anted ever again, not since her own intimate acquaintance with scrubbing everything in this house.
Instead she shoved the wadded up pieces of paper in one pocket, went over, and unlocked the door.
The halls were silent. It was early afternoon—usually a quiet time in any household, once the morning duties were finished. The borrowed servants were probably downstairs in the kitchen, having tea or helping Polly with dinner. The only reason she’d need help would be if the captain was due home tonight, and the last thing Maddy wanted was to run into him without fair warning. She’d better ask, in case she wanted to disappear.
The kitchen was empty. Very odd—the stove wasn’t even warm. Polly hadn’t said anything to her that morning about going out, but perhaps she’d needed some last minute ingredient. Or more likely Gwendolyn had called everyone home in a fit of pique.
She headed up the narrow, winding stairs, all the way to the attics, calling out when she reached the bottom of the stairs. There was no answer.
She could only hope there were no bats as well. She climbed up the final flight of stairs into the shadowy depths of the attic, only slightly out of breath from her rapid ascent, to find the place deserted as well. The bedroom doors on either side were open, and each now held a row of narrow beds and small dressers. The front space, where she’d sat and waited for Luca just a few short days ago, had been transformed, with a couple of desks, a loveseat, and several chairs. The rest of the broken furniture had disappeared, along with the ripped mattresses and bits of trash.
There were only two questions left. Were the bats still in residence, and was the back closet still locked?
It appeared the bats were gone. There were no ominous shapes in the corners of the room, at least, as far as she could tell in the dim light. And the closet door at the end of the hallway still boasted a heavy chain and lock.
She sank to her knees in front of it, pulling a steel hairpin from her tightly coiled hair. It would probably all come tumbling down, she thought ruefully as she stared at the lock, but it would be easy enough to fix, and there would be no one to see her with her hair halfway down her back, in particular the captain. Even the servants were oddly absent, and she should be able to get back to her room and fix her hair before anyone noticed.
It wasn’t the first lock she’d picked. Sophie had a drawer where she kept her journal, billets-doux from inappropriate suitors, and anything she happened to steal from Maddy, such as her emerald earrings or her diamond pendant, and Maddy had learned to override a simple lock, not just to retrieve her possessions, but to gain an advantage over her younger sister as well. This one was twice the size and weight of the one Sophie had used, but the function was basically the same. Grasping it in her hand, she bent the hairpin straight and set to work.
It was a long and arduous task. Her knees and legs still hadn’t quite recovered from all that time spent scrubbing, and within moments they were aching again. Every now and then she thought she heard a sound from beyond the staircase, but she steadfastly ignored it. If anyone ascended the last flight of stairs she would hear them, and she had an excuse ready. She would claim that her valise had been stored there, and the Croziers had taken the key to the cupboard, which was more than likely true.
But she heard no one on the stairs, and she concentrated on the metal contraption with single-minded ferocity, until finally, finally she heard the blessed click, and the bar of the lock fell free. She rose, stretched with a quiet moan, and then listened again for the sound of servants below. It was still oddly quiet, but she could only be grateful for it.
She slipped the lock off the door, reached for the handle, and pulled it open, not quite sure what she suspected.
The bats dove at her with shrieks of rage, and she screamed, ducking, covering her head with her arms as they exploded around her, squeaking and flapping their leathery wings, and she crouched on the floor, her eyes tightly shut, just waiting for them to disappear.
Eventually all was silent, though she had no idea whether they’d simply perched nearby and were waiting for her to emerge from her panicked crouch so they could attack again, or whether they’d found some handy eaves to continue their somnolent daytime activities. And then she heard the sound of someone moving nearby. Not on the stairs. But on the worn wooden flooring behind her.
It was an undignified position to be found in, but Maddy wasn’t quite ready to move. She listened to the steady footsteps, and knew it wasn’t the captain. Luca’s tread was almost silent, with a catlike grace. This was someone who weighed more and walked with a swagger. Luca didn’t need to swagger.
“Coo,” came a cockney voice from behind her. “So here’s where he keeps the goodies.”
She sat up at that, about to turn and face the newcomer, when she looked into the closet she’d gone to such pains to open, and she was momentarily stunned.
Pirates had treasure—it was a given. Even a tamer privateer would have booty somewhere, though she’d assumed he’d simply sold everything. Not everything. The closet was neatly arranged, and filled with such wondrous possessions that she, unlike the man behind her back, was momentarily silenced. There were paintings with the jewellike tones of the old masters, there were gold figures that had to come from South America and were far too indecent to be seen in mixed company, presumably some kind of fertility gods. There were heavy chests, and whether they were filled with jewels, pieces of eight, or dead men’s bones she had no idea, she only knew there was enough money in this simple closet to buy and sell her father’s fleet twice over. He had no reason to kill Eustace Russell or steal his money—he had more than enough of his own.
She rose as gracefully as she could, given that she’d been caught snooping and her hair was already coming down, prepared to face one of the new footmen with one of her ready excuses. It died on her tongue.
“Weren’t expecting me, missy?” the stranger demanded. He was a big man, in a gaudy striped suit with rings on his thick fingers, and the coldest, emptiest eyes she’d ever seen. One of his heavy, bludgeoning hands held a ridiculously small pistol. “No one ever is.”
“I beg your pardon?” Unfortunately her attempt at calm disdain failed utterly, and she sounded exactly like what she was—a terrified girl.
“No need to beg anything. It won’t do you no good.” He leaned past her and opened one of the boxes. The gleam of gold and precious stones would have blinded her if she weren’t already stiff with fear. The man pulled out a handful and tucked it in the pocket of the loud suit. “I’ll come back for more after I’ve dealt with you, that is, if I can. Cap’n Morgan’s supposed to be returning today, and I wouldn’t be wanting to run into him, not if I can help it.”
“Dealt with me?” she said. Her brain had kicked back into working order and it was racing. Her immediate thought was Mr. Brown—for some reason he’d seemed obsessed with having her travel with him to his house near Avebury. Apparently he didn’t take “no” or even “wait” for an answer. “You work for Mr. Brown, don’t you?”
There was no amusement, no emotion whatsoever in the man’s stolid face. “I do, miss.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, if he’s that eager to have me come to him right now then I suppose I have no choice. If you give me a moment I’ll assemble my things.”
“You’ve got it wrong, miss,” the man said with exquisite politeness. “He don’t want to take you away from here.”
“He don’t? Er… doesn’t?” Now was not the time to give grammar lessons, Maddy, she reminded herself. The man held a gun. “Then what does he want?”
The man didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, but Maddy had never been one to simply accept the inevitable, particularly when this time it seemed to concern her very existence.
She looked past him. He was big, and therefore probably slower than she was, but her legs were shaking so much she wasn’t sure she could manage her usual speed. Buck up, she snapped to herself. Just because he’s holding a gun on you and planning to kill you doesn’t me