Chapter Twelve
Twelve
IT WAS WELL INTO the afternoon by the time I could bring myself to open my eyes, and later still when I mustered the energy to drag myself from bed.
My body had that leaden weariness I associated best with having drunk too much wine, but there were no joyous escapades to look back on, only sore limbs, blistered feet and the dawning reality that I could never return to my old life.
My shoulders hurt more than they had the night before, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the memory of everything that had happened.
I twisted my body into every angle imaginable to crane a look at the rosy souvenirs.
My skin was mottled with bruising, sharp red moons jutting through the blooms where Raleigh’s nails had pierced flesh.
Moira would have a heart attack if she saw.
So I dug out one of the more modern gowns Raleigh had given me and was relieved to find it covered my neckline entirely.
After a much-needed freshen-up, I dragged my aching feet in search of something to fill my stomach.
I was unsurprised to find there was no breakfast laid out for me, though I supposed by now a late lunch would be more accurate.
What did surprise me was that the dining room was pristine.
The table was usually tidy enough, but I’d grown used to the dust on the mantle and the cobwebs in the corners.
Was Moira an anxious cleaner? Somehow I doubted it.
She’d never struck me as a woman prone to stress.
My stomach growled, driving away all thoughts of housework. I hadn’t eaten anything since the previous night, and I was no longer accustomed to starvation. I took myself to the kitchen without a second thought, but when I arrived I realised that something was terribly wrong.
The air smelt dazzling, delicious. Like real, flavoursome cooking, not flour and boiled meat.
I hadn’t smelt anything so wonderful since the last time Father took me to the markets, and that was an ancient memory now.
Moira had outdone herself. I stepped through the doorway, ready to lavish praise on her. But she wasn’t there.
There was a stranger in the kitchen. He was well built, with tightly coiled dark hair and a moustache I hoped at least he thought was becoming.
He scowled at the sight of me, as though I was the stranger and he had lived in the castle the whole time.
‘So you’re the princess who turned her nose up at my meals. ’
‘I … just awoke.’ I stepped back instinctively.
The man grunted. Unsure what to do, I scooted around him, feeling his gaze follow my every move, and sought out the larder where Moira kept the bread and cheese that usually comprised my lunch.
To my dismay, if there was bread and cheese in there they were buried, lost under a sea of fresh ingredients, many of which I couldn’t have named if I tried.
‘You’re getting in the way,’ he said.
‘I just wanted something to eat,’ I said weakly. As the words left my mouth I realised how I sounded. To him, whoever he was, I was nothing but the spoilt lady of the house, swanning down in a fine gown to demand refreshment after sleeping away half the day.
‘Then you can eat the meals I make for you when I make them,’ he said, and before I knew it, he had ushered me out of the kitchen and stormed away.
I alternated between fury and confusion, settling on the former before retreating to the dining room.
I could have marched back in and demand he serve me, as was my right as the prince’s betrothed, but the mere thought made me recoil in such embarrassment that I slunk to the library to distract myself instead.
I didn’t last long. After my late-night adventure, I couldn’t make my eyes focus on the page for more than a few lines.
I found myself staring blankly at the parchment, willing the inconsistent letters to make sense of themselves.
If the scribes of old were men of such genius, why couldn’t they decide on one form for the letter D?
And why couldn’t they invest in better parchment?
In the end, I wound up doing little more than watch the wax trickle down the side of my candle until I decided I needed fresh air.
With the strange man barring the kitchen door, I didn’t know how exactly I was going to get outside.
The main entrance was a grand set of double doors, built for a castle full of servants and too heavy to open on my own.
But surely there was another way out. I left the library without tidying up, brainstorming different places I could check, when another idea occurred to me.
‘Can you hear me?’ I said into the empty corridor. My voice rang out on the stone. ‘Is there another way out of the castle? Not out out,’ I quickly corrected, ‘Out onto the grounds. Could you help me?’ I put my hand onto the wall for good measure. ‘Please?’
Nothing happened. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, even though there was no one there to hear. Deciding to take my chances with the strange man in the kitchen, I set off once more. Then stopped.
There was an opening in the wall I had never seen before.
That in itself wasn’t remarkable: most of the doors in the corridor changed day to day according to Raleigh’s whims and, with every candle lit and surfaces polished, the halls were already barely recognisable.
But I would have noticed an opening in the stone.
The wall itself had slid open, a dark corridor beckoning beyond.
I stepped inside. At once light sprang to life along the sconces, illuminating a path down a set of uneven, but barely trodden steps.
It must have been an escape passage. I’d read once that castles and palaces had them hidden away in case of a siege.
The French queen had supposedly used one to escape the revolution, though it didn’t ultimately work out for her.
This one was built like a labyrinth. New corridors branched off every few yards.
It would be extremely easy to get lost down here.
I wondered if anyone had, and if so, whether they ever made it out.
My path, however, was lit. I passed the darkened turn-offs without a second thought, hoping that the house wasn’t leading me into some sort of trap.
But soon the corridor filled with natural light.
A bush blocked my route out. I crawled under it, dirt grinding into my gown, and then I was out, the cool air welcome on my skin.
I emerged in the grounds on the opposite end of the castle to the kitchen. I paused a moment to thank the castle, then set out into fading sun, ignoring the protestations of my already exhausted limbs.
I found Moira in her vegetable patch, tending to her artichokes, which meant it was later than I thought. She glowered when she saw me, then ducked her head to pretend that she hadn’t. She slapped her fertiliser down harder than necessary. ‘Raleigh found you, then.’
‘I meant to come back.’
Moira kept toiling without looking up.
‘I didn’t choose to stay,’ I said again.
‘Father …’ I didn’t know how to say it. With the night behind me, his actions slid into horrible clarity.
I explained what happened, from me finding Yann to being locked away, to how Raleigh and I escaped together.
Her hands slowed at first, then eventually stopped.
By the time I finished speaking she was watching me with such emotion I was scared she might try to hug me.
‘Did Raleigh not tell you this?’ I asked.
‘I haven’t seen him. The only reason I knew you were back was because that moustached bastard wouldn’t shut up about the mud you both tracked through the corridors.’
By that I guessed she meant the man who had set up camp in the kitchen.
‘I should have come with you,’ she said. ‘I could have protected you.’
My heart swelled. The fact that she wanted to was enough. ‘You couldn’t have known.’
Moira’s expression firmed. ‘Maybe you couldn’t have.’
‘Then it’s a good thing I found you, isn’t it?’ came a voice from behind.
I spun around as Moira’s face went white.
Raleigh stood in the shadow of the castle walls wearing an unfashionably wide top hat, and a heavy winter cloak that made me feel stifled just looking at it.
He looked weary, but his shoulders were straight again, and when he smiled at me it seemed to be genuine.
‘You can’t be out here,’ Moira cried.
‘It’s this bloody time of year – if I sleep any longer I’ll die of boredom. Besides, the sun’s behind the mountain. I’ll be fine as long as I keep to the shadows.’ He looked up at the sky with a flash of longing. ‘It’s nice to see day sometimes.’
‘Are you feeling better?’ I asked and had to look away when he smiled at me again.
I had never thought I’d say this, but I actually preferred his arrogant little smirks.
At least I felt justified in hating them.
I didn’t know how to feel about this softer side, and it left me feeling deeply unsettled.
‘There’s still a touch of pain, but the wound’s closed up.’
‘Wound?’ Moira’s voice went up an octave, and I realised I’d neglected to tell her that Raleigh had been shot. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing life-threatening,’ Raleigh lied. ‘I’ll tell you everything later. Clara, would you walk with me?’ He offered his arm, and from the playful glint in his eye I suspected he was toying with me.
‘I know I broke off my engagement with Yann, but please don’t take that as a sign I’ve fallen for you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not that deluded.’
I thought about taking his arm to see if he really meant it, but I’d touched him enough the night before to last me a lifetime. So I held back. Raleigh dropped his arm. He continued to smile, but he no longer seemed to want to. I turned my face away.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ I said, ‘but let’s not put any unnecessary strain on your shoulder.’
‘Of course,’ Raleigh said. I couldn’t read his tone.