held high, marched in through the front door held open by Manners.
The butler’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of her. ‘I’ll send Betsy to your room, miss,’ he said, sounding concerned.
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t look back. Didn’t care to. If she did, she might cry, and she wasn’t going to do that. Not over him.
* * *
Nor would she go to dinner. Sit there being pleasant to a man who had tried to drop her down a deep hole in the ground? Certainly not.
But would he suspect that she realised that it was him? As it was, she should not have said that about not trusting him.
Very well, she would tell him she’d been angry because she thought he was leaving without her instead of searching. Again the bitterness rose like bile in her throat. And the fear. Of course, he wouldn’t search when he assumed he’d succeeded.
She wouldn’t let him get away with trying to kill her, now she was sure. She was going to find a constable. Or a magistrate.
What if they wouldn’t believe her? What if they brought his supposed ward right back here? Then she wouldn’t go to the authorities. She would just disappear. Tonight. It might be her last chance.
Betsy popped her head around the door. ‘I brought some salve for your poor hands, miss.’
Betsy had been horrified at the sight of her hands and knees when she’d help Mary bathe. It was that soaking in the tub that had got Mary’s brain working again. Returned her power of logic.
She smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Betsy smiled back. ‘A parcel came from Mrs Wharton while you were out today. A new gown. It is a lovely deep rose.’
Mary stared at her. ‘I didn’t order another gown.’
‘His lordship did. He was tired of seeing you in the same gown for dinner, Mrs Wharton’s girl said.’
His lordship was tired of seeing her. Full stop. She turned away, worried that her expression might give away the welling feeling of sadness. So his lordship had ordered her a gown. Then she would wear it. And let him make of that what he would.
After dressing in the low-necked, high-waisted gown with its pretty velvet ribbons, she gave Betsy free rein with her hair, as she planned her departure for after midnight.
‘It has started snowing, miss,’ Betsy said between teeth full of pins. ‘We don’t get snow very often in these parts. The children will be out playing in it tomorrow.’
‘You sound as if you would like to join them,’ Mary said looking up. She gasped at the sight of herself in the mirror. Betsy had turned her straight hair into a confection of ringlets and curls. ‘Oh, Betsy, that is amazing.’
‘Thank you, miss.’
‘You really should be a lady’s maid.’
Betsy beamed. ‘Yours, I hope, miss?’
‘We’ll have to see,’ she said, hating knowing she must disappoint the girl.
She got up from the stool in front of the dresser and gazed at the wall. How on earth could she escape, knowing that at any moment his lordship could walk through that wall and catch her out?
Her glance fell on the little history book on her side table. It had drawings of the old Abbey. And maps. She had forgotten about the maps. Perhaps they held the key.
She picked the book up and looked at the last few pages. There were plans of the house. Each floor in detail. And odd little markings, little dotted lines running along beside some of the walls. Along the walls of her room and the one above. Those dotted lines connected each of the towers, and then carried on to where the cliffs and the sea were marked.
The caves under the house.
It also showed a passage from the cellars to the old ruins.
Had the earl seen these maps, when he had glanced at this book? She hoped not.
‘Gloves, miss,’ Betsy said. ‘It is a good thing you bought more than one pair. The ones from this afternoon were ruined.’
‘Thank you, Betsy. Thank you for all you have done for me since I have been here.’
Betsy beamed. ‘Do you need me to walk you down to the drawing room, miss?’
Mary smiled. ‘No. Do you know, I think I have finally got the hang of it.’ Right when she was ready to leave.
* * *
When she arrived at the drawing room, the Hamptons were there and Jeffrey, but there was no sign of the earl.
Manners entered shortly after she did. ‘His lordship sent his regrets,’ he said. ‘He will not be