She left her bedroom and went downstairs with quick steps, enjoying the exercise.
“Dobkins?” she called.
Mark, the footman, came out of a door. “My lady, Dobkins is out for an errand.”
“I need my coat, and maybe Anne can come with me?” She gazed out of the frosted window, anticipating the bite of the crisp air. She would find an excuse to tell Anne about seeing Samuel.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but the countess left us strict instructions. You can’t go out today.”
She whipped her head towards him. “Excuse me?”
“My apologies. We have our orders.”
“Where’s my father?” She closed her fists.
“I’m afraid he isn’t home.”
“I’m trapped in my own house.”
Mark didn’t say anything.
“It’s not fair.”
“Would you like a cup of tea, my lady?”
“No, thank you.” She stomped back upstairs, angry tears blurring her vision.
The situation was her fault. She should have never pandered to Mother’s whims and delusions. Her captivity was the result of years of sayingyes.
She paced across the bedroom, nervous energy fuelling her anger. Seeing Samuel was only part of the reason she wanted to leave her house. She needed to get out.
The tree branches swayed as if wanting her attention. She paused in front of the window. How difficult could it be to climb down a tree?
A chilling gust froze her skin when she opened the window. Her breath turned into mist. The old oak tree had seemed a lot closer a moment ago. Perhaps she should find another way to leave her room.
No, there wasn’t another way. The rear door would be filled with maids and footmen at this time of the day, and when Mother was in that panicked state, even Dobkins never wanted to disobey her.
After getting her coat, hat, and gloves, she rubbed her hands and grabbed the closest tree branch before putting a foot on the windowsill. Without looking down, she hauled herself up and straddled the branch. Her heart leapt to her throat when she wobbled. But so far, so good.
Moving backwards while gripping the branch, she lowered herself. It was easier than she’d thought, like riding a horse. The ground didn’t look far at all. Her foot slipped on a frozen spot on the bark, and she slid down at an alarming speed.
She couldn’t stop a scream as she rushed down the tree, trying to slow her descent by grabbing the branches. She hit the ground with her foot before landing on her rear. A shot of pain went up her back and leg, but the worst thing was Mark sticking his head out of a window.
He stared at her in shock. “My lady?”
Oh, no. She hadn’t risked breaking her neck to get caught.
She sprang up and raced along the pavement as fast as her throbbing ankle allowed. She must have twisted it.
Mark was tall and quick, but by the time he left the house, she had turned a corner, then another, till reached the high road and could hail the first hackney she saw.
Wheezing, she sagged in the seat, half-smiling and half-wincing. The escape had thrilled her, but her rear burned and her ankle throbbed. Not to mention Mother would punish her when she returned home. She was aware of that. But what was the difference between before or after her escape?
From now on, she would go against Mother more. She wanted to prove she was healthy and that Mother exaggerated her fears.
Vivienne was officially a rebel now.
