Tom! He must have Anabelle.
Rourke’s pulse pounded. This was the dangerous part. If anyone had recognized them walking through town, they were all at risk for aiding a fugitive. Curfew had long passed. No excuses could be made. Benjamin would leap at the chance to press charges. Rourke must wait until he was absolutely certain no one had followed Tom and Anabelle.
Keeping to the shadows, he scanned the cemetery. At first he saw nothing. Then a mangrove branch bobbed thirty paces to the east. That must be a signal. Tom would know not to step into the open.
Rourke waited for a cloud to cross in front of the moon and then slipped back to the thicket of swamp cabbage and mangrove that edged the cemetery. Grasping a branch, he shook it in exactly the same manner, followed by an egret call.
Soon the lithe figure of his newest crew member darted out of the mangroves and skirted the edge of the cemetery. Anabelle did not follow.
21
I must use the necessary,” Elizabeth blurted out, no longer concerned for propriety.
Mr. Finch was headed directly toward her. She could delay no longer. Gathering her skirts, she ran through the crowd, weaving around startled guests. The stays made it difficult to draw a breath, but panic drove her on. She escaped through the rear door, emerging into the gathering of carriage drivers, footmen, and maids. Their singing and laughter halted the moment she appeared.
“Miss.” A tall black footman stood to let her pass.
“Anabelle,” she whispered. Between the moonlight and a few lanterns, she ought to be able to spot her, but could not. “My maid.”
“Sorry, miss.” The footman stepped back.
The servants parted like the Red Sea, assuming she needed to relieve herself as she had told Mr. Poppinclerk. Oh dear, what if he followed? She glanced back. No one at the door yet, but either he or Mr. Finch could appear at any moment.
She must proceed to the necessary.
The footman extended a hand to assist her down the steps.
“Thank you,” she said before making her way across the yard. Coarse sand found its way into her slippers, but she didn’t dare stop to remove it. Only when she reached the shadow of the outbuilding did she hazard a glance back. The servants had gathered into groups again, though they spoke quietly.
She must find Anabelle. Had she gone on without her? Elizabeth could cross the island on her own, but Anabelle had her mantle. Without the dark covering, she would stand out in the moonlight.
She tested the door in case anyone was watching. It was bolted. In use. She shrank away.
“Sister.” The whisper came from the shadows behind the outbuilding.
Elizabeth’s pulse raced. Anabelle had waited. When a cloud blotted out the moonlight, she slipped into the shadows between buildings. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the back fence.
“Ana—”
Her maid touched a finger to her lips.
Silence. Of course.
Anabelle helped Elizabeth into the mantle. If anyone stopped them on the streets, Elizabeth would tell them they were visiting a sick friend. Likely no one would notice a Negro maid in the presence of her mistress.
“Finch returned,” Elizabeth whispered once they had left the area.
That news worried Anabelle, judging by her expression, though she only stated their destination. “My friend lives on Thomas.”
Africa Town. It made perfect sense to meet there since Anabelle would blend in, but the thought of entering that part of town at night made Elizabeth nervous.
Elizabeth grasped her arm. “I suggested the chapel on Eaton.”
Anabelle shook her head and repeated that her friend lived on Thomas. “They expect us there.”
That made no sense unless Anabelle had somehow made other arrangements. Elizabeth wavered. What if she was walking into a trap?
“Hurry,” Anabelle whispered, pointing to the hall. “Soon they come.”
Finch would follow. Elizabeth’s heart pounded. She no longer held control but must place her trust in her half sister. Lord, protect me.
She gathered her nerve and followed Anabelle. They moved quickly through the streets, turning right after a block. Then down an alley. Then left onto a path. Within minutes, Elizabeth was dizzy from the exertion.
“Stop,” Elizabeth gasped. “I can’t breathe.”
Anabelle glared but paused in the shadow of a darkened building.
“Why this route?” Elizabeth managed once she’d calmed the dizziness. She couldn’t even see Anabelle in the inky shadow.
“Hush,” Anabelle hissed, pulling her into the blackness. Her breath tickled Elizabeth’s ear. “We’re being followed.”
Hope succumbed to fear. “Finch.”
“Don’t look. They will know we suspect.”
“They?”
“I thought I saw two men.”
Mr. Finch and Mr. Poppinclerk. It had to be. Or Father and Mr. Finch. Or the town marshal and a deputy. Her head spun.
“We must elude them,” Anabelle whispered.
“How?”