a trapped animal at the layers of twine and tugging at them until her wrists were raw. Unbound, she’d felt her way around the dusty floor and, thankfully, found a chamber pot shoved all the way back under the rickety bed. She still felt weak and disoriented, but it was a huge relief to be untied and away from Lady Isabella.
She watched dawn lighten the small window, far too small to be any use for escape, even if she hadn’t been at the top of the house. The door was sturdy, the walls solid. Without tools, she had no chance of breaking through them. The sparse contents of the room offered no weapon. She had no resources but her wits, and they were far from sharp. She still fought the muzziness of the drug and the fatigue of the forced journey.
When the lock clicked, she braced for a fight about her bonds, but Martha merely frowned at her wrists. She’d brought a glass of water, which Charlotte wanted so desperately she nearly cried. But when Martha stood by waiting for her to drink it, she knew it was dosed. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, holding the glass.
Martha merely waited, leaning against the closed door.
“People know where I am. They will come here looking for me.” And so they would, eventually. How long might it take? “What Lady Isabella has done will be exposed,” she tried. “This is not some trivial matter. How can she imagine…?”
There was a cry outside, and the clatter of something large falling. Martha looked toward the window. With a lightning twist of her wrist, Charlotte dumped the contents of the glass into the straw mattress, then put it to her lips as if drinking. She got one tantalizing wisp of moisture on her dry lips, enough to make her thirst even stronger. When Martha turned back to her, she lowered the empty glass. “There will be real trouble if you do not let me go,” she said to distract her further. Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought Martha looked uneasy. She only took the glass and left, however, locking the door behind her.
Charlotte waited until her footsteps died away, then tried the door. It felt as impregnable as ever. But they thought now that she was drugged; that was one small advantage.
The day wore on. Charlotte was alternately frantic and exhausted. She longed to collapse into sleep, yet she had to remain alert for any opportunity to break free.
It was late afternoon before one arrived, in the person of the old housekeeper with a tray of food. She looked surprised, and alarmed, to see her awake. “Feeling better, miss?”
Charlotte took the tray from her, set it on the bed, grabbed the old woman’s shoulders, and forced her down beside it. She snatched the key from her trembling hand. “Perhaps they have told you I’m mad. That is a lie. I have been kidnapped, and all of you are going to be held accountable for it.” And so much else, Charlotte thought. But that was not to be mentioned here and now.
The old woman stared up at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“If you keep silent when I’m gone, I will tell the magistrates that you had no hand in my abduction.”
The housekeeper shrank away from her, nodding.
Charlotte didn’t know if this was agreement or simple fear, but she couldn’t afford to wait, and she wasn’t willing to hurt the old woman. She locked her in the room with no guarantee that she wouldn’t start shouting at any moment and moved as quickly as she dared along the bare corridor.
She found the back stairs and crept down to the kitchen, fortunately empty. A short corridor led through the scullery and out into the yard. The conflicting needs to hurry and to be careful were almost unbearable, and Charlotte’s heart pounded as she stopped to listen. She didn’t know who else might be here—stablemen, farm laborers? But if there were horses… She raced across to the stables and found them empty. Disappointed, she took the time to dip handfuls of water from the horse trough and drink, then slipped into some shrubbery behind the building and worked her way around the house. She wasn’t able to run for very long; her body hadn’t recovered from the drugged journey. She needed transport, and direction to Sir Alexander’s house. Luckily, Lady Isabella didn’t appear to have a staff of servants to search for her. Martha