Page 5 of The Girl Out of Time
Too risky to exit through the house. If someone found her, she’d have no excuse as to why she was dressed to go out. No, she’d have to think of something else if she wanted to catch that dance at the village pub.
She walked around the room, biting her nails, as her eyes stopped on the thick, gilded rope of the heavy velvet curtain concealing the window. That was it! She’d be like Lady Agnes inThe Specter of Cunningham House. With a hand over her mouth, she silenced her giggle, then got to work.
She freed as much of the rope as possible and tied knots into it, spaced about two feet apart. She pried the window open—it squeaked a bit, but nobody should’ve heard it—and dropped the rope down. With a soft rustle, its end landed in the bushes below. She tugged—sturdy enough—andhauled herself over the windowsill, stepping onto the first knot and wedging the rope between her heels.
She progressed slowly, but progress she did; knot by knot, foot by foot, until she was close enough to the ground she dared to let go, landing between two bushes. She smoothed out her skirt and dusted off her hands, proudly gazing up two stories at her former prison.
Never say Gothic romances only filled women’s minds with “silly ideas.”
The door opened behind her. Emmeline turned around, blinded by the bright light.
“Emmeline?” a voice said, and the lamp was lowered.
She shielded her eyes as she looked upon her would-be jailer and slumped her shoulders. “Good evening, Father.”
“What were you thinking?” Across the dining table where Emmeline sat, Father paced up and down. Her mother stood by the fireplace, the orange glow of the lamp illuminating her pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows.
Father reached a hand to his forehead, stopped, and faced her. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“But I know the rope-climbing technique—”
“I’m not talking about the rope.” Even though he hadn’t raised his voice, his steady low tone indicated how much trouble she was in. “You intended to sneak out to the village, through the forest, in the middle of the night. Anything could’ve happened to you, either on the way there or in the village.”
“Not to mention, it’s incredibly inappropriate for a young woman,” Mother added.
“So you’re saying if I had asked, and someone had accompanied me there, it would be fine?”
“Of course not!” Mother said indignantly. “If you wanted a party, you only had to say so. I’m sure Reginald would’ve loved to throw one.”
“That’s not the point!” Emmeline rose to her feet. “I wanted to go tothatparty because for once, I wanted to do somethingIwished, not something you—”
“Don’t be unfair, Emmeline,” Father said.
“Unfair?” She threw her arms up. “Brendon and Tristan can do anything they want. They’ll put frogs under everyone’s pillows, and you’ll think it’s adorable and sweet. They’ll switch salt with sugar, and you’ll say it’s a ‘funny prank.’”
“Brendon and Tristan are not young ladies,” Mother said.
“I’m almost eighteen!”
“And that’s our point precisely.” Father put his hand on Mother’s shoulder as if to calm her down. “You must behave appropriately to your age and, well, status.”
Emmeline scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest.
“Go to your room.” Father’s tone left no space for unwise arguments, such as that she could climb down the rope again, so Emmeline bit her tongue. She marched out of the dining room and slammed the door behind her, then paused. She inched back and pressed her ear to the door.
“Then what do we do?” Mother’s voice was small with worry.
“Pull her out of finishing school,” Father said. “I know you wanted her to go—”
“I thought it would be good for her.”
“I think so, too. But I’m worried about her pulling the same antics as here, or at home. Like the one with the matchmaking newspaper column …”
Merely poor planning on her part.
“Or the maid incident …”
They were never going to let her live that one down, were they?
