by Sawyer North
“You and Hester should remain here. Although you are more than equal to the task, I’m not sure your dresses are suitable for navigating a mine shaft. We will return in short order with all questions answered.”
“Of course.” She bravely battled the tremble of her chin. “Call out if you encounter trouble.”
“I will.”
Then, he leaned to place another kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, she lifted a hand to the place where his lips had touched. Without another word, he spun and followed Thomas and Barlow into the shaft. As she watched him disappear into darkness, she could not dismiss how the entrance resembled an open grave.
…
The mine swallowed Adam in its gaping maw and forced him down its narrow throat. The entrance tunnel descended gently some fifty feet before opening into a vertical shaft the same width as the main shaft. Thomas turned to Adam, his face cast half in shadow by the flickering torches.
“This ladder leads below to the primary levels. They used to haul slate upward with bucket and pulley.”
“Is the box down there?”
“No, sir. My father chose a less obvious hiding place.”
Thomas handed his torch to Barlow and pulled a heavy plank about six feet in length from an unseen crevice in the shaft wall. He wrestled it to the lip of the shaft, stood it upright, and let it fall forward across the pitch-black opening to catch on the far side of the vertical shaft. Then he retrieved the torch.
“This way, gentlemen.” Thomas walked across the plank to a narrow ledge on the far side of the hole. He carefully maneuvered sideways and disappeared into another unseen crevice. Adam peered down at the seemingly bottomless pit below. The plank seemed as narrow as a razor’s edge. He inhaled a steeling breath and slipped across. He peered to his left to find a crease from which the light of Thomas’s torch emanated. With great care, he slid along the ledge into the opening. Once safely off the ledge, he offered light for Barlow, who stood peering into the pit.
“A long fall, that one,” said Barlow.
“It is. Will you wait here, then?”
“And earn Hester’s disfavor? Never.” He stepped gingerly across the plank and joined Adam in the adjacent opening. They turned to find Thomas at the rear of the narrow space. He had planted his torch inside a divot and was disassembling a cairn of rock stacked against the wall. Adam handed his torch to Barlow and joined the effort. The diminishing stack soon revealed a cube-shaped box, stained with age. At only one foot on a side, it seemed far smaller than he had expected.
“This is it? This box holds all of the gold?”
Thomas smiled. “Try lifting it, sir.”
Adam grasped the pair of iron handles and lifted it to his waist with a grunt. The weight astounded him. “This is quite heavy.”
“That much gold is heavy, sir. I can no longer lift the box, old as I am. At least a hundred weight it is.”
Adam nodded, both hopeful of and dismayed by the substantial heft of the box. “Right. I will carry it, then.”
He turned and moved to the edge of the pit. The loss of his arms for balance brought forth beads of sweat on his forehead, despite the chill of the mine. He eyed the drop with trepidation, then the plank.
“No direction but forward,” he whispered. As cautiously as possible, he slipped over the plank to the far side. His pent breath exploded. “Merciful God.”
Between the light of two torches, one leading and one trailing, he trudged up the incline to the mine entrance. His expectant gaze fell on Jane as he emerged from the hole. When she spied the box, her face fell. He found a level spot, set the box down, and leaned over with hands on knees to catch his heaving breath.
“How…do we open it?” he said between gasps of air.
Thomas slipped up beside him and produced a key from a chain looped around his neck. He knelt, inserted the key, and turned it. After resisting Thomas’s fidgeting, the lock surrendered to the key and clicked open. Thomas removed it and stood.
“There you are, sir.”
Adam knelt gravely before the box and glanced up at Jane. She dipped her head one time, her hands knotted together. He returned the nod and lifted the lid to reveal an array of gold guineas stacked inside individual square silos. She whispered something he could not ascertain, but her message was clear. Dismay. He stood and faced Thomas.
“Well?”
The old man eyed the box with scrutiny. “It’s all there, sir. Sixty-four stacks of one-hundred coins each. Just as my father accepted it from Mr. Hancock. Just as it has remained for seventy years.”
“And you are the only one who knows of this box?”
Thomas nodded grimly. “Of course, sir. I have kept the faith.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “And in such desperate times, you did not take even one coin for yourself?”
Thomas’s face drew down, offended. “No, sir. I would never. My father made a promise and passed that promise to me for safekeeping.”
He placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “My apologies, Mr. Chance. I rarely witness such sterling character, so please forgive my cynical nature.”
“Of course, sir.”
Adam squeezed the man’s shoulder and stepped to Jane’s side. He stole one of her hands. “I am sorry, Jane, for the both of us.”
She nodded sadly. “As am I.”
He looked to Barlow. “Now what?”
Barlow pursed his lips, sadness evidenced by his fallen features. “As the representative of Mr. Rutley, I bear witness to the fact that the full amount of the contracted fortune has been found. As such, the contract remains binding, as despicable as it is. And the contract states that the toss of a coin must determine the owner of the box.”
“Well, then, we cannot forestall the inevitable any longer.” Adam fished from his pocket the half crown supplied to him by Mr. Rutley after the contract signing. He rubbed it briefly and handed it to Barlow. “You do the honors, sir.”
“Right. Who will call the toss?”
“Jane will.”
Barlow set the coin on his thumb and flipped it into the air. Jane squeezed Adam’s hand.
“Tails.”
As the coin spun, an astonishing thought occurred to Adam. He hoped the toss would fall Jane’s way. For even if it did, at least his children would someday reclaim the land that he had forfeited. The coin clattered to the rocky surface, bounced twice, and settled at a shallow slant. Barlow bent to observe the result. When he stood, his expression was grim.
“Heads.”
A rush of chaotic emotion shot through Adam in the blink of an eye. Guilty elation that he would not lose his estate. Resignation over the continued burden of his responsibilities and the certainty of his marriage to Miss Rutley. Crushing despair over Jane’s desolate fate. He briefly considered hurling some of the coins down the slope to void the contract. However, duty stayed his hand. The preservation of his family land seemed the only bright light in an otherwise dark moment. As his eyes turned to Jane, though, her stricken expression cast a vicious pall over all else.
…
The worst pieces of news Jane had heard in her life were, “Your mother died” and, only recently, “Your father is gone.” The utterance of a single word from Mr. Barlow, though, competed for a place on the list.
“Heads.”
Her lungs seized immediately. In the absence of breath, she fought to understand the meaning of the word. Heads. Not tails. Not freedom. Not a future. She leaned forward woefully to study the coin, which still lay untouched on the ground. King George offered a dismissive profile that sported the laurel of a Greek champion, mocking her loss. When the coin failed to move for the space of several heartbeats, she gasped a breath and clutched her stomach. She peered sharply at Adam. To her surprise, he wore an expression of sorrow. She blinked with confusion. Had he not heard Mr. Barlow? Had he not seen
the truth of the coin? Did he not realize he had saved his estate? As if in answer, he shook his head slowly.
“I am terribly sorry, Jane.”
His words confirmed the truth. He knew. And yet he failed to take any pleasure in his victory. She attempted to force a smile but failed to unlock the deep frown that froze her mouth in place. She could not, because of yet another truth. All her dreams, from old to new, had just withered and died on the mountainside at the hands of an unjust contract and the fickle bounce of a coin. With great care, she slipped her hand from Adam’s and fell into Aunt Hester’s waiting embrace.
“My dear girl.” Aunt Hester managed not much else, but instead wept quietly into Jane’s shoulder. Only after a time did Jane realize she was weeping as well. To their credits, Adam and Barlow did not intercede. They merely stood silently aside to allow grief to have its necessary moment.
Jane held tightly to her aunt, her rock, her last living relative. To let go was to set in motion the deplorable conditions of the contract. She knew, however, that the inevitable events would transpire despite her best efforts to avoid them. After perhaps a minute, she pushed away from her aunt and faced Barlow.
“Debtor’s prison for me, it seems.” She sniffled. “Your Mr. Rutley will no doubt be pleased by my impending misery.”
Barlow stood unmoving with eyes hooded beneath a drawn brow. “He is not my Mr. Rutley.” He doffed his hat and bowed low. “You have my deepest condolences. I greatly regret my part in this calamitous affair.”
“Do not, sir. You merely executed your required duties faithfully. The contract is not your doing. The outcome is not your fault.”
Barlow stood straight and reset his hat, his eyes tear-filled. Aunt Hester laid a comforting hand on his arm. He gathered her into a sidelong embrace and stared sadly into the distance while she examined the earth beneath her feet.
Jane turned her attention to Adam. His continuing silence grew abruptly untenable. She squeezed her hands together. “Say something, Adam. Anything.”
He gazed at her with stricken eyes. His spirit seemed to have departed his body. “I…I…”
She began to turn away, but he halted her with a hand on her wrist.
“Jane.” As she cut her eyes upward at him, he blinked and inhaled a slow breath. “I rue the events that have brought us to this. If only the feud had not separated us. If only we had not signed that contract. If only we had not found the gold. Then, then…perhaps we could have been more than just friends.”
Her lips tightened and she casually twisted her wrist from his fingers. “I disagree.”
Surprise lit his eyes. “Why?”
She breathed a sad chuckle. “Oh, Adam. The man you were before this journey would have never fallen for one of my low station. Your pride in your heritage and social standing would have prevented you from ever considering me as more than a simple acquaintance.”
He began to protest, but her index finger against his lips silenced him.
“However,” she whispered, “the prospect of losing everything changed you. It humbled you. It brought you down from on high to dwell among us mortals. It allowed you to regard me as an equal instead of the descendent of a family servant. That Adam is the man I hold in the highest regard. That is the man I have come to love. But now, you have maintained everything that you cherish. Go, then. Return to the mountaintop and forget about this implausible journey. Forget about what you thought we might have together.” She paused to draw a ragged breath. “As for the Adam Ashford I have come to know these past days, I will forever mourn his loss.”
She withdrew her finger and turned away quickly, if for nothing more than to avoid his wounded stare. She met the solicitor’s eyes. “It is done, then. I must return to London to face my fate. As I have no funds, I ask only for a loan sufficient for Aunt Hester and me to book overland passage.”
“Of course. Of course.” He released Aunt Hester to retrieve his wallet and produced a wad of bank notes. He held them to Jane. “This should cover passage, lodging, and meals for the journey.”
She gingerly accepted the offering. “I thank you, sir. I will repay you as soon as I can.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No, sweet girl. This is a gift. A token of my esteem for both of you and the pleasure of your company on this journey.”
Gratitude washed over her, shouldering aside a small measure of the encroaching despair. She dropped a deep curtsy. “Thank you, sir. Your kindness overwhelms me.” She sensed Adam’s silent presence at her back but could not bring herself to look at him lest she shatter. “If you please, Mr. Barlow, will you escort Aunt Hester and me back to Coniston? We must begin our preparations for travel. I’m sure Mr. Chance can assist Mr. Ashford with the packing of the gold.”
“At your service, Miss Hancock.”
He offered an elbow to her and the other to Aunt Hester. She accepted and began the steep descent.
…
Jane’s departure left Adam reeling. Her assessment of his character had struck him like a volley of arrows, piercing his soul with a wave of indictment. Her words had yanked him from comfortable darkness to cower beneath the blinding light of a revealing sun. His rising agony was heightened by a sickening revelation: her judgment of him rang true.
But, but… Jane had also proclaimed her love for the man he had become along the road. Deep in disarray, he watched with injured astonishment as her slender form slipped down the mountain, her every step putting final distance between them. After perhaps a minute, the last of her blue riding habit disappeared behind a rock outcrop, robbing him of even a glimpse of her presence. A primal gasp climbed his throat, and he broke. He bent to rest his hands on his knees, inhaling labored staccato breaths. Dismal realizations assailed him, one after the next. Before two weeks ago, he had been going through the motions for ten years, an empty well substituting pride, duty, and guilt for truly living. However, these past two weeks had restored him, revived him, and created within him an understanding that he could be greater than just guilty, better than merely burdened, more than simply mediocre. The instant Jane slipped from his sight he ceded all of that hard-fought ground in the space of a few heartbeats. From the dust Jane had lifted him; to the dust he was returning.
“Mr. Ashford? Are you well?”
Thomas’s concern after the long silence shook Adam from his desolation. He tore his eyes from the empty hillside and stood to regard the old man with sorrow.
“I am not, Mr. Chance.”
“What will you do, then?”
Adam considered the question as if his life depended on it, which it likely did. What would he do? He recounted Jane’s parting words to him and slogged past the painful incrimination to what she had said about his change along the journey. She believed he had become a man deserving of her admiration, worthy of her love. His fists clenched of their own accord as desperate determination ripped through him. He wanted to be the kind of man who could live up to her lofty expectations of his character. He needed to be worthy of her love.
But how? Rutley’s contract was ironclad. Any attempt to subvert it would only worsen matters for him while doing nothing for Jane. He envisioned what would happen when they all returned to London. Rutley would send Jane to debtor’s prison immediately. With her put away, he would pressure Hester into payments that would never be enough to free her niece. He would excuse his dastardly actions as merely the necessary practice of business. However, Adam knew the dark truth of his future father-in-law. Rutley was a sadistic man, taking pleasure in inflicting pain on those who dared to disappoint him. Someone must suffer for his appeasement. That someone would be Jane.
Meanwhile, Rutley would lock down the Ashford estate with a quick marriage and then bleed Adam for profits for the remainder of his life. Adam would remain powerless to lighten Jane’s burden. The best he might hope to accomplish would be small, discreet contributions to the
prison to prevent Jane from starving, freezing, or wasting away with illness. However, if Rutley ever learned of his gestures, there was no telling what despicable actions he might take in response.
“I will be done with this venture,” Adam said finally in response to Thomas’s hanging question. “That’s what I will do.”
Thomas nodded gravely. “My duty to your family has filled me with pride and purpose for seventy years, sir. I do not know the entirety of the story, but I can see your dismay. Given the dark nature of the story’s ending, I’ve a sudden yearning to dispose of my obligation.”
That last word echoed through Adam’s mind for several seconds before he seized it. Obligation. He blinked rapidly as an astonishing idea rose from the recesses of his mind over the course of several seconds. Was it possible? Could it work? He considered the details further. Yes, he thought, though it would feature pain and betrayal and would likely end in failure. But I must try. Desperate hope surged within him. He straightened to clap a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, startling the old man.
“Mr. Chance, how would you like to visit London?”
Thomas scratched his jaw in thought before smiling. “Always wanted to see the great city, sir.”
“Good, then. Let’s pack this gold and find a couple of trustworthy lads who are good with pistols. We’ve a long journey ahead and many obstacles to overcome.”
Those obstacles rose tall in Adam’s mind, but he knew he must try to surmount them to save Jane. After all, rescuing Jane was his only means of saving himself.
Chapter Thirty
Adrift on a sea of recent memories, Jane perused the pavement blankly as every step carried her nearer to the end of any prospects. Aunt Hester clutched her arm for support but otherwise chose not to interrupt Jane’s misery. Despite the dire circumstances, she remained grateful for her aunt’s steadfast presence. During the seven-day return trip from Coniston to London, with a stop in Oxfordshire along the way, Aunt Hester had sustained her in every manner possible. She had kept her fed, bedded her down at night, and battled valiantly to prevent her from tumbling into a well of despair. Over the days since their return, her aunt had industriously prepared Jane for her impending incarceration, collecting a meager supply of food to see her through those first days at the prison. Now, thirty days had passed since the signing of the cursed contract. Just ahead, Mr. Rutley waited in his office to administer the fatal blow.