Silently, the door swung open, and I left it behind in a dash. I moved quickly, but I didn’t run. If the nearby staff heard my footsteps, they might assume I was a passing servant. However, if they picked up sounds of running, they would be more likely to call for help.
I moved quietly through the back hall, directly for the servant entrance I had seen earlier. My best option would be to exit through the back of the house and hope the doors didn’t lock from the inside. I knew the front door was unlocked, but there was no telling who would be in the front garden to see me.
Continuing onward, I did my best to maintain a calm presence. If I got caught, maybe I could talk my way out of the situation. I could claim that I had the wrong address, and the door was unlocked, so I let myself in, or I was chasing a pet cat that had darted inside. Although, considering their current suspicions of a break-in, they wouldn’t be likely to believe my story.
I turned a sharp corner down a less used corridor. When I explored it earlier, I had noticed it led to a dead end with a small, concealed door for servants to use. It led directly to the back garden, presumably used for gardeners to get into the kitchen undetected by the main family. I reached for the door handle and gave it a tug.
Locked.
An unladylike word slipped out from under my breath as I tugged it harder. Still no luck, it was sealed. If I had carried even an ounce of intelligence this morning, I wouldn’t have left the key ring in the master suite.
Not wasting my opportunity, I hurried back down the hall to try my chances with the front door. It wasn’t the stealthiest option, but if I was quick, I might go unnoticed. Or at the very least, if I was spotted, they may not be able to get a good view of me.
My movements were marginally more confident now that my first investigation had gone unseen. I turned back down the hall that contained the back kitchen entrance, striding by the opening without as much as a glance. No sounds of intrigue emerged from the lingering staff, so I continued my bold stride. Despite my new found courage, I wasn’t going to push my luck, so I stuck close to the walls as I made my way into the entry hall.
The space seemed so much larger now that I had to cross it. The grand staircase provided an observation point over the entire room, which meant anyone near the banister upstairs would have a clear view of my exit. I stared longingly at the door, gathering my daring nature up into a serviceable sum. The door was maybe twenty feet from the wall I touched, and the floors were granite. If I ran, the echoes would resound across most of the house, and if I walked, it was going to be a long draw with a huge risk of being seen.
I calculated the risks of both maneuvers before deciding on a slow pace. If I get noticed. I can sprint for the door and get a good head start down the road. Hopefully, I won’t have to run at all, and I can escape without any further complications.
Taking a deep breath, I took my first step out from the wall into the open space. I stretched out my foot for another step when incoming voices stifled my movements. My courage vanished, causing me to skitter behind the stairs, just as a familiar voice tapped down to the main floor. I burrowed myself as far under the steps as I could, trying to make myself small. Cobwebs brushed across my arms and neck as I hunched over. I repressed a shudder as the home’s occupants spoke.
“I want the ground trimmed and tidied by the end of the day,” Lawrence’s distinguished voice sounded so much clearer from outside the muffled closet. “The maids are working on the bedrooms now, so I need all the spare hands outside immediately. The master is extremely picky about the care of his gardens. Please be certain that all the work is overseen with a detailed eye.” The sun from the entrance hall’s windows cast shadows of the two men on the opposing wall I faced. I watched with stillness as the butler’s body language cast a commanding silhouette toward the other presumably male figure.
“Of course, sir,” the other man replied. “There won’t be a blade of grass out of line by the time we’re done with it.” The man’s shadow stood a little taller, squaring up to Lawrence’s challenge.
“Excellent.” Satisfied with his answer, the butler stepped back a pace. “Please be certain to only use the front entrance until further notice. Oh, and alert me when the last of your men are inside so I can lock up for the night. We shall need the garden staff to keep their eyes peeled for any anomalies today. Last thing I need is for Lord Oberon to come home to a homeless peasant in his bed.”
Oberon? Where had I heard that name before?The men parted ways as I pondered. The unnamed gardener went back upstairs, while Lawrence walked behind the steps toward the kitchen. The stairs I was hiding behind…
I shrunk down as tiny as I could manage underneath the filthy bottom steps. My heart pounded as the servant walked directly past my hunkered form. I tucked my head down over my knees, hoping to cover up my sunny yellow dress, allowing the shadows to consume me. After a moment of not breathing, I glanced out from my knees to see the pristinely dressed man paused in front of a large painting.
Without a word, the servant pulled out a handkerchief and polished the corners of the brass frame. I remained completely motionless. The butler stood a mere five paces away from me with his back turned. If he turned around, I would be directly in his line of sight.
Should I remain still? What do I do if he turns around? Should I run?
I listened for other voices to indicate the presence of anyone else in the entry way. Nothing was audible, so it must have been clear at the moment. I watched as the butler intently scrubbed every inch of the frame until it shone reflectively.
Would he notice me in the reflection? I need to move, now.
Not taking a moment to strategize, I began to crawl forward on my hands and knees, pressing my body as flat to the ground as I could. The floor was grimy and covered in a layer of dust that wafted into my nose as I moved. I felt a tingle in my head as a sneeze threatened to give away my position, but I swallowed it back quickly. Ever so slowly, I maneuvered far enough away from the bottom step. With a little more head room available, I was able to situate my body onto my feet in a hunched position. Now I could walk.
Keeping one eye on Lawrence, I crept around the edge of the stairs toward the most open section of the entry hall. He was still fully immersed in his polishing—now working on the third out of four corners. With the lightest footsteps, I walked backward toward the front door, clutching my skirt tightly in my hand out of nerves.
Almost there, only eight more steps.
Only five left.
Three more and I’m free.
I reached for the door, nearly tasting the fresh air outside. My fingers laced around the door handle, but it opened before I even pulled. An outer force began pushing the door open, compelling me to flee from the entrance. I ran in the opposite direction of the kitchen, hoping to avoid Lawrence, and managed to tuck behind a curtain in the parlor. My adrenaline shot into overdrive from the unanticipated scare, causing my breaths to grow fast and shallow. I placed a hand over my mouth, hoping to muffle my panicked gasps.
At a small peek out from the curtain, I realized I had covered a lot more ground than I thought in that dash. In my spooked state, I had managed to run nearly the span of two rooms in the time it took a servant to open a door. The individual who stepped through the door looked to be nothing more than a stable hand. I bit my lip in frustration at his unfortunate timing, but then settled on the fact that it was probably a good thing he stopped me when he did. I hadn’t even considered if the carriages were being attended to out front.
I glanced out the window that I hid in front of, careful to stay out of view. Sure enough, three men remained on the front drive tending to the wagons and coaches. I wanted to punch something. Was there anywhere these blasted servants weren’t posted!
My breathing slowed as I carefully regained control over my temper. I shouldn’t be mad at the servants, after all, they are only doing their jobs. If only they were a little less… thorough? At least I could see outside now. Perhaps I should just wait for a bit until the coast clears.
Minutes of waiting turned into hours. I huddled on the floor behind the drapes, peeking out the window every five minutes. Nope, not clear this time, either. My stomach growled angrily at me for neglecting it. The last two days have consisted of only a daily meal of porridge, and apparently, my body was not content with such rations. I briefly considered sneaking into the kitchen to hunt for food, but the activity had increased at that end of the house, most likely to prepare for dinner.