stone wall in exhaustion. It seemed she’d left Lady Isabella’s prison only to fall into the midst of a riot.
One man stood on a step or box, head and shoulders above the others, a black silhouette against the flames. He brandished a gun as he spoke, his voice raised to carry. “Men of Derbyshire, how long are we going to watch our children cry with hunger? Or our wives weep with fear?”
There were more growls of agreement, but one voice shouted, “Who’re you to stand up there above us, Jeremiah Brandeth?”
The speaker turned in the direction of the questioner. “Not above you, brother. I’m just like you, a stocking knitter who can’t find work because of the damned machines, with a wife and two children to keep. I’m willing to work. Are you?”
This brought a much stronger roar of approval. Pikes were waved in the air.
“We want our rightful work and a chance to do it, that’s all. And this government ought to know it. We’ll march down to Nottingham, we will, and show ’em they need to listen to their own people.”
There were mutters in response to this proposal. Charlotte heard some reluctance, mentions of the army riding men down. She remembered that Alec had deplored the brutality in the suppression of protests in Nottinghamshire not long ago.
“We’ll stop in at the ironworks down Butterley way,” the speaker added. “There’s weapons there for the taking. Let anybody try to stop us, we’ll give him a taste of this.” He waved the gun over his head. “And there’s bread and beef and ale waiting in Nottingham. Cash money, too, for any man who comes. We’ll take over the damned army barracks. The whole country is ready to rise and join us. There’s sixteen thousand just waiting to march on to Newark!”
Another man began pounding on the door of a house behind the speaker. “Open up, Mary Hepworth!” he shouted. “Every house is required by the revolutionary committee to provide a man and a gun.”
“Get away with you!” screeched a female voice from within. “Criminals! You’re a disgrace to Derbyshire.”
Someone threw a stone and broke a window in the house. The man on the box continued to wave his gun, and all at once it fired through the shattered glass. Charlotte couldn’t tell if he’d aimed, or if it had simply gone off in his hand. But a cry rang out from within the house, followed by the female voice shouting, “You devil, you’ve killed Bill!”
Some of the men in the crowd fell back, murmuring. A good portion looked as if they might leave at this development. A few at the edges did fade into the darkness. “Stand where you are,” cried the shooter. “I’ll shoot any man who turns tail now. By God, I will.”
Horrified, Charlotte shrank into the deepest shadow. She hadn’t expected it would come to this, not murderous violence. She turned and fled silently back the way she had come.
Twenty-three
Alec had ridden desperately cross-country toward his aunt’s house. Fortunately, his hunter was used to rough footing and tricky jumps. Nonetheless, it was well after dark by the time he reached his goal, clattering into the stable yard with no effort at concealment. He left his horse and raced through the empty scullery and kitchen. He had taken to carrying a small lantern, as well as a pistol, in his saddlebag, because so often lately his rides extended into darkness, and the lantern had fitfully lit his way through the last miles. Now, on the main floor, it illuminated only sheeted furniture. Had Edward been mistaken? Had they not come here, after all? Apprehension pounded in his veins as he climbed the stairs and thrust open door after door along the dark corridor. Finally he discovered his aunt in a bedchamber near the end of the hall. She huddled in a chair with two servants bent over her. “Where is Charlotte?” he demanded.
The three women shrank back. Aunt Bella, pale and tired-looking, put a hand to her throat. “Ch-charlotte. What do you mean?” She made an effort to straighten. Her hands were visibly shaking. “She is in London. Is she not? I mean I suppose she is, though I have no way of telling…”
“I know you brought her here, Aunt. Edward told me.”
“Edward?” her voice quavered on the name.
“He called at her house, discovered the message you’d sent, and went looking for her at your place. He has a key, you know.” He held her eyes. “To your