Page 19

Round and round it went, down, down, down. She ended up at yet another dark hall, and there was no kitchen in sight.

“Is anyone there?” she asked, her voice echoing eerily along the corridor.

No answer.

There was a window, however, with wooden shutters, which slammed against the wall in the wind. That was the sound that she must have heard.

Anna grabbed her candlestick tightly. This manor house was a maze. She should have asked Marks to send her a footman to escort her to the dining room; she hadn’t thought of that. Fact was that she was lost, and the grim, gloomy walls that surrounded her frightened her.

She turned to climb the stairs again, when she saw a door, half ajar. Maybe these were servants’ rooms?

“Marks?” she called.

She stepped towards the room, knocked, and since there was no answer, opened the door.

It must be a storage room of some kind, was her first thought.

She lifted the candle.

There was a long, wooden table in the middle of the room. The walls were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, filled with glass jars. Jams, jellies and preserves, Anna assumed. This must be the still room. That meant she must be in the servants’ quarters after all. As she turned to go, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She lifted her candle and illuminated a shelf. These were odd jams and jellies, Anna thought. She stepped closer. They looked like⁠—

Mon Dieu!

She dropped the candle, and it snuffed out, leaving her alone in the pitch-black dark.

She stumbled backwards against the door and opened it with trembling fingers. She rushed out into the hallway, tripped and fell, scrambled up again, where were the stairs? She found them, went up, then along the dark corridor, running, running… until she crashed headlong into someone.

A lengthy curse, followed by “Miss Hilversham! I have been looking for you everywhere.”

She looked up into the ireful eyes of Marks, who rubbed his left shoulder, muttering, “Nearly dislocated my shoulder there.”

“There was—I saw—there was—” She was incapable of putting a sentence together.

“I meant to take you to the dining room. Can’t have you wandering about in these corridors on your own. This is an old manor and the corridors aren’t lit; can’t have many candles lest the entire place burns to cinders, and in some parts the wood on the older stairs is brittle. Never venture out on your own, especially at night,” he scolded.

Anna took deep gulps of air and controlled her breath. Once she calmed down, she said in a trembling voice, “I realised.” She pulled out a handkerchief with trembling hands and rubbed her eyes with it. Taking a deep breath, one, two, three. She was Miss Hilversham. Calm. Composed. Nothing in this world could shake her composure.

“Let us go.”

Marks nodded. “Well then, if you will follow me.” He strode ahead.

* * *

Anna’s heart was still beating wildly when she entered the dining room, and it nearly jumped out of her chest when she saw St John lounging in a chair at the head of a long, wooden table, sipping a glass of wine. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be in his room?

He looked pale and tired, but he was there, and he got out of his chair when Anna entered, even bowing slightly.

To his right sat Phoebe, sulking.

“Miss Hilversham.”

Anna stared at him mutely.

“Is anything the matter?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you. Everything is—fine.” She sat down at his left, her mind in a whirl.

He sat down, leaning back in his chair with half-closed eyes. “You’ve been crying.”