Page 57 of The Lady’s Guide to Deception and Desire
Tucking the puppy under her arm, she opened the window latch and rested her bottom on the sill.
Then, taking a breath to steady herself, she climbed out.
It was far windieron the ledge than Rosamund had anticipated and only just wide enough to accommodate her.
One hand in front of the other. One knee, one knee.
She kept her head down, making her way, and the words became a song in her head.
Just keep singing and you’ll get there.
One hand in front of the other. One knee, one knee.
As far as she could tell, no one was following her, and there was no shout from the window she’d exited from.
To her relief, she was soon alongside her mother’s room but, looking upwards, she could see the windows were firmly closed.
No matter. There were others.
Just keep singing and you’ll get there.
One hand in front of the other. One knee, one knee.
Pom Pom squirmed but she held him tighter. He had to be good, just for a while.
She kneeled up to look through the next two windows: the first room was a linen cupboard and the one beyond was being used for storage. Both were firmly closed. The next belonged to a bedroom but the windows were tightly shut. Rosamund scraped at the edges but only succeeded in breaking her fingernails.
Just keep singing and you’ll get there.
One hand in front of the other. One knee, one knee.
Pressed to the cold, hard stone, her knees were rather hurting but, onwards she went. There was no going back.
And then, to Rosamund’s dismay, after several more rooms, she was at the end of the ledge, facing the downward drop of the corner of the building.
No! That can’t be all.Her heart lurched in her chest.
There must be a way! Could she break a window?
Shuffling back a little, she stood up and transferred Pom Pom to the crook of her outer arm. Making a sharp elbow with the other, she braced herself, turning away as much as she could before jabbing into one of the tiny panes of leaded glass.
Searing pain shot through her arm, making her cry out.
Pom Pom wriggled and licked her face, kicking his little feet.
“I’m alright. I’m alright,” she gasped, saying the words to try and convince herself.
The small pane of glass was stronger than it looked—and remained unbroken.
What was she doing!
For a moment, Rosamund was consumed by a sense of the ridiculous. She was standing on a ledge half way up the side of the abbey, with a dog in her arms, wearing her clothes over her nightdress, fleeing from an unseen malevolence.
Resting her back against the wall, she looked out across the lawns and meadows. The sun was dipping lower, streaking the western sky amber and rose, making the lake glimmer golden. She could see the little folly, too—where she’d met Benedict the night before.
Only the night before?
It hardly seemed possible. So much had happened.
