Chapter 30

- Into the Woods -

You shouldn't be doing this Beaumont, my mind chided as I slipped through yet another door into a dimly lit passage. You're going to get yourself killed.

I tried to ignore my mind and racing heart, walking as quickly as I dared. My fur-lined boots made no noise against the flagstones and with my dark cloak and gloves I was little more than a shadow in the gloom.

I moved slowly, straining my ears for any hint of voices, of feet on stone floors, even a whisper of breath on the air. Everything was quiet now, but I knew that even this late this part of the palace wouldn't be deserted.

Servants never slept in a place like this.

There was always someone up and working and my job was to avoid them at all costs.

I stopped at a door. No light crept from beneath it and listening at the wood I heard nothing.

I opened it slowly, praying the hinges were well oiled.

Inside was a dark storeroom, piles of clean folded sheets, jars of bath salts and bars of soap piled on shelves around the walls.

My heart pounded in my ears. Finding a way out of the palace shouldn't have been this hard.

Until now I hadn't realised how limited my knowledge of the servants' passages were. Bianca traversed these every day, as did Rachel. They must have known them like the backs of their hands. I'd never thought to ask about them. They crept between the walls and through the bowels of the palace like a labyrinth, and I was Theseus without a ball of string.

I knew the kitchens had doors leading outside, for taking delivery of fresh produce from the city. So did the servants dining rooms, scullery, and wine cellar, but I had no idea where any of those places were. It's not like they had signposts down here.

You have no idea where you are, or which way is out. You're going to get caught, and he's going to kill you.

I closed the door and pressed my head against the wood. Taking deep steadying breaths, I tried to stop my hands from shaking.

You can still go back.

Straightening, I glanced back up the corridor the way I'd come.

I thought about it.

Upstairs my parlour waited. It had been dark when I'd left, the only movement the curve of two shoulders caught by the dying embers of the fire.

Bianca had slept soundly on a settee, Rachel on the other with Westley curled into a ball at her feet. Together they rose and fell in time with sounds of deep, peaceful breathing.

The sight of them there together had brought a lump to my throat.

I'd watched them for as long as I dared before I left, pausing only to place the letters I'd written on the mantlepiece.

It had hurt to write those letters, but I'd needed to tell them why I had to go.

In every word I'd tried my best to explain, to justify my actions. However, even as I descended the stairs, I'd still felt like I was betraying them, abandoning them.

In the time I'd spent on Anhelina I had come to love Bianca like a sister. She had shown me so much kindness and compassion, even when I didn't deserve it.

What did you say to someone you loved who you would likely never see her again?

I had tried to thank her, to put into words what she meant to me and wished over and over that I was a better writer. No matter what I said it didn't seem to be enough.

The only thing I'd asked of her was that she take care of Rachel for me.

Rachel.

Writing her letter was like pulling my own teeth. I cried so much writing it, the words on the page were in danger of becoming illegible.

I had promised Rachel that I would never leave her again, that I would take her with me when I left. I had looked into the trusting doe eyes of a ten-year-old child and told her I would never abandon her.

Now I was doing just that, breaking a promise I had no right to break, just as I had at the Palace of Justice.

Would she cry tomorrow when she saw I'd left? Or maybe she'd hate me for leaving her, just like everyone else in her life had. That thought alone was enough to make me question what I was doing.

I'd wanted to tell her I would come back for her someday, to make new promises, ones I would keep this time, but I didn't dare put that in writing. I knew it would only paint a target on her back. So, for good or ill, I said I was sorry and said nothing of the future. It was a promise I was going to have to keep for myself.

I'd left both letters on the mantlepiece and prayed that they wouldn't hate me after the read them.

You could go back.

The dark corridor called to me. I could return upstairs, burn the letters, pretend I'd never left.

I turned my back on it and kept walking onwards.

There was no choice, no question of turning back. It was either this or nothing.

There was no magical door number three with a star prize waiting behind it.

I had run out of options. Every second which ticked away was another second closer to my doom.

The Duke was coming back.

Unconsciously I sped up my pace.

No, after my foolishness with the blue bottle my mind was now surprisingly clear.

I loved Rachel and Bianca, but I had to let them go. I had to show my resolve, even to myself.

It was run away now while I still had the chance or face a lifetime of slavery and worse.

And I would not endure the latter.

I would never endure that again.

I tried other doors as I passed them, some locked, some open but all leading nowhere.

I turned left and made my way up a narrow flight of stairs, freezing like a statue at every creak of the old wood under my heels. I reasoned I must have been in the west wing of the palace by now, judging by how far I'd walked, and perhaps on ground level. The air wasn't as cold or dank now as it had been below.

The stairs eventually opened out onto a long plain landing, and that was when I saw it. At the opposite end of the landing stood a tall window. Through it I could see the white stone wall of the palace stretching off into the distance, and the grey gravelled paths heading away from it, into the darkness of the trees and gardens.

I didn't need a door, I realised then, this would be fine. If I could get that window open, I could drop the six feet to the ground and be gone.

The only problem was the window was situated at the other end of the landing, and between me and it a wedge of yellow light arced across the floor.

Candlelight flickered against the opposite wall, casting shadows. Muffled sounds of male voices emanated from the open door. Laughter and clinking glasses.

Guards or kitchen staff maybe, I thought. I remember Bianca saying once that they liked to stay up late drinking and playing cards, much to the disapproval of the butler and housekeeper.

I stood there in the semi-darkness, thinking desperately, staring at that damn window that was so far away it might as well have been on Mars.

I could just hurry past the door, I reasoned. From the level and slur of their voices the men had been drinking. Would they even notice me, a dark shape in a dark corridor as I passed? But what if they heard the window open? What if it let in a sudden draft which they felt? What if one of them was looking the wrong way at just the wrong moment and saw me?

I looked back up the corridor the way I'd come. Should I turn back, go back downstairs and try and find another way out? Or should I hide myself somewhere and wait, hoping the men would leave soon?

A few seconds later however, that decision was taken out of my hands.

"Right, call in your debts and call it a night gentlemen."

I froze as a volley of groans followed this pronouncement.

Shit.

"Come on Will, don't be a spoil sport," one voice said. "One more hand, plus we still have half a bottle."

Much jeering and table thumping met this.

Looking around I reached for the handle of the nearest door and twisted. It wouldn't move. Shit.

"We can bring the bottle with us," Will said, "but I wanna be upstairs before Bates gets up."

"You wonna catch her in her smallclothes?" another voice said, cooing in a high-pitched voice. "Give her a good morning surprise?"

More jeering, this time interspersed with wolf whistles.

Two men even began singing the chorus of a lewd drinking song I'd heard in the taverns Bert and Ernie used to go to.

"Enough. Enough!" Will smirked, good-humouredly. "Rufus, Ronan, you're shit singers so shut it unless you wanna start losing teeth."

I retreated as quickly as dared away from the light. Desperately I tried another door. Again, locked.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Look, the old bag Bates already has it out for me," Will continued. "I'm not going to give her another reason to dock my pay and neither should any of you."

"Yeah, Will's right," another voice sighed. "Plus, His Grace is due back any day now. I don't wanna be put in that firing line."

That idea seemed to sober them up pretty quickly.

The laughing and singing died away. There was a murmur of assent as chairs scraped and they packed away whatever they'd been doing.

Panic swept through me like a cold chill.

I tried another door.

Any second half a dozen men were going to come pouring out of that room and find me standing here like an idiot.

I was out of time. I would have to make a dash for the stairs and pray they wouldn't hear or see me. But it was too far, much too far, and inside the room the shadows were moving, pulling on jackets.

A dark-haired man dressed in a footman's uniform stepped out into the corridor facing away from me, stretching and yawning.

I almost broke into a run. Then I saw it. The crack of black from a door left ajar a few feet ahead.

I didn't think, didn't celebrate. I opened it and fled inside, pushing the door almost closed behind me all in less than a second. Then I stood in the dark, back pressed to the wall, heart pounding somewhere in my ears.

I could smell starch and soap and something distinctly botanical. It clawed at the back of my throat, but I refused to make a sound. I was barely breathing.

Outside the voices began moving along the corridor. They were leaving. The light from their lanterns grew brighter and brighter as they drew closer. Instinctively I shied away from it, shrinking into the wall like the shadows did around me.

Then they had passed, the light diminishing as the creak of feet on floorboards accompanied their decent of the stairs.

I almost had time to relax, I almost let myself fall into a quivering ball of jelly on the ground.

Then one of the men cursed. "Shit, I need to get a clean uniform."

My heart took a nose dive off a short cliff. No, no you don't, I thought desperately. Just go to bed.

"Seriously?"

"You could just get it tomorrow, Jacque."

Yes, listen to him Jacque, you idiot.

"Won't be time," Jacque's voice said, "Bates has us run ragged getting things ready for His Grace's return. I saw her schedule at dinner, it's like she's planning for an invasion."

"Fine. Get mine too while you're there."

"Yeah, and mine."

"Fine, give me that lamp. I'll catch you up."

Feet hurried back up the corridor as the men's conversation faded away.

And white-hot panic flared in me again because I knew why this room had been the only one left open. Of all the rooms I could have hidden in, this was the servant's cloakroom.

You're going to get yourself killed, the voice repeated as I backed away from the door. They're going to find you.

I looked around the dark wildly. Panicking.

I couldn't see anything, let alone anywhere to hide.

The footsteps were drawing nearer. I could see the candlelight getting brighter every second through the crack of the door.

Then my left foot nudged a pile of something soft.

Cloth.

A laundry pile.

It would have to do.

I felt as ridiculous as a child playing hide and seek even as I knelt and began digging myself into the pile, covering myself as best I could, curled into a ball on my side.

Then the door opened, and I stopped breathing.

Through the weave of the fabric I faintly make out the glow of his lamp as he moved across the room.

I heard him place the lamp down and begin rummaging through draws and shelves for belts and cufflinks and whatever else he needed.

I didn't move a muscle, didn't even dare to breathe, but my heart was hammering against my chest so hard I was certain he could hear it.

If I was caught now everything was lost.

Feet moved across the floor, towards my side of the room.

I fought the instinct to shy away, forcing myself to stay still.

"Hurry up Jacque! How hard is it to find three footman coats?"

"I'm coming!" he yelled, his voice almost directly above me.

He grabbed something else, then the lamp and left. The light faded and the door closed.

He was gone.

I stayed there, buried in the laundry until all sounds of feet and voices were only distant echoes. Then I stayed there for a few more long minutes until I was sure they weren't going to come back.

It had been dark, they had all been drinking and he hadn't been looking around too closely.

Those were the only things that had just saved me, and I knew it.

I pulled off the clothes like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, then sat there in the dark for a long time, thinking.

You're going to get yourself killed, Beaumont.

And the voice was probably right.

I had tried to run away once before and look at how that had ended.

This wasn't some childish game of hide and seek. If I were caught trying to run away again, I would be hanged. It had been one of the first things I'd learned from Mrs Phillips, my teacher.

And even if, by some miracle, I wasn't executed I would never get another chance like this. He would never let me.

I remembered vaguely that Dante had once told me that if I ever tried to run away again, he would kill me himself. I wondered now if he'd ever really meant it. At the time he had seemed sincere, but things had changed between us since then, for good and ill.

Dante.

I paused.

For a long moment I just sat there in the dark, thinking.

I had written one more letter for the mantlepiece before I'd left my rooms, one I hadn't put a name on.

Unlike with other letters, I hadn't spoken of feelings or regrets to him. My hand couldn't be trusted to write things like that. I didn't try to explain my actions to him either, as I had to Rachel and Bianca.

He would know why I left. He understood how people worked. It was one of the skills that made him very good at what he did.

In his letter I had simply asked him to protect Bianca and Rachel from whatever fallout my disappearance would cause. That they shouldn't have to suffer because of me.

And I knew he would do as I asked. Not out of affection or loyalty towards me, for I was pretty sure he had none, but because it was the right thing to do. Because he was a man who always tried to do the right thing. Tried to do whatever was in his power to ease the suffering of others, even under the most terrible of circumstances. A man of empathy and kindness trapped in a life and position which allowed so little of it.

That was who he really was, beneath the mask of indifference.

That was the man I had fallen in love with, and the man I'd written that letter to.

If you're leaving, you need to let him go too.

I nodded to myself and pushed the thoughts and memories away.

I took a deep breath, stood up and kept moving.

For a minute I listened at the door. When I heard nothing, I pulled my cloak tight around my shoulders and stepped out.

It was much darker now the lamplight was gone, but I could see the pale rectangle of the window clear as day.

I hurried to it. The catch turned easily and gently, slowly I pushed the window up and open.

Bitter night wind assaulted me Instantly, and I grimly thought as my skin turned gooseflesh, that I should have worn another couple of petticoats.

Peering out the window I could see nothing. Nothing was good.

No guards, no servants, even the birds were quiet. Glancing up, the windows of the servants' bedrooms were still dark, but even if any of them happened to peer outside right now I would just be a black smudge in the darkness, indistinguishable from any other.

Quick as I could I hitched one leg out of the window, then the other. Then I lowered myself over the edge until I was hanging from the sill by my fingers.

The gravel path came up to meet me as I let go. It wasn't a graceful landing, and I waited a long minute crouched on the ground in case someone had heard something and felt the need to investigate. When no one did I got to my feet.

I looked up at the open window, far out of reach. No chance of being able to close it, I would just have to leave it.

Turning around I kicked the gravel back into place, masking my landing spot, then lifting my hood over my head and hurried off into the gardens out of sight.

I walked quickly, which helped with the cold. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, but it didn't help much. I could just distinguish the dark shapes of trees and statues from the lighter paths of gravel and stone, but that was it.

I had no fixed idea of where I was going, but that didn't matter. I just needed to keep the lights of the palace windows at my back and keep walking away.

I walked farther than I'd ever walked in the gardens before, past the lakes and the Pavilion and the orchards. The palace was just a dolls house on the horizon when I reached the outer wall.

It must have been about ten feet high and along its side were large, gnarled trees, stripped of colour in the darkness. I looked at them for a long minute then approached the nearest one, grabbed a branch with one hand, put my food firmly on another and began to climb. I climbed until I reached the top of the wall and was able to pull myself up and sit astride it.

Looking over the wall there was nothing on the other side but shadow and darkness. I couldn't see how far the drop was.

That worried me.

The window had been one thing, but at least I'd been able to see the ground.

Was it ten feet or fifty feet? Was it soft or rocky? The shadows hid everything.

Looking back the way I'd come I could see the palace. It glowed ghost-like in the darkness, the flickering yellow of candlelight playing in some of the upper windows - the first waking signs of those torn too soon from the unconscious world.

You can still go back, my head told me. You could climb down from this wall and return to the palace. Just find a door, slip upstairs, and pretend you never left.

There was still time.

Everything could be undone.

For the span of a heartbeat, I sat there, looking at the palace.

Then I unhitched my leg from over the wall and dropped into darkness, turning my back forever on the palace and everything and everyone it held.