Page 26 of The Lady
Delilah’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach, which felt as though it was bubbling like a pot left too long on the stove.
She folded her hands on her lap and took a deep breath, remembering the way Henry had stroked her hair and shoulders whenever she was anxious. Some of her tension receded, although not much.
I’ll make my way back to him, she promised herself.I escaped once, I can do it again.
Lady Felton stepped into her line of view, and Delilah tilted her chin up, keeping her expression blank, but refusing to show fear.
“Well, miss, what do you have to say for yourself?” Lady Felton asked, looking down her long nose at Delilah.
Nothing. She had absolutely nothing to say to Lady Felton. Delilah just looked back at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. Fielding looking on with bemusement.
Getting to her feet, Delilah swept out ahead of Lady Felton, who audibly gasped in shock at Delilah’s presumption.
Part of her hoped to run the moment she exited the room, but there were several Runners and four men in Felton livery standing outside. She did not recognize any of the men, and none of them looked like the type who would be sympathetic to her plight. No chance to run yet, but it would come.
It had to.
12
The Tramp’s Lady
There wasno opportunity to escape between Bow Street and Felton House. Lady Felton had clearly anticipated how Delilah would feel about returning and taken precautions against losing her again. The new servants had formed a square around Delilah, marching her from Bow Street into the carriage for an uncomfortable and silent ride during which Delilah stared out the window, and Lady Felton glared at her, then from the carriage into Felton House and all the way up to her tiny room. Delilah actually felt a moment of relief when she realized she was not going to be immediately beaten.
“You will stay in here and think about what you’ve done,” Lady Felton announced, standing in the doorway and staring Delilah down with a grim expression. “Lord Greene knows of your rebellious escape and has given me leave to deal with you as necessary.” She likely expected Delilah to quail, maybe even beg, the way she would have before, but her time in Henry’s care had given her more courage than she had realized. Even though he had not been able to keep his promise to keep her safe, he had done his best, and she had never really expected him to be able to fulfill it. Deep down, she’d always known Lady Felton would come for her. But now, she knew something else too—she was strong and had done things Lady Felton could likely never conceive of, and she had enjoyed it. She knew Lady Felton was nothing more than a bully.
And she knew she could escape. She had done it once, on a whim, and she could do it again, no matter what Lady Felton did to her.
So, she stared back at Lady Felton, chin still held high, her expression just as blank as before. She had not said one word since arriving in Bow Street and did not intend to change that now. Seemingly unnerved by Delilah’s unexpected backbone, Lady Felton whirled around and slammed the door shut behind her. Finally, Delilah was blissfully alone.
The room was just as she remembered—small, cramped, and smelly. It did not dampen her spirits, though. Unlike before, she knew not only knew she could escape, but she knew she had somewhere to go... if only she could make her way back there. Surely, someone in the Warren would help her find the Tramp, even if they did not know who she was. She no longer despaired losing the life she’d desired when she’d first lived with Lady Felton. She had found the life she wanted. Now, she just needed to find her way back to it.
“De-li-lah... We know you are iiiiiin there.” The sing-song quality of Sylvie’s voice did not make it any less threatening.
“Come talk to us, Delilah,” Amy’s coaxing voice was sweet as sugar. “We want to hearallabout your adventures.”
“If you come talk to us, we will intercede with Grandmother for you.”
“We will even tell her we were the ones who broke everything.”
Delilah snorted. They did not actually expect her to believe that tripe, did they? More likely, they were looking to coax any snippets they could use against her, after which they would completely renege on any promises they had made and tattle on her to their grandmother.
Ignoring their continued coaxing, which quickly devolved to threats, Delilah went to the window. The alley was just as narrow and foul as ever, but it was also her most likely means of escape. Very carefully, she lifted the window, wincing as the wood squeaked, but the twins did not seem to notice. They were arguing in heated whispers about the best way to obtain Delilah’s cooperation. Amy thought Delilah could be convinced to talk to them, Sylvie thought they should steal Lady Felton’s key.
Coughing slightly at the increased smell, Delilah looked down. It was a very long way to the ground—two stories and nothing to break her fall if she jumped. Breaking her limbs would certainly not further her goals. Turning, she scanned the sparse room, her eyes coming to rest on the bed. Once, long ago, she had read a penny romance where the heroine used strips of bedsheets tied together to escape from an evil baron, who wanted to force her to marry him. The heroine had escaped from a tower. Surely, the second story of a house should be easier.
Striding over to the bed, she yanked back the thin blanket and dragged the bedsheet onto the floor, looking at it dubiously. Shrugging, she began pulling at it until she found a spot that was weak, then began tearing. Halfway through, she realized she could no longer hear Amy and Sylvie’s whispers. Hopefully, they had given up completely, rather than dare Lady Felton’s ire to steal the key.
Grimly, Delilah decided she had enough strips to begin tying them together. Hopefully, they would be long enough. If the twinsdidreturn with the key and found her tearing the sheets apart, things would not go very well for her. Her fingers were beginning to cramp from all the pulling, but she did not let herself stop. Whatever Lady Felton had planned for her for tomorrow, Delilah did not want to find out.
Once the string of bedsheets seemed long enough, she tied one end around the bedpost, the sturdiest piece of furniture in the room, and carried the bundle of knotted strips to the window. She did not know what time it was, but she thought it likely past the hour when the hell closed. Her eyes felt sticky with exhaustion, but she felt happiness swell when the bundle of strips unraveled out the window, and she looked down to see the end came very close to the ground. Happiness, hope, and something like spite when she thought about Lady Felton’s reaction to finding an empty room with a mangled bed rather than a contrite ward.
Laughter bubbled up as she threw her leg over the sill, clutching a large knot on the sheets with fingers that ached.
Oh, how she had changed in just a short period of time.
Wrapping her arms and legs around the sheets, she began to slowly let herself slip down. It was both exhilarating and frightening as she descended, the ground coming closer and closer. Her muscles were trembling, and it was all she could do to hang on. Likely why she did not notice anyone else was in the alley until they grabbed her—and she let out a shrill scream.
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