Alfie snorted. “As ready as you’ll ever be.”
Aubrey bristled but refused to rise to the bait. “Then let us be on our way.”
Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 18thJanuary 1816
The hall looked very different in the dark, especially when approached through Winsham Woods by climbing over the wall that encircled the gardens.
Watching Alfie take a running jump and climb the wall with incredible grace was Aubrey’s first shock of the night. Though he was far taller and stronger than the lad, he felt suddenly cumbersome and awkward as he followed and jumped down on the other side, somehow aware of Alfie smirking in the darkness despite his features being lost in shadow.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, keeping beneath the canopy of the trees that overhung the wall as they headed towards the back of the house.
After a good deal of discussion, they had agreed a small window that opened onto the scullery was the best means of entering, a detail Aubrey knew only because he had once helped the staff load his grandmother’s Christmas hampers for the village’s needy onto a waiting cart.
They made it to the window without incident, crouching down close to the wall. An owl screeched close by, and the hairs on the back of Aubrey’s neck lifted as his nerves jangled.
“Second thoughts?” asked a quiet voice beside him.
“No,” he replied tersely, not about to give the young devil the satisfaction of knowing he was rattled.
Alfie made no answer, but Aubrey heard a soft jingle as Alfie produced a thin packet of black velvet from an inside pocket.Unrolling it, he produced a set of lockpicks. They glinted in the moonlight, and Aubrey swallowed a snort of amusement as he saw the fine mother-of-pearl motif on the handles.
“A pretty set,” he murmured dryly.
White teeth flashed in the dim light. “The tools of my trade. I had them made to my own specifications,” Alfie replied, sounding far too pleased with himself.
Despite himself, Aubrey watched with fascination as Alfie slid a thin pick between the window frame and the sash, feeling for the latch mechanism. With a delicate touch that spoke of far too much practice, he manipulated the latch with ease, and it slipped free with a soft click.
Alfie swung the window open. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Just get on with it,” Aubrey said irritably.
“Suit yourself, it’s your funeral,” Alfie remarked easily, a comment calculated to remind Aubrey of just who was risking what.
Still, he slipped through the window feet first, and out of sight with barely a sound, leaving Aubrey to follow. Though he knew what lay on the side better than Alfie, Aubrey peered inside, trying to gauge if there was anything breakable close by before climbing through. He experienced a moment of panic when he was too far in to retreat, as his shoulders got stuck, but a bit of judicious wriggling freed him and he straightened, only to smack his head on the bottom of the open window.
“Christ!”
“Shhhh!” Alfie hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth.
Aubrey covered his head with his hand, swallowing an enthusiastic oath as his eyes watered and his head pounded. Well, that was a great start.
“All right?” Alfie asked him, and with more patience than Aubrey might have expected in the circumstances.
He nodded and let out a breath.
“Listen,” Alfie said quietly, taking hold of Aubrey sleeve. “This is serious now. You’re a big fellow and you take up a lot of space. For heaven’s sake, you’ve got to be aware of what your extremities are doing.All of them. Knock something over now, and we’re in it up to our necks.”
Aubrey nodded, though he found it difficult to concentrate on the lad’s words. There was something about the situation, about the way his serious grey eyes looked up at Aubrey, his hand upon Aubrey’s sleeve… He had the oddest sense of déjà vu, but—
“Come on, then,” Alfie said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Whatever maggot had crawled into Aubrey’s brain and made him feel so odd, he pushed it to one side. He’d mull it over later once this ridiculous escapade was over. Alfie was right, this needed his undivided attention, and he could not afford to be preoccupied.
Though Alfie had never been in the house before and had only the memory of the map Aubrey had drawn to guide him, he seemed to move unerringly and with such speed and certainty that Aubrey struggled to keep up with him. It was like the young devil was part cat, for he seemed entirely at ease in the dark. Aubrey, who was certain he was about to knock into something or trip over a rug, was far slower, moving deliberately and with such caution that Alfie kept having to stop and wait for him. He didn’t doubt they would be having another conversation abouthis suitability to break into Jefferson’s house once they were finished here.
Somehow, they made it up the servants’ staircase without incident and found themselves in the great hall. As Aubrey had predicted, a footman sat dozing by the front door, a flickering candle on the table beside him. Aubrey glanced at Alfie, who gestured that they would cross the short distance between them and the staircase where they would remain out of sight behind a large statue which had been ornamented with a display of potted palms, before slipping behind the door which led to the servants’ stairs to the upper floors. Aubrey nodded, waiting until Alfie gave the word.
As one, they tiptoed across the hall, ducking out of sight and waiting. Aubrey caught Alfie’s eye, and they grinned at each other, silently acknowledging that this might be madness, but there was an element of fun to it.
