A Lady in Hiding (20 page)

Mr. Archer hailed the first officer they encountered and requested an audience with the administrator. They were duly led to that august personage, and Mr. Archer promptly demanded permission to visit his young friend, Mr. Samuel Pochard. After a great deal of careful questioning, hemming, and hawing, the administrator found no reason to deny their request. He sent for one of the officers who agreed to escort them to Mr. Pochard.

Archer remained in his seat as Lady Victoria and William rose to go with the officer. “My wife has a soft spot for the scamp,” Archer said, shaking his head. “I can’t see it myself. Common criminal.”

“I agree, sir,” the administrator said, his eyes cold and stern. “The best thing we can do is deport the scoundrels. So many of these soft-hearted females get the notion fixed in their heads that they can reform them.” He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “When a man is born without the moral character to withstand temptation, no amount of education is going to change him. All you can do is lock him away so he can’t cause any more harm. Or deport him.”

William heard Archer agree before he turned down the corridor, following Lady Victoria and the officer. They seemed to walk miles through the pestilential warren, surrounded by the sounds of fighting and barely-controlled violence behind the endless stream of locked doors.

“Here we are, sir. And madam,” the officer said, unlocking a door midway down one dank corridor.

When he pulled it open, a puff of putrid air filled the hall. William nearly gagged. He held his handkerchief over his nose and mouth and was surprised to see Lady Victoria smile. She strolled inside without hesitation.

A bundle of blankets was balled in one dark corner. As William approached, he thought the stench emanated from that filthy pile. Fearing the worst, he glanced around. With relief, he recognized Sarah, perched on the tiled shelf that served as a bed, against the opposite wall.

Lady Victoria turned toward the officer in the doorway. “Can you give us five minutes to speak to him?”

“Five—no more,” the officer agreed before slamming the door.

The room had no window. A single candle flickered on the table near Sarah’s berth. With the door shut, the foul air was nearly overwhelming.

“He’s dead.” Sarah waved at the bundle in the corner. She looked pale and ill. “I think he died last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” William asked, breathing harshly through his mouth. The overwhelming odor of rot and decay filled the room.

“I tried. They wouldn’t listen to me,” she said, before adding, “You get used to the smell.”

Lady Victoria interrupted both of them by pulling off her bonnet. With quick fingers, she undid the myriad laces and straps that held her garments together. To William’s surprise, she had a smaller bonnet under the first. The inner one remained perched on her graying curls.

“Help me,” she demanded, turning her back to William. “Have you never unlaced a woman before? We have no time to stand idle.”

He set to work as a lady’s maid while Sarah leapt off the bed, catching on immediately. She ripped off her jacket and shirt, balled them up, and, after a brief hesitation, shoved them under the putrid pile of blankets in the corner. A pale hand flopped out onto the stone floor, almost like a pitiful gesture of supplication. Sarah covered it hurriedly with the ragged edge of the blanket, keeping her gaze averted.

“What about shoes?” she asked, pulling off her heavy work boots.

Lady Victoria pulled up her skirts to reveal a pair of blue kid slippers dangling by their laces and tied to a ribbon around her waist. Working diligently, William untied the straps and released the pins holding the outer dress in place. He helped her ease the heavy folds over her head. She pulled a chemise off next and handed it to him. He tossed both of the garments to Sarah, who turned to face the wall.

“What’s going on in there?” the guard asked from the hallway.

Heart pounding, William went to the door. He angled his body to block the view of Sarah from the small window. Then he fastened a smile on his face and laughed. “You know what women are like. Lady Victoria is weeping over the young lad.”

The guard snorted and started to unlock the door.

Lady Victoria quickly let out a loud sob and flung her arms around Sarah. Playing his role, William laughed again and shook his head as he gripped one of the bars in the window to hold the door shut. Blood pounded in his ears with tension.

Listening to Lady Victoria’s gusty cries, the guard shrugged and turned partially away. “One minute more—no more.”

With quick, deft motions, Sarah threw on the clothing. William stayed by the door while Lady Victoria helped Sarah gather up the folds of material and tie them in place.

“You’re not Samuel, are you?” Lady Victoria’s cool voice asked.

William glanced at the two women. Sarah’s shoulders went rigid at the question. Her eyes caught his, filled with panic.

“No, I’m not,” Sarah admitted at last.

“Are you…Sarah?”

“Yes, I believe so. I’m sorry,” Sarah said in a strained voice.

Lady Victoria reached beneath her own dress again and hauled out a clump of blond curls. “Put these on beneath the bonnet.”

Catching the wig, Sarah shoved it onto her head. A few hairpins dangled around the edge, and she used them to attach it as firmly as possible to her short hair.

He was shocked at the transformation. With the lace and curls framing her face, Sarah looked like a woman. A lady.

Lady Victoria had even remembered a pair of cream-colored kid gloves to cover her niece’s callused hands.

“Here, if you will allow me,” Lady Victoria said, moving around Sarah. She pulled a few laces and adjusted the folds. Then, moving to Sarah’s front, she paused with her hands near Sarah’s chest. “Do you mind awfully?”

“No.” Embarrassment darkened Sarah’s gray eyes.

Shoving her fingers down the front of the dress, Lady Victoria pushed Sarah’s breasts upward until they were prominently displayed. In fact, the thin chemise and narrow material of the bodice barely covered the soft mounds. There could be no doubt now that she was most definitely a woman.

Something tightened in William, catching at his breath until he looked away.

“There,” Lady Victoria said, “Call for the guard.”

“Guard!” he yelled. “We’re ready to leave.”

To William’s horror, Lady Victoria pulled the blanket off the corpse in the corner. With surprising gentleness, she rearranged Sarah’s abandoned clothing to cover him. Then she lay down on the tiled bed Sarah had used and pulled the blanket over her head. All he could see was a lump in the corner.

Before he could protest, the guard was at the door, rattling his keys. When he flung it open, Sarah brushed past him.

The guard waited, eyeing William. “If you’ve a mind to stay, sir…”

“No.” William walked past him, stiff-legged and ready to beat the guard senseless if necessary. He almost forgot and turned back to Lady Victoria, but at the last minute, he managed to keep his face pointed rigidly forward and an unconcerned smile on his lips.

To his surprise, Sarah took his arm in a tight grip. Her fingers trembled, and he pulled her closer, aching to place an arm around her. But he didn’t dare. His pulse raced, caught between fear of disaster and desire for Sarah.

The guard poked his head inside, stared at the two bundles, and slammed the door shut. He escorted them back through the complexity of the hallways, heading for the administrative offices. As they approached the main corridor, William noticed a great deal of activity. His tension increased. Officers shuffled about and some donned hats as if preparing to leave for the day.

“No need to disturb the administrator,” William said in a determinedly nonchalant voice. He slipped Sarah’s cold hand through the crook of his arm and pressed it reassuringly. “If you will just escort us to the door?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, clearly uninterested. He had his own hat in his hand. “I’m going that way, myself.”

There was no sign of Archer outside. Their hackney coach was gone, as well. The officer who escorted them through the gate abandoned them on the sidewalk. He turned abruptly to the left, shoving his hat onto his head and striding off. He whistled as he jammed his hands into his pockets, on his way home, or to a nearby tavern.

“Thank God,” Sarah said, breathing deeply and coughing as if to expel the foul air of prison. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, rubbing her foot. “These shoes are too thin.”

He pulled her along, glancing around for a hackney for hire. There didn’t seem to be any available in the vicinity of the prison. Determined to complete their escape, William hurried them down the street. And along the way, Sarah exclaimed and hopped every few feet as she stepped on other pebbles. Finally, she tried to shrug him off.

His grip tightened, and he hurried her forward.

“Hey!” He called, spotting a coach.

The vehicle stopped in front of them. The door opened and to their surprise, Mr. Archer pushed his head out.

“Get in!” He grinned at them, his eyes gleaming.

William flung an arm around Sarah’s waist and hauled her forward. He shoved her into the carriage ahead of him. When she settled inside, he climbed up and took the seat facing backward.

Lady Victoria sat next to her husband, smiling brilliantly.

“How did you get out?” William asked.

“I asked the administrator what he had done with my wife,” Archer replied archly. “I can’t tolerate incompetence, you know. When she never returned, I demanded to be taken to Mr. Pochard’s cell. A good thing I did, too. He was quite dead. My beautiful wife was distraught.”

“I see,” William replied, grinning. “And since the guard who took us to the cell left after his shift change, he was not there to say he had already escorted a lady and gentleman out of Newgate.”

“There, you see? The rules of the game are not difficult to follow.”

“Child’s play,” William drawled, wanting to punch Archer in his smug eye.

Archer grinned more broadly. “And I hear we have a niece instead of a nephew.”

Despite the evening gloom, William could make out a warm, pink flush rising up Sarah’s exposed neck to her tanned cheeks. His eyes strayed to her chest. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware of her.

She must have caught the direction of his glance because her right hand rose. She rested it protectively over her bosom. His gaze lingered on her smooth skin. He remembered the taste of her lips and lithe, warm body.

“So you’re little Sarah,” Archer continued. “After all these years.”

“Years older, in fact. And not so little,” she replied. The shadows in the coach made it difficult to see her expression, but her strained voice revealed her struggle to maintain a cheerful tone. “Did you get the box?”

“The box?” William asked, diverted by the warmth of her thigh. It pressed against his through the thin material of a gown, without the benefit of a petticoat.

“Did you get the box?” she repeated.

“No.” he replied. “Where is it?”

She turned toward him, her hand finally moving away from the soft mounds of flesh that glowed palely in the dim evening light. Hard work had not diminished her beauty. Far from it.

“I left it between the roots of the oak tree,” she said. “I thought you would go there once you knew they had caught me. You
told
me to hide there.”

“Oak tree?” Even to his ears, he sounded like a blithering idiot. He frowned as he caught her meaning.

“In front of Mr. Carnaby’s townhouse. The tree by the brick wall.” She enunciated clearly as if talking to a rather slow child.

“What box?” Archer asked.

William caught Sarah’s glance, although it was now too dark to see her gray eyes clearly.

“Come,” Archer said. “You must trust us by now. We’re your family.”

Again, Sarah looked at William. He could feel her indecision and part of him flared with triumph. She trusted him.

He turned to Archer. “It’s just a box of trinkets, really. Just a few things she managed to save when Elderwood burned. I told her I’d help her retrieve it.”

“I see.” Archer rubbed the bridge of his nose with a forefinger. “Perhaps we should nip over and visit this remarkable tree?” He thumped the roof of the carriage with his walking stick and yelled directions. “Now, Sarah,” he said, resting his hands on the stick. He studied her with a cool gaze. “I should dearly love to hear how you became a bricklayer.”

While the carriage rattled over the streets of London, Sarah told her tale again in her usual plain style. The description of her escape from the flames left Lady Victoria wiping the tears from her cheeks. Even Mr. Archer seemed disturbed enough to put an arm around his wife’s shaking shoulders and cough to cover his own reaction.

Despite William’s suspicion that the Archers might have engineered the fatal fire, he could not help but notice their closeness. Their years of marriage and even the loss of their child, had not dimmed the harmony between them. There was the sense that no matter what occurred, each partner could rely absolutely on the other.