stood. Through the window of the carriage, he saw Essie, her face tear streaked. When she saw him, her expression transformed into one of hope but quickly shifted to fear as she pointed to the front of the carriage.
Cross gave her a quick reassuring nod and walked around the back of the carriage. Glancing around the edge, he saw the man in black with his back towards him. Cross rushed forward, tackling the man to the ground. The man rolled over, ducking out of Cross' grip and was nearly trampled by a pair of bays pulling a barouche. Pushing himself upright, recognition slammed into him as the familiar face of Trighton stared at him with hatred. Trighton lurched to his feet, the roared as he charged Cross.
"Blackguard!" Cross called out, meeting his charge and hitting the side of Trighton's face with a roundhouse. Stumbling back, Trighton wiped the blood from his lip while a deranged smile tilted his quickly swelling lips. "That whore ruined everything!" He came at Cross, swinging wildly. Cross ducked and landed a blow to Trighton's mid-section.
Trighton gasped and staggered back. Cross circled him, careful to remain out of the path of upcoming carriages. He noticed that several people had stopped to stare and watch.
"How dare you call her that." Cross spoke darkly, his teeth clenched as he landed a solid blow against Trighton's ear, knocking him to his knees.
"No one wants me! And it's all her fault! She cried off!" Trighton screeched, his hand at his ear. He scurried to his feet and charged Cross.
Cross simply side stepped, then kicked Trighton's back, sending him sailing against the cobbles. "You asked her too, you filthy bastard."
"I had to! It was the only way! We have nothing. Nothing!" Trighton swore as he rose once more, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.
It was all madness, Trighton was senseless as he spat blood and shifted his gaze wildly.
"And you have less now," Cross muttered as he saw two constables make their way towards them. He gestured to Trighton and the officers nodded. After a short struggle, Trighton was subdued and dragged away, swearing as he left a bloody trail. The officers arrested the driver, who was just now coming about from the lethal blow dealt him by Cross. With nothing else to see, the crowd dispersed.
Cross breathed in deeply through his nose, calming his heart and the intense desire to finish off Trighton. He jumped slightly when he felt a soft hand at his shoulder.
"Cross?" Essie's worried tone pulled him from his anger.
He turned and pulled her into a tight embrace. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet scent of her, the rose water that clung to her skin. "Are you injured? Harmed in any way?" He gently pulled her shoulders from his embrace as his gaze raked her body, searching for any sign of maltreatment.
"No, no. I'm quite well, now at least." Essie offered him a brave smile but it didn't reach her eyes, they were still haunted and afraid.
Reaching up, Cross began to touch her face before retreating, noticing his filthy gloves. He savagely took off the offending garments and tossed them to the street. Trailing her jaw with his fingers, he traveled his caress down till he rested on her shoulders. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers, breathing deeply, reminding himself over and over that it was finished; that Essie was safe.
"I'm so thankful you were here," she whispered.
"I was on my way to the Doctor's Common… needing a special license," he whispered, opening his eyes and leaning back, grinning at her.
"Yes, you most certainly do need one." Essie smiled, this time the joy reaching her eyes.
"Perhaps I'm acting a bit prematurely, since your parents aren't even aware that I intend to marry you at first opportunity." He chuckled slightly, reaching up to tug on an errant curl, overwhelmed with the relief that all was now well.
"If my parents respond anything akin to how your mother took the news, I think we have precious little to worry us," she replied, glancing down shyly.