Ring of Secrets (24 page)

The darkness throbbed, pulsed. And smelled. Rotting food, human waste, perspiration, and a few things Winter could not—and did not particularly want to—name. The pain was fierce and scattered. Her head felt as though someone drove a spike through it with every beat of her heart, but after a few seconds of that, she became aware of other, smaller pains. Her ankle, her leg. And something digging into her back. A groan slipped out.

“Shhh, there now.” The voice was young, nearly silent. Nothing but a murmur brushing over her.

In its wake Winter became aware of other sounds. Ribald laughter, a few bawdy songs. Arguing. Bartering? And noises that, much like the smells, she had no intention of identifying.

Lord help her—he had done it. She was in Holy Ground.

Maybe she should sink back into the darkness to hold it all at bay a few minutes more. Perhaps it was a nightmare holding her in its talons, and if she ignored it, it would fade.

A cool touch on her damp brow brought her eyes open. She expected to have to blink at an onslaught of light, but no. Not here. Barely enough came in from what she assumed were lanterns outside and one lone candle within for her to make out the outline of a girl bending over her.

Strange, though. The girl's smile she saw easily enough. “You are awake. You must be in terrible pain. I managed to staunch the bleeding of that wound on your head, miss, but I had no clean cloth to bandage it with.”

Winter pushed herself onto her elbows. Her head responded with a stab of agony so fierce her vision blurred, and she nearly fell back again. Small arms caught her and helped her lean against a stack of pillows. Once settled, she blinked her eyes clear again. “Thank you. Where…?” No, that was a silly question. She knew where she was, more or less. “Who are you?”

The girl smiled again. She couldn't be more than fourteen, surely. What was she doing in this place?

As if oblivious to her surroundings, the girl tucked a strand of straggly hair, its color indeterminate in the low light, behind her ear and sat back on her heels. “I'm Viney. When I saw that man dump you in the alley, I brought you here quick as I could manage, before anyone
else could see. 'Tis obvious you don't belong here, but there are others aplenty who would choose to ignore that.”

A shudder coursed up her spine. “I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense.” Viney reached to a small, tottering table against the canvas of the wall and picked up a cup. “Here. A little watered wine.”

She may have refused it had Viney left her with a choice, but the girl held the cup to her lips for her. Winter swallowed to keep it from spilling. “Thank you.”

“I've a little bread if you are hungry.”

“No, I…I ate not long ago.” Hopefully her stomach would make no complaint to prove she had ignored her dinner more than eating it, but she had no intention of taking food from this girl's mouth. “My name is Winter. Winter Reeves.”

Viney nodded and studied her for a long moment. “I have never before felt the need to ask this question when a new woman arrives, but why are you here? A fine lady such as yourself.”

Winter's fingers balled in the silk of her skirt. She was almost surprised Grandfather hadn't made her change into her homespun before he brought her here. He must have valued being rid of her quickly above the cost of the dress. “I am not so fine a lady, Viney. Just a farm girl who has been dressed up.”

A look of concern flashed over the girl's face. “You were that man's mistress?”

“No! No.” She raised a hand to her pounding head. “His granddaughter, much to his dismay.”

“Family has treated you so?” Viney set the cup back down, a frown on her dirty brow. “How very sad. It is loss of family that delivers most of us to this place. I lost my mother in the Great Fire and had nowhere else to go.”

Winter couldn't battle back the horror. “So you came here four years ago? You couldn't have been more than ten.”

Viney offered a crooked smile. “Fourteen. I am eighteen now.”

“My age.” She seemed so young, while Winter felt ancient. Should it not have been the other way around?

“Really?” Delight lit Viney's countenance. “I wouldn't have thought we had even that much in common.”

A particularly loud shout came through the canvas walls, one
delivered with slurring tongue and including phrases Winter had never heard before.

Viney winced and turned to tug the makeshift door closed a bit more. “Sorry about that, Miss Winter. I wish I had real walls, a real door to keep it all away from you.”

“Walls and doors don't change anything.”

The girl greeted that cynicism with a cheerful grin. “True enough. Only we can do that, with the good Lord's help.”

Faith rang in that pronouncement, belief coloring every word. And as she spoke, Viney looked even younger.

No, not younger. Indeed, Winter now detected lines and creases on her face that one expected of a harsh life. 'Twasn't youth she saw in her after all. It was innocence.

Innocence—the very thing Winter had made a mask of, had falsified for her own protection. How did she come to find a genuine form of it in this, of all places?

Viney scooted closer and leaned in to examine Winter's head. “I cleaned it best I could while you were unconscious, miss, with wine and water, but you would do well to get yourself to a physician so it might be closed up properly. And I cannot shake the feeling that you must leave the minute you are able. Your place is not here.”

Conviction rose, overtop the pain, leaving Winter no choice but to nod in agreement. “Yes, I must.” Had she not determined in the drawing room that she would not accept this fate? That had not changed. And yet… “What of you, Viney?”

“Me?” She looked surprised by the question. Then she smiled, sure and bright. “No need to be concerned for me, miss. I've only a few months left before the consumption takes me home, I suspect. I shall do whatever good I can here. Care for the other girls.”

“But…” Winter would have shaken her head, had the continued thumping not warned her against it. “How can you survive in this place?”

“Let us see if you can stand, shall we?” Viney scooted to her side and supported her with an arm around her waist. She did indeed feel frail and small. “They are only circumstances. The men out there may define me by them, but thank the Lord, He does not. Are you ready?”

She wasn't sure. The pain still throbbed, her heart as well as her
head. And mad as it seemed, she hesitated to leave this dark, noisome hovel with its soft, invisible light. But urgency nipped at her, a still, small voice saying she must hurry. She must go back to Hampton Hall.

No. First she must go to Robbie and give him the information about the French. Beg him to send it to Washington.
Then
she must return to her grandparents' home and lay out a few facts for them. That she was not a rag doll to be tossed about on their whim. And that she was perfectly capable of living her life without their interference. If they wanted her gone, so be it. But it was not their right to determine where she would go.

God of my end, strengthen my spine and fortify my spirit. I feel You pulling me up from the mire, out of the pit I'd let them pull me into. I want to do Your will; I want to go where You lead. But I cannot rise on my own. I can be nothing but that Thou makest me.

Her head steadied. The pain eased from the forefront of her mind, though it didn't really decrease. Still, she could nod without agony. “I am ready.”

Viney moved to a crouch and helped her get to her knees and then to her feet. “Slowly, now, miss.”

After a gradual straightening Winter stood upright and found she stood several inches taller than Viney. “How did you manage to get me in here?”

Viney chuckled. “I wondered that myself, once I had you lying down. I suspect a few angels lent me their strength. Though you are a bit worse for the wear.” She frowned and swiped at a streak of something dark on Winter's skirt.

“It hardly matters, when one considers how blessed I am that you found me first.”

But the girl still frowned. “I had to rinse all the lovely powder from your hair and take out the style to get at your wound.”

“Good. I detest the stuff.” And if this night had proven anything, it was that such vanities were indeed like the wind.

An idea struck, and she reached up to unfasten the pearl necklace from her throat. Then she took Viney's hand and lowered the strand into it.

Viney's eyes went wide. She shook her head. “No, miss, I cannot. 'Tis far too dear for me.”

“I want you to have it. You can untie the strand and sell each pearl as you have need. And 'tis nothing special to me. My grandparents bought it for me solely to create an appearance for which I don't care. There was no affection behind it.”

Trembling fingers closed over the gift, and Viney blinked back tears. “I thank you, miss. My pride wants me to refuse it, but I cannot. I think this may be the Lord's way of providing the protection for which I have been praying. If I am careful, it can keep me until the end, and I will not have to…”

Winter smiled and patted the girl's hands. “Then let us thank the Lord I was brought here tonight. For it resulted in two of His daughters being blessed with the opportunity to help one another, and make a friend besides.”

Viney nodded, slipped the necklace into a pocket, swiped a tear from her cheek, and held out her hands. “We must pray before you go.”

Winter clasped her hands and closed her eyes.

“Father in heaven,” Viney whispered, “we thank Thee for leading us in this unlikely situation. For bringing me outside at that very moment so I might see Winter be tossed from the carriage, and for her faithfulness in generosity. We thank Thee for seeing beneath our surfaces and to our hearts. And now we ask Thee, Lord my God, to spread over us Your wings of protection, this night and in the trials to come. Guide our every step and direct our every way. Get Winter safe to wherever Thou would have her go. Sustain my spirit as my body fails. Let this night be one we remember for the surprising blessing rather than the pain that could so easily overwhelm. For Thou art our shield and buckler, our truth and light. We praise Thee for all Thy ways, and ask these things in the name of Thy holy Son. Amen.”

“Amen.” As Winter opened her eyes, determination flowed through her. Her grandparents may be done with her, Washington may not think he needed them anymore, but her purpose was not complete. “I will pray for you every day, Viney.”

“And I you. Let me…” Viney pulled the canvas back a bit and peered outside. “We are on the outskirts of Holy Ground here. Barclay Street is directly across from us. Granted, this part of it is hardly reputable, but it is best you get out of here quick as you can. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I do.” She knew not how to get there, but that small detail seemed insignificant given the strong feeling that she must make all haste. “I am ready.”

“One moment…there.” Viney held back the canvas flap and motioned to her right. “That way, hurry. Go with God.”

“Thank you.” Winter ducked through the opening and stepped out into a town of similar tents and lean-tos, a more permanent looking building here and there. Row after row, far as she could see, all covered with shadows that clung in spite of the lanterns that made a path through the village of harlots.

Women stood outside many of the hovels, some dressed in filthy rags, others in clinging silks that they had arranged in ways the seamstresses had surely never intended. Calling, all of them, to the men who ambled by.

Most of the men wore the red coats of the army, though a few she spotted were in common dress. And they laughed together, joked with each other and the females, as if this were a fair instead of a finger of hell itself.

Go
.

She gripped her skirt and took off at a run across the empty street. Though her ankle protested and her head felt trapped in a vise, she could not slow down. She made it across the street and tried to recall the sketched map she had seen of the city, to determine where she likely was and where she must go now.

“Miss Reeves?” The voice was familiar and incredulous.

She turned around to find Major Lane standing in the middle of the road with a slack jaw. Her stomach clenched, but she ignored it and put on a small smile. “Oh, good. I seem to be lost, Lieutenant.”

He only stared at her for a long moment, and then he shook himself and strode to her. “What the devil are you doing here?”

The devil was surely involved, but the Lord had outwitted him, as usual. So she smiled again. “Did I not just say I was lost?”

“But…” He shook his head and looked her up and down. Perhaps he saw the filth upon her dress, the now-bare neck that usually had some bauble or another fastened around it. And, of course, her hair, hanging free and dark down her back. “But how did you get to
be
lost? And as far from your home as you could possibly get within the city?”

Eyes wide, she shrugged. And touched a hand to the side of her head. “I have an injury. Perhaps I wandered and was unaware of it.”