the folds of her frock. She did not know that she would be able to put what she had to use, but it made her feel better to have at least something.
Half the men moved behind them, with two at each side, and two in front. They were then marched along a path around the back of the estate. Lucy huddled close to Mary, and Mr. Morrison walked behind the two of them, trailed by Mrs. Emmett, who hummed softly to herself.
The men led them through a narrow path that bisected a thick wood. Off in the distance they saw glowing lights through the trees, and Lucy perceived that they were coming upon some sort of habitation. In another moment or two she began to hear a repetitive and discordant clicking noise, one she had heard before. It took her a moment to recognize it as the beat of stocking frames. They were hard by the newly built mill. It was low and flat and wooden. Despite the late hour, it was in full operation.
The path took a sharp turn around a thick and ancient copse that had been obscuring their vision, but when they came out into a clearing the mill was revealed, larger than Mr. Olson’s old mill, nearly twice as large. Though it had few windows, the light blasted out of them as though the building were on fire. It was also guarded. Here was a mill that would stand against the Luddites. Armed men stalked the perimeter, and there was even a tower from which one man stood with a long rifle. The guards showed no alarm at their arrival, however. Near the door, a burly man with a few days of beard raised his upper lip in a sneer.
“Got them, did you?”
“Likely so,” said one of the armed men.
“We was told to expect only three women.”
Lucy looked around, not knowing what he meant, but walking alongside was Sophie Hyatt. How long she had been with them, and how had she joined them without the armed men knowing or objecting? Lucy turned to her. “What do you do here, Sophie? It isn’t safe.”
She shrugged. Whatever her reasons, she was unwilling to write it upon her slate.
These men would hardly let Sophie go, but Lucy wished to try something.
She could not simply react to whatever circumstance Lady Harriett presented. She would need to plan ahead, form her strategy, anticipate her enemy’s actions. While the armed men talked among themselves, Lucy took the deaf girl aside. The others watched as the girl wrote a few things on her slate. Lucy nodded, and Sophie wiped away her words with her palm. And though she hated to take the risk, Lucy did what she had to. She put herself at risk, she put Sophie at risk, and worst of all, she put Emily at risk, but to not take that chance would be to condemn them all.
“You will not betray me?” Lucy asked.
Sophie shook her head.
It would have to be good enough. Lucy prayed it would be.
At last the guards opened the door for them, and the armed men gestured for them to go inside. They did not follow. Lucy stepped inside and saw a mill much like Mr. Olson’s previous establishment, though better lit for the nighttime work, and far, far bigger. There was row upon row of women and children and the elderly, working their stocking frames as overseers walked the space between them, cudgels at the ready. It was an almost deafening tumult from the machines as they churned out their hosiery, and the noise was interrupted only by the occasional thwack of a cudgel or the cry of a stricken worker.
Mr. Olson now came up to them, hobbling upon a cane, one leg bulky under his trousers where it was no doubt wrapped in bandages. He was red in the face, and his eyes were sunken and ringed with alarming blackness, and yet there was a look of contentment, almost childlike happiness, on his face. Lucy had never seen him so happy, and she could not help but see his mood as a dark sign.
“Ah, Miss Derrick,” said Mr. Olson, waving his hand in a vestigial hint at a bow. “Reunited at last. And I am told Mr. Buckles is on his way, too.”
Lucy snorted. “You cannot still think to force me to marry you.”
“We are past that, I fear,” he said. “What happens now is all in Lady Harriett’s hands. She wishes for you to meet her in her chamber. Follow me, though we shall not move too quickly, I fear. I’m not so limber as I once was.” This last was said without bitterness. Indeed, he barked a little laugh.
“I think we are all quite comfortable here,” said Mr. Morrison. “Well, perhaps comfortable is overstating it a bit, but we are as comfortable as we should hope to be. I think if Lady Harriett wishes a word with us, she ought to come out here.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Olson, leaning heavily upon his cane. “You have been rude to me in the past, and I am grieved to see you would continue this infamous tradition.”
“You may call it rudeness if you like, but I am determined. Now run along and fetch her. We are waiting patiently.”
“It is too loud,” said Mr. Olson. “The noise will distress Lady Harriett’s ears. She has condescended to speak with you, and it is wrong to reject her generosity.”
There was something in his tone that seemed familiar to Lucy. It took her a moment, but then it occurred to her that he was acting and speaking like Mr. Buckles. Could it be that Lady Harriett had worked some sort of enchantment upon him, and she now worked it upon Mr.
Olson?
“No doubt this entire building is well warded,” said Mr. Morrison, “but she will have particular protections in her chamber. I don’t think that suits us. As for the noise, if she doesn’t care for it, send your workers home.”
The expression of good humor dropped from Mr. Olson’s face. “Have you any idea what a night’s labors is worth?”
“No,” said Mr. Morrison. “Nor do I care. But I believe I understand what Lady Harriett’s patronage is worth to you.”
Mr. Olson stared at him, and then turned to limp off to the far end of the mill. In a few moments the overseers removed whistles, and began to let out a series of sharp tones. The workers looked about in surprise, but were soon setting down their hose and exiting the building. It took perhaps a quarter hour for them all to depart, and soon the five of them found themselves standing alone in a cavernous and deserted building. Without the workers and their sounds, the space seemed larger and even more forlorn. The overseers were gone, and strange though it was, Lucy would have felt comforted by their presence. Perhaps they might have acted as a restraint upon Lady Harriett.
“What now?” asked Lucy.
“She’ll come,” said Mary. “You should be in no great hurry.”
“I’ve faced her before,” said Lucy, attempting to summon her courage. She had seen Lady Harriett toss Byron across the room as though he were an unwanted pillow. What could they do to stop her now?
“You have not faced her when she is desperate,” said Mary. “She will do anything to get that book from you. You must know it. She will want you to gift it to her. It is not too late to gift the book to me, Lucy. I can protect it better than you.”
“Leave her be about the damn book!” said Mrs. Emmett, her voice sharp.
Everyone stared at her. Lucy had never heard her speak so, and it seemed to her, as it must seem to everyone, that this strange, meek woman, with her hair perpetually in her eyes, must be incapable of such passion.
Mary recoiled as though slapped. “I want only to help.”
“I know you do,” Mrs. Emmett answered. “You want to bear the burden for her, but you cannot. It has always been Miss Derrick. You must accept that. You resist it because you love her, but you must not permit her to doubt herself.”
They heard a door open and footsteps. They could not see across the mill, for the stocking frames obscured their vision, and in silent assent they agreed not to move. Soon Lady Harriett appeared, flanked on one side by Mrs. Quince, on the other by Mr. Buckles. So, Mrs. Quince had, all that time, been in Lady Harriett’s employ. Lucy should not have been surprised. Indeed, it all made sense, and she would have felt more indignation had not her attention been arrested by a far more urgent matter. Mr. Buckles held in his arms a baby, and Lucy knew it at once to be Emily. The real Emily, small and pink and sleeping sweetly in the arms of her father, who was so eager to sacrifice her to his mistress. Yet, she appeared calm and healthy and unharmed for the moment. Lady Harriett would use Emily’s life to bargain for the book. Of that there could be no doubt, and Lucy did not know that she would have the strength to resist. And yet she would have to, for Emily’s sake, for everyone’s sake.
