Page 71 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
The splinters dug into her skin but Elizabeth ignored the pain, working feverishly to cut away at the twine around her hands. The process was much slower than she had hoped it would be but she was tenacious, willing herself to remain calm when the urge to scream was overwhelming. She had no way of knowing when Cooper would return and if he did before she had freed herself, he would see what she was attempting to do, as she remained on her side, against the dirty floor. Even if he did not immediately realize she was trying to free herself, he would undoubtedly notice the splintered chair and do something to ensure she did not use it as she currently was.
Sweat formed along the line of her heart-shaped face and she worked vigorously, humming a song softly to steady her overwrought nerves. Blood spilled along her hands, making the task more difficult but she refused to give up—not when she was certain she was so close to freeing herself.
Elizabeth could not say how long she had been slicing at the binds but it felt like hours to her and suddenly, without warning, one of the ties snapped.
She froze, unable to believe it had happened but when the shock wore off, she wiggled her fingers, a spike of pins and needles slithering through her arms and she realized that her hands were free.
In a near-panic, she thrust the twine aside and stared at her fingers through the nearly non-existent light filtering through the slats. It was the first time she had seen her hands in two days. Her sleep-deprived and fearful mind had a difficult time reconciling that the red-stained palms belonged to her and for a terrifying moment, Elizabeth thought she might be taking leave of her senses.
You must not stop now!
The voice was Leonard’s, reaching her through the pit of despair which was threatening to overcome her and with a metaphorical thud, she found herself back in the present, remembering what she needed to do to keep herself alive.
Untie your feet now.
Once more, the slickness of the blood still oozing from her hands made the task difficult. Coupled with the lack of feeling in her numb extremities, what should have been a relatively simple objective took much too long to reach. Yet after only two minutes of working on the tight knots on her feet, Elizabeth was able to rise.
To her horror, her knees buckled instantly, the weight of her body too much to sustain after days of atrophy. She remained where she fell, her breaths escaping in short gasps, eyes trained on the slats above her head for signs of movement. It had not occurred to her that moving would be such an ordeal but as the blood attempted to resettle in her body, no longer constricted by the ties, Elizabeth realized how weak she had become wilting away in the dark. She had been fed but not nearly enough to keep her strong.
Yet she shoved all of her fears aside and slowly rose, testing her legs again. She had not cut her arms to shreds only to be caught in the cellar. She knew she needed to find a place to hide, one away from the cellar, where she might have a chance to regain her strength before running for help.
Tentatively, she put her foot forward and cringed. She had no shoes but in that moment, she considered it a blessing. They would only create noise. Being barefoot was stealthier.
It took several minutes but as she walked around slowly in the cramped space, her muscles began to respond and Elizabeth was feeling confident enough to attempt the stairs.
Cautiously. I must proceed cautiously. Someone could be sitting outside the door keeping watch.
If that were true, she hoped it was Mark but Elizabeth had learned much about wishes those past two days and she knew to expect the unexpected.
Up the steps she walked, silently, her eyes still fixed above her head at the only light she could see.
One, two, three…
She had counted six short stairs to the cover and when she landed on the fourth step, she raised her hands above her head. Elizabeth inhaled, preparing herself to move the door.
You open it slowly, get your bearings and if you see no one, you run far and fast,she told herself. Her hands were trembling but again, she called on Leonard to help guide her through.
Leonard would not be afraid. Leonard would throw these doors wide open and face whatever was out there without fear. You can do the same.
Without another second to waste, she shoved the door with the flat of her palms…
But nothing happened. The door did not move. Elizabeth’s mouth parted and she stared up at it in confusion before trying again. It still did not swing outward as she expected.
A deep wave of frustration flooded her body and a guttural howl formed in the pit of her stomach. Her sanity was breaking and no amount of reason would bring it back. She began to pound on the door with both fists, the screams of anguish filling her mouth but something primal inside her, some inherent desire to survive forced her stop moving. She choked back the howls of protest until she gagged.
Slowly, her fists fell back to her side and she was left in a smouldering, trembling mass of distress. The door was locked from the outside. There did not need to be a guard for she had no escape route.
There was nothing she could do except wait for her captors to return and discover that she had not behaved as she had promised.
There is nothing I can do except await my inevitable death.
* * *
“…stay there! Why do you insist on following me every time I go to see the princess? If I did not know better, Mark, I would say you have designs on her!”
Elizabeth’s heart leapt as the voice grew closer but she remained crouched in her spot. In seconds, she would be exposed, in Cooper’s furious pathway, as untied.
“I do not!” Mark protested. “I come only as your guard.”
