Whether she got lucky enough to save him or not, she had to do something, and she had to do it fast. If the men she could hear in the mine were planning murder, the earl would be dead before she could bring help. Whoever was down there couldn’t allow themselves to be found inside the mine come morning, and it was inching closer and closer to dawn.
Bringing the cage up so she could use it was much harder than she had anticipated, however. It was possible to lower oneself down—she had seen plenty of men do it—but she had never had to do it herself. Just lifting the metal contraption to the surface proved difficult. She tried to pace herself with a pull, a deep breath, a pull and a deep breath. But the strain caused her arms to shake, and the squeal of the rusted pulleys stretched her nerves taut. Whoever was down there had to be able to hear the noise.
Would they be waiting for her when she reached the bottom?
Once she saw the glimmer of the moon hit the cage, she breathed a sigh of relief that she had managed thus far and hesitated to listen again.
All had gone quiet. Were they in a panic? Would they soon come rushing toward the entrance?
She held her breath and almost collapsed in relief when the same steady hum rose to her ears. Whoever had been talking was still talking. Nothing had changed. But she couldn’t take a regular lantern into the mine, not with the firedamp down there, or she could cause an explosion. She would need a Davy lamp, and she would need a weapon—a pick, if she couldn’t find anything else. That meant she had to figure out a way to break into the supply shed behind the main office.
Fortunately, that wasn’t as hard as she’d anticipated. There were several picks lying around, together with shovels and other tools. They were old and rusted—nothing anyone cared much about—but she was able to use one of the better picks to smash open the door so she could get a safety lamp and some oil.
Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest as she hurried back to the cage. Putting the pick and the light at her feet so she could use both hands, she slowly and painstakingly lowered herself down. She refused to imagine what she might encounter when she got there. It took all of her concentration not to let the coarse rope slide through her hands so she wouldn’t go crashing to the bottom.
“I’m coming,” she whispered over and over to herself.
Because of the darkness, she had no way of estimating when she would reach the flats. Thanks to that, she landed with a solid thud, but at least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been had she been going any faster.
The smell, so familiar from when she had worked here, curdled her blood. She hated this place, feared it like no other. Tommy had died here. She couldn’t say if he had been killed quickly or had to suffer for several days, because it had taken a week to dig out the bodies of the five who had died. She didn’t want to face the same end. She would rather die any other way.
But she couldn’t bear the thought of Truman being harmed. So, as quietly as possible, she climbed out, got the pick and the light and began to follow the sound.
The men weren’t far. She had known that going in. If they were very deep she would never have been able to hear them, wouldn’t have known they were even here. She decided to be grateful for that one small thing—that she wouldn’t have to go into the nether regions of the mine, where it was less ventilated and far more dangerous.
It was only a few seconds later that she could pick out distinct voices from the steady drone of earlier. Fortunately, the men were just past where the tunnel curved to the right—at the loading dock—so her light didn’t give her away.
She had expected to recognize Cutberth’s voice as the dominant one. He had been asked to meet the earl at the office and was the most recent person to lose his job, so it made sense. But as Rachel crept closer to where the tunnel turned, she recognized Wythe’s voice and stopped.
What was he doing here? She’d assumed he had gone to Elspeth’s. Had he been there and back? Did that mean Mr. Linley had found him—or not?
It didn’t appear that he had. None of the men had brought their horses. Maybe that was how Wythe had slipped away from the butler.
“Like Thornick just said, we been loyal to ye. We ’aven’t told a soul what we know.”
A fresh wave of chills went through Rachel, and these had nothing to do with the cold. Collingood was speaking. She easily recognized his voice. So… Wythe was with Collingood and Thornick? Had they formed an alliance? Was that part of the reason he had assigned her to Number 14 Stall? So he could better keep her under his thumb?
No wonder he had been so reluctant to sack those men. She is only a village wench, my lord. Some of these miners have worked for us for years. We arrived in time. There wasn’t any harm done. Couldn’t we leave them with a warning and be about our business?
“But ye ’aven’t paid us a farthin’ for months.” Thornick’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Ye got us to come all the way out ’ere in the middle of the bleedin’ night, thinkin’ ye ’ad some coin for us at last, and all we’re gettin’ is more bloody excuses!”
“I couldn’t meet you in town. I was afraid I would be followed. It took long enough making sure I could safely come out this direction.”
“A waste of effort, if ye ask me. Yer all talk.”
That was Henderson, Rachel realized. So he was here too.
“You have to give me more time,” Wythe responded.
“Time? ’Ow do ye expect us to survive? ’Tis not like we’re workin’ these days!” Henderson snapped.
“That wasn’t my doing,” Wythe told him. “You have only yourselves to blame for that.”
“But we should be able to fall back on yer promises. We’ve done our part.”
That was Greenley chiming in. All four of the hewers she had worked with were here.
“Have you?” Wythe challenged. “The earl knows that someone tried to hire Jack McTavish to fire the manse. That is what made him turn his attention to Creswell and this colliery, and none of us has been able to breathe since. I wouldn’t have to fear being followed if one of you hadn’t talked. So it’s your own fault you’re no longer getting paid.”
“Easy for ye ter say,” Thornick grumbled.
“Yer cousin ’as more money than ’e knows what to do with,” Greenley said. “Surely ye can figure out a way to get us what we need.”
“You received a month’s worth of wages.”