Chapter 35 #2
Twenty-five pounds a week. Whatever was she to do with so much?
Of course she had not received such an extravagant amount.
The theft was not worth conjecture. When Francis was caught, she would go to jail.
Jane read there were over 200 hangable offenses under Crown law.
Kidnapping was likely one of them. The thought of Francis hanging at the end of a rope was almost enough to take Jane’s appetite away.
Finished with this conversation, Jane retreated to the bed to eat.
“Be careful of crumbs. They will make it difficult to sleep if the rats come to share, and I do not have to clean up after you anymore.” Francis’s laugh echoed in the room.
Duncan and Francis moved away from the door, leaving the one they called Geoff to stare.
Jane finished her cheese before remembering where she had seen the man before.
He was the footman who followed her to the King’s chambers.
He bore a surprising resemblance to Duncan, though she guessed him to be about ten years younger.
He did not take his eyes off her as she ate, making swallowing difficult.
Finally, he turned away, talking to the other captors. “You sure you want to send her to a convent?”
“Safest place I can think of, I cannot risk her getting with child.” Duncan paused. “Frannie, did you mean Bow Street Runner?”
“Oh, yes that is the name.”
Expletives flew out of Duncan’s mouth, each one louder than the last. Something crashed, and Francis yelped.
“We must move our plan up.” Duncan slammed the door to the room, muffling the conversation about a convent.
Jane thought theirs a rather stupid plan. The sisters of the order were likely to help her escape. Of all the options she could think of, a convent was the best. Not that it would come to that. Richard would come.
“Is there any chance your calculations could be wrong?” Richard stared at the map at the point where Yates indicated the tunnel ended.
“The boy and I counted our paces both ways. We used the compass to note when we changed directions.” Yates traced the line he penciled in. “There was a slope to the passage, but I believe I am within 10 feet of the location.”
“There is nothing on that side of the hill other than an ancient quarry, too steep to access from the road above. Below flowed a river.”
“If one took a boat down the river to here. It would be easy to access the area. Even walking along the bank from the bridge here.” Birch traced the line. “The dog must have continued down the river and through the woods. Which would be dangerous on horseback, as you say.”
Yates leaned on the table with both arms. “I suggest a two-pronged approach. One group enter through the tunnel. The other from the river. From what you said, Her Grace may have been alone in the chamber where the trapdoor comes out. Assuming she is in an inner chamber of whatever guardhouse this is, as she was alone when Her Grace warned you off, we may be able to extract her before her captors know she is gone.”
“Has the locksmith arrived?” Birch directed his question to anyone. The lack of an answer filled the space.
Mrs. Harding rushed into the room. “I beg your pardon, but I thought you should know Francis is not in the women’s staff dormitory as she should be.”
Birch lifted his head, fatigue lined every feature. “I am afraid I should have insisted she be detained, Your Grace.”
“Her escape may work to our advantage. If she had been expected back and did not return, they could be alerted.” If anything, Yates had grown calmer as the clock hands passed midnight.
A footman entered with a haggard, gray-bearded man. “Mr. Keyes, locksmith. Your Grace.”
A locksmith named Keyes. Richard had the vaguest notion that Jane would laugh when she learned of the name. In other circumstances, he would too. A vague smile was all that he could muster. “Thank you for coming on such a night.”
“At your service. Your Grace, where is the lock that you need opened?”
“At the end of an underground tunnel. At the top of a ladder.” Birch mimed working above his head. “A trapdoor of a sort.”
“Did you say underground?” squeaked Mr. Keyes.
“Yes.”
“I am afraid I cannot open the lock for you.” Mr. Keyes backed away.
“Could you open the lock for a hundred pounds? No, two hundred.” Richard prayed that more than a year’s wage would help the locksmith overcome his fears.
“I suppose I can try.” Keyes stopped and swallowed. “Your Grace.”
“Good,” said Birch. “You will need to accomplish the task as silently as possible. Prepare whatever items you need. The footman will take you to a room where you can get refreshment while you wait.”
After the locksmith left, Yates explained his plan. He would take a group of six men down the riverbank. While Richard, Birch, the locksmith, and two other men, approached through the tunnel. Precisely forty-five minutes from the time Yates left, they would enter the guardhouse from both sides.
“Do you think we have enough men?” asked Richard.
“To go undetected for decades, the structure where she is kept must be small. More than two or three guards would have drawn notice. It is unlikely that there are many more than four or five men with Her Grace.” If you can spirit her away without their notice, all the better.
” Yates looked both Richard and Birch in the eye. “Are we agreed?”
“Yes.”
“I shall gather my men and outfit them for the excursion. Prepare yourselves then.” Yates pointed at two of the footmen remaining in the library and left.
Richard wondered what he might need and what was more important. What might Jane need? He sent for the housekeeper.