Page 49 of To Heist and to Hold
Heloise tucked her arm about Julia, keeping her close to her side as they hugged the wall of the boxing venue. Around them patrons crowded the space, vying for the choicest seats, the best vantage. Spirits were high, the excitement over the coming match reaching a fever pitch.
“Should we attempt to secure seats?” Julia fretted, hand shaking as she checked—for quite possibly the hundredth time that long night—that her mask was still secure on her face.
“We won’t be staying in this portion of the club for long,” Heloise reminded her in a low voice, lips close to her ear.
“Once the match begins we shall all take our places on the casino floor. We need to be ready before the culmination of the fight, for once the lights sputter, everything will happen very quickly.”
“Oh dear,” Julia moaned under her breath. She swayed, and Heloise feared she would faint.
Iris and Sylvia approached then, slipping among the thickening crowd like fish swimming upstream.
Though Iris fairly twitched in her anxiety, her fingernails relentlessly scratching at her wrist as proof of her nervousness, she nevertheless forced a falsely bright smile beneath the edge of her floral mask.
The Widows as a whole had considered whether it might be best to leave her home for this evening’s plans.
Crowded social events, after all, were a source of great stress for her.
Iris, however, had been adamant that she attend, refusing to sit out any longer.
“It is all quite exciting, isn’t it?” she proclaimed now in carrying tones.
At any other time Heloise would have winced at her horrible acting—Iris, while a genius with all manner of flora and fauna, was decidedly lacking in anything remotely approaching stagecraft.
But her gratitude to Iris for braving something she feared so much, not to mention her relief in having someone to assist her with Julia in that moment, was too great.
“Immensely so,” Sylvia proclaimed, sidling up to Julia’s other side, tucking her arm through hers. To anyone observing them, it would have seemed the affection of a dear friend. Heloise, however, could see it for what it truly was: extra support for Julia should she fail to gain control of herself.
Blessedly, it was enough to snap her sister-in-law back to the present. Shaking her head, she straightened, quickly following their lead with a shaky smile.
“I’m quite looking forward to Mrs. Finch’s match,” she said. “Do you think she shall be the victor?”
“Good girl,” Heloise whispered in her ear before raising her voice. “I do hope so. I’ve got a hefty sum on her, after all.”
Everyone in their small group laughed, giving a fairly good impression of genuine high spirits, and Heloise breathed a small sigh of relief.
The entire evening had been trying for her sister-in-law.
Like Iris, she had insisted on coming, certain she could help, perhaps by identifying the villain by some small sign only she would be able to see.
Yet the atmosphere, as well as the anticipation, had taken a toll.
Just hold on a bit longer , Heloise thought, casting a concerned glance at Julia’s pale features.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh carried over the sounds of cheering and yelling from the crowd.
Heloise glanced toward the fight, gnawing anxiously at her lip with her teeth, only to see Laney take a solid hit to the jaw.
She winced, tightening her hand on Sylvia’s arm.
They should have left some time earlier, the moment the women stepped into the ring.
Yet nothing, it seemed, could tear Sylvia away.
“We really must go,” she whispered desperately in her friend’s ear.
“Just one more moment,” Sylvia replied, eyes never leaving the ring.
“You know this match will last for quite a while. If there is anything my dear Laney has, it’s stamina.
” She tried for a mischievous smile, but it came across as more of a grimace, her face pale beneath the edge of her gilt mask, her lips thin and bloodless.
At another sickening fleshy sound she winced, her entire body seeming to shrink in on itself.
Heloise could understand her reluctance to leave.
Truly she could. If it had been someone who was her whole world in that ring—God, if it had been Ethan getting pummeled to within an inch of his life…
A horrible vision of just that happening filled her head then, one so abhorrent she felt sick to her stomach.
Her gaze shifted to Ethan near the ring, as if to assure herself he was in truth safe.
His face was completely concealed by the gilded mask, but even so she saw clear as day his eyes on her.
It bolstered her, that steady gaze, though she had no right to be given strength by him at all.
But if they did not adhere to their plans, God knew what could go awry. There was no room for error. And that meant they had to stick to their scheme, no matter how difficult it might be.
That did not mean, however, that she could not buy Sylvia a sliver of time.
“Julia, Iris,” she said, turning to those women, who were fairly plastered to the wall in their need to stay as far from the wild crowd as possible, “you know what is to come, what places we are to take on the casino floor, correct?” At their wide-eyed nods, she smiled reassuringly, though it was the very last thing she felt like doing.
“Why don’t you go on ahead? Sylvia and I will meet you there in just a moment. ”
The words were barely out of her mouth before the two women, arms clasped tight, fairly bolted from the room. Heaving a sigh of relief that one portion of the plan was at least underway, she turned back to Sylvia—
—Only to find her look of brave determination being replaced with one of horror.
Gaze snapping to the ring, Heloise was just in time to witness Laney, obviously hurt, spit out blood before planting her foot and landing a solid punch to her opponent’s jaw.
The other woman stumbled back from the impact, causing a frenzy of cheers to go up that subsided to raucous grumbling as she quickly regained her balance.
The moment of reprieve did not last long, however.
For just as Sylvia, finally in control of herself once more, reached for Heloise’s hand in preparation to leave the event hall, Mrs. Holburn took advantage of a drop in Laney’s guard to land another punch to her jaw.
This one, however, did far more damage than those before it, snapping Laney’s head back, causing her to stumble and crash into a corner post of the ring.
“Laney!” Sylvia cried. Eyes wild, she turned to Heloise. “What do I do?” she wailed. “I cannot leave her.”
Before Heloise could reply—what could she even say?—Mr. Isaac Sinclaire was at their side.
“Let her stay,” he said low under the wild cheers from the crowd. “She can take my place here. I’ll go with you to the casino floor.”
Heloise nearly sagged with relief. But now was not the time for weakness. Nodding her thanks, she turned back to Sylvia. “Be safe. We shall see you soon.”
As she turned to leave with Ethan’s brother, however, Sylvia grabbed her hand.
“Thank you,” she said to the both of them, voice thick with emotion. Then, giving Heloise’s hand a brief squeeze, she pushed through the crowd toward the ring.
But though Heloise should feel some relief now that the snag in their plans had been dealt with, the tension in her muscles would not leave her be. Some dark premonition had taken hold of her and would not easily let her go.
The cavernous casino was considerably quiet when they reached it, only a few patrons having chosen to forgo the much-anticipated match to continue their luck at the tables.
Across the room, Julia and Iris had taken up their respective positions, the better to keep an eye out for any signs of suspicious behavior.
But something was wrong here, the atmosphere not right.
Before she could gauge the reason, however, Mr. Sinclaire hissed a low curse.
“Damn it, why aren’t the lanterns lit?”
Heloise’s stomach sank in an instant, her gaze flying wildly about the room.
He was right. The extra oil lanterns they had set up about the space, a necessary safety precaution to make certain they were not plunged into complete darkness when the gas line was turned off, were all dark.
Without those lights, this huge, windowless space would turn into a veritable tomb, the stampede that would surely follow causing the injuries and possibly the deaths of many of the patrons.
“Dear God,” she whispered in horror.
Mr. Sinclaire grabbed the nearest footman. “What happened in here?” he demanded, voice rough. “Why have the lanterns been gutted?”
The man’s eyes widened in alarm behind his gilded mask. “We was told it was too bright, sir, that the extra light ruined the mood, and was instructed to extinguish them.”
“Fuck,” Mr. Sinclaire hissed. “Did you douse them elsewhere? The boxing venue as well?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
A roar of fear and fury escaped Mr. Sinclaire’s lips.
Terror, however, did the opposite for Heloise, petrifying her chest until she could hardly draw breath.
They had been so intent on the fight and making certain everyone took their places that they had not noticed those vital lanterns had gone dark.
“All of you light them again,” he barked. “Now!”
As the man scurried away to do his bidding, several other workers who had been listening in bolting after him, a raucous cheer went up from the venue behind them.
Heloise tensed, looking to the gas lamps, expecting them to sputter out at any moment.
The undulating sounds of the crowd continued, however, like waves against the shore. Heloise nearly sagged in her relief.
“Can you get to Euphemia?” she asked Ethan’s brother now. “Should the fight end in the next several minutes, she will need to delay turning off the gas. We need time to get the lanterns relit.”