six
KEITH WOKE UP in complete darkness.
No, a distant, faint glow limned the wooden boards surrounding him. It had to be night still. He massaged his eyes, wondering what had happened. Touching around, he recognised the rough wooden planks and the smell of the wet soil in one of the garden sheds. Likely one of those that were far from the manor. He rubbed the ache out of the back of his neck where a swollen and tender spot throbbed.Blimey. Mr. Sharpe must have hit him and trapped him here, wherever he was. He hadn’t even seen Mr. Sharpe hitting him. So much for being good at boxing. Keith agreed with what Mr. Sharpe had said. Yes, he understood every word. But he couldn’t approve of the method.
He staggered to his feet. At least Mr. Sharpe hadn’t killed him. Yet. He reached the door, but it didn’t budge. When he shouldered it, dust rained from the ceiling. The walls shook, but the door remained closed. He thumped a fist on the walls. Dammit.
“Let me out!”
No one answered.
He opened his mouth to shout again, but footsteps approached. He stepped back from the door, closing his fists, ready for a fight.
“Keith?” Paul whispered from the other side of the door. “It’s me.”
“Paul. Get me out.” He slammed a fist on the door again.
“I’m trying.”
The noise of metal clunking came then a rustling sound from the lock.
“I saw Mr. Sharpe taking you here. I waited for him and the others to leave before helping you,” Paul said among metallic ticks.
After a sharp click, the door swung inwards, screeching on the hinges.
“You are?—”
Keith grabbed Paul by the jacket, cutting off whatever Paul wanted to say. “You’re one of them. How could you?”
Paul shoved him, glowering. “No. I’ve never hurt anyone. I only helped them find the horses and the carts.”
“You’re helping them kill people.” His throat hurt with worry and fear.
Paul gazed away. “I didn’t know what the carts were for until tonight. I promise. I mean, I talked with Mr. Sharpe about…you know, politics, and I told him I agreed with him, but I wasn’t sure…I might have said something about a death penalty for the politicians…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, Keith. I just opened my mouth and breathed. I didn’t think he was serious.”
Keith scoffed. “What did you think they needed the carts for?” He had to control his voice in case one of the conspirators was close.
“They have their reasons.”
“We’re talking about murdering children,” Keith said among pants. “Servants, farmers, people who didn’t do anything to you. How can this be right?”
Paul paced. “What do you want me to do? Stop them? They’ll kill me and bury my body in gunpowder. They’re too strong.”
“We must go to the police.”
“Are you mad?” Paul seized Keith’s arm. “Do you think the Fenians will let us live if we denounce them? If they don’t kill us, the police will arrest Mr. Sharpe, and what will happen to us? We won’t have a job or a home anymore. All the people working for him will be thrown into the streets.”
“We must do something.”
“What about Violante?”
Violante’s name was like a punch in Keith’s stomach. She lived a lie, and it was a matter of time before Mr. Sharpe died in an attack or was arrested. She’d find herself alone and scared, as Keith had been when his mother had been killed. “Can you live with the blood of those children on your hands? I heard you. You told them the girl was barely ten. They didn’t care.”
Paul shivered and leant against the shed. “I owe my life to Mr. Sharpe. If he hadn’t employed my mum, she would have died in poverty.”
“I owe him my life as well, but he’s with the Fenians.” The air itself seemed to quiver when he pronounced the last word. “My mother is dead because one of their bombs killed her. I can’t let him do this. It’s wrong.”
Paul thumped the wall. “Think. Do you believe Sir Howard is going to thank us for saving him? He doesn’t care about us one way or another. We aren’t human to him. You should know that. He treated you like vermin. Even if we save his life, we’re going to pay the price. The police will arrest us as well. Whatever we do, we’re going to get the short end of the stick. We’ll lose everything, and no one will thank us or consider us heroes.”
