Chapter 7 #2
“It was a working neighborhood,” Gideon continued.
“Most everyone had barely enough to survive, but we worked at the tavern and created a place where people could go and enjoy themselves after laboring all day. Yet we were happy. My mother always made sure I had books to read. She’d buy them secondhand and they fell apart even more the way I pored over them. ”
Clara climbed down the ladder. “We have that in common.”
“What a treasure your library is,” he said, returning her smile. “Vast and rich. I’d never tire of that place.”
“You have unlimited use of it,” she said at once. “Even after you finish Longsword.”
His expression brightened, though it dimmed slightly when he said, “We won’t be here long.”
Her heart grew weighted at the thought. Strange, how she’d wanted these men gone yesterday, and now, she wished for something very different.
“Until you leave, then,” she said, “any book on the shelf is yours to read.”
His lips curved. “That’s kind.”
“My books will be glad for someone new to look at. I’m certain they’re tired of my face.”
Warming, his eyes fixed on her. “I wouldn’t grow tired of your face.”
“Now you are being kind,” she answered. Eager to turn the conversation away from flattery, she said, “When you weren’t reading, you worked at your family’s tavern.”
“I thought I would take over the Ribbon and Loom with my brothers one day, except…”
A shadow passed over him.
“Except?” she prompted gently.
“I began to…change. I was a danger to those around me, especially my family. It has its complications, having skin my color. You need to be careful. But with my new changes, it grew even more hazardous. For me, and for my mother and father, my brothers.”
She wanted to press further, ask for details about what sort of change could imperil his kin, but when she glanced at Desmond, he gave a small shake of his head.
“Can you move the ladder over there?” she asked instead, pointing to another beam with more hanging plants.
Gideon readily complied, maneuvering the ladder as easily as a piece of straw. Once he’d positioned it where she wanted, she climbed back up the ladder to collect more cuttings.
“There were these three men,” Gideon said, holding the ladder steady as she worked.
“They would come around the tavern from time to time. Well-liked by everyone there because they spent lavishly and often paid for rounds. It was whispered they were thieves, but no one said outright. I used to wait on their table whenever they stopped in. They were kind to me, and I knew…they were like me. They had that danger that I possessed.”
She climbed down the ladder and faced him, listening intently.
He went on, “When it became clear to me that I couldn’t stay with my family and keep them safe, I asked the men if I could go with them.
They agreed. It killed me, to leave my father and mother and brothers, but I hadn’t any choice.
They had to be kept safe, and I did what I had to in order to ensure that. Even…turn to crime.”
He held up his long, elegant hands. “These made me well suited for turning pickpocket. Though I had to stay away from Spitalfields, we did very well for ourselves. Until the law caught up with us. I evaded the noose, but my friends…” his voice thickened. “…didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Gideon.” She placed a hand on his arm.
He covered her hand with his, and it was warm and steady. “Our lives often end at Tyburn Tree. We all knew it. But that didn’t make it any harder to bear. Or the guilt that I escaped and they didn’t.”
Her heart was a sharp ache in her chest to hear his tale. Whatever he’d faced, the choices he’d made, they had been hard ones. Loss seemed to be the salient feature of his life. Yet words felt small and useless, and so she kept silent.
After clearing his throat, he went on, “I was on my own, until I met Cyrus, Des, and the others. And it seemed as though if I couldn’t have my family, or my old friends, these new friends,” he smiled at Desmond, “would do just as well.”
“But after what happened to your friends,” she protested, “the London crew, why take to thieving again? Why turn highwayman?”
“There’s little choice in the matter.” Desmond shrugged. “We became highwaymen because we had to. Survival’s everything.”
“And if the law catches up with you again?” she asked unhappily.
“We face far greater dangers,” Gideon said.
“I don’t know how you can say that,” she exclaimed, “after what you’ve already faced.”
Neither Gideon nor Desmond seemed inclined to explain any further, holding to an obstinate silence.
She shook her head. The idea of these men with nooses around their necks made her stomach clench and a miserable cold sweat cling to her skin. As for those greater dangers, what else could they fear?
“There has to be another way,” she pled.
Gideon and Desmond suddenly went still, their bodies straightening with attention.
“A carriage,” they said in unison.
Horror struck her. “What day is it?”
“The sixth of April,” Gideon replied.
“Oh, God. It isn’t supposed to be today.” She darted toward the glasshouse door. Unfortunately, tending to Hugh would have to wait. She set down her trug and scissors. “I thought they were coming next week. But it seems that they’re early.”
She was outside, running. Panic iced down her back.
Cyrus suddenly blocked her path, pistols in his hands.
“Whoever the fuck they are,” he growled, “get rid of them.”
“I can’t—it’s not possible. Not them.”
“Them?” This from Desmond, coming up behind her.
She didn’t have time to stop and explain, couldn’t even be afraid of the guns Cyrus held. Clara threw her words over her shoulder as she bolted around the side of the house.
“My in-laws.”