February 13, 1889 Evening
“I don’t know why I’m so tired.” Mira gave an exaggerated yawn.
“You did walk with us through half of Bath today,” Liza said.
Mira yawned again for emphasis.
“Goodness, child, why don’t you just go to bed?” Aunt Eleanor said.
“I think I will,” Mira said, standing. “Goodnight, everyone.” She left the room, heading up the stairs. She’d already set out the clothes she would need for the evening’s activities: a dark blouse and coat, split skirt, and riding boots. She changed quickly and moved to the window.
They’d discussed her plan for escape before returning to Davenguard.
Walker and Liza were already enacting phase one of the plan: distraction.
But the family had decided to adjourn to the sitting room near the front door, which left Mira with two options—sneaking through the house to the conservatory door or climbing down the ivy.
If she climbed down the ivy, there was a guaranteed entrance back into the house and there was less of a chance of getting caught.
She opened the window and looked down. Dizziness came over her.
It was rather far up. She pulled her head back in.
If she left the window open, she could climb up the trellis on her return.
That would be a much easier prospect than climbing down.
Unless the trellis broke. However, if she went down now it still had a chance of breaking. Conservatory it was.
She slipped down the far stairs, wishing she knew which ones creaked.
Most of the staff would be in the servants’ quarters, so hopefully she wouldn’t meet anyone on her way out.
Halfway down the hall she heard footsteps approaching and ducked into the library.
Her heart pounded in her chest. If she was caught leaving the house, it would be assumed she was going to meet Byron for some romantic interlude.
It was only half true, but that sort of assumption could reflect poorly on Walker.
Here she was, about to infiltrate a thieves’ gang with ties to Circe, and she felt more anxiety about being discovered by a member of Walker’s soon-to-be family.
She forced herself to breathe deeper and cast her eyes about the darkened room.
The moon was full and shedding thin light through the windows.
And a door. She smiled and, finding the key in the lock, she turned it, pocketed the key, and left Davenguard.
Byron planned to meet her with a carriage at the end of the drive by nine, and by the watch on her chatelaine she had a little over fifteen minutes.
The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she hurried to their meeting point.
What little breath she had clouded the air in front of her as she came to a stop beneath one of the giant stone lions at the front gate.
Two pinpricks of light appeared down the road.
She rubbed her arms and hands to keep them warm as the light turned into the lanterns on a carriage.
The horses came to a stop in front of her, nostrils steaming. The door opened and Byron stepped out.
“You look perfect for the part.” He offered a hand to help her into the carriage.
“As do you.”
He’d neglected to shave and had opted for a nice, but ill-fitting, wrinkled suit. They settled inside the carriage.
“That suit isn’t yours, is it?” she asked as the carriage turned back towards Bath.
“Heavens no. I’d find a new tailor if it was. No, it’s one of Castel’s. Perish the thought if he ever finds out about it. I crumpled it up in all sorts of disarray to get it just right. Do remind me to have it pressed again before he gets back from London. I’m afraid I’ll forget.”
“I’ll try. Has he written you at all to explain why he’s gone?”
Byron shook his head. “It strikes me as the usual sort of bureaucratic nonsense.”
They fell silent until the road changed beneath them to cobblestone as they crossed the bridge.
“You know,” Mira said, “I am rather surprised that you didn’t object to my coming with you. It wasn’t even a question.”
Byron took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “By now I have learned that there isn’t much use in trying to stop you. Besides,” he pulled his hand away, leaving a pearl necklace in her palm. “I think it will work in our favor to have both of us.”
“Is this your mother’s?”
“I thought it would add to our story.”
“What story?”
“Well—”
***
They stood in the shadow of Bath Abbey as the tower bell struck ten. The gothic architecture loomed above them.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Mira whispered, pulling the collar of her coat tighter around her neck.
“Hard to say,” Byron said. “There aren’t many people out, so it should be easy to spot him.” He checked his watch. “If he isn’t here in twenty minutes, we’ll head back.”
“Why do you think he chose here as the rendezvous?” she asked. “Do you think that the thieves meet somewhere around here?”
“I doubt they would meet this close to an Abbey. Too much guilt every time you walk by. Monty was smart in choosing it for us, though. Plenty of shadows to hide in, and since we look nothing like young hooligans ready to throw rocks at the stained glass, no one will think we’re doing anything nefarious. ”
“We are lurking, rather.”
“Well, that’s only because of the shadows.”
A dark carriage stood across the way. She wouldn’t have paid it any notice, except every so often a person would attempt to hire it and the driver would wave them off.
It struck her as odd, as they stood there in the cold waiting for Monty.
Fifteen minutes passed, Mira’s toes were quite frozen, and the carriage driver had waved off four potential fares.
She was about to mention how odd it was to Byron when a man with Monty’s build approached and the thought flew out of her head. The man’s voice confirmed his identity.
“Sorry ‘bout the delay. Had to borrow a prancer and couldn’t find a place to hold it.”
“You stole a horse?” Mira asked.
“Borrowed.” Monty emphasized the word. “If I prigged it I would have said so. It hurts you don’t trust me. I’m not in the horse stealing game, never was, never will be. Now do you want me to take you there or not?”
“By all means, lead the way,” Byron said, gesturing out.
Monty nodded, walking past the carriage towards one of the northern roads. “What were the names you decided on?”
“Ernest and Rita Norman,” Mira said.
“Ernest?” Monty raised an eyebrow, looking back at the two of them. “You’re using a false name, and you chose Ernest?”
“Seems fitting,” Byron said.
“I suppose.” Monty shrugged and kept moving.
“Where are we going?” Mira asked.
“To one of the tunnels.”
Mira swallowed. “Erm. Tunnels? You mean . . .”
“Under the city. Bath’s been built over multiple times.
There are tunnels all over. Connecting businesses.
Hidden vaults built for structure back twenty or thirty years ago.
You saw the construction over near the pump house?
They’re unearthing things from Roman times.
Building it out so people can come and see it. ”
“Yes, I believe I heard about that,” Byron said. “Didn’t Liza mention it?”
Mira nodded. “They’re building a museum, aren’t they?”
“That’s what they say. But the workers are only in there during the day, see? At night, it’s a free meeting spot. The gang stay out of the areas that are being actively worked on. Don’t want to accidentally leave a mark somewhere where one of them archaeologists will see.”
He moved out of the moonlight, into an alleyway. A man dressed in workman’s clothes and a thick coat stood before a set of descending stairs.
“What’s your business here?” he said. “This is an archaeological site.”
Mira’s chest tightened.
“Here to see Sibyl,” Monty said.
The man looked him up and down, then stepped aside so they could move past him.
“That’s Adams. The gang pays ‘im to look the other way,” Monty whispered once they were down the stairs. They kept moving until they came to an archway that stretched into a tunnel.
Mira’s breath stuttered. Byron took her hand.
“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I’ll be with you this time.”
She nodded. Monty looked back.
“Do you not like cramped spaces, Miss?”
“It’s a little more than that.”
“Don’t worry, it opens up soon enough. There’s even a space where you can see the sky.”
She nodded and Monty stepped into the darkness.
“It’ll be dark as pitch for a minute, shut your peepers if it bothers you, but just keep moving forward.”
They followed him in, a metallic smell to the warm, humid air. Mira held tight to Byron as they kept moving, trying not to think of bones beneath her feet.
“Almost there, love,” Byron whispered to her.
Monty wasn’t lying, and before she knew it, there was light up ahead. Moonlight.
“Bit of a tight squeeze here,” Monty said, getting onto his hands and knees and wriggling through the small opening.
“You go first,” Byron said.
The stone was damp as Mira crawled through the narrow passageway and out into the night air.
There was an overhang above where they stood, held up by doric columns.
This new space was open to the sky with a large, rectangular pool that glowed green in the moonlight.
Stars reflected on its surface. A colonnade stood above the overhang on the far side, braced with scaffolding.
“They’re still working on this area,” Monty said. “Apparently those Roman coves used to bathe together here.”
Byron brushed himself off. “Fascinating.”
Monty led the way around the pool and up a couple of stairs. “The gang’ll be meeting back here.”
This tunnel was much shorter and led to a room with wooden planks built up as walkways. An orange-tinged waterfall rushed out of the wall at the far side and disappeared beneath the ancient brick floor.
“Is that where the famous Bath waters come from?” Mira asked, raising her voice to be heard over the rushing water.
Monty nodded. “All those gentry morts and rum cullys in the Grand Pump Room drinking water from ancient times. Strange to think.”