Four
Perry considered his sister, with his head tilted a little, trying not to smile. ‘You make such a pretty boy!’
Nell made a face. ‘Would that mean I could wear this garb every day? Why does men’s clothing always seem so much more comfortable?’ Like her brother, she was dressed entirely in black, from her breeches to her coat, which was a little loose to allow ease of climbing. Her hair had been pulled back into a queue at the back of her head, over which she wore a large black kerchief, to conceal its tell tail color.
‘Everything is simpler when you are a man. Or so Maman used to tell me.’
His sister chuckled. Their mother definitely had the right of it.
It was a week after the Carlisle ball, a busy week of social calls and evenings out. The two dances and one masquerade ball they had attended had served the duel purpose of solidifying their presence in Society and giving them the chance to know how their first victim, the odious Lady Abbington, would be situated over the coming days.
The news had been good. Lady Abbington was to attend the opera on Friday evening with her husband. They could not be expected to arrive home before eleven.
After much debate, it had been decided that both Perry and Nell would do the stealing together. They had but to avoid the servants and find the cache of jewelry, which, Perry averred, would be in the lady’s bedroom. ‘For they always are. Women like Lady Abbington like to keep their pretty things close by.’
At a little past nine they rode out, accompanied by Talbot who would deal with the horses while they were occupied. It was a miserable night but they were glad of the rain, which kept foot traffic on the streets to a minimum.
The Abbington household was located on South Street, immediately across from Hyde Park and it was from the park that the Marriotts approached the large, four-story stone house. Heading around the back, they found a pleasant, surprisingly spacious garden that could conveniently be accessed by a wooden gate in the brick wall. A well- maintained gate, as the hinges obligingly did not squeak.
They paused, looking up at the balconies on the second floor. Close by there were several orange trees, a graceful jacaranda and a great many roses, none of which were close enough to the house to be of assistance. There was, however, a pretty trellis that supported a thick green vine that ran up the wall for a good twenty feet, stopping just short of one of the balconies.
‘I will go first. That way if it will not hold my weight, you can catch me.’
‘And who will catch me?’
‘Pray, try not to be a ninny! If it feels too fragile then you will not climb it. I can always let you in through a downstairs window.’ Nell was not at all enamored with her brother climbing anything. Thanks to an absurdly robust constitution, his shoulder was healing nicely, but why tempt fate?
He rolled his eyes at her – even in the shadowy dampness, Nell could see him do it – but she ignored him, heading for the trellis. Happily, it had been firmly fixed to the wall and gave no sign of weakness. It was several feet from the ironwork of the balcony, but Nell had no trouble negotiating the distance. In less than a minute, she was over the side and looking down at her brother.
‘Well?’ he hissed.
‘Very well! Come up.’
He joined her and together they stood for a few moments regarding the double doors leading inside. It was locked; Nell removed a hairpin and set to work, ignoring her brother as he complained about the water getting down his neck. When the lock clicked, she turned the handle, just a little and eased open the door.
The room beyond was silent, lit by several candles. By the filmy peignoir laid across a chair, Nell surmised that they had been lucky enough to find the right bedroom. The light was dim, but before the lady of the house returned, a maid would light more candles.
She smiled at her brother. ‘I must say,’ she
Perry considered his sister, with his head tilted a little, trying not to smile. ‘You make such a pretty boy!’
Nell made a face. ‘Would that mean I could wear this garb every day? Why does men’s clothing always seem so much more comfortable?’ Like her brother, she was dressed entirely in black, from her breeches to her coat, which was a little loose to allow ease of climbing. Her hair had been pulled back into a queue at the back of her head, over which she wore a large black kerchief, to conceal its tell tail color.
‘Everything is simpler when you are a man. Or so Maman used to tell me.’
His sister chuckled. Their mother definitely had the right of it.
It was a week after the Carlisle ball, a busy week of social calls and evenings out. The two dances and one masquerade ball they had attended had served the duel purpose of solidifying their presence in Society and giving them the chance to know how their first victim, the odious Lady Abbington, would be situated over the coming days.
The news had been good. Lady Abbington was to attend the opera on Friday evening with her husband. They could not be expected to arrive home before eleven.
After much debate, it had been decided that both Perry and Nell would do the stealing together. They had but to avoid the servants and find the cache of jewelry, which, Perry averred, would be in the lady’s bedroom. ‘For they always are. Women like Lady Abbington like to keep their pretty things close by.’
At a little past nine they rode out, accompanied by Talbot who would deal with the horses while they were occupied. It was a miserable night but they were glad of the rain, which kept foot traffic on the streets to a minimum.
The Abbington household was located on South Street, immediately across from Hyde Park and it was from the park that the Marriotts approached the large, four-story stone house. Heading around the back, they found a pleasant, surprisingly spacious garden that could conveniently be accessed by a wooden gate in the brick wall. A well- maintained gate, as the hinges obligingly did not squeak.
They paused, looking up at the balconies on the second floor. Close by there were several orange trees, a graceful jacaranda and a great many roses, none of which were close enough to the house to be of assistance. There was, however, a pretty trellis that supported a thick green vine that ran up the wall for a good twenty feet, stopping just short of one of the balconies.
‘I will go first. That way if it will not hold my weight, you can catch me.’
‘And who will catch me?’
‘Pray, try not to be a ninny! If it feels too fragile then you will not climb it. I can always let you in through a downstairs window.’ Nell was not at all enamored with her brother climbing anything. Thanks to an absurdly robust constitution, his shoulder was healing nicely, but why tempt fate?
He rolled his eyes at her – even in the shadowy dampness, Nell could see him do it – but she ignored him, heading for the trellis. Happily, it had been firmly fixed to the wall and gave no sign of weakness. It was several feet from the ironwork of the balcony, but Nell had no trouble negotiating the distance. In less than a minute, she was over the side and looking down at her brother.
‘Well?’ he hissed.
‘Very well! Come up.’
He joined her and together they stood for a few moments regarding the double doors leading inside. It was locked; Nell removed a hairpin and set to work, ignoring her brother as he complained about the water getting down his neck. When the lock clicked, she turned the handle, just a little and eased open the door.
The room beyond was silent, lit by several candles. By the filmy peignoir laid across a chair, Nell surmised that they had been lucky enough to find the right bedroom. The light was dim, but before the lady of the house returned, a maid would light more candles.
She smiled at her brother. ‘I must say,’ she
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