Gardiner stepped forward, his voice hoarse. “Prisoners?”
“Smuggled,” Richard confirmed. “Most likely. Holding them until someone in France coughs up a ransom?”
Darcy’s gaze swept the floor. Dust had been disturbed. Someone—or several someones—had been here recently. Then, near the cell’s window, something caught his eye. A shred of fabric, caught on a rough wooden slat.
He reached for it, heart hammering as he rubbed the material between his fingers.
Lavender muslin.
Elizabeth’s gown.
His breath came faster now, his grip tightening on the fabric. “She was here.”
Richard moved to his side, his face hardening as he examined the window. “The frame is splintered. Looks like someone tried to climb through.”
Gardiner paled. “She tried to escape.”
“Perhaps she succeeded,” Richard suggested.
Darcy peered through the window, down… far down… at the drop she would have faced if she had jumped. “She would have broken her legs,” he huffed softly. “No doubt, she would have done it anyway… but look at the floor.”
Gardiner raised his lantern. Indeed, there was a streak wiped clean through the dirt and grime covering the rest of the floor. Someone or something had been dragged from the window.
A sharp pain speared his heart. What had the brutes done? He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus. The room was empty. She was not here anymore.
But if she had been—if they had kept her in this place—they were not merely holding her. They had taken her because they believed she was valuable somehow… or a liability.
And if they had moved her once, they might move her again.
His grip on the fabric tightened. “We need to find where they took her next.”
Richard turned to the crates stacked near the entrance, prying open one of the smaller ones. “If this place was used to smuggle prisoners, there might be records.”
Darcy helped him pry open the top of a second crate, revealing ledgers packed tightly beneath layers of straw. They flipped through the pages by the dim light of the lantern.
Gardiner leafed through them, nodding. “These shipments are in my company’s name.”
Richard frowned. “Which means whoever orchestrated this is using your business as cover.”
Gardiner scanned the ledger, his expression growing darker. “Here—these marks.” He pointed to a column of names, some crossed out, others circled. “These are supposed to be ordinary shipments, but these notations… they do not match anything I have seen before.”
Darcy followed his gaze. Some names had been marked with an “X.” Others had been transferred to another page entirely.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
Gardiner hesitated. “The shipments marked with an ‘X’… they were removed before reaching their final destination.”
Darcy’s stomach sank. “You mean prisoners.”
Gardiner nodded grimly.
Richard was already flipping through another ledger. “They must have a second location—a holding point before transferring the prisoners onto ships.”
Gardiner sucked in a breath. “The dry docks. I would bet my life on it.”
Darcy looked up sharply. “Where?”
Gardiner turned to him. “There is an old section of the docks where repairs are made to ships—dry storage for vessels not yet seaworthy. Some of the buildings there are still used for storage, but it would be the perfect place to keep someone hidden, and yet near enough to the ships to be useful.”
