Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Are you certain?” Hannah asked nervously.
“Until I met you, I’d never embarked on a real adventure,” Eoin replied. “You have more experience.”
Hannah’s heart squeezed so tightly that she almost reached up to rub it. She had wanted to fill Eoin’s solitary existence with so much joy. But she’d lost that opportunity.
“Understood.” Hannah’s voice sounded strained even to her own ears, and she busied herself with pulling out the dark lantern that she’d hidden under her skirts.
Lighting it, she slipped into the opening, which was only slightly roomier than doorways leading to the circular staircase in Eoin’s boyhood tower.
Along with a ground-floor tunnel that branched off in both directions, there was one set of rickety stairs leading straight up.
If Hannah was correct that Jenks had been glancing toward a secret room, then this passage was almost directly opposite it.
By Hannah’s calculations, they were currently standing directly under the Horse and Hen’s tavern room.
Thus, the steps likely led to the public house.
If Hannah wished to reach the Purveyor’s lair, she’d need to remain subterranean.
Hannah led her group to the right while Matthew’s team went left.
The air smelled damp and rotten. It wasn’t just mildew but the stench of decay.
Hannah had difficulties imagining the spoiled Hugh or Francis scurrying along the smelly corridors in their finest silks and shiny shoe buckles.
But someone intelligent enough to run a massive criminal organization would be clever enough to obscure their true nature.
At the thought, an odd sensation whispered through Hannah. “I think we’ve missed something.”
“Pardon?” Eoin asked as he followed close behind her, his pistol in his hand. Her father, mother, and Sophia had also drawn their weapons.
“I feel as if we’ve overlooked something important—or didn’t put the pieces together properly.” Hannah paused to rub at her temples as if that could somehow massage her nascent thoughts into being.
“We’ve got no time, lass,” her father warned. “We’ll discover all the facts soon enough if we find this bastard’s lair.”
It didn’t surprise Hannah how quickly Papa’s anger had transferred from the Aucourte family in general to the Purveyor in particular.
The shadowy figure had declared war upon the Black Sheep, and her father was practical enough to believe that any enemy of his enemy was now a friend.
But it was more than just necessity. In the carriage ride over with her mother, father, and cousin, Hannah had explained her growing esteem for Eoin.
Hannah knew that Papa wouldn’t allow the past to interfere with his daughter’s current happiness.
“Yes, you’re right,” Hannah said, shaking herself from her momentary reverie. She’d had enough time to think. Now was the occasion for action.
She stormed ahead, twisting through the passage as it narrowed and then suddenly turned into a sizable storage room before constricting again.
The tunnel-like structure was mostly dark.
In a few places, the plaster had crumbled away, and the lathe had broken.
Light from the main underground room oozed in through those sections, along with the shouts from the crowd.
By the sound of it, Lizzie had landed at least two strikes against Blackglen while managing to dance just out of reach of his quarterstaff.
“There’s a staircase,” Eoin whispered near Hannah’s ear, and for a moment, she needed to close her eyes against the onslaught of unexpected emotions. It reminded her too keenly of their embraces—embraces that would likely never occur again.
Hannah focused instead on the rickety jumble of wood, which was more akin to a ladder than steps that led to a hatch in the ceiling. The group hadn’t transversed enough ground to reach what Hannah suspected was a secret viewing area. But she also didn’t know if such a place even existed.
“I’ll go first,” Eoin said.
Before Hannah could stop him, he’d scrambled up the haphazard arrangement of planks. Luckily, it held his weight. Eoin pushed on the trapdoor, but it only opened a scant inch.
“Is it latched from above?” Hannah asked as she started to climb too.
“Yes, but I can easily break it.” Eoin shoved on the wood. The sound of metal scraping against metal was quickly followed by the cracking of oak. The covering popped free.
“Not subtle but effective,” Hannah’s father said quietly.
Both Hannah and her mother shushed him, but fortunately, Eoin didn’t appear to hear. He was already pushing his head and shoulders through the opening.
Two women screamed—the sound high and piercing. The rumble of a man’s voice followed. Eoin quickly ducked back down, slamming the broken hatch behind him. Even in the low light of the lantern, Hannah could easily detect his blush.
“That was one of the brothels.” Eoin sounded choked even as he managed to speak succinctly.
Hannah’s father started to laugh heartily, but her mother shoved her elbow in his gullet. He instantly doubled over before he straightened.
“Ow!” Papa rubbed his belly and shot his wife a baleful look. “What? It was amusing.”
Hannah’s mother did not deign to answer. Her expression, though, was withering.
“Let’s keep exploring!” Hannah attempted to assuage the awkwardness. Unfortunately, her overly bright tone only drew more attention to the situation. Quickly, she jumped down from the ladder, allowing Eoin to follow.
Their group moved quietly forward. A few minutes later, Hannah spotted another trapdoor in the ceiling. This time, though, there were no stairs or ladder.
“If you get on my shoulders, you could push it open as long as it’s not latched,” Eoin suggested—his usually steady gaze flicking back and forth from Hannah’s face. It was clear that he still felt uncomfortable around her, and her parents’ presence wasn’t helping.
“That should work.” Hannah almost winced at how stiff she also sounded.
Hannah handed her lantern and pistol to Sophia while Eoin bent for Hannah to climb onto his back. Fortunately for her sanity, her petticoats provided enough layers that she didn’t feel his muscles against her thighs.
This is simply the most practical solution, she reminded herself sternly. This is not an excuse to be physically close. It is the only option.
After Eoin stood up, Hannah quickly clambered to his shoulders. They needed to move efficiently, and her heart couldn’t handle much more.
This trapdoor had a lock installed on it, but thankfully, the second key that Hannah tried worked. Once unlatched, the wood panel was light enough for Hannah to easily push it upward. Peeking through the small crack that she’d created, she spied nothing but darkness.
“I need a light,” she whispered.
Sophia held up the lantern, and Hannah snagged it.
Using one hand to raise the door, she lifted the lamp and allowed a small glowing circle to escape into the blackness.
Copper winked, and cobwebs hung like the Spanish moss that grew on the island home of Hannah’s aunt.
Emboldened, Hannah laid the lamp on the floorboards above her and hoisted herself into the room.
“Hannah?” Eoin whispered from below, his voice threaded with worry.
“It’s just an empty space.” Hannah spoke in her regular tone as she retrieved the lantern and held it high above her head. Sure enough, disused stills shined in the warm glow. “This chamber must have been used for gin production.”
When Hannah walked, she sent puffs of dust into the air. There were no windows here, and she could spy no other entrances. It would have been a very secure place to make illegal spirits, and by the sheer quantity of equipment, it must have been an extremely successful operation.
She rapidly walked the perimeter of the warehouse-like facility. She hoped to find some abandoned records that might prove the identity of the Purveyor. However, she came across nothing but a few angry rats.
“Are you safe up there?” Eoin wasn’t even trying to hide his worry, but Hannah still didn’t know how to interpret his concern.
It was clear that, despite her lies of omission, he still cared for her.
But was it enough? And was it fair for her to push for a relationship despite all that had transpired?
“Yes,” Hannah said, careful to speak at a normal volume instead of raising her voice. Even though it was clear that the place was abandoned, she had no idea how thin the walls were or what establishments were on the other side. “They must have made gin here before the increase in grain prices.”
Scanning the space one last time, Hannah headed over to the trapdoor. When she peered through the opening, she found Eoin looking up expectantly. As she considered the drop, she realized that it might have been easier climbing up than down.
“If you sit and dangle your legs, I should be able to lift you down,” Eoin suggested. Of course, he’d registered her dilemma almost immediately.
Hannah hesitated. This would be even more like an embrace. But she really had no choice.
Eoin encircled her legs with his arms. As he held her high and straight in the air, she rested her hands against his shoulders.
Pushing off, she avoided sliding down his chest. Yet even as she kept their bodies separated, the pose was still one of a celebrating couple.
It was akin to how a groom would lift his bride above his head as they spun around in utter glee. But this was a mission, not a passion.
Hannah landed lightly on her feet, but her heart fell with a dull thud. She glanced at Eoin, and an unfamiliar wave of awkwardness nearly drowned her. Forcing her eyes not to dart away, she nodded sharply. “Thank you.”