Thunder & Roses

Chapter Nine

"As far as I know, Lord Michael hasn't set foot in the valley for years. At least another fifteen jobs were lost when Bryn Manor was closed." Josephine accompanied her second sentence with a pointed glance.

Hero winced. "The gentry hasn't done very well by the valley, has it?"

"Things have been going wrong for years. Only desperation could have driven me to seek the aid of a reprobate like you."

Seeing the mischievous gleam in her eyes, he said promptly, "At least that is turning out well. Look at the splendid opportunity for Christian martyrdom that I'm giving you."

Their gazes met, and they both burst out laughing. Damn, but he liked this woman and her tart sense of humor. She was more than capable of holding her own against him.

They both sobered as they reached the grim buildings. He asked, "What's the ghastly racket coming from that big shed?"

"The coal is being screened and graded. Most of the above-ground employees work in there."

He brushed at the smudges appearing on his white cuff. "It also appears to be the source of the coal dust that covers everything in sight."

"Since you like wearing black, you shouldn't mind." She gestured toward a shed. "We can leave the horses here."

As they dismounted, a compact, muscular man came forward. Josephine said, "Lord Westgate, this is Owen Morris."

"Owen!" Hero held out his hand. Raising his voice to be heard over the noise of machinery and rattling coal, he said, "Josephine didn't mention the name of my guide."

The miner smiled and shook hands. "I wasn't sure you would recognize me after all these years."

"How could I forget you? I showed other boys how to tickle trout, but you're the only one who ever developed a real knack for it. Is Marged well?"

"Aye. Even lovelier than when we married," Owen said fondly. "It's pleased she'll be that you remember her."

"She was well worth remembering. Of course, I scarcely dared say hello to her, for fear that you'd break my neck." As he spoke, Hero studied his old friend's face. Under the coal dust Owen had the usual miner's pallor, but he seemed healthy and happy. Even as a boy, he had had an enviable inner serenity.

Owen said, "You'd best change to pit dress. It would be a pity to ruin your fancy London clothes."

Hero obediently followed Owen into a shed and stripped off his outer clothing, then put on a shirt, loose jacket, and sturdy trousers similar to what Owen wore. Though the coarse flannel garments had been carefully washed, they were still impregnated with ancient grime. He grinned as he added a heavily padded felt hat to complete the outfit. His London tailor would have vapors at the sight of him.

"Knot these through a buttonhole," Owen ordered as he handed over two candles. "Do you have flint and steel?"

Hero did, but if he hadn't been reminded, he would have left them in his own coat. As he transferred the tinderbox to the pocket of his flannel jacket, he said, "Anything else?"

The miner scooped a handful of soft clay from a wooden box and used it to form a lump around the base of two candles. "Take one of these. When we have to crawl, you can use the clay to fix the candle to your hat."

They went outside and found Josephine waiting, also dressed in pit costume. In the baggy garments, she looked like a young boy.

"You're coming with us?" Hero asked with surprise.

"It won't be my first trip down pit," she said coolly.

With a surge of irrational protectiveness, he wanted to forbid her to go, though he had the sense to hold his tongue. Not only had he no right to give Josephine orders, but she had more experience with mines than he did. And, judging by her expression, she'd probably bite him if he tried to stop her. He smiled to himself. Not that he'd mind being bitten, but this wasn't the time or place.