The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery by L.C. Sharp (i have read the book .TXT) 📗

me. That gives us a chance. The mob will loot and destroy what they find. There’s our other chance. Are you willing to come with me?”

Vigorously, Juliana nodded. Anywhere, so long as she left this house.

When Sir Edmund grabbed her elbow, she did not object, but he forced a shocked gasp from her when he ripped her lace ruffles away from her shift. He was right. No maid would wear lace as fine and as expensive as this. Something bumped against her thigh. She looked down and saw the bulge in his coat pocket. He had at least one pistol. “Did you have a weapon when you arrived here?”

He shook his head. “They’re your father’s best dueling pistols. Fortunately, he had loaded them. I will not use them unless it becomes strictly necessary.”

His coat of dark blue wool was not too fine to draw attention to himself. Very nicely calculated, as if he’d expected to encounter a mob. Its might could destroy whole districts. People could be roused at the least little thing. They were out for blood, and the notion chilled hers.

Before Juliana could let her imagination freeze her into insensibility, Sir Edmund looped his fingers loosely around her wrist and tugged her to the jib door. “Go upstairs to the servants’ quarters,” he told the maid.

At least Wood had wrapped herself in Juliana’s discarded gown, although without its hoops it dragged on the floor.

Willingly Juliana ran through the door with him, and heard it slam behind them. The light here was limited to windows set high up, dimmer than in the family part of the house. Wood headed up, in the direction of the servants’ quarters, but Sir Edmund pulled Juliana down the narrow wooden stairs. The steps were covered with a rough drugget, so that the steps of the servants would not disturb the family, but there was no need for its muffling effect now.

The cries and bloodthirsty yells from the main part of the house tightened her throat. Juliana had to force herself to breathe. Just beyond those walls people were rampaging through her home, destroying or looting everything they encountered. A hundred or more people speaking with a single voice, one purpose in mind. To mete out the rough justice of the mob.

The door at the bottom of the stairs gave way when Sir Edmund shoved it open, his shoulder slamming against the wood. The kitchen was full of servants. She guessed as many as possible had made it down here. They stared at them, openmouthed when they recognized her. A few women shrieked when they saw her. One had the sense to hand her a plain white linen cap. Juliana tied it on. She would look even more like a servant now. A straw hat hung on a hook nearby. She took it and tied it over the cap.

A strange calm descended on her. Although inside she was fighting nausea, a sense of finally doing something for herself had taken hold of her mind, and she was glad. She could fight back.

“This way.” Catching his sleeve, she pulled him to the narrow side door that few people used. Most considered it a blind door, a locked opening leading nowhere. But Juliana knew better. As a child, she had sometimes hidden in the narrow passage beyond after she’d committed a transgression, away from her father’s wrath and her mother’s indifference. She pulled him through.

“Oh, magnificent!” he cried, when he saw where she had taken him. Brick walls loomed high either side of them, a crack of daylight showing above. The passage must have been created when the buildings had gone up. These houses, while luxurious, were built quickly twenty years before, when the big aristocratic London mansions were torn down and these squares created. People moved in at one end of a square while houses were still going up at the other end. These narrow spaces meant more discreet access for workmen.

They collected some of the dirt that bedaubed the walls. All the better to disguise them once they got out of there. Soot got everywhere in this city, creating a nasty, greasy black stain that was difficult to remove. Juliana crept along the passage, more a gap between two buildings than any purpose-built entrance, but it was enough. She stumbled a few times, but they pushed and squirmed their way through.

They emerged much the worse for wear by the side of the house next door, dirt and soot smearing their clothes. The street was crowded with people. A few peered at them curiously.

Juliana froze, staring back. They would recognize her. Surely they could not escape.

Sir Edmund slung his arm around her waist and drew her close. She shuddered at the contact, but he ignored it. From his capacious pocket, he pulled a bottle of brandy, her father’s best cognac. “Look what I found!”

The last thing she would have done would be to draw attention to herself, but he didn’t hesitate. A large bully in a bilious green waistcoat snatched the prize from him. “You don’t ’ave it now!”

Sir Edmund let loose a particularly fruity curse, but although he made an obscene gesture at the man, he made no attempt to grab the bottle back. The bully laughed. With an expertise that spoke of long practice, he tapped the sealed bottle against the wall, knocking off the top. Tipping back his head, he poured the amber liquid into his mouth, until someone else grabbed the bottle from him.

A small crowd gathered around, jostling to grab the prize from his greedy hands. They formed a barrier between them and the rest of the crowd, creating enough space for Sir Edmund and Juliana to slip back. At first, he stayed still, one hand around the railing to keep them steady against the surge of bodies, but as the brandy bottle attracted more attention than they did, they could slide back.

A fresh surge of people teemed past, pushing, jostling, shoving Juliana and Sir Edmund against the rails, nearly