And there stood Elizabeth Grenshaw.
The women locked eyes in a wordless exchange. How different Elizabeth Grenshaw looked than the polished Miss Sutton. Her dark, stringy hair was secured in a hasty chignon. Long wisps hung around pale cheeks. The flickering fire emphasized the dark hollows beneath her eyes and cast shadows on her high cheekbones and high-bridged nose. She appeared older now, as if she’d aged a decade in less than a fortnight. A plain brown gown of rough muslin hung on her much thinner frame.
Ella was not frightened of Miss Grenshaw. Perhaps it was naive to consider her innocuous, but the woman appeared more sad than threatening, more defeated than triumphant.
Miss Grenshaw stepped into the room and hastily drew the door closed behind her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Ella met her gaze fully. “I daresay neither should you.”
“How did you manage this?” Miss Grenshaw’s words seemed more an accusation than a question.
Ella would display no emotion. Miss Grenshaw might not be much of a physical threat, but she was far from trustworthy. “Perhaps you can tell me, Miss Grenshaw. It’s all very curious.”
A curse flew from Miss Grenshaw’s thin lips, and her normally elegant accent was far less refined than Ella recalled. “You should have left well enough alone, Ella Wilde. You don’t know how much danger you are in.”
Ella’s ears rang at the insinuation, yet she’d admit no fear. She steadied her voice. “Then from one lady to another, you should tell me so I at least know what I’m up against.”
Miss Grenshaw pressed her dirty hands to the sides of her flushed face and began to pace the room. Ella could see the battleraging in her as plain as day, and it gave her hope that she might be willing to help.
But seconds passed. Miss Grenshaw did not respond. Instead, she huffed and paced like a caged animal trying to figure out how to break free. “You should not be involved in this.”
“Then help me,” urged Ella in a strained whisper. “Help me! I have no idea how you’re involved with this, but if you help me get away from him, I will return the favor. I swear it to you. And I would call upon our time together at Keatley Hall for you to know that I am good for my word.”
For a moment Ella thought the woman was having a change of heart. But in a sudden burst of energy, Miss Grenshaw spun from the room, leaving Ella once again in isolation.
Fresh panic clawed in her chest, and Ella resumed her search for a plan to free herself. But as quickly as she’d disappeared, Miss Grenshaw reappeared and closed the door behind her. She retrieved an item from her pocket, and as she withdrew it, the fire’s light glinted on metal.
Miss Grenshaw’s harried voice was barely above a whisper. “It was never supposed to be this way.” She stepped to the chair and, using a small pocketknife, sawed at the rope securing Ella to the chair.
The rope gave way.
Miss Grenshaw retreated, her stoic expression unchanging. “I doubt I’ll ever see you again, but if I do, remember what I did for you today.” She turned to leave and, without turning around, said, “Mr. Rowe is in the cellar.”
And then Miss Grenshaw was gone.
Stunned, Ella instinctively rubbed her arms where the ropeshad frayed the fabric of her gown and abraded the soft skin beneath. She hesitated in her disbelief, as if this had been a jest of some sort and she was going to be captured anew.
In the silence the truth registered—Miss Grenshaw had set her free.
Ella did not take time to contemplate it. Miss Grenshaw had said Gabriel was in the cellar. It would not make sense for her to lie about that after freeing Ella. So that was where she needed to go.
She searched the chamber for something she could use as a weapon. She gripped the poker that was on the floor in front of the fireplace. The sounds of laughter and voices emanated from the floor below, and she approached the door and held her breath, listening for the sound of footsteps or voices.
When she was sure she heard nothing, she eased the door open just enough to see into the corridor. A single candle sconce flickered at each end of the hallway, and the staircase she’d ascended was to her left.
She hesitated—once she stepped foot from this chamber, she would be exposed. Clancy’s warning to kill her if she tried to escape terrified her, and the iron poker was heavy in her hand. She’d never needed to defend herself before.
But she had to get away. And if Gabriel was here, she needed to find him.
Chapter 46
ELLA RACED DOWNthe corridor, demanding that her mind recall the directions she’d turned when Mr. Clancy was dragging her to the room. Her breath seemed far too slow to fuel her movements, and her feet could not carry her fast enough.
When she reached the end of the corridor, Ella hesitated at the top of the steep, narrow staircase. What awaited her at the foot of this staircase? Miss Grenshaw had said Gabriel was in the cellar, but where was the cellar?
She reasoned that whatever awaited her downstairs would rival the danger if she’d simply remained upstairs. She knew Gabriel would never leave without her.
She would not leave him.
