I started a post on lace tucks and then realized the internet held very little information about that subject or regency necklines in general - and least information that I felt was sufficient for a post. So I am holding off on that one. Then I thought about posting about regency era clothing, dances, rag curls, and a multitude of other things because I knew I should post something, but honestly? I don't feel like coming up with an intelligent post today. However, rather than making the nonexistent people who read this wait to read another post, I've decided to post an excerpt from the book I am currently writing. Enjoy!
“Quickly now.” The bartender turned from a happy-go-lucky, eager to get a coin, man to a nervous, fast-moving man, looking about
the empty small room as though to ensure no one was lurking in a corner. He virtually
pushed us toward the bar where he reached under the counter and pulled a lever.
The shelving holding the various drink offerings immediately parted, showing a small room. We scurried through, well aware that if
anyone chose that moment to enter, all would be lost. As though the realization
alone were enough to make it happen, a voice screeched from behind us.
“Stop!
You are all traitors and will be punished
in the name of Damanius!”
Whirling almost as one, we were simultaneously
relieved and horrified to see only Dave
standing there, eyes blazing, her hand raised as though that alone could make
us stop.
“Grab her.” Hadwin did not even hesitate to give the order to the
bartender, who just as quickly had his large hand wrapped around Dave’s mouth
before she could utter another sound. Dave was unceremoniously dragged into the
room with us. The bartender deposited her into Hadwin’s small but wiry arms and
left us, closing the door to the hidden room as he went back to his duties.
“What now?” I asked, as Hadwin kept a surprisingly strong grip on the woman, who
at first had been too stunned at our audacity to do anything and was now struggling like cat in water.
“She’ll have to
come with us until we are out of Damanius’ reach.” His face showed the
briefest traces of a grimace as Dave bit down , managing to capture some of the
skin of his hand. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear, and the
vicious bundle suddenly dropped into unconsciousness. With some
relief, Hadwin dropped her to the floor, gently massaging his injured hand and
not bothering to break her fall.
“What did you do?” I asked, somewhat
fearfully.
“Don’t worry.” He looked a little disgusted at the concern in my
voice. “She’s just asleep. See if you can find some ropes and material for a
gag. We are going to have to make sure she doesn’t escape or yell for help.
This may make things more difficult.”
He looked at Ari, who had watched the
proceedings with uncharacteristic silence. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
She answered respectfully. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at her tone of solicitude. “We may proceed as soon as you see fit.”
“Will it be an issue if we leave earlier than
planned? Her presence complicates matters. We cannot wait long before she is
missed, and that is assuming she did not have backup with her."
I looked around
while this conversation was taking place and noted that the little room was
stocked with a surprising amount of a variety of provisions. A lot of preserved
food items, water, ale, blankets, and a multitude of other items one might need
to survive. One crate held several pieces of rope. I silently handed Hadwin a
goodish piece and a torn piece of material from a cloth that had been used to
wrap some food items. He quickly shoved them into a sack near at hand. “Let’s
go.”
“Aren’t you going to tie her up?”
“Not yet.” Hadwin did not bother to
expound and I got the sense that it was not the best time to ask additional
questions. He nodded at Ari, who flew over
to the wall and disappeared through a tiny crack near the floor boards that I hadn’t even
noticed. As soon as she disappeared, Hadwin leaned down and hoisted Dave up.
“Help me with her. It needs to look like she is just drunk.”
I quickly moved
around and supported her other side. As if on cue, the bartender opened the
door again, this time just enough for us to slip through, closing it
immediately behind us, and pressed a packet into my hand. “Good luck.” He
whispered and then turned back to the bar, busily preparing for the customers
he did not yet have.
