John tapped his fingers against his arm, noting the silence around the library as Matthew, Tom, Talbot, the Colonel, Mary, and Anna all contemplated the notes spread over the table before them in light of the information shared. Mary's fingers curled around her arms, holding tightly to them as the frown etched itself deep into the line of her mouth and those in her forehead.

"You think you're doing a good thing and someone decides you're the Devil incarnate, waiting to destroy the earth." She shook her head, "Why do we even bother to try?"

"I do hope that's a rhetorical question." Matthew winced toward her, covering one of her hands and easing it better into his grip to allow her shoulders to ease the tension there. "We've not got as many enemies as all that."

"No, we've just got enemies willing to burn a church and then kill over a hundred men to try and shut us down." Mary turned to Colonel Crawley. "I do hope you're not caving to pressure to shut down the mine."

"Given it's the major source of our income I don't think poverty would suit any of my daughters." He paused, biting the inside of his cheek. "Well, Sybil might manage it with Branson."

Tom snorted, "She manages it better than I would."

"We're getting off track." Matthew cut in, still keeping one of Mary's hands in his own, his thumb drawing comfortable circles as if to keep the beast inside her at bay. "The question is what would anyone have to gain from shutting us down?"

"Other than the lack of our influence in this city?" Mary shrugged, "My bet is we're experiencing the undesirable backlash of someone jealous of our position."

"It's not always about money, Mary."

"Perhaps," John cleared his throat and the occupants of the table turned to him. "Lady Mary's not wrong."

"Thank you."

"But," John held up a finger, "I don't think it's a simple as you'd like to think."

"Why not?"

"Planning." John shrugged, "If someone just hated you then they'd try to embarrass you or make a public show. They wouldn't risk killing innocents in the way unless it's bigger than you."

"It's not big enough that another accident could destroy our financial stability or, perhaps, cripple our business for years?" Colonel Crawley snorted, "I guess my priorities have been too far out of focus."

"Apologies, sir, but it's not just about you." John rubbed his hands together, "Riots from those feeling oppressed against their oppressors, or perceived oppressors, are not uncommon. In fact, I'd argue that the larger issue at play here is that we've not got a good organizational structure for the lodging of complaints."

"This isn't going to solve itself with a box marked for suggestions." Mary turned to Talbot. "You're the engineer, what do you think?"

"I think Mr. Bates is correct, this is bigger than just a grudge." Talbot opened his hands to the table, "There are a lot of… disgruntled individuals, of course. They work long hours, their lives are in danger, and there is a significant risk to everything else. One mistake and their pay, meager though it is, no longer provides the minimal security on which they can rely. That can lead to fear and fear, unchecked or unresolved, evolves into anger and resentment."

"Resent what, a good job?"

"Have you worked in the mines yourself, Lady Mary?" She shifted in her seat, refusing to meet Talbot's eyes. "I've worked for a few operations and while I think the Crawley Mining Company's interest in better machinery, shorter hours, and higher pay are admirable, they'll never hope to match that kind of grander to which you've become accustomed. Not if they worked in those mines twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of their lives."

"And that entitles them to try and kill us?" Mary shook her head, raising a finger to Talbot. "If that mine no longer exists then who pays the people? It may not be much and I'll try not to sound like a benevolent god, but without us there is no Cardiff. It's the purpose of the aristocracy to provide a living to the people around them… Otherwise we're of about as much use as a glass hammer."

"And I'm not arguing that your family has invested time and effort into this city at no small cost to yourselves. I admire it and it's why I work for this company. But there are others," Talbot winced, "Who believe they're entitled to what you have and that a twist of fate in birth shouldn't give you more than they have."

"Socialists." Colonel Crawley's hackles rose and Tom sighed. "They're the ones demanding we all share and share alike."

"That's a very narrow view of Socialism." Tom interrupted, "Have you even read the book Marx and Engels published to explain what that means?"

"I don't read literature that demands my class bow to the voice of the masses and hand over what my ancestors slaved to build."

"The harder truth would be to acknowledge that slaves were the ones who built it." Tom muttered but the rise of color in the Colonel's cheeks had John cutting in before he could turn this conversation into a political war of ideologies.

"I think these individuals aren't doing this for anything but personal gain." John waited a second, ensuring all eyes on him, and continued. "Given the conversations I've had with the men, the kind of people to do this are looking to benefit themselves and no one else."

"So someone wants to dissemble our company piece by bloody piece to do what?" The Colonel held up his hands, "Get back at my family?"

"It might not be about your family, particularly, but more… conveniently."

Mary laughed, "I appreciate a pragmatic villain. Heaven forbid this have been a personal vendetta because that would've been too easy. I could've provided a list of possible suspects that I can now tear up."

"What exactly is lost if the mine shuts down and the company goes bankrupt?" John eyed Mary, still shaking her head at the unbelievability of it all.

"We lose the mine, for one." The Colonel put a hand through his hair. "We'd probably lose the castle and most of the businesses in Cardiff would close. Without the customers to buy anything they'd have no money. Without the mine there is no money to spend and there are no other jobs around to make it worth the while for all the people who already live in the city. We'd be swimming in those without work. It'd start a panic, starvation, and violence."

"We'd go to the dogs, in simple terms." Mary turned to Matthew, "Perhaps we should've gone back to England before someone unknown assailant threatened our very existence here."

"What about the mine?" Anna finally spoke and the table quieted. "When I took out a loan for the shop and finally paid it back, my first order of business was to insure the premises and my occupation. I didn't want to lose it all and then have to build from scratch again."

"I took out insurance on the castle and the mine." The Colonel turned to Matthew. "You oversaw those papers. What did they tell you?"

"The insurance could cover the mine and provide a small settlement for each of the men employed but it wouldn't last them more than a year, less if they've more children than two." Matthew shook his head, "But Robert's right. The town would cease to exist without the mine."

"Then perhaps it's a matter of money." Anna folded her hands on the table. "In the case of the insurance policy I have on my property, should the damage be inflicted by me then I get nothing. If it's proved that outside forces were involved then I recoup my losses."

"A fire in a church and an obvious accelerant aren't going to prove we've mismanaged our property." Matthew wagged his finger between he and the Colonel. "We'd still collect on the insurance had the worst happened in both of those scenarios."

"Nothing for the church." Mary mused, "We don't own it and we had nothing to do with that one."

"Then why attack a church?" Tom crossed himself reflexively. "It's got no connection to the mine."

"Black cats." John tapped a finger on the table and roused himself when he noticed all eyes on him. "Black cat crosses your path and it's bad luck."

"We know the saying." The Colonel narrowed his eyes, "Why are you saying it now? What's the relevance?"

"To paint you all in a negative light, I think." John breathed out, "Lose the support of the people and you're in about as rough a state as losing the mine. If you lose both then…"

"When the violence starts you're the first to go." Talbot shuddered, "I'd hate to see the version of the French Revolution that takes place in Cardiff."

"So would I." The Colonel swallowed, "If I'm hearing all of this right, theses notes, the fires, and the general disconnect of some force we've only got a vague connection to, are all to try and swindle my family out of our position and set the town against us?"

"It would seem the long and the short of it." Mary finally released herself from Matthew's grip. "Because I wanted nothing more than to die as the result of disgruntled mine operators having themselves a riot."

"In our defense," John risked again, "We're off the back foot."

"This isn't Judd and Jenkin," Talbot shook his head at John. "We've got the 'why' but not the 'how' or the 'when' or even the 'who' except for some mystery man that Ms. Smith only knows as Mr. Green."

"I know he'll come to the shop again."

Tom raised an eyebrow, "And how'll you manage to lure him in?"

"I won't have to." Anna pulled the fingers of one hand with the other. "I've… I've noticed that he's quite taken with me. I'd not go so far as to say infatuated or enamored but he's made no secret of his interest on our last two encounters."

"So he'll rip another shirt the next time he ties to destroy my family's legacy." The Colonel pushed himself away from the table. "Wonderful. I couldn't be more pleased that we've got to wait for that to catch the bastard."

"To be fair," Tom raised a finger, risking the wrath gathering on the Colonel's face. "We've no proof."

"Ms. Smith said-"

"I trust Anna's nose, no doubt about that." Tom nodded at her and she smiled back. "But we've not caught him at it. If we… take him ourselves and deliver him to the constables they'll laugh in our faces."

"Laugh because we've got the wrong man or-" Mary made a face and Tom scowled at her.

"We've got no proof."

"Then we'll just wait for the next accident and hope no one dies this time?" Mary shook her head, "I don't know why none of us suggested this plan before."

"Don't Mary." Tom warned, "I'm not so glib as to suggest that we risk anyone's life on this but that man, if he is our man, hasn't been caught. It could all be a coincidence."

"Do you believe that Tom?" Matthew frowned and Tom shook his head.

"No. I don't believe in coincidences. But I do believe a man's innocent until proven guilty." Tom shuffled in his chair, "Moreover, he's a drifter. He's got nothing to gain from bringing us down."

"Unless he's working with someone who does." John clicked his teeth together as he mulled the concept in his mind. "It could be that there were those with the plans but no concept of how to act. They found someone who could."

"Like when we hired you?" Matthew opened his hand toward John before addressing the table. "We'd be foolish to assume that our hiring of Mr. Bates wasn't the only kind of contracted skill search that anyone's ever done."

"Where does one find a violent anarchist with pyrotechnic abilities?" The Colonel scoffed, "I don't recall an ad like that in the paper."

"They'd have code words." John shrugged, "They use them in Ireland all the time. And in other businesses where they're trying to make plans without snitches and employers knowing."

"So we've got a group trying to tear us apart from the inside and they've hired an expert to do it?" The Colonel groaned, "I'm going to bed. I can't take another moment of this."

"Probably best that we all think about sleep." Matthew pushed himself to stand as well, extending a hand to Mary to help her. "We're no good if we're all dead on our feet."

They dispersed, John waiting to walk with Anna as she said her 'good evenings' and 'good nights' to those present. She caught his eye and smiled, nodding toward him before wishing a final farewell to Mary. A moment later her hand rested in the crook of his elbow.

"What an event." She mused, walking with him through the corridor and toward the front door where Talbot gave a final handshake to Tom before leaving. "This… conspiracy is far more involved than I thought."

"Me too." John shook his head, helping her into her coat and taking his from the footman. "When I was hired I thought I'd just be looking into disgruntled employees trying to argue for higher wages. Not for… anarchists seeking to tear down an 'overbearing' system."

"Life's never what we expect." Anna placed her hat careful on her head and John caught the frown that passed momentarily over her face.

"What?"

"It's…" She scrunched her face, "That term Mr. Talbot used. The 'Judd and Jenkin…"

"What about it?"

"What does it mean?"

John smiled, "It's a mining term. It refers to when a block of coal is cut and ready for retrieval."

"And he used it to say that this situation isn't as… clean cut, as all that?"

"That's exactly what he meant." John steered them toward the pavement, shivering slightly at the nip in the wind. "I do hope you're alright, after all the… excitement of late."

"I'd have to say that my life became infinitely more exciting when you decided to make Cardiff your home." Anna paused, pulling them to a stop to wait for a group of carriages to run the road. "I was curious, about your new accommodations."

"Yes." John winced, "I found my previous situation untenable after my ex-wife persisted in tracking me there."

"Is she…"

"She's gone…" John blew out a puff of air. "I don't know where she's gone exactly. "I know she's no longer troubling me and my solicitor confirmed that we're no longer man and wife in the sight of the law."

"And in the sight of God?"

John managed a small smile, quirking the edge of his mouth. "We weren't married in the sight of God so I hope He turned a blind eye to when we chose to allow man to separate what man bound."

"You didn't get married in a church?"

"When we married I was sure the priest who might've married us would've fainted the moment he discovered we'd only known one another for three days and spent all those days…" John coughed, "I apologize. That's not a story for a lady."

"I'll hesitate to remind you that I don't consider myself a lady and that I work for miners." Anna rubbed her hand over his arm. "I know what kind of things a man and a woman an get up to when they're alone for three days."

John stopped them outside her shop, holding her hand to his arm so she looked up at him. "I promise you, what was there isn't anymore."

"I didn't think it was." Anna slipped her hands free to withdraw her key. "And I'd like to invite you inside, if you're peckish."

"I had thought Colonel Crawley might consider inviting us to dinner but…"

"Well," Anna pushed the door open, "You can tell me about your new living situation and we can share dinner."

John ducked his head and entered the shop. As Anna risked the dark of her shop, maneuvering skillfully through the maze she created and knew by heart, John remained near the door. His hands grabbed at one another, holding there for a moment just to give him something to do. But within a minute, Anna returned with a lantern and nodded her head toward the stairs.

"This way Mr. Bates."

He followed her to the back of the shop and up a tight twist of stairs to enter Anna's kitchen. She left the lamp on the table before digging around in a drawer to find a few candles. With a smile she handed him a few and pointed to a few holders.

"If you want to help."

"I'd be honored." John carefully removed the glass cover on the lamp and leaned the candle into the flame to light it. "What did you plan for dinner?"

"Unfortunately I don't have the cook the Crawley family employs. But I do have cold cuts and a few leftovers of some of my mother's favorite recipes." Anna fit a candle of her own into a holder and opened her icebox. "I hope you enjoy family recipes."

"Can't honestly say I've had many beyond my own." John cringed, setting the last candle in its holder. "And I'm no cook but I can manage."

"'Course you can." Anna winked at him and reached into her ice box to withdraw the necessary items to pass to him over the distance to the table. "But there's a distinct difference between cooking for joy and cooking for function."

"As I've discovered." John arranged the dishes and then took the cutlery from Anna's hands. "Do you cook for function or fashion?"

"It used to be a kind of hobby, when I was younger." Anna paused, her fingers dragging over a plate before handing it to John. "I told you I grew up a laundress."

"You did." John set the table, waiting for Anna to join him with a pitcher. "I'll assume it was your mother's occupation."

"You understand the pattern of inheritance for those without titles."

"I'm an inheritor of a trade, not a title." John pulled out Anna's chair before taking his own. "My father mined, my grandfather died in a mining shaft, and my great-grandfather broke ground on the mine I worked as foreman."

"I thought you were a soldier."

"Because I didn't want to die choking on fumes while I lay trapped under tonnes of rock." John shuddered, "My father died from the coal dust coating his lungs until he could only wheeze in bed while my mother tried to help him drink water."

They sat in silence a moment before Anna spoke. "My father died in a dye vat. He worked as foreman, similar to you, in a cloth factory. They were understaffed, underpaid, and underattended. The walkway above one of the vats collapsed… bad bolts, they said, and he fell into the boiling liquid." She wiped at her eyes, "Which would've been terrible on its own but my father couldn't swim and as he flailed about he got caught in the fabric and it wrapped around him. They pulled him out and the owner inspected the fabric to see if they could still sell it… Before he carted his body back to my mother's house in a burlap sack labeled with the company logo."

John nodded, "What a life we live, as tradesmen."

"Slaves to it, I think." Anna sighed, "My mother had to support my sister and I after that and she tried her hardest to. But… It wasn't too long before she needed someone else in the house to help. Someone who needed a cook and that was what I became. Cooking to feed the man I feared more than anyone in the world."

"You feared him?"

Anna nodded, "My stepfather was not a kind man. He'd get drunk, when my mother failed to wrest his money from him to pay the rent or for boots, and rage all over the house. He never hit us but he threatened too and my sister would go to sleep crying for so many nights."

"So did my mother." John spoke quietly but Anna turned to him. "My father's work made him bitter and cruel. He'd drink, he'd hit, and he'd rage. I couldn't fight him until I was sixteen and I left the house at seventeen to get away from him. Joined the Army, fought for England, and came home to see him dying."

"It's odd, isn't it, to watch once powerful men looking so frail and injured." Anna stroked her finger along the line of her plate. "When my stepfather made a threat against me once, I stole a knife from the kitchen and waited for him. When he came… I stabbed him in the thigh. He never walked right after that."

John smiled a little, "Firebrand, aren't you?"

"I don't mind to say it." Anna let her smile grow a bit. "But look at us, sharing our sad tales with one another over an even sadder dinner."

"Not sad to me." John swallowed, flicking his eyes to Anna but looking away when she focused on him. "I could never speak like this to Vera. She hated my mother and thought all my tales of woe were nothing but the sob stories of a man who wasn't manly enough for her. She wanted more from me and emotion wasn't what she wanted more of."

"What'd she want?"

"Money, position, influence… Those same things whomever's trying to ruin the Crawley family want. The things they can't have or haven't earned and yet still demand for themselves all the same."

"Such a sad existence, always trying to get what's not yours." Anna clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Still, we've a meal to share with one another and you've yet to tell me about your new living arrangements."

"Yes." John motioned at the food. "By your leave I don't know what you've prepared and I hate to pair the wrong foods."

Anna grinned, "It's all very fancy, I assure you."

"I've no doubt."

Their conversation changed, turning to lighter matters as they discussed their food. And then their childhoods- the happier bits of them- and their occupations. John could not help but watch in delighted fascination every time Anna's eyes lit up during a story or when she detailed her experiences working as a seamstress. Every detail and snippet stored for later recall and appreciation.

"Now," Anna put her hand on his for a moment, jolting him from another moment of adoration for her voice. "You've still not told me about where you're living now that you've given up your rooms at the inn."

"I'm sure they were grateful I left and the drama went with me."

"I wouldn't bet too heavily on that. Everyone loves a bit of gossip."

"I don't like being the center of it." John shuddered, "Spent too much of my life at the center of it all."

"Then where are you staying now?"

John paused, "I've taken rooms above a shop. They're on a more… permanent basis. Something a bit longer term."

"Oh?" Anna set down her cup, her fingers clutching to one another. "And why's that? I thought you were here for a short time."

"As did I, originally." John shrugged, "But Colonel Crawley's offered me a position to stay on permanently and I took him up on it. It's time to set down roots and here seems as good a place as any to do it."

"You want to stay in Cardiff."

"A city's a city. I've seen enough of them on a few continents to think there's nothing better or worse about one or the other."

"Really?" Anna raised an eyebrow, "All the writers would disagree with you. If no city took precedence over another how would they lord over everyone else not living in the City of Lights or in London or New York?"

John shrugged, "I guess I'm looking for something a bit different in the cities that I choose to live in."

"And what might that be?" Anna's eyes met his, the sparkle of humor in them. "What could possibly have drawn you to Cardiff?"

"A job."

She rolled her eyes, setting her chin on her palm. "Fine, pedant. What's compelling you to stay here?"

"You." John swallowed at the blink of Anna's eyes and wondered if he'd grossly miscalculated again. "I'm sorry if-"

"Do you want to stay the evening, Mr. Bates?" Anna glanced down at the table and then met his eyes again. "Would you stay here?"

"I'm sure there are those who saw me enter your house."

"I don't care about them." Anna put her hand over his. "I don't care about who saw what or what they'll say."

"Anna-"

"I'd sin with you, Mr. Bates, because that's what I want." Anna held his gaze, unflinching while he tried not to contort his face in pain. "I'm not married and neither are you. We're breaking no laws and we're shaming no one but ourselves."

"And I couldn't shame you, Anna." John put his hand over hers, as if trying to challenge who could reach highest. "I wouldn't want to risk your reputation."

"The worst case scenario is that you'd then have to marry me."

"I wouldn't doom you to that."

"And if I wanted it?" Anna almost bit her lip but stopped herself. "It's soon, I know, but we could get married."

"You barely know me."

"And yet I know everything I need to know about you." Anna put her other hand to her chest. "I feel it here. For reasons I can't explain and with a depth I couldn't even begin to fathom. I… I love you, Mr. Bates. I worry over you when you engage in daring actions. I fret that you'll be injured or that something'll happen. And when I see you safe and sound I heave a sigh of relief. I want for your safety and protection and your happiness in way I never have for anyone before. And perhaps it's too soon and we're being foolish but I know that if I don't do it now, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

John swallowed and stood up from the table. Anna's breath caught in her throat but he used the grip he had on her hand to urge her to stand. When she did, standing even with his shoulder, John bent his head to set his lips on hers.

"You already own me, body and soul, Ms. Smith." He stared at her, "I'm yours to take however you wish as I can't refuse you anything."

"Then please kiss me. Kiss me like you'll never stop."

And John did.