Death at Dawn - Caro Peacock [125]
‘Yes. By then, I hope Amos Legge will be here with Rancie. We can all go together.’
Daniel put his hands to his head and groaned again.
‘I know, but I’ve got to provide for her somehow. I don’t suppose Mr Blackstone will be paying livery bills any more.’
I left Daniel on guard over Mrs Martley, picked up my mantle and ran down the stairs to the bedroom corridor. It was deserted, all the guests gone to the ball. I knocked softly on Celia’s door.
‘Come in.’ Then, as soon as I took a step inside, ‘Where have you been? I thought you weren’t coming.’
She was half in and half out of her white-and-silver dress, hair coming down and cheeks streaked with tears. There were little white globes scattered on the carpet that I thought were pearls, but they turned out to be silk covered buttons.
‘I can’t get out of it,’ she said. ‘It won’t let me go.’
She put her arms behind her, wrenching at the long row of buttons at the back of the bodice. More little globes popped to the carpet. She wasn’t accustomed to undressing without the help of a maid. I started on what remained of the buttons.
‘Do stand still.’
But she was almost past reason, tearing at the waistband. Silk ripped apart with a noise like a knife being sharpened and a cloud of white and silver fell round her feet. She kicked her way out of the stiff muslin petticoat and white kid shoes.
‘I think my stepfather suspects something. He kept looking at me.’
The grey dress and a plain petticoat were ready on a chair and I managed to get them on her, having to deal with most of the hooks and buttons myself because her hands were shaking. She slid her silk-stockinged feet into the shoes we’d chosen, took a few steps and stumbled.
‘I can’t do it, Elizabeth. I can’t do it.’
‘Liberty. Do you mean walking or eloping?’
‘Both.’
I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her round to make her look at me.
‘Celia, I promise you that if you don’t go now while you have the chance, you’ll be unhappy for the rest of your life.’
The near-brutality in my hand and voice surprised even me.
‘But you were the cautious one,’ she said. ‘You wanted me to talk to my mother or Stephen. I’ve been thinking, perhaps you were right and I should …’
I must have gripped her shoulder hard because she cried out.
‘It’s past all that now,’ I said. ‘You’re lucky that there’s somebody who loves you waiting for you out there. You must forget everything else and only think of that.’
She blinked, stared into my eyes and saw something that seemed to convince her.
‘I’m sorry. I’m ready now. My cloak and bags are in the wardrobe.’
She’d packed two of them, small but quite heavy. I kept hold of one of them and gave her the other. I had my other hand on the doorknob when she said, ‘Wait.’ She was looking at her canary in his cage.
‘I don’t suppose we could take him …’
‘No. Now hurry.’
I opened the door and looked out. The corridor was still deserted. I led the way at a fast walk to the servants’ door and held it open for her. She gave a last glance over her shoulder at the candlelit corridor, the soft green carpet, the cream-and-gold scrolled woodwork and followed me into the near dark.
‘Keep close to me,’ I said.
I heard the occasional gasp and the bumping of her bag on the stairs as she followed me, but she managed bravely enough. I took my usual route, down the narrow staircase to the chamber pots and out into the back courtyard. There were people there: a boy emptying scraps into the pig barrel, a man and a kitchen maid leaning against the wall talking. She put the hood of her cloak up and they took no notice of us. I led her across the courtyard and out through the archway. By the time we came to where the carriageway divided for the back road, she was breathing heavily.
‘Let me rest, just a little.’
‘A minute, no more.’
There was still just enough light for anybody to see us. I’d feel happier once we were on the back road with banks and hedges on either side. She put down her bag and drew a long, shuddering breath. The jaunty rhythm of a mazurka came from the house.