and marvelous diversions could not make up for what she must leave behind. It was horrible, unthinkable really, that she should go off to such delights while Lucy was left in dreary Nottingham, but what was to be done? Norah then let Lucy go so she could embrace another newly arrived girl, and deliver much the same speech. Lucy chose to put her freedom to good use and fixed herself a plate of food from the table, ladled herself some punch, and quickly sat with her friends that she might better engage in the ritual of looking at the men, pretending not to look at the men, and giggling.
Lucy’s heart was not in it, distracted as she was by her recent conversation with Mary, but she kept up her end for form’s sake, and when a game of lotteries was announced, she rose to join in so she would have an excuse not to dance should someone ask her. As she walked to the table, however, she observed a young man amusing a crowd of young ladies with a series of tricks involving brightly colored balls, which he was in the process of making vanish and reappear in a variety of unlikely places—in inverted teacups, under hats, bundled into scarves. It was Jonas Morrison.
Mr. Morrison appeared to notice Lucy out of the corner of his eyes, and he hurriedly announced the end of his performance, to the complaints of the young ladies, whom he tried to comfort with promises to show them more anon.
It all struck her anew. The anger she felt toward him, the blame she set upon him, and the helpless embarrassment she had felt upon their last meeting. She had loved this man once, or believed she had, and he had destroyed her life for his own amusement. She could condemn Byron for so much, but not duplicity. He said what he believed and lived by his own law, selfish and wicked though it might be. Jonas Morrison, however, was a thousand times worse for pretending to feelings that were not his so that he might prey upon an innocent young girl.
“Miss Derrick. Keeping clear of danger, I hope?”
“I am doing so this minute,” she responded, attempting to walk around him.
Shockingly, he reached out and took her by the wrist. It was not a rough grip, but it was firm and undeniable. “No need for that. There are few enough places where we may talk without arousing suspicion. Look, I have brought you a peace offering.”
He unfolded her hand, and she discovered a single red rosebud pressed against her palm. Another one of his silly tricks.
“I have not interest in your games,” she said in a harsh whisper, pulling away from him. She continued to clutch the flower, for though she did not want it, she did not know what else to do with it. “You’ve brought me nothing but misery, and the world knows of it. If these people knew your name, my reputation would never recover. How is it you are even here? No one knows you.”
“As for that, people can be made to forget whom they know and whom they don’t. You should know of such things by now, I think. And you must believe that I regret that what happened caused you so much pain,” he said, “but those days are past, and I must speak to you about what is happening now.”
“And that is why you come here?”
“That and the food, yes.”
Lucy did not want to hear any of his flippant remarks. “You told me I must not involve myself in what did not concern me, and now you tell me it does concern me.”
“I have learned things since then. Please, Miss Derrick. Dance with me. People are beginning to stare at us.”
It was true. Their conversation was evidently heated, and eyes were upon them. With the rosebud now pressed between her fingers, for she had nowhere else to put it, they stepped out onto the area reserved for dancing. Soon they settled into the rhythm of the dance.
“You know of these Luddites, and the one they call General Ludd?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Lucy. “Everyone does.”
“Yes, well they have heard of you. Apparently they speak of you a great deal.”
“What does that mean?” Lucy demanded, suddenly quite terrified. What did the Luddites know of her? Why did she matter to them?
“Oh, well, that’s rather difficult to say. Could mean anything, I suppose, but I’d like to know myself. I am here in pursuit of their leader, so what interests him interests me.”
“You mean to hunt Ned Ludd?” asked Lucy, intending to mock him.
Mr. Morrison, however, showed no signs of understanding the humor. “Yes, that is precisely correct. I am here to hunt Ludd.”
Lucy was sure he must be teasing her, and yet there was nothing but seriousness upon his face. “There is no Ludd. He is but a story. Everyone says so.”
“I’ve discovered that it may not always be sound to accept what everyone says as the truth. You may depend upon it—Ludd is all too real, and my order has sent me to stop him.”
Lucy could not restrain her curiosity. Had Mr. Morrison become a monk? “Your order?”
“You must understand that I am not the man you once knew. I was never that man, really, but I’m even less he than I once was.”
“Yes,” said Lucy, turning to hide her disgust. “I heard you married, and married well.”
“That is true.” He looked away. “I convinced a young lady, beautiful and rich, that she ought to marry me.”
“And yet you are dancing now with me and not your wife.”
“My wife is dead,” Mr. Morrison said.
Lucy swallowed hard. “I did not mean to be cruel. I am sorry.”
“She was murdered.”
Lucy gasped and stepped away from him. He pulled her back toward him, and when he spoke his voice was low and intense, but somehow gentle. “You cannot know. You cannot understand what this did to me. She was my wife, and I loved her, and someone took her from me. I do not dare think what I would have done or become—I might have become the greatest of villains, I might have destroyed myself—were it not for my order.”
“Have you become some sort of devotee of religion?”
“Not religion, no. I am an acolyte of knowledge, a brother of the Rose-Cross.”
“I’ve not heard of it,” Lucy said.
“We are also called Rosicrucians,” Mr. Morrison explained. “We are a society of men who persue ancient knowledge and wisdom. The head of my order has sent me to destroy Ludd. After that, I may persue my own goals.”
“And what are they?”
“To take my revenge upon my wife’s murderer. If nothing else, I am a man who believes in revenge.”
Lucy hardly knew how to respond. She did not feel comfortable speaking to him of his wife, particularly when his grief was still so evident, so she chose to speak of other matters. “What danger do the Luddites pose? Perhaps the Luddites attempt to save England from the destruction of nature and of the souls of its workingmen.”
“Is that how the cunning women see it? Well, I suppose there is some sense to that, even if it is a bit muddled. Your kind have always tended to the individual, and so the worker who must labor for more hours than he chooses or earn a few shillings less than he would like—that must cause you grief. My kind looks upon nations, not men. If these Luddites are unanswered, they will bring about a revolution in England such as there has been in France, and I promise you the streets of London will run just as red with blood as did those of Paris. Is that not harm enough? If not, let me paint you the picture of another future, one in which every nation on earth advances its technology. Every nation but ours. There are new ways of manufacturing, new goods we have not yet conceived, but the Luddites will keep England from participating, and so we will fall behind. Then we will have no trading partners, and the nation will fall into poverty. That means suffering, starvation, want, and misery. This is the future the Luddites offer.”
The music now ended, and Mr. Morrison led Lucy to the punch table for refreshment. Lucy was about to ask more questions, particularly why he believed she had some involvement with these Luddites, but their conversation ended abruptly. A hand grabbed Lucy by the shoulder and spun her around roughly. It was Mr. Olson, and hurrying close behind him, Mrs. Quince, who appeared to be doing her best to keep him away.
“I feel certain this is but a misunderstanding, Mr. Olson,” said Mrs. Quince. “A young lady may dance when asked.”
Olson turned to her, his expression dark and hard and unforgiving. Lucy had not seen him since the
