Page 101 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Of course, Rose could know nothing for certain. Only that she needed to free herself of the suffocating prison in which she had been placed.
Have they left me here to die?
The notion filled Rose with terror as she imagined the agony which would ensue should she be abandoned in the room to perish. She was already in a much-weakened state but Rose knew she must not succumb to her state.
I have endured worse than this in the orphanage,she told herself.I have overcome pain and loss. I will not permit Balfour to defeat me, not when Nicholas and the children are at stake.
She was still uncertain what role, if any, that the duchess played in this twisted game. Rose prayed that Nicholas’ mother was simply taken by Balfour’s wicked charms but that thought only increased her anxiety. If Her Grace was an unwitting accomplice, that could only mean she was yet another victim of the captain.
She peered around the black room, the only light from an almost burnt candle flickering in a dish. Rose knew that once the final drip of wax had fallen, she would be plunged into total darkness and in even more trouble than she already faced.
I must fashion a way out of here,she thought, gritting her teeth as she willed her tired mind to function. Futilely, she tried the doorknob again, knowing it remained locked and for a fleeting moment, she considered banging on it, but she reconsidered as she thought of who might respond. She could not say who was loyal to the crooked captain, but she was certain he had at least one accomplice inside the estate.
Sorrow flooded her as she thought of Nicholas and how he would react to more devastation. Could he be in a room of his own, hidden away as Balfour concluded his plan? Or was he in an even worse state? Rose shuddered, forcing herself not to allow her emotions to cloud her already impaired judgement.
I will find a way out,she told herself with determination.And I will stop Balfour.
* * *
Her initial bravado had diminished and when the light of the flame extinguished, Rose was enveloped in darkness. Her hands were raw and bleeding from trying to pull the pegs from the hinges but without lubrication, the task was impossible.
She was parched and starved, her head light and eyes heavy. The hope she had clung to was slipping away like icicles in the springtime, dripping harmlessly into a puddle which would evaporate into nothingness in time.
Rose did not need to be told she was losing her grip on her fragile sanity; it was clear in each agonizing second which passed.
I will rest for a moment,she thought to herself, curling onto her side against the straw mattress. As she moved, she heard the gentle squeak of a mouse and Rose desperately looked to see where it had gone, thinking perhaps there was an opening she had not noticed.
You are not thinking soundly. You are not a mouse. You are a confined governess who is wasting away with each passing second.
Rose closed her gritty eyes, relishing the temporary relief that her lids seemed to provide but she knew she could not remain in that spot, not if she wished to survive.
She pushed her thoughts to the days she had spent with Nicholas and the children, hiking through Buford Woods, before the late duke’s passing. She put herself in the schoolroom with Harry, laughing with the boy as he struggled to pronounce Greek words.
She replayed the kiss over again in her mind, grateful that she had experienced it before meeting her fate.
Does he think about it or did it mean more to me than it did him?
Rose realized it did not matter; it would never happen again, not when she was likely never going to see him again.
Loss. My entire life has been about great loss. I was never meant to have a happiness for very long. It was not God’s plan.
The sadness which should have filled her disappeared and she fell asleep, knowing there was nothing else she could do but wait for the end to come. She was in that delicate place between wakefulness and sleep, her mind already developing a dream as she remained vaguely aware of her surroundings.
Even if she was to succumb to her fate, she wanted to ensure she knew who was responsible. She wished to look at Balfour one last time before she perished, to ask him how he had become such a monster. In her mind’s ear, she could hear Betsey’s voice, scolding her brother angrily.
“…everywhere, Harry. She is not here. I think she has died.”
“Do not say that!” Harry cried, the anguish in his voice gut-wrenching. “Take it back!”
“Where else could she be? Have you noticed how quiet and withdrawn Nicholas has become? He knows something has happened to her but he will not tell us!”
“Are you certain she is not in her room?”
“I stole Trudy’s key and checked it myself. She is nowhere in the west wing nor the east wing. Miss Rose is gone. You must learn to accept that she is just one more person we must live without.”
A shiver ran through Rose’s body.
“I am not gone!” she murmured. “I am here.”
