She was looking straight ahead. “William… that man there is wearing the same livery as you. I do not normally care to notice such things, but yours is… rather distinctive.”
“What?” His gaze followed in the direction she indicated, and his whole being recoiled in horror. His jaw clenched, he felt his nostrils distend, and his fists curled. “He is one of mine.”
She looked to him swiftly. “The messenger sent by your Mr Wilson?”
“No. That particular footman is not among those I would trust. Wilson would have sent someone from the stables, or possibly the kitchens, if anyone.”
She was beginning to shrink back, closer to his shoulder. “We should walk the other way.”
He nodded vaguely. “Indeed, you are correct. Come quickly!” He captured her hand, heedless now of appearances, and spun her in the other direction before his own hired man could recognise him. “There is nothing distinctive about the back of my livery,” he assured her. “So long as we see no others before us.”
This proved a vain hope, for halfway up the centre walk loitered two others in the same attire. They were glancing casually about, but Darcy was sure that one of them, at least, had appraised Miss Elizabeth’s person as they approached. “Left!” he hissed into her ear.
She turned, but not sharply, as he would have done. Rather, she feigned interest in some of the flowers and casually drifted in thatdirection, placing her body strategically before his own so that the pattern of gold braid so distinctive to the Darcy livery would be hidden from them. The footmen did not seem to think anything conspicuous in her manner, for their eyes did not follow. He could not help a surge of pride in her and congratulated himself on having secured a clever ally in his plight.
“Where shall we go?” she whispered under her breath. “We’ve no way of knowing if there are more, nor how to evade them. What do they want?”
“Likely my aunt has sent them to search me out, which is unfortunate, for it means that my correspondence with Wilson has been discovered.”
Her look of alarm was not unfelt, and he flushed with guilt. “I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth.”
She drew a fortifying breath and stopped, after a short glance around to be certain that they were safe from witnesses. “Am I compromised as well?”
He set his teeth. “Not if I can help it. But we must be cautious, for my aunt would not scruple to destroy your credibility if she thought it might achieve her ends.”
“Then we must leave here at once!”
“It may not be so simple. I have… a number of footmen in my employ, and my uncle will have still more. I cannot think that his help has not been demanded as well. We are in the depths of the Gardens and must navigate a maze of watchful men to find our way out. I wish I had a way of knowing where they were all positioned.”
“Men move. They will be walking, will they not?”
“I doubt it. I believe they will each seek a strategic vantage to watch so that all the known routes will be covered. What we need is some way of seeing them before they see us.”
She frowned and looked about as he did the same. Short of climbing a tree—he started when she seized his forearm. “William!” She extended her arm, and his gaze followed where she pointed. “Have you ever been up in an air balloon?”
Chapter twenty-four
They had some little difficulty in persuading the balloon master to an early departure. “First flight of the evening is at seven,” he had stated unequivocally. Until, of course, William had brandished several shining coins. These disappeared rapidly, and the man opened the gate to the basket.
It took only a few moments for the coal fire to be stoked to its proper heat, for the warming had already commenced some while before their arrival so the balloon’s impressive silk display could advertise the attraction all over the Gardens. When the man gave the signal for them to board, Elizabeth accepted William’s hand into the basket, then clasped the wooden railing. The little gate closed, bags of sand were hefted over the side, and the floor beneath her feet moved.
They had already agreed that from above, two passengers in a balloon were not terribly conspicuous. Anyone noticing their ascent would only be able to see them for a few moments before the greater height obscured their faces and granted a view only of the bottom of the basket. Those below, however, would be far easier to see. As a precaution in the early moments of their flight, William had arranged to stand behind her at the railing to conceal himself, but soon enough he should have the liberty to move about.
Elizabeth’s heart was thumping wildly. Two feet from the ground… three… six! She had not accounted for the rapidity of their ascent, nor had she considered how terribly unstable the floor would seem. Each shot of heat from the coal furnace, each jostle of passenger weight, served to rock the basket more than she had been prepared for. Her fingers tightened on the rail.
William was already craning his head about, searching at each change in elevation for whatever new angles of vantage the balloon could offer. “There, Burk and Johnson. And there is Turner. Two more there,” she heard him counting. “Blast. Two by the Kennington Lane entrance. I suppose all the gates are being watched.”
She closed her eyes and prayed for courage. Shewouldlook at the ground, she would! She swallowed, gulped a hasty breath of air, and tried to lean forward.
The figures below her swam into one dizzying blur. Her breath was coming in short, airless gasps now, and she felt herself growing faint. Oh, why had she thought she could manage this? She had enough trouble on fishing boats and horses! Wherever she could see the plane below her feet and feel movement that did not connect her to the ground, she had always felt ill. Carriages were little enough bother, for they were large, possessed a stable frame all around, and she could see only the horizon. That motion she had grown accustomed to, but this… this was beyond her!
“One by the orchestra,” William continued. “And the South pavilion… Miss Elizabeth, are your eyes sharper than mine? Is the light playing tricks on me, or is that another just there, near the first arch?”
He stepped to her right, leaning far over the edge of the basket, and the floor swayed with a sickening dip. “Miss Elizabeth, can you… Miss Elizabeth?”
The genuine concern in his voice was lost to her, for she could already taste the bitter tang in her mouth. In another half moment she was likely to mortify herself beyond hope of recovery, and if she tried to respond to him, she had not a prayer that she might be able to check the rebellion in her head and stomach.
“Miss Elizabeth, you are ill! We must set down immediately,” he called to the pilot.
