into the gloom, seeing through the growing darkness to the ground below.
It was a decent fall, and she could not jump without severe injury. But there was a trellis covered in ivy directly below the window. Lydia retrieved her reticule that had been packed away in her luggage, which still contained a small bit of coin from Brodie, and secured it to her wrist before she lifted her skirts and hefted a foot over the edge of the window. She found the latticework of the trellis after a moment and started to put pressure on it to see if the thin wood would bear her weight. Then when she was satisfied that it was safe, she began her descent. It wasn’t easy, because her arm was still quite sore, but she was able to favor her good arm as she climbed down.
It was slow work, but when she reached the bottom with only minor scrapes, she grinned and tilted her head back to look at the window above.
“Lock me in, eh?” she muttered to herself. “That will show you, you stubborn Scot.” She brushed dirt and leaves off her gown and then carefully tiptoed through the gardens until she met the tall wrought-iron gate that blocked her only exit. It was most likely locked. She tried the gate anyway and nearly stumbled as it swung open on rusty hinges.
That was certainly unexpected, but it was also to her advantage. She closed the gate behind her, wincing at the sound of it creaking again. But no alarm was raised, and no one came to investigate.
Lydia walked through the narrow passage between Lord Lennox’s townhouse and the one next to it until she reached the street. Streetlamps illuminated only part of the walkways. Lydia was no fool. She knew she had to be vigilant and cautious here. She watched for any passing hackneys that she might be able to hire, but after walking a quarter of a mile, she’d found none.
Suddenly, she heard a small cry for help. She looked around. The street was quite deserted. When she heard the cry again, almost certainly that of a child, she crept toward it. The cries led her down one of the small passages that Brodie had told her were called “closes” and found a small girl of about five or six in a dirty, tattered dress, her eyes wide with terror.
“Miss! Please help me!” the little girl sobbed.
Lydia grasped the girl’s hands in her own. “What’s the matter? Where is your family? Do you need help finding your home?”
The girl sniffed and shook her head. “It’s my mama! They took her!”
“Who?”
“Them . . .” The girl pointed into the darkness beyond. Lydia peered into the darkest parts of the close but could not see anything.
“Where’s your father?”
“Dead.” The girl started toward the darkness, but Lydia grasped her shoulders, halting her.
“You must stay here and hide. I will find your mother.”
She helped the girl conceal herself in the shadows behind a few wooden crates stacked against the stone walls of the nearest building. Then she crept down the alley, uncertain of what awaited her.
Distant sounds echoed in the darkness. Something heavy was being dragged along the ground. A man cursed softly. Light blossomed as a candle was lit. The ghostly faces of two men, made grotesque by the flickering light, caused Lydia to halt and hold her breath.
“Here, move the light closer, Burke,” one of the men said.
The candle lowered to illuminate the body of a young woman upon the ground next to a large trunk.
“Lucky us. We didn’t even have to kill this one, she was already dead,” the first man said to the one he had called Burke.
“Oh, aye. The doc will pay the same. She’s a fine one, in good condition.”
“Set the candle down. Help me load ’er up,” the first man ordered.
The light was put on the ground nearby, and the shadowy macabre dance of the two men was haunting as they lifted the poor deceased woman and folded her body into the trunk. “Now, grab the child. I’ll smother her.”
Lydia stifled a gasp. They were going to kill the child. Lydia had to protect the girl. She had to stop them. She tried to think, despite the terror rising inside her.
The two men left the candle on the ground and headed toward her in the dark. Fortunately, they didn’t see her, because the passageway was nearly pitch-black. Lydia held her breath, her blood roaring in her ears. A moment