After putting everything back in Ian’s knapsack, Lyssa continued to sit at her window post, weighing grim options. For the first time, she wished she had never left London. Shedeserved to pay a price for her foolishness, but what of Ian? What of the family who waited for him?
In truth, no one needed her. Not even her father anymore…and obviously not her stepmother.
Lyssa rested her arms on the desk and laid her head upon them. “Please, Mama, help me.”
There was no answer.
And so Lyssa did the only thing she could do. She wept.
Lyssa woke with a start, lifting her head up off the desk.
She was immediately alert. The hour was late. She listened, uncertain why she was awake. No sound echoed through the heavy walls and yet, something had woken her.
She looked out the window toward the stable. The contrast of the full moon and black shadows gave the landscape an eerie light—and then she saw movement. The guard, the same one she’d seen earlier, still stood at the door. But then, yawning, he moved inside.
A current of cool air swirled around her and Lyssa caught the scent of roses. It had been the air that had woken her.
The window was closed.
“Mother?” The word came out of her mouth before she’d even realized.
Lyssa slowly rose to her feet, uncertain of her own runaway emotions. Was she so frightened she was imagining ghosts now?
And then an idea struck her. A daring, foolhardy notion. Almost as if pushed by unseen hands, she moved around the desk, unlocked the window, opened it, and looked out. Not even a breeze stirred the trees. She leaned over and investigated the wall her parents had once climbed down to escape this very room.
Of course.
The drop to the ground was daunting but in the silver moonlight, she saw that uneven stones jutted here and there down the house’s wall…and again there was the fragrance of roses.
Facing the room, Lyssa announced triumphantly, “You’re here!”
There was no answer. But she knew.
She was not alone…she hadneverbeen alone.
Her mother’s presence filled her with hope. The fresh air of the draft slipped through her but this time, her heart was warm. She had no choice but to trust. She’d asked for a way and one had been presented. All that was left now was screwing up her courage.
Lyssa changed back into her “Gypsy” clothes, throwing her plaid over her shoulders to hide her white blouse. She didn’t want anything from Anice and it felt good to be in her own clothing. Retrieving the leather tie she’d been using for her hair,she quickly braided the heavy mass as best she could and tied it off. Her curls sprung out this way and that, but she didn’t care.
She started for the window but stopped. The tarot card lay in a pool of moonlight on the dresser as if beckoning her.
The Knight of Swords. She couldn’t leave without him. Swooping the card up, she stored it in the knapsack she wore over her shoulders, checked outside to see if anyone was watching and then threw one leg out the window.
Surprisingly, the going wasn’t that bad. The shoes that had been so stiff at the beginning of her journey were now perfect for this sort of exercise. She was only two stories up. The rocks made for good handholds and she didn’t have any trouble finding a place to put her feet. All it took was courage.
The toughest part was that right below her window, there was an exterior door and next to the door, another window. She climbed along side-ways, finally losing her foothold and finding herself dangling for a moment before dropping to the earth. She landed in some overgrown boxwoods that smelled like cat urine.
Stunned, she sat there a moment before clambering out of the bushes and onto her feet. Her stockings were ripped and she had a few scrapes but, thankfully nothing was broken.
The house was in darkness. Keeping to the shadows, Lyssa moved toward the stable, a plan forming in her mind. Not far from the stable door, hidden in the shadows of overhanging fir branches, she pulled the pistol out of the knapsack and approached the stable door.
The horses were inside and asleep. No nickered greeting marred her entrance. In the distance, by the pond, she could hear the croak of frogs and the incessant chirp of other night insects, but they were not disturbed by her.
The moonlight spilling in the stable door highlighted the guard’s legs. He’d propped himself against the wall of the first stall and had fallen asleep.
No one else seemed to be about.
She stepped into his line of sight and held up her pistol. “Don’t move.”
