“Take the chair by the fire, Colonel.” Cornelia picked up her coat, folding it to one side.
“Marvellous.” He pulled over a footstool, ignoring Minnie’s curious sniffing of his soles. “A quick forty winks will do me. You carry on, my dear. Pretend I’m not here.”
Retrieving the book she’d been earlier perusing, Cornelia returned it to the lower shelf of a side table.
And then she saw it—a book very different from the others stacked there, bound in pale pink leather and embossed in gold: The Lady’s Guide to All Things Useful.
A strange title to find in the duke’s collection. Opening the cover, she read the inscription:
To my darling Rosamund,
On your twenty-first birthday
Wishing you a lifetime of happiness
All love
Mother
Of course, the edition belonged to the duchess. It was the sort of book young women often received on coming of age—a mixture of household tips and etiquette, and pearls of wisdom on various subjects.
Flicking through, she stopped at L: lace, and lamb (the cooking thereof) and lemons (good for bleaching elbows, apparently)—and, rather vaguely, ‘life’.
Our human existence is a series of adventures, each end bringing a new beginning. Others enter our lives for a brief time to share the journey, or stay a longer while. Where friends offer their hand, be glad, and do not fear unexpected paths. Life ends at the same destination for us all—and, there, we shall never sigh for what we dared, only for those adventures left untasted.
They were wise words, she supposed, although one needed caution in whose hand one grasped. Not all paths, after all, brought joy.
She let the pages flutter through passion, persistence and pride, coming to rest on puddings. She was very partial to treacle tart, and to syrup sponge. Was this the sort of book that included recipes? Their cook at Portman Square was rather too fond of jam roly-poly.
However, before she could read further, her attention was caught by a low growling.
Minnie was no longer slumbering by the fireside but had jumped onto the arm of the chair in which the colonel was sitting. Letting forth a gentle snore, his chin lolled forward, setting his hairpiece askew.
The terrier’s little black nose twitched as she took stock of what sat upon the colonel’s head. A thousand years of ratting instinct would not be quelled when such an excellent specimen was ripe for the taking.
“Minnie, stop that!”
But, with an agile flick, the toupée was between Minnie’s teeth. She hopped to the floor and gave her hairy victim a shake.
“Drop!” hissed Cornelia. She lunged but Minnie was quicker by far. Skittering across the polished wood, she came to a sliding stop before the closed door.
Cornelia hurried over. The hairpiece would be inevitably damp, but she might smooth it down sufficiently that the colonel would never notice.
Minnie looked from her mistress to the handle of the door. Weighing her chances, she took a horizontal leap. A nudge of her head did the trick, springing the mechanism, allowing the door to swing open. Without missing a beat, Minnie scampered through. With the toupée still clutched keenly in her mouth, she scooted up the stairs.
Panting, Cornelia ran behind. It seemed Minnie was taking the way she knew best, along the passageway to Cornelia’s bedchamber.
Sure enough, as Cornelia rounded the corner, the terrier was sitting patiently, waiting to be let in. Having a rounded knob rather than a levered latch, it was the sort of handle Minnie had yet to master, although Cornelia wouldn’t put it past Blanche to teach her some technique for this too.
“In you go, naughty thing!” Thanking the heavens no one had seen them, Cornelia ushered Minnie inside without delay.
Leaping onto the bed, the terrier deposited her prize on the quilt, giving it a proprietorial lick.
Cornelia sighed. She’d have to dry the wretched thing before attempting to replace it.
Approaching the bed, she realized she was still clutching Rosamund’s book.
I bet there’s nothing in here about catching Houdini-esque dogs.
Cornelia tossed it aside and made a dive for Minnie but, in a flash, the terrier was off the bed again, snatching up the toupée en route. This time, she made for the window seat, hopping up to press her nose to the glass.
Cornelia had a horrible feeling.
The lead-paned windows used an old-fashioned lever handle to open, rather than a sash, and the feisty little terrier was extending her paw.
“No!” Cornelia threw herself across the room. Too late, she grabbed at retreating hind legs.
Cornelia hardly dared look but a yap told her Minnie was still alive.
A deep ledge with a balustrade ran across the building, no more than three feet below.
Leaning out, Cornelia extended her arms. “Come here, Minnie. I’ll lift you back in.”
Looking up at her mistress, she seemed to consider the offer, then trotted further along the ledge.
“Get back here this minute!”
It was completely dark and the snow was crusting with ice. Minnie sat down, just out of reach.
“Don’t make me come and get you…” Cornelia waggled her finger, to which Minnie responded by wagging her tail, sweeping powdered whiteness in an arc behind her.
Cornelia looked again at the ledge. If she went on her hands and knees, she’d be able to crawl along, and the balustrade would provide some protection. As long as she didn’t stand up, she’d be perfectly safe. Once she had Minnie tucked under her arm, she’d be able to shuffle back and pass her through the window.
The thought of climbing out made her head swim but, whatever she was going to do needed to be done immediately.
Swinging her legs over, Cornelia held onto the window ledge until, finding her feet, she lowered herself into a crouch. Touching the snow, her palms prickled with pain. She should have put on her gloves; but, of course, they were in the pockets of her coat, which she’d abandoned in the library.
She inched forward, wincing as the damp seeped through her skirts.
Minnie, watching from several feet away, cocked her head to one side then the other, clearly bemused at the unexpected turn of events.
Adopting her sweetest tone of voice, Cornelia cooed and coaxed. “Come here now, Minnie. Good dog. You know I love you.”
Minnie stood up again.
“That’s it. Over here.” Cornelia reached out her hand but, at just that moment, her nose began to tickle. A sneeze was coming.
Without a handkerchief to catch the exhalation, it whooshed towards Minnie, taking a whirl of snowflakes with it.
In protest, the terrier hightailed in the opposite direction, leaving a trail of footprints in her wake.
“No!” Cornelia wailed. “Minnie!”
Damnation! Gritting her teeth, she scuffed through the snow at a brisker pace.
Luckily, Minnie stopped. If Cornelia was swift enough, she might grab her before the terror shot off again.
Though her hands were numb, Cornelia kept going. The terrier glanced back but stayed put, raising her paw to the window she'd stopped beside.
At last, Cornelia flung herself forward, landing atop the little dog and pulling her tightly into her arms. Burying her face in the soft fur, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
She had only to shamble back the way she’d come. However, she saw suddenly why Minnie had stopped. The space on the other side of the glass was illuminated by the soft glow of lantern light. Though the panes were slightly misted, she could discern that the room was stark, the walls and floor white-tiled. On one side was a sink with a large mirror above; on the other was a bath.