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Anderton would be polishing the silverware in his study, and the other servants would be eating a late dinner in the kitchen. The way was clear, the chance was now, and if they did not escape, then there would be no further opportunity to do so. Eloise feared her father would see her marriage to Lord Crawford enacted as soon as possible. There could be no delay – escape was her only hope.
“You know I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, My Lady. But I’m not as brave as you.” Delphine glanced nervously around her as they crept down the stairs.
“We’ll be brave together. Come on.” Eloise kept her voice to a hush as they hurried across the hallway and along the passage to the door leading out into the garden.
To Eloise’s great relief, they found the door unlocked. The hinges needed oiling, and they creaked as Eloise opened the door. She held her breath lest she hears her father’s study door opening. But all was quiet. She pictured her father, wreathed in tobacco smoke, his eyes closed and an open book resting on his stomach.
You lost one daughter, Father, and now you’re to lose a second.They slipped out of the door and along the path towards the garden. The lawn was partially hidden from the house by a set of four apple trees, and Eloise and Delphine hurried across the path to its edge, reaching the shrubbery and pausing to catch their breath.
“Did we make it, My Lady?” Delphine asked, glancing back towards the house.
But there were no sounds of pursuit. Eloise breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.
“Our disappearance won’t be discovered until the morning. We’ll be on the way to Bath by then, with a message to Jackson dispatched, too,” she said.
A sense of calm came over her. She was saved, and she wondered if this was how her sister had felt when she fled. Had it been something to do with their father? Had he sought to treat her in just the same way he now treated Eloise? Perhaps there had been some terrible secret between them, something that caused her sister to flee without ever wishing to return. If that had been the case, then Eloise understood all too well the reason, for it was one she now shared: their father’s stubborn cruelty, a cruelty which had driven both his daughters away.
“Just the garden gate now, My Lady. We can hail a carriage on Pentonville Street,” Delphine said.
The two women fought their way through the shrubbery and came to the wrought-iron gate, which led out onto the street. It was bolted on the side, and Eloise struggled to pull back the rusty lock, which had not been used in many years.
“Oh, I can’t do it, Delphine. Can you help me?” Eloise feared they would be thwarted at the final hurdle.
Delphine placed her hands on Eloise’s and, with a tremendous effort, the two women pulled the lock back. The bolt slid gratingly to one side, and the door creaked open. Brambles had grown up on the other side that their dresses tore, and the thorns scratched their arms as they pushed their way through and out onto the street behind the house. It was more of a lane, with backings on each side that led to the gardens of other large and imposing houses in the vicinity. No one else was around. Eloise pulled the door shut, then dusted herself off, smiling at Delphine, who shook her head and sighed.
“Oh, My Lady. I can’t believe we did that. Where to now?” she asked.
“Pentonville Street, just as you suggested,” Eloise replied, taking her bag and pointing in the direction of the nearest thoroughfare.
Arm in arm, they hurried off along the lane. Eloise glanced back, imagining for a moment her father following them. But there was no sign of pursuit. And when they reached Pentonville Street, it was an easy enough task to hail a carriage.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.
“An inn, a reputable inn. Somewhere on the other side of the city,” Eloise responded, clambering into the compartment, and helping Delphine in next to her.
The carriage driver nodded and climbed up onto the boards. He clicked his tongue and geed off the horses, joining the file of carriages through the London streets.
“We did it, My Lady,” Delphine said, as they sat back and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I think we did.” Eloise exhaled, as a smile came over her face.
CHAPTER17
Jackson was despondent. He had returned home in confusion, only to be faced with his uncle’s questions as to what had occurred to send him into such a low and sorrowful mood.
“Rejected you, did she? Ah, well,” his uncle had said, with more than a hint of glee in his voice.
Jackson could not inherit his fortune until he had made his vows and taken a wife. It was an archaic dictate, but one his uncle had enforced with every legal possibility available. For as long as Jackson remained unmarried, his uncle had control of his fortune, and with that control came absolute power.
“She didn’t reject me. Her father forbade it. She’s to marry that swine, Crawford,” Jackson had answered.
He had poured himself a stiff brandy and retreated to the library, shutting himself away, feeling entirely miserable. He could not understand the Viscount’s change of heart. What was it that had changed? He had accused Jackson of mounting a ruse, and whilst it was true a ruse had existed, there was no doubting what that ruse had become.
“I love her. I can’t do without her. I can’t bear it,” he said to himself.
But what made it worse was knowing Eloise felt the same. It was not she who had rejected him, but her father, who now stood between her and happiness. Between them both and happiness.
“Mr. Dobson to see you, Your Grace,” the butler pronounced, appearing in the library later that afternoon.
