The Orphan Pearl Page 6

  “You must have spent some time selecting all the appointments,” she added. “Making it just so.”

  “My father did.” He opened up a basket at his feet, lifted out a towel-wrapped bundle about the size of a brick, and offered it to her.

  “Your father?” Lily took the bundle. It was heavy, hot to the touch, smooth beneath the toweling. She shifted the cloth to reveal a stoppered glass bottle. “What’s this?”

  “Tea,” answered Ware. “Very strong. In case you’re not used to late nights.”

  Lily set to work loosening the stopper. “Does he still make use of it?”

  “No.”

  She glanced up from the stopper, surprised by his curt tone.

  “He’s dead,” added Ware. “Both of my parents are.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” And then, returning his confidence with one of her own, she said, “My mother died giving birth to me.”

  “And your father never remarried?”

  “No.” She finally got the stopper loose and plugged the neck of the bottle with her thumb. But the steam scalded her, so she yanked it right back out. “It’s all very tragic. They were madly in love but hardly saw one another because of the war—Adam and I were conceived during the brief moments when he had leave, you see—and then, by the time it was all over, he came home to a tombstone.”

  “A cruel fate—for both of them.”

  “Terribly cruel,” Lily agreed. “He never speaks of her, but a man in the prime of life with two small children—one of them a girl—ought to have remarried. I don’t think he ever considered it.” She lifted her veil, hefted the bottle, and took a tentative sip. The hot liquid burned her tongue; the bitter tannins stripped away what was left. She put it down with a splutter. “You could tan leather with this!”

  “The sugar must have settled at the bottom. Here, give it back.”

  She corked the bottle and handed it over, so he could shake it. The next sip was thickly sweet, smooth and smoky. She sighed happily, burying her hands in the bottle’s towel swaddling to warm them. “Oh, heavenly.”

  He raised the shade over the nearest window. Light rippled over their knees as the carriage rolled between the gaslights—skirt pointed in one direction and trousers the other, perfectly parallel. Hunched forward, he looked pale and over-keen, a chink of gaslight trembling on the surface of his pitch-black eyes.

  “Could you try not to look so ominous?” Lily teased.

  “I can close the shades again.”

  She laughed at that, and his lips quirked. He flicked the shades and then abandoned them, relaxing against the cushions and propping his booted foot up on her bench.

  “You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

  “Oh, Mr. Ware. There’s nothing more frightening than false assurances.” Lily smiled lazily. “But you know that.”

  “Say the word and I’ll have my driver turn us around, take you home.”

  “No. I like to be a little afraid.”

  One of his eyebrows notched up, cynical and weary. “Let me guess. It makes you feel alive? A little spice to liven up the bland monotony of your days?”

  “Oh, no. Just the opposite. It keeps me from being carried away by the moment.”

  She supposed, by the silence that followed her answer, that she’d managed to surprise him.

  “Fear is medicine for me, Mr. Ware. I ought to take it more often.” Lily let her head loll on the cushions. It was strange to go out at such a late hour. She felt very relaxed. Tired but energized, lax but tingling with anticipation. “The things I would do if I weren’t afraid.”

  He nudged her hip with his foot. “Like what?”

  “Oh, I hardly have a notion. My mind wanders off in that direction and soon enough I’m having fits of sensible, no-nonsense thinking.” Lily shivered theatrically.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  “No? I suppose you’ll have to guess, then. How good is your imagination?”

  His expression tightened, and the carriage went dark.

  They’d passed the last of the gaslights. The horses picked up speed on the smooth macadam of the highway, harnesses jangling, only a pair of lanterns fastened to either side of the driver’s perch to light the road ahead. They swung in rhythm with the horses’ rolling gait, illuminating the front wheel, the thick grass along the verge. Not much else.

  She didn’t see Ware reaching for her until his hand closed around her ankle.

  She gasped.

  “Would you do something like this, if you weren’t afraid?” he asked.

  “Perhaps,” she admitted. And, because it was important, she asked herself the question: Why does this frighten me? The answer came easily: Because he is playing a role, and I am not.

  His hand inched upward.

  Lily’s shoulders stiffened. She ought to stop him. This could not end well—even starting was a mistake. Perhaps an inevitable one. But he kneaded, big strong fingers digging into the dense muscle of her calf, leaving behind a sweet ache as he climbed toward her knee. Slow and sure, gentle even.

  But bold, too.

  Her skin prickled along her neck and scalp. Her mouth dried out. How far would he take this, if she didn’t stop him?

  Her whole body seized up, except for the little piece of it he held, which melted under his touch. She could not have stood up if she’d tried. His thumb, smooth with callus, slid over the ribbon-and-lace garters holding up her stockings and brushed the inside of her knee.

  “That’s enough,” she said shakily.

  “So. Now I know how long it takes for you to start feeling sensible.” He swept his thumb over her knee again. “If I try again a little later, will the results be the same? Or will I reach a little farther?”

  Lily drew up the leg that Ware hadn’t grasped and kicked him beneath the chin. Not hard—just a tap—but his jaws came together with a clack and he yelped in pain.

  “You promised to take no liberties.”

  “I did.” He spoke through fingers pressed tight to his lips, in a thick voice. “My apologies.”

  Their carriage halted, at last, in a nondescript clearing. A dark wood loomed to one side of a broad clearing, evidence of industry arrayed along the other: sturdy carts with empty yokes, several rickety sheds with tin roofs. Right in front of them, between these two contrasting tableaux, rose a low hill into which a door had been cut.

  The driver helped Lily out while Ware flipped a pair of hooks and lifted the bench seat he’d been sitting on. He propped the seat on his shoulder and extracted a pair of lanterns from the storage compartment beneath. Glass rattled in the metal frames as he handed them one by one to the driver, who held them steady while Ware lit a lucifer. The sharp scent of sulfur bloomed with the flame, which he carried to the wicks.

  “Where are we?” Lily asked.

  “Chislehurst.” Ware tromped through the grass to a squat wooden door, fastened by a thick padlock. Lily trotted behind and squeaked when he pulled a pair of thin metal sticks from his vest pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Opening the door,” Ware answered, probing the padlock with his sticks.

  “We’re trespassing?”

  “It’s an active mine. Lime.” The padlock opened with a snick and Ware yanked the door wide. The driver approached with the lit lanterns, handing one to Ware and the other to Lily.

  “Why are we here?” Lily gripped her lantern tight and followed Ware into the darkness. He led her along a wide path that sloped down, into the depths of the earth. Her voice echoed back at her as she lobbed questions at Ware. “Have you involved me in some criminal activity? Are we here to spy on someone? Or work mischief?”

  “Would that upset you?”

  “I do like surprises, Mr. Ware. Surprise visits. Surprise gifts. Pleasant surprises. When it comes to breaking the law, I prefer ample warning.”

  “I know the owner of the mine. He’s a friend.” Ware twisted round. Shadows swooped ghoulishly around hi
s toothy grin. “But I’m glad to have finally found a risk that you aren’t eager to take.”

  “We only met this week. It can’t have been very difficult.”

  “A fair point. I should be praising your circumspection.” He pulled a watch and a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “Now, if you’ll humor me, we’ll play a game.”

  Lily held her lantern high. Pale, smooth, squared walls. A level ground. Overwhelming dark in every direction. How far down had they gone? How many tons of rock lay overhead? She shivered. “A game?”

  “That’s right.” He unfolded the paper, revealing a map. “This cave has three entrances. We’ve descended via this one. I’ve sent the driver on to the northernmost entrance. Here.” He pointed. “Do you see?”

  She examined the cave’s grid-like structure until she could answer confidently, “Yes.”

  “The challenge is this. Navigate to the northernmost entrance in under an hour, using only the map.”

  “You have a rather… unique understanding of the word ‘game,’” observed Lily.

  “You can refuse,” he said. “It’s not a long walk. I can lead you through, or we could cross aboveground.”

  He sounded calm and reasonable, but she heard the voice of a little boy hiding in his words. I don’t care what you think. This wasn’t special to me anyhow. Don’t you dare think otherwise.

  “You know this place,” said Lily slowly. “And not just from studying a map.”

  “Yes.”

  “How curious.”

  Ware’s expression smoothed into a blank mask. Stupid man. He shouldn’t have brought her here. He shouldn’t have shown her this side of himself. Even if he hoped to wrestle sensitive information from her, he was paying a hefty price—and from his own account, not his employer’s.

  “I’ll play your game,” she said.

  “Care to wager on the outcome?”

  Now the boy had retreated, and left the man behind. He’d tried for an easy, casual demeanor, but he didn’t dissemble as well as he thought he did. He’d planned this.

  Time to tread carefully.

  “What would the stakes be?”

  “A question,” he answered, handing her the map. “If you can’t finish in the hour, I’ll have the right to ask you a question. Any question, and you’ll answer honestly, to the best of your knowledge.”

  “But what if I beat your time? I don’t need any answers.”

  “Then name your prize.”

  “Something of equal value.” Lily tapped one finger against her chin. “If you had the opportunity to ask me any question you like, my answer could be very useful indeed.”

  A shadow of doubt flickered across Ware’s face.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Lily smiled. “I wonder what you would win tomorrow if you walk away with the information you crave tonight.”

  “A substantial reward,” Ware acknowledged.

  “A secret, Mr. Ware.” Lily enunciated each word with relish. “If I win, you will keep a secret for me—no matter how valuable it should become.”

  “I don’t understand. You’ll tell me a secret, so that I can keep it?”

  “No. I’ll claim my reward when the need arises.”

  “You’ve requested something of equal value. Exactly equal.” His eyes narrowed into black slits. “I must accept.”

  Lily smiled. “I might even have the advantage.”

  “We’ll never know, will we? That would be impossible.”

  Lily snapped the map taut. “Shall we begin?”

  Ware clicked open his watch. “On five… four… three… two…”

  She progressed confidently at first. Down a narrow passage, unmistakable on the map, that opened into a honeycomb of live rock. Their lanterns bounced light off of pale stone pillars laid out in rows. They showed bright white on the first row, a dim slate gray on the second, every row beyond that shadowy and indistinct.

  But the columns she couldn’t see, she could count on her map. So far so good.

  The gridded section fed them into another tight passage. It narrowed and turned and twisted, until Lily lost her bearings. No matter; the map would show her the way. She hurried into the next open space, where she could orient herself afresh, but a flapping noise and a flicker of movement at the corner of her eye made her squeal and drop her lamp.

  Ware snatched it up before it hit the ground. He took her gloved hand in his and, holding her eyes the whole while, slowly folded her fingers around the thin metal handle.

  “Are you all right?”

  Lily licked her lips.

  “Bats are harmless.” His voice, low and rich, had all the color and warmth the cave could not provide. “Nothing to worry about.”

  She could almost believe they were alone in the world. No future, no past. Just the present, always fleeing, and the man at her side.

  “I’m not worried.”

  His hand drifted up her arm to her elbow and lifted away slowly, inch by inch. “Good.”

  Lily blinked. Then looked down at her map and had no idea where she was. She knew which chamber she’d entered, but couldn’t see to the far walls or match any of the visible features around her to the map.

  The dry, powdery air made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t swallow. She turned and turned, but only felt more lost. Stranded in a little pocket of air scratched out of the earth, with tons and tons of rock poised right over her head. The cave could collapse at any minute.

  She inched closer to Ware until she could absorb his human warmth, his living scent. He stood still, and he showed no fear.

  “What is it that draws you to this place?”

  “I like caves of all kinds,” he answered in his low, syrupy voice. “It’s pure discovery. The only thing to do is find your way.”

  “The only thing to do is find your way,” Lily repeated. She’d have to think about that later, once the clock stopped ticking. “How much time do I have left?”

  He checked his watch. “Thirty minutes.”

  She hadn’t felt the time passing. Not at all. But if she had thirty minutes, thirty would have to be enough. She tamped down a spasm of panic and picked a direction at random. She’d walk in a straight line until she reached the perimeter. Then she’d follow it around until she could match the contours against the map.

  She walked straight into a dead end.

  “Twenty-two minutes,” Ware warned.

  “If I want to know, I’ll ask,” snapped Lily. She examined the map, turning it until she’d found the little cul-de-sac, matching it on the map with an L-shaped pillar only a few feet distant.

  Rats. She’d veered off course. They’d have to backtrack.

  “It’s the opposite of that conversation we had before, isn’t it?” Lily asked, picking her way through the darkness.

  “What conversation?”

  “If you wander through cities always catching on cobwebs of your past, this must be your cure. All this blank darkness.”

  “If you find it hard to adapt—”

  “I don’t.” Lily whirled on him, holding the lantern to his face. “But now I know that you do.”

  He flinched away from the sudden brightness, his cheek and temple glazed stark white.

  “Everyone who travels for any length of time experiences a feeling of dislocation.” He took a step away from the light, still squinting. “Of being foreign to one’s own home.”

  “I’m not talking about a feeling, Mr. Ware. I’m sensing a compulsion. When did you last leave England?”

  His eyebrows, thick and crooked, twitched. “Two years ago.”

  “And how often do you descend into these caves?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I know what it is to wander blind. To go in circles, round and round. I did it for years.” Lily narrowed her eyes, triumph making her sharp. A little mean. “And I did it because I was lost.”

  Her next turn took her out of the gridded area to a section of oblong pillars and unev
en corridors. Perfect. She continued on, trying not to race ahead as the tunnel gradually narrowed.

  Minutes later, they were standing in the moonlight, a soft summer breeze rushing past. Lily spread her arms and twirled. Even the air felt different, soft with moisture, alive with scent.

  “Fifty-five minutes,” said Ware, clicking his watch shut. “Congratulations, Lady Lily. You’ve won the wager.”

  She curtseyed. “You have to admit, it’s better this way.”

  “No,” he said curtly. “I don’t.”

  “Ah, well. I’m here because I enjoy your company. I suppose you’ve never pretended to feel the same.” Lily smothered a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “Two o’clock in the morning.”

  “As late as that? I’m glad to see the carriage waiting. All of a sudden I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  “Go ahead and get in while I lock the door.” He’d used his picks again, to get them out.

  Lily climbed into the carriage and relaxed into the cushions, eyelids drooping to half-mast. Soon Ware joined her and the driver wheeled the horses around, guiding them back to the road.

  “You were right.” Lily tried to rouse herself. “It was good to forget about everyone for a bit. To just…”

  “Explore?”

  “Yes. Satisfying.”

  “The kind of quiet you were looking for?”

  Lily laughed. “No, Mr. Ware. Not even close.”

  The carriage bumped and swayed along the highway. Ware pulled down the shades, sealing them in total darkness. Just like the tunnels, Lily thought drowsily, snuggling into the cushions. Wasn’t he tired?

  The carriage bounced enough that she couldn’t fall asleep. But she wasn’t awake, either. Keeping her eyes open exhausted what little mental energy she had; there wasn’t enough left over for even the most basic speech.

  A warm hand on her knee. A firm shake. Lily started; the carriage didn’t seem to be moving anymore.

  “You’re home,” said Ware.

  Lily rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. Oh, bother. She still had to sneak back into her room, and she was too tired to stand, let alone climb through a window. It seemed a Herculean task. She’d want a lion’s pelt at the end of it. Perhaps a constellation in her name.

  “Tell me about the orphan,” said Ware.