“It’s Joseph,” Caroline whispered, tilting a chair up to the window. “He’s come to rescue us.”
“Open the window. Be quick,” Joseph’s juvenile voice cracked.
The window would not budge. The paint around the edges had glued the tiny window shut. Impossible to break out. She was too big to fit through the window. Caroline was small enough to thread through.
Elizabeth scarfed through the desk drawer and with exultation seized a letter opener and held it high over her head. They took turns chiseling the edges, stabbing the emulsion that kept them prisoner. Black paint chips flew, littering her wedding gown. Her hairpins dropped and her hair cascaded down her back. She didn’t care. Escape for her daughter was all she could think about. Caroline must be placed out of harm’s way.
One. Two hours passed. As each boundary came free. She was not the same person she used to be, holding to the whim of men or her parents’ demands. Refusing to give in to despair, she would free herself and her daughter of this prison. Elizabeth swiped out the last remaining fragments and lifted the window. Fresh, cool air tantalized her skin.
She hugged Caroline. “We are free.”
“Momma. Lift me out.”
Momma.A warmth spread through Elizabeth. How long had she yearned to hear that word. She examined the street below.So far away. Dear God. Joseph stood on a four-inch ledge. “It’s three stories down.”
Caroline plunked her hands on her hips, pulled off her skirts, revealing boy’s knee breeches. “Momma, I’ve climbed higher buildings with less of a ledge. Joseph and I will go and get Zachary and his men.”
Elizabeth looked out the window, the buildings silhouetted against black clouds that crept in from the night. She felt certain they’d never get out of the place. “But you don’t know where his factory is.”
Caroline deadpanned her. “Really, Momma. We’ve been countless times.”
“No. I will not allow it. You are precious as a jewel to me. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” Elizabeth looked below again. So far down. Terrifying height. She closed her eyes, opened them. Her daughter might die.
“Miss Spencer,” Joseph snapped. “Pay attention. Dyer cannot force you to marry if he doesn’t have Caroline. We’ll go and get Zachary. Hurry, before Dyer’s men come back to check on you.”
With reluctance, Elizabeth fished her daughter out feet first. In the distance, the half-built pseudo-gothic pile that had been promising to become the Roman Catholic Cathedral of St. Patrick loomed. “Are your feet touching the ledge?”
“Yes, Momma. We’re going. Don’t worry.”
“Tell Zachary to stay and defend his factory. I don’t want him hurt because of me.” She looked down. Fought a wave of vertigo. Joseph and Caroline had dashed across the ledge, jumped to another roof, and then another, heading west. Their athletic bodies scrambled across twisted gables, circled turrets, and slid down sloping slate roofs until they vanished like tiny ships on the horizon.
Elizabeth sighed. Her daughter picked locks, scrambled across rooftops in the dark, and voyaged about the city? She prayed they’d be safe.
Footsteps pounded down the hall. The doorknob rattled. Nothing. Elizabeth pressed an ear to the door. Men moved about. The changing of the guard? Or were they coming to get her? Must delay.
Elizabeth waited twenty minutes, enough for Caroline and Joseph to get away, and then picked up an ottoman and threw it at the mirror above the dresser. Glass splintered, scattering across the carpet. She moved to the far side of the room. “Help! They’ve taken my daughter.”
The key rattled. The door swung open. Several guards swarmed. “They took her. Save my daughter.” Wide-eyed, four men surrounded the gap, each taking turns ducking their heads out the window, confused by how a girl had been taken through a third-story window.
Elizabeth swallowed. The guards had left the key in the lock. Not the sharpest knives in the drawer. “Across the rooftops to the east,” she pointed. “Rawlins will have your necks.”
While the guards discussed possibilities, she tiptoed out and locked them in. Good. No guards in the hall. Heart racing, she picked up her black splattered white gown and raced down the main stairway. Second floor. No one. She gave thanks to her maker.
From the third floor, came a cacophony of men shouting and hammering the door. Seeing her descending, the butler plastered himself across the front entry, yelping when she thrust him aside and yanked open the door. The cool air of freedom whispered across the heated flush of her body. She took two steps and was jerked back. The rough hemp of rope encircled her neck and cinched tightly. Dyer’s maniacal laugh grazed her ear.She clawed at the rope. Men and women, a flower seller on the street pointed. Dyer hauled her into his library and struck her.
“Impatient for our nuptials, Elizabeth.” The upstairs guards crowded the room, their eyes as hard as agates from being duped. “I should fire the lot of you for allowing her to fool you. Now guard her.”
“You don’t have my daughter as hostage. I will not consent to this farce of a marriage. People passing on the street saw what you did to me. Think of the rumormongers.”
Smoke rings spun from his cigar. “Do you think I’ve ever cared about someone else’s opinion? I’ll find Caroline. There are not too many places she can hide. What if I sell her to the highest bidder? There are a lot of men who prefer little girls. Think on that my lovely.” He shrugged into his topcoat.
Caroline would find Zachary. He’d protect her daughter.
Beads of sweat gathered on her upper lip. “Where are you going?”
His fingers pinched her chin, forcing her gaze to meet the feral expression. “I have a meeting with Mr. Rourke. Can’t have people gossiping about your former paramour. You’ll be relieved when his suffering is over. Think of an epitaph for his stone. How about,we must embrace the pain and use it for a fuel for our journey?Nice ring to it. For now, I have a delightful afternoon to look toward, producing an ash pile of his factory and entombing Mr. Rourke.” He doffed his top hat.
She was caught in a horrible nightmare with no answer to her problem.
