Austen kept his arm around my shoulder, and mine was around his waist, not only for protection but also reassurance.
When we came to number 13, there was a soft glow through the window. My pulse was racing so hard and fast, I could hear it in my ears. It almost drowned out all the other noises.
Austen knocked on the door as a shadow passed behind us, making the hair rise on my neck. A man walked slowly out of thedarkness. He was wearing a peaked hat, like the one I’d seen on Jack on Berner Street. Austen’s arm tightened around my shoulder, and his entire body became rigid. He, too, was carrying a loaded pistol. He handed me the satchel and then slipped his free hand inside his coat.
The man passed without a word, walking toward the passageway.
“We need to hurry,” I said to Austen, panic raw in my voice.
Austen knocked on the door again.
Was Mary not in her room?
Real terror filled my heart. Had Jack already been there?
A moment later, Mary opened the door, her eyes wide with fear.
Relief weakened my legs as I reached for her. “It’s time,” I said. “I’ve brought you clothes to change into.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Austen said. “But hurry.”
I entered Mary’s room, hating to leave Austen alone but knowing there was no other option.
After I closed the door, I turned to Mary. She clasped her hands together as she paced to her fireplace.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “We can’t waste a single moment.”
“It’s—” She paused and then shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Good.” I set the satchel on the table and opened it to pull out the clothing I’d brought for her. “We must hurry.”
Mary undressed and folded her clothing, setting it on the chair in a neat pile. I realized with sudden clarity that it was the pile of clothes in the exhibit at Lancaster House.
I pushed thoughts of the exhibit and everything else aside.
Tonight was about Mary.
I had brought everything she’d need, from undergarments to a cape. I helped her change as quickly as I could, horrified at how much weight she’d lost. Her clothing hung on her frame, shocking me because I’d always thought Mary was thin. Now she was skeletal.
As she dressed, I listened for signs that Austen was in trouble or in distress, but everything outside remained silent.
I was sweating by the time we were done, not because the work was hard, but because I’d never been so scared in my life.
“Come,” I said as I reached for her hand.
Mary started to lift her clothes off the chair, but I shook my head. “Leave them. Leave everything. It’s time to forget about this part of your life.”
I stepped over to the lamp, and before I blew it out, I caught Mary looking at her room one last time.
With a quick inhale and exhale, I extinguished her light, grabbed the satchel, and then opened the door.
For a heartbeat, I was afraid Austen was gone—but then he appeared out of the shadows, and I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.
“Ready?” he whispered.
I nodded and then ushered Mary out of her room as I quietly closed her door behind me.
Austen took the satchel, and the three of us went down the passageway. The couple had left, but a man was walking toward us. Again my pulse skittered, but he passed us without a word.
