“I will take word to your family,” he said stiffly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Seeing him suddenly angry made her afraid. She didn’t know what he would do, and in this moment, she was utterly reliant on his helpful assistance.
“You’re most welcome, Lady Hestony.”
Hestony saw him smile again and felt relieved. He bowed and turned away, walking out of the room. As he left, she had that same momentary anxiety. What was it about him that scared her so?
She leaned back on the pillows and let out a long sigh. Whatever it was, she was stuck here, at least for one night. And she was far too tired to do or think anything about that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Escape Attempt
Hestony woke the next morning to the touch of pale sunlight on her eyelids. She sat up and blinked, surprised that she had managed to sleep at all under such circumstances. The bed was cool to her touch, though she was very warm under the crisp, smooth coverlets. She heard footsteps in the hallway and looked around, clutching the blankets to her chest.
“I won’t stay here a moment longer,” she said firmly.
The evening before had been an ordeal she never wished to experience again. Hellish in every aspect. Even thinking about it made her shudder. She slipped out of bed and went to the window, peering out. It seemed cold and wet outside – more rain had fallen during the night and the grass was soaked with it. She looked around the room.
“There must be clothes somewhere in here.”
The room contained a wardrobe and bed. It was a well-appointed room by all standards: a vast dressing-table was at one wall, and the windows were covered with peach silk curtains, the walls covered with white silk paper.
The large wardrobe proved to contain one dress – it was white and of a style more suited to an earlier time. Hestony pulled it out, hesitant at first to put it on: who knew, after all, how it had come to be there or to whom it had belonged. She had no other options, though – the dress was all she had to wear. She held her breath and shook it out, relieved that it wasn’t dirty, and then lifted it up, letting it drop over her head.
The dress fastened by means of buttons down the back. She scrambled to fasten them, her arms aching as she twisted them to reach every last button. It was hard work, but she daren’t waste a moment – the maid or anybody else from this wretched household might come back.
Footsteps passed the door and Hestony ducked into the alcove by the window, surprised by how fast her heart was beating. She was terrified and trying not to be.
The footsteps passed along the hallway, speeding up as they went. Hestony ducked out of the alcove again, heading to the door. She thought up a plan as she went. It would be too obvious to walk out of the door and down the hallway – anybody in the household, spotting her, would immediately alert Osburne to her presence. But, how else to escape?
The window.
One of the windows led onto a small balcony. She stepped out and looked around, gathering her skirts in her hand to make the step easier. There was a long terrace above her – Hestony guessed it must join onto the drawing-room. She leaned against the wall, listening to the low tone of conversation from overhead.
“A fine day, despite the unfortunate weather last night.”
“Indeed, Lord Osburne. Have you plans to enjoy the weather?”
“I considered taking a ride. It’s like as not to cloud over later…I thought to leave soon to take advantage of the break in the rain.” Hestony felt her skin prickle as she heard that sibilant, familiar voice. She felt as if she might be sick. She made herself listen to the response, leaning against the wall. The tree between the terrace and her balcony kept her somewhat hidden
“Capital plan, that,” the voice drawled. Hestony froze, keeping still, as she heard feet crossing the terrace.
“Looks like somebody already went out that way?” Lord Osburne queried. “See, there’re tracks there.” The voice was petulant, challenging. It sounded like a voice she heard somewhere else before, stirring at a distant memory. She strained to hear it and recall it.
“I went for a ride before breaking my fast,” the other voice explained. “It seemed a nice morning, so I took advantage of it – before, as you say, the rain comes and spoils it again.”
“You should have told me,” Osburne said levelly. “The bridge can be treacherous after the rain. Had aught happened to you, I would have been mortified to be responsible for it.”
“I wouldn’t have held you responsible, old boy,” the first voice assured. “You do fuss, you know.”
Hestony heard Lord Osburne’s boots scrape the terrace and imagined how irritated he would feel at being patronized. She would have thought it amusing, save that she was already too focused on escape.
She held her breath, waiting until the sound of boots on stone informed her the two men had gone inside again. Then she ducked in through the window, making plans. The window was far too high to climb or jump – she was on the third floor, and the drop to the garden would at the very least break bones. There was no merit in trying to escape there.
Then I’ll just have to go out and hope nobody notices.
She tried the door-handle. As she had suspected, nobody had locked it. The thought of her actually trying to escape was evidently too foreign for Osburne or whoever else had ordered her imprisoned here.
Hestony could feel her heart thumping like a drum in her chest. She held her breath, then opened the door.
A vast hallway met her gaze – the floor was carpeted with a pale ocher carpet, the walls were white and soaring overhead— lined at regular intervals with brass candlesticks. The place fairly screamed of wealth, like Lord Osburne’s London home. She drew a breath and stepped onto the rug, picking a direction at random. She couldn’t remember any details about the house from the evening previous, such as which hallway might lead where.
“There’s no reason not to go in and give the place a good tidy-up,” a female voice observed, coming from further along the hallway. “I reckon you can just go in. No-one said you couldn’t.”
“I know, but the master…” a second feminine voice trailed off.
“The master is who he is,” the first voice said briskly. “And he’s as fair as most employers. Aye, and better than most if you just take your cash and don’t pry into anything. And he pays better than most, that he does. Very generous…”
Hestony raced up the steps as the voices came near. She reached a corner and flattened herself against the wall, just in time. Two maids, dressed in crisp black uniforms, passed by on their way down the hallway. Hestony felt her breath rasp in her lungs, sheer terror making sweat prickle down her spine.