She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Now that she was so close, the urge to help pushed her onwards—a decision she’d no doubt hear about later.
With a sharp shake of her head, she grasped the side of the window and hefted her leg over the sill, praying that the nurse still busied herself at the cabinet. She landed on light feet.
But not light enough.
The nurse glanced over her shoulder, and when she locked eyes on Juliet, she whirled with her fists on her hips. “I don’t know how you got in here but get out. Now!” She flung her arm towards the door.
“If you value your employment, madam, you will not say another word. Nor will you stop me. This woman is here against her will, and I intend to see her released.” She strode to Charity and began untying the bindings on her wrists, all the while keeping an eye on the nurse. “Now, if you please, go down to the rear door and see that it is unlocked at once.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t know who you think you are, ordering me about like the King himself, but Mrs. Bellamy will hear of this!”
She spun on her heel, marching to the door—
Which burst open before she reached for the knob.
A gust of cold air swept through the room as Clara stormed in, a wild-eyed tempest. Gone was her usual flawless composure. Her hair was mussed and hanging in a loose braid over her shoulder. Deep wrinkles marred her gown. Dried mud clung to the hem. The lace on one sleeve hung limp, as if she’d fought her way here—through carriage doors, brambles, or worse. All in all, she was a wreck.
One that Juliet could barely comprehend. What was she doing here?
A lethal shade of red darkened Clara’s face as her gaze landed on Juliet. “You!” She spun towards the nurse, voice shrill as broken glass. “Get this woman out of here! She is mad.”
The matron hesitated but a breath before nodding. “I will call for an orderly at once.”
“There is no time for that,” Clara snapped, the whites of her eyes too large, too unhinged. “Must I do everything myself?”
Clara shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small—but deadly—pistol.
Then aimed it squarely at Juliet’s chest.
Blast that woman!
Henry barely suppressed a roar as Juliet disappeared through the window. He had to get up there. Now. Even if it meant breaking down the door and alerting everyone inside.
Bah! He fisted his hands, forcing down the reckless urge to barge inside like a raging bull. Getting himself detained by some hulking orderlies wouldn’t do Charity or Juliet any good.
Get a grip, man. Use your head.
Sucking in a calming breath, he reached for the knob.
Parker beat him to it.
And the door swung open freely.
What? No lock? No resistance whatsoever?
He hesitated for half a second, exchanging an arched brow with Parker. Then he tore off, thanking God for small miracles while pleading for larger.
He took the rear stairs two at a time. Parker’s gait laboured behind him. It couldn’t be easy for the man on this narrow servant stairway. Still, Henry gave him credit. By the sound of it, Parker wasn’t too far behind.
Clearing the last step, he lunged into a passageway lined with doors. A maddening puzzle. One he had no time for. He’d just have to—
A woman’s scream punched the air.
Second door down.
He sprinted, floorboards groaning beneath his weight. Reaching the door, he threw his shoulder into it, sending it careening into the plaster wall with a deafening crack.
And his breath slammed to a halt at the sight before him.
