“We will see about that.”
He could have offered her a ride home. The rain was falling fast. But she was already soaked through and he had no interest in sparing her any discomfort. Besides, he was heading in the opposite direction.
“Good evening, Mrs. Poulson,” he said and started off.
He had once heard Elspeth talk of retiring.
He would offer her the chance to do it somewhere much warmer than Creswell.
The rain had turned into a constant drizzle. Rachel kept one eye on the weather and the other on the clock as it grew later and later. Lord Druridge had not returned. Anxious to see him, she had been waiting in the drawing room so she would be sure to hear him when he came in, but the passing hours had turned to an agony of worry. It was nearly one o’clock. She couldn’t imagine what could be keeping him so late.
Had his meeting with Cutberth not gone well? Had the clerk reacted violently or prevailed upon some of his most trusted miner friends to jump the earl on his way home?
At the very least, Collingood, Greenley, Thornick and Henderson would be eager for a chance to express their unhappiness and dislike.…
She wished she could seek out Mr. Linley and ask him to create a search party. But he had left shortly after their talk in the parlor and hadn’t come back either. She didn’t know who, other than Mrs. Poulson, would have the authority to take over for him. And there was no way she wanted to include the housekeeper.
The only ally she had left was her brother, and he was, no doubt, blissfully unaware that she was pacing the floor while he slept. She couldn’t even talk to him without heading out into the cold and barging into the dormitory-style room above the stable. A lady would never intrude on the privacy of those men and boys, but… the earl’s life could be at risk.
Should she send Geordie out to find Truman? Or would that only put her brother in danger too?
He was too young to go out alone, and he wouldn’t be any good to the earl if the earl was hurt—wouldn’t know what to do. She would have to go herself. No one else would be as determined to find Truman or save him, if necessary. She couldn’t bear to stand around another second anyway, not when she was imagining such terrible things.
After retrieving one of the earl’s cloaks—it was heavier and warmer than her own—she lit a lamp she could carry to the stables. She had to wake one of the grooms to saddle a horse; the tack was locked up. But since she wasn’t after Geordie specifically, she could just bang on the door until someone answered.
As she passed the drawing room where she had spent the evening, she remembered the shadow she had seen earlier. Was it Poulson who had been standing at the door, listening in?
If so, and if she had carried what she’d heard to Wythe, there was no telling what was going on in the rainy dark. But Rachel was determined to find out and to offer her betrothed whatever assistance he needed.
Rachel was soaked by the time she reached the mine. She hadn’t seen anyone along the way, and the place seemed deserted. She confirmed that the offices were empty when she slid off her horse and peered in through the windows. There was no lamp burning, even in the main office. She banged on the door and called out, but she couldn’t get in.
“Truman, where are you?” she cried. Tears burned behind her eyes as she turned in a slow circle, searching for the earl’s horse or some other sign that he had been here. Had the meeting taken place?
Logic suggested he had made it this far. If there were going to be trouble, it would most likely occur after his confrontation with Cutberth rather than before. Given how hard Cutberth had struck her, she could easily see him losing his temper. Had he become enraged at the prospect of being sacked and pulled out a pistol?
“God, no,” she whispered. “Please, no.”
So what should she do now? She had no idea where the earl might have gone. Elspeth’s was the only place where people might be up this time of night, but he wouldn’t go there. Something or someone had to be keeping him or he would have returned home.
She bit her lip, wondering if she should have gone to Creswell in search of Linley. Had she brought him, she wouldn’t be alone. But finding the earl’s butler would have taken at least an hour, if she could find him at all, and she hadn’t been willing to take the time. Wythe would have been on her way, if he was at Cosgrove House, but just remembering the chilling, vacant quality she had noticed in his eyes made her shiver.
She would go to Cutberth’s house, she decided. That was her only real option. She would ask if he’d met with the earl and, if so, what time they had parted. She needed a starting place, needed to figure out who had seen him last. But as she led her horse to the mounting block, her eyes landed on the gate that secured the pithead. There was something different about it, something that…
She froze when she realized what it was. Usually after hours the gate was locked to stop people from getting hurt or from disturbing, even sabotaging, the machinery.
It wasn’t locked tonight.
Chapter 24
As Rachel gazed into the shaft, she couldn’t see so much as a hint of light. For all intents and purposes, the mine looked as abandoned as she would have expected to find it in the dead of night. But someone had unhooked the machine that was used to lift and lower the cage so that it could be manually manipulated. And, when she listened carefully, she could hear the faintest echo of voices.
Was it Cutberth? Had he and some of the men taken the earl into the mine? Did they plan to kill him there so they could easily drag his body off to an abandoned tunnel where it might never be found?
She knew at least some of those who had been pushing for the formation of a union would find poetic justice in burying the earl in his own mine. She could easily imagine Thornick, Collingood and the other hewers who had attacked her smiling as they went back to work once Wythe inherited Stanhope & Co.
She couldn’t let it go that far. She had to stop whatever was happening now. But how?
The thought of going into the mine, with its foul-smelling tunnels, throat-clogging coal dust, urine-filled puddles and bad memories made fear rise up like a monster inside her. It was so dark and close in there. And she would have to carry a light, which would announce her presence to anyone who happened to see it.
But they would know only that someone was coming. They wouldn’t be able to tell who it was—or that it wasn’t a man. Maybe seeing her light would be enough to scare them away, make them run. Maybe then they would leave the earl as he was.
She just hoped he wasn’t too bad off already.