The wagon shifted as the driver fought his powerful draft horses. The tower of barrels creaked toward Malcolm, threatening to smash Penny and him under a deadly landslide. But when the werewolf tensed to pounce, it kicked the top barrel out behind it. The creature lost its footing and fell flat. Barrels began to roll away.
The werewolf struggled frantically to regain its feet. It clawed at each of the massive hogsheads as they toppled one after another over the railing in a roaring crash. A heavy, iron-shod barrel struck the werewolf on the head, knocking it to the side. Another battered its shoulder. The werewolf screeched and disappeared under the avalanche of wood and iron. A clawed hand reached helplessly and then the werewolf was borne to the dark Thames far below, buried under countless heavy thuds of barrels smashing into the water.
Penny finally dragged the unwieldy vehicle back a few inches by pushing with her feet. She revved the motor and turned the front wheel over hard. Malcolm grabbed hold as the steamcycle bucked away from the catastrophe around the wagon. Ignoring the furious shouts and angry fists, they drove on. They broke out of the bridge congestion and roared south through Lambeth.
Penny watched behind in a mirrored glass set on one of the handles. “Is that all of them finally?”
The Scotsman appraised her. “You don’t seem overly shocked by all this.”
She smirked. “You’re not the first hunter to waltz in my door. Some talk a lot more than you, so I have an idea what you do. You order silver ordnance. I’m not feebleminded. I can make connections as well as contraptions.”
“So I see.”
Penny glanced over at him briefly before returning her attention to driving. They shuddered over the rough but wide roads. Malcolm noticed the edifice of Bedlam in the distance. It appeared as normal as usual. He stared at it in disgust, fearful that more werewolves might come boiling out of the madhouse. Finally the wretched place was lost from sight and they rolled noisily into the Surrey countryside.
Chapter Twenty-two
The four-horse chaise clattered to a stop at the front portico of Hartley Hall. Simon leapt to the ground and handed Kate down.
“Do not unhitch,” she said to the coachman. “Go to the stables and prepare everything that will roll. Every carriage and wagon.”
“Yes, miss.” The coachman looked quite disturbed, but he shook the reins and rumbled off toward the stables behind the vast house.
Simon raced with Kate to the front door, nearly slamming into Hogarth, who was heading out to meet them. Despite the clear distress on Kate’s face, the servant remained calm.
“What do you need from me, Miss Kate?”
“Hogarth, good. We must empty Hartley Hall immediately.”
“Empty it?”
“The servants. All of them must go now. And particularly Imogen. The staff will return as soon as it’s safe. Go and tell them. No time to pack. I will foot the bill for whatever they need, but impress on them that it is very dangerous for them to remain.”
“Where shall they go, miss?”
Kate raised her voice in frustration. “It doesn’t matter where they go. Family. Friends. If necessary, I’ll pay for any hotels. They just have to go. Now.” She squeezed his arm. “Hogarth, please. Believe me as you would my father.”
The servant nodded and turned on his heel. He took Barnaby, the butler, who stood nearby looking confused, by his arm and led the older man down the main hall in close consultation.
Kate was already taking the grand staircase two steps at a time. Simon caught up and they saw Imogen crouching on the top stair glaring at Kate. The young woman scrambled to her feet and raced away down the hallway.
“Imogen!” Kate followed until the girl ran into her room and slammed the door. Kate gripped the knob, but the door didn’t budge. “Imogen. Unlock this door, please.”
“No,” came the voice from inside.
“Imogen,” Kate demanded more forcefully. “Open this door.”
“I can’t.”
“She seems agitated,” Simon said.
Kate put a hand to her forehead. “This is no time for a tantrum.”
He indicated the door. “Shall I?”
“Please.”
Simon whispered a word and placed his hand against the white-paneled door. It was thick oak, but with a few seconds of pressure, the wood began to crack. He tensed his arm, straining his back, and the door tore away from the jamb, leaving a chunk of wood, complete with knob, suspended in the lock. The door swung open easily to reveal Imogen huddled in the center of her huge bed. Her eyes grew wide with surprise.
“You can’t come in!” she shouted. “You don’t have permission.”
Kate slipped around Simon and approached the bed. “We are leaving the house now to go on a trip. Come with me.”
Imogen dropped onto the floor and quickly crawled under the bed.
“My God!” Kate shouted. She went to her knees and shoved up the lace ruffle, peering into the darkness. “Imogen, stop this. Come out now. Now!”
“I’m not supposed to,” Imogen moaned. “You can’t take me away.”
“Just come out, please. If you don’t come out, Mr. Archer will just lift the bed off you and we will carry you out.”