“Eliza ...” It came again. The voice was wan and distant, as if her name were borne on a tail of wind. It seemed to be coming from below—perhaps from the same room where she’d heard the mysterious gramophone? Eliza rose and put her ear to the floor grate nearest the bed. The sound of labored breathing came through, followed by a low groan.
“Hello?” she said, her voice quaking.
“Look ...,” the voice said, followed by a raling cough. Distinctly male. “Behind the wardrobe ... way out.”
She sat up, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.
It suddenly came to her. Ada’s diary entry. The dumbwaiter Beatrice had hidden in had to be in this room. Might it still be there, perhaps behind the armoire? If Ada had used it to escape, so could she. Excitement rallied her strength. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the hulking piece of furniture, using her hips as leverage to push itinch by inch across the wooden floor. She could have cheered at the sight of the rectangular dumbwaiter door, mounted flush with the wall, its keyhole surrounded by a heart-shaped hasp. She fumbled to open it, but it was locked.
Eliza gave a growl of frustration. To have the possibility of freedom offered and then cruelly taken away was too much. Bitter tears welled in her eyes. She was going to have to fight her way out after all. A fight she would most likely lose.
She was reaching for the tin of matches in her pocket to light another of Ada’s cigarettes when her fingertips brushed against the luckenbooth Malcolm had given her.
The luckenbooth whose elongated arrow looked suspiciously like a key.Wasit a key?
If she was wrong, what more did she have to lose? May as well chase one final folly. Eliza withdrew the brooch and carefully inserted the tip of the MacCulloch arrow into the keyhole and turned. After a few seconds of fumbling, the lock gave a satisfying click and the latch sprung free. Eliza could hardly believe her eyes.
She slid the door up with shaking hands. There was just enough room for a person to fold their legs into a crouch and fit inside.
Eliza took a deep, wavering breath and folded herself into the cubby, her burgeoning belly poking between her knees. She had no idea what she was going into, or who might be at the bottom of that shaft. Malcolm could be setting a trap for her. But if he was, she would be ready.
Her heart pounded like the surf as she threaded the pulley rope between her hands and pulled. The dumbwaiter jumped. She said a silent prayer and tugged on the rope again. The pulleys creaked and groaned, but she began moving slowly downward, the floor of Ada’s room closing like a camera shutter as she plunged into darkness. She kept going, feeding the rope through the squeaking pulley.
As she descended, the air around her grew colder. Finally, a sliver of yellow light showed at the bottom of the dumbwaiter. She pulled one last time and the rope went lax in her hands. She crashed to the bottom of the shaft. What she saw next took her breath away.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up.”
CHAPTER 45
Eliza stared at the man who looked just like Malcolm. He was tied to a chair, his lean face gaunt, his left eye blackened and bruised. Still, he managed a smile. And in that moment, she knew.
“Gabriel?”
“The very same. And how good it is to finally hear myrealname on your lips, mo chridhe.”
She tumbled out of the dumbwaiter, her mouth agape. “You ... I ...”
“I wooed you, I courted you, I loved you, and I married you.”
Eliza tilted her head, incredulous. “But ... you’re supposed to be dead. I saw you, in your coffin.”
“It was a ruse. We’ve been pretending to be the same person for years. Ever since the fire. Get me out of these ropes and I’ll explain everything. The other half of me is still sleeping, but we have to make haste.”
Eliza didn’t know if she wanted to slap him, kiss him, or kill him. Instead, she cried.
“Darling, I love you for loving me enough to cry. But we do have to hurry. Malcolm’s gone barking mad.”
Eliza rushed to Gabriel’s side. Her fingers fervently worked at the knots binding his hands to the chair’s laddered back. The hands thathad loved her, pleasured her, cherished her. It all made sense now—the differences in mood and temperament. But why had Malcolm imprisoned his own brother? Why the duplicity and the lies?
The room they were in was fully furnished, lit with warm lamplight. This had once been Beatrice’s room, she imagined. A sturdy bed stood in the middle of the chamber, a pair of leather riding boots propped against the footboard. On the opposite side of the room was a red door, its arched top ventilated by a small grate. She’d nearly gotten the first knot worked loose when there came the rattling of a key in the lock.
“Dammit, he’s heard us,” Gabriel whispered. “Get back in the dumbwaiter and hide.”
Eliza soared back to the cubby, pulling the door shut with a sliding sigh, leaving the top cracked just enough that she could see out. She watched as the door swung open and Malcolm strode in, dressed in his pajamas. It was bizarre, seeing them together in the same room. Like a trick from a carnival sideshow. They were a mirror image. Two sides of the same coin.
“I heard noise,” Malcolm said. He ran a hand over his hair and fixed Gabriel with a sullen look. “You know I don’t like my sleep interrupted.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. It took everything she had not to launch herself out of the cubby.
