While she did, Eliza went to study the door. It was sturdy and locked. She ran her fingertips along the join between it and the frame, feeling for any give. There was none.
“We need to get out before they come back with the cups, Eliza.”
Eliza turned sharply. “What cups, Fenella?”
“Little ones. The liquid in them is brown and bitter. It makes us sleep. I don’t want to drink any more now that my head feels clearer. I want to go home now, Eliza.”
“I know you do, but you need to eat more and drink, then start walking around the room, Fenella. It helps, trust me.”
Looking at the other three girls, she didn’t think there was enough time to get them moving before the men came back. If she could at least get Fenella stronger, she’d have help to escape.
She needed a weapon. Even a small one. While Fenella ate and walked, Eliza ran her hands along the walls until she felt a jagged splinter of wood on the end of a loose board. She worked it free. It wasn’t huge, but big enough to cause pain. She tucked it into the pocket of her coat.
The simple act steadied her. She was not entirely helpless now.
“Eliza?”
She turned to see the girl approaching. She looked steadier, but there was still a dazed look in her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Polly and I went for a walk on our last day in London. I was picking flowers when I heard her scream. I ran, reaching her as they were pulling her into a cart. I tried to stop them, but they pulled me in too.”
“It will be all right, Fenella, I promise.”
The girl threw herself at Eliza, and she hugged her close, needing the contact then as much as Fenella did.
“We’re going to get out,” Eliza promised, releasing her. “All of us. I swear it.”
“How?”
Eliza opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Get onto the bed and pretend you’re sleeping. Don’topen your eyes or speak. Breathe deeply. Hurry,” Eliza whispered.
The padlock rattled, and the door swung open.
The older man stepped into the room first, carrying a tray on which five small, chipped cups rattled together. A second man followed, his eyes sweeping the area with bored disinterest.
“Time for your medicine, ladies,” the first said. “Help you rest nice and quiet-like. Now, you don’t give me any trouble, Miss Downing, because it will go worse for you if you do.” He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
Eliza’s skin crawled, but she made herself widen her eyes, letting her shoulders sag. She moved slightly to one side, as if to get out of his way, forcing her features into something that might pass for compliance.
“Medicine?” she whispered, adding a tremor. “Please… may I have some water first? My throat?—”
“You’ll get what you’re given.” He shouldered past her, the tray bumping against her hip.
The other man snorted.
Eliza let herself stagger, catching at the edge of the tray as if to steady herself, and the entire thing fell out of his hands, crashing to the floor.
“Bloody hell!” he swore, jerking it away. “Clumsy little?—”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, retreating. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
The smell that rose was strong, bitter, and familiar.
“Come on, we’ll get more, and you can hold her down while I pour it down her throat this time!”
