Chapter 31 #3
A bolt of alarm shot through me at this news, but then I pushed the anxiety aside.
Collins could take care of himself, and I had far more pressing things to be concerned with at the moment.
We merged with even more Auxies in their uniforms with young ladies hanging on their arms, and I took the opportunity to scan our surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.
Not that I expected a glaring red sign saying, “gelignite here,” but I hoped there would be some indication of activity.
I attuned my ears to the chatter of those around me, curious if I might learn something from the other partygoers, but it seemed the typical burbling that occurred at such events.
Several of the women twitched at their dresses as if they weren’t quite comfortable, but I suspected they were new, likely purchased in haste by the Auxies who had invited them just for the occasion.
They probably weren’t accustomed to the cut or the fit.
There hadn’t been time to tailor my own black beaded gown as I normally would have either, but it served its purpose.
As we mounted the steps toward St. Patrick’s Hall, I could only hope Sidney and Willoughby were having better luck.
They were supposed to be tracking down Rory Gallagher, the guard who had found Lieutenant Harlow’s body.
Sidney had wanted to speak to him earlier, but we knew Ardmore must have men watching the Castle.
If we approached the guard too soon, it might alert Ardmore that we were on to him.
So Sidney had elected to wait until Gallagher was on duty this evening, anxious to discover if the conscientious soldier might have remembered something else.
Now that Sidney knew the right questions to ask, he might be able to pry more information from him.
Perhaps Gallagher might also set aside some of that conscientiousness and be convinced to help him and Willoughby find a way into the Castle.
I’d been inside St. Patrick’s Hall before, so I wasn’t overawed like some of the women at its size and splendor.
Large windows spanned one wall of the long chamber while mirrors were hung opposite, and enormous columns supported the weight of the ceiling above, where a striking mural was painted in three panels separated by golden chandeliers.
It was easy to feel dwarfed by the space, though it had certainly come alive with the addition of a jazz band.
The blare of a trumpet, the flourishing notes of piano keys, and the driving rhythm of drums filled the room, compelling many of the attendees to dance—some with more success than others.
A refreshment table had also been set up, overflowing with booze.
It was evident what the priorities of the Auxiliaries who had planned the ball had been.
I did as little talking as possible so as not to give away my identity, and made it clear I was only interested in Captain Maxwell, to stave off unwanted attention from some of the other men.
Maxwell played along gamely though I suspected he was even more uncomfortable with our feigned intimacy than I was.
After all, I’d done this before during the war. With Alec, of all people.
A pulse of fury swept through me at the reminder of what had brought me here and renewed my focus on those around me. There must be something to indicate Ardmore’s exact plan. Or would we simply have to search the Castle as best we could?
The men all appeared to be acting as I’d expected, but the women … Why did so many of them seem to keep disappearing? I supposed they could just be slipping out to the cloakroom, but their long absences began to nag at me.
Then the woman dancing beside us turned pale and pulled from her date’s grasp to race from the room. The man shrugged at us. “Had too much to drink, I guess.”
“I’ll go check on her,” I offered, grasping the ready excuse to see where the women were going. I cast Maxwell a significant look. I knew that in a short time he would join me in the portrait gallery.
It took me a minute to weave my way through the crowd and out into the long corridor hung with paintings of past and current Irish viceroys.
At first, I couldn’t see where she’d gone, but then I spied a pair of women hurrying through a door, glancing behind them as if eager to escape something.
I deduced this must be the cloakroom and the pale woman must be getting sick inside. At least she’d made it to a receptacle.
I sidled closer to the door, intending to offer my assistance, but another woman was speaking.
“Did ye not hear? Ye were supposed to wrap it in fabric, ye eejit.”
“It was too bulky,” the sick woman moaned.
“Better to be bulky than make yerself sick.”
“I didn’t know it would do that.”
The friend sighed. “Give it here, then. And clean yerself up. I’ll take it where it needs to go.”
I realized with a jolt what they were talking about.
Hurriedly, I retraced my steps, ducking behind a sculpture on a pedestal a few feet away, waiting for the woman to emerge.
For it appeared all of the gelignite had not already been stashed inside the Castle.
Ardmore was using some of these women to smuggle it inside.