She paused at the corner of the stone wall leading to the front and glanced upwards, not only asking for some heavenly guidance, but also studying the upper-level windows, wheremore curtains billowed out. Charity could be up there. Shehadto be.
So. There was nothing for it, then.
Juliet retraced her steps to the rear door, where a particularly thick cluster of wisteria grew, probably watered by a scullery maid too lazy to carry her dish bucket any farther. If the maid or any other staff member came outside right now, there’d be no hiding.
With all haste, she grabbed the hem of her skirts and twisted the fabric into a knot just above her knees. Bulky—and scandalous—but it would do.
After one last peek at the mountain she must climb, she grasped the woody trunk and hefted herself up. The vine scratched against her palms, rough and gnarled, but it held—for now. Hopefully when she reached the decorative ledge, that would hold her weight as well so she could sidestep from window to window. All the while, she forced herself not to look down and contemplate how it might feel for her bones to shatter.
As she neared the overhang, she narrowed her eyes, clinging tightly to the vine while considering the best way to manage once she no longer had such a handhold. Other tendrils spiraled out, embracing the entire house. Some looked promising. Others looked as weathered as windblown old lace. Would they bear her weight? Or—
She cocked her head, listening hard, all thoughts of technique flying from her mind. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d heard a weak voice of protest.
Again, words fluttered out through the nearest open window, as soft and determined as a hummingbird’s wings. “Let me go. I want … to go home.”
“Now, now, miss.” A stronger voice, female, this one carrying an air of authority. “All is as it should be. You must focus on resting, hmm?”
Juliet’s heart raced. It could simply be some patient complaining.
Or it could be Charity.
Determination sparked inside her like flint against steel. She reached for the next handhold, fingers wrapping around the bark, and pulled herself up. Then she stretched for another. Grasped it. Pulled. Repeated. Only three more feet to the ledge when something cracked.
Then tore.
The vine gave way.
She swung wildly, the sudden drop jerking her arm and wrenching her shoulder as she hung one-handed. Midair. Feet scrambling for purchase.
And finding none.
A cry strangled in her throat.
Henry snapped shut his pocket watch, shoving it into his pocket with such force that the stitching gave way with an audible pop. Juliet should have returned by now.
Stifling a growl, he tugged his lapels, frustrated. He never should have let her go off alone in the first place.
“Juliet’s time is up.” He turned to Parker. “We will flank the building and meet at the rear. I’ll head east, you west. If you come across Juliet, send her here where my father will be waiting.”
He glanced at his father. “Agreed?”
The elder Russell didn’t hesitate. He gave a single sharp nod. “And if none of you return in five minutes, I shall break down the door.”
Judging by the vinegar in his tone and grim set of the man’s jaw, Henry had no doubt his father would do exactly that. He’ddo the same were he not on the hunt for a certain wild-haired, independent woman.
He stalked off, heels grinding into the gravel path circling Bellamy House. No green-gowned woman caught his eye as he swept the grounds. Thankfully, no staff members caught his attention either.
The path wound past clipped hedges and an occasional gnarled hawthorn bush. He scanned along the stone walls, also taking note of open windows—which would be a far easier entry than the heavy front door, though it would no doubt frighten an unsuspecting inmate. Above, more windows opened to the fresh air. Any one of them could belong to Charity … or to Juliet, if she’d already scaled the walls in one of her reckless attempts to help. Despite a spark of fury, his lips twitched into a small smile. She was an untamable force, that woman.
Near the rear corner of the building, a flicker of movement snapped his gaze upwards. Just a loose vine flapping in the breeze. He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck one way, then the other. If he did find Juliet clinging to a ledge like some lawbreaking street urchin, he’d throttle her.
After he made sure she was safe, of course.
He rounded the back of the house, jaw clenching tighter with each step. No Juliet in sight.
Parker was already there, leaning on his cane near the back door. He shook his head at Henry’s approach. “No sight of Miss Finch. Did you find her?”
“No, I—”
