Leona nodded, then watched—astounded—as the glow of hope turned the drab waif into a dimpled charmer. “But how will we escape? Do you have a ladder?”
“No. I climbed the vines that grow up the side of the house.”
“Vines! Oh, how I wish I’d known of them! I could have climbed down them!” She scrambled to the edge of the bed. “Come on! What are we waiting for?”
Leona grabbed her hand. “Chrissy, wait! It’s freezing outside. You are hardly dressed to go out, let alone climb down those vines. Besides, we can’t. They were ripping loose as I was climbing up. We would most likely fall and break our necks.”
“But. . . but, how am I to escape?”
“By going out the door.”
“What? But I can’t! I’m locked in.We'relocked in.”
Leona smiled and dug her hand into her pocket to pull out a ring of keys. “The Norths rent this house from my family.”
“You have the keys!”
“Every one of them,” Leona said as she walked toward the door.
“But if you have the keys, why did you climb up vines?”
She sorted through the keys. “Two reasons. First, the Norths said they had a mad child here. For all I knew, that could have been true. I didn’t know what to expect. Better to look through a window first than to open a door when I didn’t know what was on the other side. Second, the manor house doors are dead-bolted from the inside. Bring the candle here.” She took the candlestick and handed the keys to Chrissy to hold. “I was shocked at first to see them using such cheap tallow candles over wax ones. Now I think we should be grateful.” She dripped tallow over the door hinges, then took the keys back and dripped tallow over one of the keys. She thrust the candle into the child’s hands. “Let’s hope this works; I didn’t like the loud sound this door made when your warder entered. We don’t need anything that could call them down upon us.”
She thrust the key in the lock and carefully turned it. The door lock clicked open. She and Chrissy exchanged happy smiles. Carefully she pulled the door open, grimacing at thesqueal that sounded fainter than before but still evident. She took the candle back from Chrissy and grabbed her hand, leading her out into the dark hall. Stealthily they made their way to the back servant’s staircase and on down two flights of stairs. At the bottom, a hallway branched off toward the kitchen and another toward the butler’s pantry. Leona led her toward the kitchen wing and through to the scullery. In the scullery, there was a door leading outside. On the wall beside the door were two cloaks hanging on wooden pegs along with an apron. Leona set the candlestick down on a worktable. Grabbing one of the cloaks, she wrapped it around the child. It was woefully long. Plus, there was still the problem of her bare feet. Leona grabbed a kitchen knife and attacked the cloak's long hem, biting her lower lip whenever it ripped loudly. She cut strips to wrap around the child’s feet from the piece she removed, binding the heavy wool in place with apron strings.
“Ready?” she whispered.
Chrissy’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Ready.”
Leona carefully pulled back the bolt and lifted the latch. She pulled the door open. It groaned loudly. Leona and Chrissy exchanged panicked glances. Leona had not thought to grease this door. Of course, when she lived in the house, the doors never needed greasing. It was something the servants regularly did.
“Quickly!” she urged the child as they stepped through the door. Together they ran toward the woods. Leona glanced back once to see a figure standing in the open doorway, a branch of candles held high. She grabbed the child’s hand and pulled her deep into the forest, now thankful for the moonless night.
She didn’t know if they would be pursued, or if they were followed, how quickly, but she would not take any risks with this child’s life. They would go by a slightly circuitous route to Rose Cottage. There she would entrust the child to Maria’s care while she sent messages to one Nigel Deveraux at Castle Marinin Devon and Sir Nathan Cruikston, the local magistrate. She would have the Norths apprehended and out of Lion’s Gate—and out of her life—before morning.
CHAPTER 2
“Maria!”
Leona grabbedfor the hands that flitted from straightening her blankets to fluffing her pillows. She clasped them between her own, her grip warm but firm. “Maria, please stop fussing.” A light smile and rueful shake of her head took the sting out of her words.
“I’m not fussing. I never fuss.” Miss Maria Sprockett ignored the raised eyebrow of her former pupil, now mistress and friend. “It’s not fussing when one just tries to make another comfortable and keep her from the ague. You were very foolish last night. I should never have allowed it.”
Leona released her friend’s hands as she laughed. “Piffle. When you were my governess, you never could stop me from doing anything I set my mind to.”
Maria’s head bobbed, birdlike. “Maybe not, but I should have at least made an effort last evening. And when I think of those awful clothes you wore—” Her hands fluttered up to her cheeks, and her pale blue eyes widened. “And to think that at midnight you went alone to the Golden Goose Inn where any manner of stranger might have seen you, just to ask Mr. Tubbs to send his boys to carry your messages—” Her hands dropped, claspedtogether, to rest over her heart. “Oh, mercy . . .” she trailed off faintly.
“All the guests were abed when I got to the inn, and I was careful. I did not go directly into the inn. I tapped on the window of their room on the ground floor, and they let me in through the kitchen entrance. The Tubbs are good people, and you know I’ve known them all my life. They’re not the kind to condemn or gossip. Besides, my cause was urgent, and I doubt they noticed or considered my attire.”
Leona pushed back the covers and swung her feet toward the floor. She started to get up, then sat back quickly. “Oh, dear. Quickly, hand me a handkerchief, ple-ple-please—” She sneezed.
“The ague!” Maria Sprockett pulled a lace-edged handkerchief out from the wrist of her lavender morning gown. “Oh, I knew how it would be! Dashing about at all hours of the night, no muffler about your neck, and only that small cap on your head.”
Leona grabbed the proffered handkerchief and waved her friend to silence with it as she fought against another sneeze. She failed. And failed again. “Thank you. Oh, my head feels like a block of wood. Oak wood, I fear. But I must get up. What time is it? If Mr. Tubbs sent his boys out at first light, as he promised, to deliver those messages, then we should be getting visitors shortly.”
“Going on ten, by now, I should think.”
‘Ten!” Leona surged to her feet, then caught the edge of the bedside table as vertigo threatened. “Maria, you wretch! How could you have let me sleep so long? Sir Cruikston should have been here by now! Hand me my dressing gown, would you please?”
