Page 46 of Taken to the Grave
“What are we looking for now?” Basil asked.
“The cross symbol and term ‘sanctuary’ puts me in mind of a religious element,” she said. “What if the secret society is being held inside a church? Or near one?”
“One that’s been shut up, you mean,” Sir said.
With a nod from Audrey, Sir doused the lamp in the carriage. It allowed them to see better into the dark streets as Carrigan started to drive a wandering route along one street to the next. The horses ambled slowly, giving them plenty of time to look. There were lampposts along the streets in most places, and people were out. But most of the buildings were residences.
“So, you and Lord Hugh are getting leg shackled soon, right?” Sir’s question startled Audrey from her peering throughthe window. Carrigan was taking them around the Oval off Devonshire Place.
“Hush,” Basil said. “That is none of your business.”
“It’s quite all right, Basil,” she said, then to Sir, “I believe so.”
She and Hugh had argued, yes, but she could not face the possibility that they would part ways because of it. Audrey had already given some thought to the blending of their staffs, but in truth, Sir wasn’t a servant. He was more along the lines of Hugh’s ward. Which meant that he would be her ward now too.
She wondered how Sir felt about that. He was so accustomed to only having to follow Hugh’s edicts. Audrey wasn’t sure what her role would be. Sir already had a mother, one he cared for, and who cared for him as much as she possibly could. Like so many other women of her class, Lucy Givens had limited resources when it had come to protecting her son from her abusive husband. But now, she was a widow, and with three children younger than Sir.
Perhaps now that Mr. Givens no longer stood in his way, Hugh would be able to extend his generosity toward her too.
“Over there,” Basil said, interrupting Audrey’s half-formed idea of taking Mrs. Givens and her daughters from the East End and placing them somewhere nicer. Safer. And closer to Sir.
“What do you see?” she asked. But then, she saw it too. A stone church with a tall spire, and its front door boarded up. It looked to be in disuse.
“Carrigan, stop here,” she called. And when he did, she opened the door. Sir darted out first and held out his hand.
“Thank you,” she said as she let him guide her onto the pavement. A lamppost a dozen paces away shone, reflecting off the church’s lancet windows. A few were missing, and some scaffolding at the corner also appeared in shambles.
“I’m going to take a closer look,” she announced.
“At this ghastly place?” Basil asked.
“Someone should go with you.” Carrigan started to rise, but Audrey held up her hand.
“Stay with the carriage,” she said. “I’m not going far.”
“I’ll come,” Sir offered. She gave him a thankful grin, and then the two of them approached the church together.
With the front door boarded up, any entrance would have to be found at the side or back. She went toward the abandoned scaffolding. The shabby look of the church could be a deterrent, a disguise for passersby. And perhaps the Sanctuary operated out of the vaults of the church, curbing the emission of any light and sound. It would suit the room from her vision, which had been candlelit.
But as they started down the narrow alley flanking the church, any feeling of certainty shriveled. There was nothing here. No sign of people. Certainly, no inverted cross.
“Never mind,” she said, coming to a stop. “Let’s return to the carriage.”
Just then, a square-sided coach clattered past the opening in the alley behind the church, where a lamppost gave off yellow light. Stamped onto the coach’s door, a white inverted cross flashed into view, then out again as the coach went by.
Audrey held still. But then, she realized what she’d seen, and she dashed toward the alley opening, and the street running behind the church.
“Your Grace!” Carrigan shouted.
“Sir, hurry! That coach that just went by?—”
“Had a cross like you said!” Sir finished for her.
They exited the alley and came into the street under the lamppost, just in time to see the back end of the coach carrying onward, past a cross street. There was no time to go back to Carrigan and Basil. She started after the coach on foot, with Sir at her side. He quickly overtook her, his flat-soled boots far more suitable for running than hers with their little heels. She couldonly hope that Carrigan would come looking for them in this direction.
Her breaths sawed in and out as she tried to keep up not just with the coach, but with Sir. The stays she wore dug into her ribs as she sucked in air, and water splashed up onto her hem as she darted through puddles. A handful of people out walking gasped with alarm as she and Sir flew past them.
The coach, visible by its guiding lanterns, turned right down another street and disappeared. Audrey’s feet began to bruise, her lungs burned, and yet if she slowed to tend to herself, she knew she’d feel crushing disappointment. Digging into a well of reserved determination, she reached the cross street only a few paces behind Sir. They both drew to a stop, breaths heaving. The street was empty. Not a single carriage was in view.
