Regency Bride Series: Regency Romance Box Set

by Locke, Laura

  Who would come? Linton had no key. The only people who did were Lady Alexandra and the housekeeper and butler too, probably. None of them would let her out. She was stuck here.

  She went to the window and looked down. The bedroom was two floors up. She could not get out that way. She considered sticking her head out and screaming. Someone would hear her, surely. Someone would come.

  She sat down on the bed, miserable. She had to get out somehow! Claudia was expecting her and, even were she not, she would help her if she arrived suddenly. Lucas, too. If she could reach the street, she would be safe. But how?

  “Linton?” she called sadly. She beat at the door one more time, hopefully. Mayhap someone would be passing by in the corridor and would come to help her. They had to.

  But no-one came.

  Cornelia looked out of the window again. It must be two of the clock by now, at least. The sky was a bright blue, the color of early afternoon light. She had perhaps six or seven hours before it was too dangerous to try anything – the evenings were long in summer.

  I need to get out. She cannot keep me in here. She cannot force me to wed.

  She looked out of the window again. The drop down to the garden was too high to attempt. But there was the terrace railing, and the cornice above the windows, and, just next door, the balcony outside the drawing-room. She could climb from here to the cornice, and from the cornice she could reach the terrace and...

  She sat down again. It was not impossible, but it was extremely risky. If she fell, she could easily break a bone. And then she'd be in the garden and unable to walk, or in immense pain. Would that be any better than being locked in here? Alexandra would still be able to persuade her. Cornelia curled up on the bed, feeling miserable and afraid. What on earth could she do? She was trapped.

  Chapter 19

  Cornelia stood again and went to the window. She looked down. There must be a way to get out of here. She was dazed by what Alexandra had told her, but now she was filled with purpose: she was not staying here.

  “I will not let her persuade me to ruin my life.”

  She went to the door again, rapping on the inside. “Hello? Hello! Someone, help me!”

  No-one came. It occurred to Cornelia that Lady Alexandra had forbidden anyone from helping her. Of course she would have. Someone would have come here by now if that was not the case.

  “Well, then. There's only one more thing I can do. The window.”

  She looked out again. She was not sure yet if she were desperate enough to climb out. But she could call through it. She drew up the panes and leaned out.

  “Hello?” she called loudly. “Help me! I'm stuck.”

  The garden was silent and tranquil down below. She could almost see butterflies drifting between dandelions in the lawn. It was peacefully lovely. There was no-one in the garden next-door, and no-one on the terrace. If anyone in the house opposite heard her, they chose to ignore her plea.

  “Help!”

  When no-one answered her, Cornelia decided to throw something down. She looked about and selected a paperweight from the writing-stand. Tossed it down. It hit the cobbles of the path to the kitchen with a resounding crash. But if anyone heard it, no-one came out and looked up. It was hopeless.

  “Nothing is hopeless.” Cornelia whispered it to herself. She believed it. She went to the door again. Tapped on it. Tried the handle. Perhaps if she could slide something into the lock, she could make the bar lift...

  “Milady?”

  Cornelia had been bending to look through the keyhole when the voice came through it. She felt elation flare.

  “Yes? Linton! That you?”

  “Yes, milady. It's me. What's the matter? Oh, she didn't...”

  “She locked it,” Cornelia whispered urgently. “Do you think you could...”

  “Hold on, milady. Someone coming. Wait, now.”

  Cornelia held her breath as she heard Linton walk away, then, a heartbeat or two later, another footfall, someone walking stiffly and briskly along.

  Allanson. She's likely trying to keep people away. I doubt she'd come if I knocked.

  Cornelia tried, knocking quite loudly, but she was right. The woman hesitated, but walked on up the hallway.

  Now I know they're all under orders not to help me. Only Linton would risk helping me anyway.

  “Linton?”

  A pause.

  “My lady? They've gone now.”

  “Good. Do you think you could get a key for me?”

  “I could try, milady. The housekeeper has them on her belt.”

  “Could you find another set? There must be one!”

  “The steward. I think he has one...” Linton paused. “Maybe. I can't say that he does for sure, though, milady. Or that I can find it, if he has one.”

  “Please, try,” Cornelia whispered. “Or I shall have to try the window, and I don't think I can do that.”

  “Please, don't try the window, milady. Not without making a rope.”

  “A rope?”

  “From the bed-sheet. You could tie it to the shutters, lower yourself to the terrace. But it's dangerous. Please don't – unless there's no other way.”

  “A rope from the bed-sheet. It could work.” Cornelia was hopeful again.

  “Wait, though. Please, mistress. I'll search for a key.”

  “Very good. Thank you, Linton.”

  “Not at all, milady. Hold on there now. I'm coming back as soon as I find something.”

  “Thank you, Linton.”

  When her maid had gone, Cornelia leaned back, sighing with exhaustion and relief. As the tension drained from her, she realized how bad it had been. And how tired she was. If she could just lie down for a bit, then...no. She couldn't risk it. She had to stay awake and alert for when Linton came back.

  She waited and worried. It had been around two of the clock, she judged, when Linton came. Time passed, slow and inexorable, and she didn't return. Cornelia looked out of the window, wondering if it would be possible to try that way. She got a bed-sheet off the bed and shook out the length of it, contemplating how best to go about Linton's suggestion of making a rope from it.

  “If I tied it here...” she bent to the window, looking at the hinge that held the shutter. It was solid iron, sunk deep into the wall's mortar, or so it seemed. It would probably hold if she hung off it...

  “My lady?”

  “Linton!” she ran to the door, bent to the keyhole so she could hear her. “You have news?”

  “I have the key, my lady. At least, I know where it is. But we will have to wait. The place is full of eyes.”

  “You think we can wait until after dark?”

  “We may have to,” Linton whispered. “I found the keys – the steward has them in his desk. I could sneak in there when he's out, but I don't know when that will be. And besides,” she paused. “I don't know how to get you out of here. The housekeeper's keeping watch on me – I know it.”

  Cornelia sighed. “We may have to wait until dark. If I can get out of here, though, no-one is putting me back in. They'd have to hold me down.”

  Linton chuckled. “I believe it, milady. Well, I'll get the key. We can decide what to do when we've got it.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I can never tell you that enough.”

  “Yes, you can. Once is more than enough. Now. As soon as I can, I'll come back.”

  “Thank you, Linton.”

  “A pleasure. Now, off I go.”

  Cornelia sighed and waited, feeling desperate. She paced the room, stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, her hair disheveled. It was not clear she had been crying – her eyes were damp but no tears stained her face.

  “I could at least look a little better,” she told herself quietly. “If I am to face my captor in a while.”

  She reached for her comb to fix her hair. She was surprised by how calm she felt now. The fear and anger had been replaced with a flat, still emptiness. If she happened to come across Ale
xandra, or her brother, in this mood, they would not think they could trifle with her.

  I am not angry. Not sad. Just...empty.

  Nothing anyone said would reach her at this point. All that mattered to her was to walk away from this place permanently.

  I cannot believe I ever let that woman reduce me to the point that I was willing to do anything she said. I thought I was plain and gauche and disgraceful. Now I know that's not true.

  Even Richmond, in his own special way, had told her she was not worthless, that he liked her lighthearted, jovial nature. Even he had not tried to change her as his sister had.

  “Well, soon none of that will matter.”

  All that would matter was that she had learned something. She wasn't silly, or plain, or unsophisticated. She was herself. And that was enough.

  “My lady?”

  It was Linton, at the keyhole. She ran to bend down to it.

  “Yes?”

  “I have the key. Only a matter of time before they notice it's gone. We must be quick, but we can't leave.” She paused. “They're watching the front door, and the side. I don't know how to get you out, unless through the kitchen. And even there, someone could see us. We'd have to wait until nightfall.”

  “What if you let me out now?” Cornelia whispered.

  “You mean, let you out and then stay here?” Linton frowned.

  “Yes. We could hide somewhere until dark. Then go. It could work.”

  Linton paused. Cornelia held her breath. “Good idea.”

  Then came the impossible sound. The sound of the key, in the lock. Scraping. A click.

  Cornelia slipped out of the room and into the hallway. She pushed the door shut behind her. Her heart soared. She didn't think she had ever felt so wonderful in her life.

  She was free!

  She looked at Linton and Linton looked at her. They both were pale and solemn-faced.

  “Lock it,” Cornelia whispered. “We can replace the key soon.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  Linton locked the room. They heard someone's footsteps on the stair.

  “Quick!” Cornelia whispered, her heart thumping. “We must go.”

  “In here.”

  Linton pulled her into a room – a parlor, Cornelia realized – and then through a door in the wall. The maid's corridor. She closed the door. They leaned against it, breathing hard.

  “Whew,” Cornelia sighed. “Now what?”

  Linton was grinning broadly. “Lawks! Now we stay here.”

  “We hide until dark.”

  “That's the idea, milady.”

  Cornelia frowned. “Is it likely someone will enter here?”

  “Shouldn't think so, milady. They're all watching the door.”

  It was then that Cornelia realized that their plan might really work, after all. She smiled at her. “Excellent. Well, then. We have a few hours. What shall we do?”

  Linton shrugged. “Do you play guessing games?”

  “Guessing games?” Cornelia whispered.

  “Yes. Like I spy.”

  “Yes!” Cornelia grinned. It was madness. Here she was, hiding in a servant's passageway in a mansion that was hostile to her presence, playing I-spy with her maid. But life was strange and wonderful. How else would anyone explain that the man she loved – the man of her dreams – had been in plain sight all along, for months and months, and it was only now she knew she was free to love him?

  Yes, life was strange. It was also wonderful. She cleared her throat, chose an object for Linton to guess, and started playing the game.

  Chapter 20

  Nightfall. Cornelia and Linton crept into the corridor that led to the kitchen.

  “We get to stairs, then to the kitchen. Only way out.” Linton whispered instructions calmly.

  “You think they won't suspect that?” Cornelia was apprehensive, her stomach clenched tight.

  “No, milady. Why would they? They think you're on your own. You wouldn't know about this place, see?”

  “True.”

  They went silently into the dark warren that was the servant's corridor. The place smelled damp and musty and Cornelia shivered, feeling the coldness seep into her. With walls of windowless, undressed stone and a dusty, board floor, the corridor was functional and cold. She shivered. Each step could give away their presence, and so she walked quietly, on tiptoe, glad she was wearing her indoor shoes that made no sound. All the same, when a board creaked she held her breath sharply.

  “No harm done, milady,” Linton whispered encouragement. “That bit goes behind the parlor. No-one in there now.”

  “Whew.” Cornelia breathed out sharply and continued down. They reached the stairs that led to the lower floor. It was a strange parallel world, this warren of featureless corridors. Cornelia found herself amazed at it; a hidden life within the world she occupied.

  “Mind the steps, milady. They're steep here.”

  “Thank you, Linton.”

  They had no candle with them and the place was dark and gloomy. Which was, Cornelia reflected as she found her way by feel down the stairs, no bad thing. At least that way they were less likely to be seen by anyone else down here.

  “Is it always dark?” Cornelia whispered. Why were none of the lamps lit?

  “Always, milady. They don't waste tallow in this house, you see.”

  “I see.” Cornelia shivered. How the servants were meant to find their way around down here was a mystery. But she was glad for the lack of light. It kept them secret.

  “Down a bit and to the left. There's a light in the kitchen. Could be somebody's about. Wait.”

  Cornelia nodded, her heart thumping, nerves on edge. She froze where she was, waiting while Linton tiptoed ahead. She came back in a moment. Her face – Cornelia could just see her in the dusky light of a high window – was grave.

  “Cook's in. Still tidying up. We'll have to make a run for it. I have an idea.”

  As Linton whispered her plan, Cornelia nodded. It was desperately dangerous, but it might just work.

  “Yes. We'll try it. Be safe.”

  “You too, milady. Right, then. Off we go.”

  Linton drew in a long breath, straightened her skirt and opened the door to the kitchen. Cornelia waited behind. She didn't shut it all the way. Cornelia listened to the sounds coming through the opening.

  “Madge. Where've you been?”

  Linton's name is Madge. Margaret? That was a surprise in itself.

  “Upstairs, cleaning the parlor,” Linton said calmly. “Got my hand in...trust The Gwen to give me something to do. Idle hands, and things.”

  “Mm,” the other voice replied. “Damn her.”

  The Gwen, Cornelia assumed, was Mrs. Allanson.

  “So say I,” Linton said fervently. “Oh, hang on...”

  Crash. Suddenly the corridor resounded with the clang, clatter and clamor of brass hitting stone. That was it. Her cue.

  “What in perdition..? Madge! You crazy woman! How did you get that lot falling?”

  “I'm sorry, Cook. I'm so sorry...”

  Cornelia crept through the door. The two women were on her right, looking at the floor behind the counter. They were neither of them watching the space where she walked, step by careful step, hugging the darkness by the left wall.

  The door is at the front. Left corner. Quick and quiet. Out you go.

  She repeated Linton's words like a litany as she crept slowly forward through the perilous, half-dark space. The fire was flickering in the grate, sending red light onto brass pots and wood tables. The room was a mix of red light and shifting shadow and the sound of voices, too close by.

  “I'll make you sorry if you don't help me get this lot up...and look at the floor! It's ruined and I just scrubbed it. You can do that again...”

  “I will. I will...”

  The door is at the front. Left corner. Quick and quiet. Not a sound.

  She walked forward slowly and carefully. She reached the front of the kitchen. T
ried the door. It was locked.

  Oh...

  She looked around for the key. Felt on the shelf. Dislodged a bowl as she grabbed the key. It fell on the floor with a clatter. She froze.

  “What the..?”

  Cook stood and turned round just as Cornelia slid the key into the lock and turned it. As the woman saw her and let out a shout, she pulled open the door and ran. Her heart was thumping and her whole body shook. She felt the cold cobbles under her thin slippers and ran. She didn't think about where she was going, just let her feet go by instinct, lungs heaving and chest pounding, body shaking with terror.

  Don't let them see me. Don't let them stop me. Don't let them find me...

  She ran to the gate, without fully knowing it was there. It was bolted, but not locked and she drew the bolt back, stifling the terrified scream that rose in her throat as she heard the cook running out, Linton following her.

  “Stop, thief! By the devil, I'll catch you and skin you myself!”

  She thinks it was a thief. At least no-one knows it's me.

  She pulled the gate open and found herself in an alley. Looked blindly round. She heard feet on the cobbles – close now, so close behind her. She turned, seeing the cook – all red cheeks and wide eyes and heaving outrage – behind her. Beside the woman was Linton. She slipped round the cook and grabbed the gate.

  Then she was through, and slamming it shut behind them.

  “We're out, milady. Run!”

  Linton slid her hand through, bolted the gate, grabbed her skirts and ran after Cornelia, who was already running, feet slipping in her thin-soled shoes on the cobbles, breath heaving in her lungs.

  “Where...are we?” she panted to Linton.

  “Tradesman's entrance. In...the alley. Dunno where it goes.”

  “Doesn't matter. Run!”

  Cornelia shouted it as she heard the cook get through the gate in pursuit. She was yelling threats, running and panting. She was, fortunately, almost out of breath.

  Cornelia and Linton headed blindly down the narrow, cold alley, feet sliding on the cobbles. Cornelia had barely eaten that day and she felt weaker than she usually did, chest heaving as she ran, and ran...

  “Stop! Milady!”