Beneath them, a dozen globes gleamed, the round surfaces of earth and sky undulating in the twilight.
Fear and exertion contorted Cole’s features. His legs thrashed in midair. The wood cracked again, jerking him downward.
Alexander and Lydia hauled Jane back to the safety of the gallery. Jane flung herself into Lydia’s arms, sobs tearing from her throat and her body shaking.
Alexander reached his hand to where Cole still hung suspended. Cole’s sheet-white face glistened with sweat. Alexander cursed and stretched farther. Cole released one hand from the post and tried to grab Alexander’s hand. His legs kicked to find purchase. The post splintered with a noise like a fired bullet.
Oh, dear God.
Pressing Jane’s face to her shoulder, Lydia stared down at Cole. His gaze, wide-eyed and panicked, met hers.
The post broke. With a cry, Cole fell, his arms flailing. His head smashed against a massive glass globe, a sickening crash splitting through the hall. Blood sprayed over the clear surface before Cole crumpled to the floor and lay still.
Screams rent the air as chaos erupted below.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Commotion flooded St. Martin’s Hall—shouts, thundering footsteps, the shrill noise of constables’ whistles.
The throng from outside mobbed the foyer and lower floor, though whether the confusion started inside or out, Alexander didn’t know. A man yelled for order. Women shrieked. Windows cracked under the impact of thrown objects.
Alexander pushed Lydia and Jane into a corner of the darkened gallery and prayed they would be safe. “Stay here. Do not move until I return.”
Outside, police and a detachment of infantry swarmed the street, trying to restore order. Alexander helped pull the wounded out of the way, bile rising in his throat at the sight of a bleeding man lying amid the rubble. He grasped the man beneath the arms and dragged him to an empty doorstep.
“All right?” he asked. He yanked off his cravat and pressed it to the wound on the man’s head.
The man nodded, his eyes glazed. Alexander yelled for a constable, then went back into the hall. Crowds of people surged through the displays and sent them crashing to the floor. Bird feathers floated in the air, musical instruments lay shattered, the model schoolhouses smashed. Alexander’s heart plummeted at the sight of the destruction.
He pushed through the crowd to the globe display, where two constables stood over Cole’s prone body. Bits of paper tore and glass crunched beneath Alexander’s feet. He turned away from the congealed blood.
He searched the broken glass, the splintered wood. His fist closed around a piece of paper stuck beneath a globe of the stars. He shoved it into his pocket, then ran back out into the street.
They sat in silence amid the chaos. Shouts and noise flew upward from the lower floor. Several people ran past in the gallery, but Lydia and Jane remained concealed in the shadows of the hearth.
Lydia clasped Jane to her chest, Jane’s arms wrapped around her neck. Her small body rippled with tremors.
Memories flashed through Lydia’s mind of holding Jane as an infant, a toddler. All those years of watching her daughter grow and learn—her first steps, first words, her endless curiosity. Cherishing Jane’s smiles and laughter. Loving every moment of time spent together.
She pressed her lips to Jane’s cheek. How she wished her own mother had experienced such joy. And perhaps… perhaps in those first five years of Lydia’s life, she had.
“I love you,” Lydia whispered. “Whatever happens, please know that. I have and will always love you more with every beat of my heart. You are everything to me.”
Her daughter didn’t respond. Instead she sought Lydia’s hand with her own and curled their fingers together.
Alexander wiped sweat and grime from his forehead with the back of his hand. Beside him, Sebastian hauled a woman away from the crowded street. Somehow his brother had found him, and they worked through the commotion together. They brought people back into the hall offices, yelled at others to get inside, lock the doors, close the shutters.
Over the course of several hours, the mob dispersed. Destruction lay in its wake—shards of glass and wood littered the streets, and broken wagons lay among scattered rubbish. Darkness fell in a heavy sheet as the noise began to settle.
Alexander dragged a hand down his scratched face. He and Sebastian returned to St. Martin’s Hall. Fear tightened his chest as he went up the stairs to collect Jane and Lydia. They still sat huddled together near the hearth, pale but appearing unharmed.
Relief and gratitude streamed through Alexander, banishing his fatigue.