The Girl in the Mask (30 page)

The air was cool outside. The summer was definitely drawing to a close. I pulled off my mask, wrapped my cloak about me, and tried not to think about how I would fare alone with winter coming on. Nothing could be worse than what my father planned for me. And I had a feeling I would be able to look after myself.

My first destination was the pawnshop, open at all hours for the desperate and destitute. I needed to part with my beautiful gown. I couldn’t repress a smile when I imagined how furious my father and Captain Mould would be if they discovered what I’d done with my costly wedding gown.

I’d barely taken ten steps when I saw Mr Charleton ahead of me. He was standing quietly at the corner of the Guildhall, watching something around the corner. The gold wings had disappeared from his shoes and he had wrapped a plain black cloak over his gold laced coat. His mask dangled from one hand.

I paused and then walked hesitantly towards him. But before I could reach him, he vanished around the corner. He was walking like someone who didn’t wish to be observed. My curiosity aroused, I followed him, stepping up to the corner of the building as he had done, and peeping round it. At first the street appeared empty, but then I caught a flash of movement, and spotted a dark shadow with a hint of gold disappearing down some steps into what looked like a basement of the Guildhall. He paused for a few moments at the door, bent over the keyhole, and then went inside.

This time I hesitated longer before following. Perhaps he was on some secret business, and I’d be in the way. But my curiosity and my wish to see him one last time won. I stepped around the corner and ran lightly down the steps after him.

The door opened easily and silently. I slipped inside with a rustling of petticoats and closed it softly behind me. It was almost dark, only the flicker of a torch shining in through a small window. I descended the staircase and followed the silent corridor.

A heavy wooden door barred my way and creaked when I opened it. A stale, musty blast of air hit me in the face; the dank smell of the Bath basements, tinged with the rotten-egg stink that was characteristic of the city.

The corridor divided here. I stood still, uncertain which way to go. A door stood ajar just to my right, so I stepped inside, trying to make out the room in the gloom. I’d only just seen the shape of barrels piled up together when I was grasped from behind, a strong arm wrapped tightly around me and a hand clamped over my mouth so that I could scarcely breathe.

‘Sophia, what the
devil
are you doing down here?’ Mr Charleton breathed in my ear.

I sagged with relief, sighing as he released me. ‘I followed you … ’ I began, but he clapped his hand over my mouth again.

‘Whisper,’ he said. ‘I don’t know who else is down here.’

‘I was looking for you to say goodbye,’ I whispered obediently. ‘And to ask what was in the note.’

He released me, clicking his tongue with annoyance. ‘You have no sense of danger!’ he exclaimed. ‘And next time you want to creep up on someone, don’t wear so many petticoats! The note contained information that led me down here. And just as well, by the look of it.’

He went across to the barrels, forced one open and appeared to be examining the contents. I wasn’t sure how he could see a thing in this gloom and was about to say so when he exclaimed under his breath: ‘Great God!’ He returned to my side. ‘Sophia, I’m glad you’re here after all. I’m going to need your help.’

His words sent a surge of excitement through me. My flight from the city and the pawnbroker were both forgotten in an instant. I was a spy once more. ‘What do I need to do?’ I asked eagerly.

‘Take a chair straight to Mr Allen’s lodgings,’ he said. ‘He’s at number seven Lilliput Alley.’ He reached into his coat pocket for his purse. ‘Here’s a shilling to cover the fare. Listen carefully now; this is important. He must instantly send a message to General Wade that he’s to move into the city
at once
. Not wait until later, as we agreed earlier. Tell him there’s a quantity of gunpowder and fuses beneath the Guildhall, and that I shall stay here and guard it until he gets to me. He must come here first, and deal with the cache at Slippery Lane afterwards. Do you understand me? Can you repeat it?’

Reeling with shock at the seriousness of both the message and the threat to the city, I repeated everything back to him. ‘Should all the people at the masquerade upstairs be warned?’ I asked in a shaking voice.

‘I think not,’ said Charleton. ‘They can’t possibly be intending to blow the place up with so many people inside; a number of them loyal supporters. Our sources suggest that the main attack is planned for tomorrow. Now go!’

I nodded, only partly reassured, and turned away, clutching the shilling. Mr Charleton was drawing his sword and stationing himself by the door. ‘Please take care,’ I whispered. I was afraid for him down here in the dark with all that gunpowder right next to him.

‘
Go!
’

Embarrassed, I turned and fled back down the dark corridors towards the stairs. I was halfway up them when I heard the sounds of voices on the other side of the door. I froze in horror, and saw the handle turning. As quietly as I could, I whisked myself through a doorway and hid behind it; I stood completely still, trying to quiet my breathing. Any movement at all would set my petticoats rustling again.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and several pairs of feet descended. Male voices spoke in urgent but hushed tones. The only words I caught were ‘left it open, you idiot’. A faint grating sound followed.

I thought I recognized Captain Mould’s voice and felt sick. The men were heading straight for where Mr Charleton was waiting. I had no way to warn him. I peeped out after they’d passed me but could make out only a group of shadowy figures in the gloom. There was nothing I could do to help, I realized, except carry the message to Mr Allen as fast as I could. Accordingly, I lifted my voluminous petticoats and ran softly out of the room, and up the stairs. When I reached the door and turned the handle, however, it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, convinced I must be mistaken. It still didn’t open. Panic rising, I twisted it this way and that, pulling, pushing, and shaking it. It was locked.

The sounds of shouting and raised voices reached me from the room where the gunpowder lay. I turned, feeling blind in the darkness and utterly helpless. Mr Charleton was relying on me to carry his message, and I was trapped. I heard a clash of steel and knew that they were fighting.

Hurriedly, I searched the other rooms to see if any of them had a door that led outside, but it was pointless. I remembered perfectly well that the outside of the building only had one doorway. There were no windows, only a grille high above my head that opened onto the street above. I couldn’t shout for help however, for the rebels would certainly hear me before anybody outside did.

I was at a loss. What could I do? There must be something. The sound of footsteps running back towards me made me realize my main task: to remain undiscovered. If I was caught, too, there was no chance of doing anything to help. To conceal myself, I pushed behind an old cabinet that had been deposited down here to rot, one of its doors hanging off the hinges. There were spiders’ webs, dust and dirt, but I ignored them, crouching a little, for the cabinet was barely taller than I was. I wished my hair hadn’t been dressed so high and that my gown and cloak were not so brilliantly white; it was a bad colour for hiding in the dark.

The footsteps came right into the room where I was and paused. I held my breath. There was such a long silence that I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. But then the door banged shut and the footsteps moved on. I heard a voice call: ‘There’s no one else down here!’

I let out my breath in a long sigh of relief, but remained motionless, listening. A spider crawled onto my neck, tickling it, and I brushed it away with a shudder. Still I didn’t move from my hiding place. There were footsteps running backwards and forwards, and the clatter of something heavy. Once I heard someone cry out, and my heart jumped into my mouth, for I was sure it was Mr Charleton. The thought that they might hurt him, or even kill him, made me feel desperate.

It was some time before the pairs of feet went back past my room towards the cellar steps. The sound of running followed them and a shouted warning. The men left the cellar and banged the door behind them. This time I clearly heard the key grate in the lock. Their footsteps and voices came to me once more as they passed swiftly along the street above me and faded.

Had they all gone, or had they left someone down here? Had they taken Mr Charleton with them, leaving me alone? I had to find out at once. I wriggled out of my hiding place, and crept from the room. All was quiet except for a soft hissing sound in the distance. I paused a moment listening, but it wasn’t a sound I recognized. I walked cautiously down the corridor. I was hampered by my petticoats that hushed and rustled as I walked, swaying and brushing the walls of the narrow passageway. I cursed the ill-chance that had set me on this adventure in such unsuitable clothing.

I turned the corner and thought there was an acrid smell of burning in the air. It was faint, but definitely there. Thinking of all that gunpowder, I quickened my pace. The door to the room where I’d left Mr Charleton was open, and a thread of ash led into it. I paused, afraid I might be running into a trap. There was a sort of glimmering, sparkling light coming from the room.

I walked in to see Mr Charleton tied to a chair and gagged. He convulsed frantically at the sight of me, fighting his bonds, and rolling his eyes. I ran to him at once, but he shook his head desperately, making unintelligible sounds and looking at something to my left.

I turned to look, and my heart stopped in horror. The sparkling light was moving swiftly across the floor towards the barrels. I stood staring at it, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. One part of my mind was telling me stupidly what a pretty light it was, like a small firework. Another was screaming at me that it was a fuse. It would cause a much bigger firework in a few moments; one that would blow half this building to pieces, and I was in a room with it.

I tried to run towards it with an indefinite idea of putting it out. But it was as if I was in a nightmare. My limbs were heavy and unresponsive. I was running through water. My mind was frozen in shock while the fuse moved at an appalling speed away from me towards the heaped barrels. It was not even the thought of my own death that paralysed me, though that passed through my mind. It was all those hundreds of people above me, dancing, talking and playing cards, completely unsuspecting. And the knowledge that Mr Charleton was tied up behind me, as helpless as I was to escape our fate.

Something freed up inside me, and I was moving, running, picking up my petticoats and stamping my fashionable white shoe down onto that brightly burning fuse. The spark escaped from under my foot and kept burning. I stamped again. It faltered, but then brightened again. The gunpowder was very close now and my heart was in my throat.

The third time, I ground my shoe onto the spark and kept it there, holding all my weight down on that foot. I could feel the heat through my sole. The hissing stopped and the silence seemed loud around me. Slowly, carefully, dreading what I might see, I lifted my foot from the fuse. There was nothing there but a smoky pile of ash. We were in semi-darkness once more.

To be safe, I picked up the fuse and pulled it away from the gunpowder. It came free in my hand, a frighteningly short piece, and I threw it out of the room into the corridor beyond. I was dizzy with relief.

I turned back to Mr Charleton who sat slumped in his chair. I hurried to his back to free his hands. The knots were pulled so tight that I couldn’t loosen them, no matter how hard I tugged and dug my nails into the fibre of the rope. I stood up to untie the gag instead. It too was tied cruelly tight and I had to tug and work at it to loosen it, but at last it came free.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked him at once, but only a strangled, muffled groan came from him, and I realized the men had stuffed a cloth into his mouth. I pulled at it and the fabric came free, leaving him retching and choking. I applied myself once more to the bonds at his wrists.

‘Thank you,’ he managed to gasp at last, his voice hoarse. ‘Thank God you didn’t get out of the cellar! Mr Allen could not have … ’ he stopped to cough and gasp for breath.

‘Could not have reached you in time,’ I agreed soberly. ‘The whole Guildhall would have gone up. All those people … ’ I suddenly felt faint, and had to lean against his chair for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to recover myself.

‘I don’t think … such an atrocity was ever the intention of the leaders of this rebellion,’ said Mr Charleton. ‘That would set public opinion against them. Something went wrong somewhere. Can’t you free my hands?’

I returned to the bonds, having got my momentary weakness under control. ‘I’m trying, but the knots are so tight,’ I said breathlessly. Part of my difficulty was that my hands were shaking, but I didn’t like to admit it. ‘Did you say there was an arms cache in Slippery Lane?’ I asked as I tugged at the knots.