Its indecipherability only made me more certain its contents were important.
I picked up the second envelope. Addressed to Emmeline. Fingered its rim.
I deliberated only a second. What choice did I have?
So help me God, I opened it.
I was running: sore feet forgotten, blood pulsing, heartbeat in my head, breath catching in time with the music, in time with the music, down the stairs, through the house, onto the terrace.
I stood, chest heaving, scanning for Teddy. But he was lost. Somewhere amid the jagged shadows and the blurred faces.
There was no time. I would have to go alone.
I plunged into the crowd, skimming faces-red lips, painted eyes, wide laughing mouths. I dodged cigarettes and champagnes, beneath the coloured lanterns, around the dripping ice sculpture toward the dance floor. Elbows, knees, shoes, wrists whirled by. Colour. Movement. Blood pulsing in my head. Breath catching in my throat.
Then, Emmeline. Atop the stone staircase. Cocktail in hand, head tipped back to laugh, strand of pearls draped from her neck to lasso that of a male companion. His coat draped about her shoulders.
Two would have more chance than one.
I stopped. Tried to catch my breath.
She righted herself, regarded me from beneath heavy lids. ‘Why, Grace,’ she said with careful annunciation, ‘is that the prettiest party dress you could find?’ She threw her head back with laughter as she slipped on the ‘p’ sounds.
‘I must speak with you, miss…’
Her companion whispered something; she smacked his nose playfully.
I tried to breathe. ‘… a matter of urgency…’
‘I’m intrigued.’
‘… please…’ I said. ‘… In private…’
She sighed dramatically, removed her pearls from the fellow’s neck, squeezed his cheeks and pouted. ‘Don’t go far now, Harry darling.’
She tripped on her heel, squealed, then giggled, stumbling the rest of the way down the stairs. ‘Tell me all about it, Gracie,’ she slurred as we reached the bottom.
‘It’s Hannah, miss… she’s going to do something… something dreadful, at the lake…’
‘No!’ said Emmeline, leaning so close I could smell respired gin. ‘She’s not going to take a midnight swim, is she? How s-s-scandalous!’
‘… I believe she’s going to take her life, miss, that is, I know it’s what she intends…’
Her smile slipped, eyes widened. ‘Huh?’
‘… I found a note, miss.’ I handed it to her.
She swallowed, swayed, her voice leapt an octave. ‘But… Have you… Teddy-?’
‘No time, miss.’
I took her wrist and dragged her into the Long Walk.
Hedges had grown to meet overhead and it was pitch black. We ran, stumbled, kept our hands to the side, brushing leaves to find the way. With each turn the party sounds grew more dreamlike. I remember thinking this was how Alice must’ve felt, falling down the rabbit hole.
We were in the Egeskov Garden when Emmeline’s heel snagged and she tumbled.
I almost tripped over her, stopped, tried to help her up.
She swept my hand aside, clambered to her feet and continued running.
There was a noise then in the garden and it seemed that one of the sculptures was moving. It giggled, groaned: not a sculpture at all but a pair of amorous escapees. They ignored us and we ignored them.
The second kissing gate was ajar and we hurried into the fountain clearing. The full moon was high and Icarus and his nymphs glowed ghostly in the white light. Without the hedges, the band’s music and the whooping of the party were loud again. Strangely nearer.
With aid of moonlight we went faster along the small path toward the lake. We reached the barricade, the sign forbidding entrance, and finally, the point where path met lake.
We both stopped in the shelter of the path’s nook, breathing heavily, and surveyed the scene before us. The lake glistened silently beneath the moon. The summer house, the rocky bank, were bathed in silvery light.
Emmeline inhaled sharply.
I followed her gaze.
On the pebbly bank were Hannah’s black shoes. The same I’d helped her into hours before.
Emmeline gasped, stumbled toward them. Beneath the moon she was very pale, her thin figure dwarfed by the large man’s jacket she wore.
A noise from the summer house. A door opening.
Emmeline and I both looked up.
A person. Hannah. Alive.
Emmeline gulped. ‘Hannah,’ she called, her voice a hoarse blend of alcohol and panic, echoing off the lake.
Hannah stopped stiff, hesitated; with a glance to the summer house she turned to face Emmeline. ‘What are you doing here?’ she called, voice tense.
‘Saving you?’ said Emmeline, beginning to laugh wildly. Relief, of course.
‘Go back,’ said Hannah quickly. ‘You must go back.’
‘And leave you here to drown yourself?’
‘I’m not going to drown myself,’ said Hannah. She glanced again at the summer house.
‘Then what are you doing? Airing your shoes?’ Emmeline held them aloft before dropping them again to her side. ‘I’ve seen your letter.’
‘I didn’t mean it. The letter was a… a joke.’ Hannah swallowed. ‘A game.’
‘A game?’
‘You weren’t meant to see it until later.’ Hannah’s voice grew surer. ‘I had an entertainment planned. For tomorrow. For fun.’
‘Like a treasure hunt?’
‘Sort of.’
My breath caught in my throat. The note was not in earnest. It was part of an elaborate game. And the one addressed to me? Had Hannah intended me to help? Did that explain her nervous behaviour? It wasn’t the party, but the game she wanted to go well?
‘That’s what I’m doing now,’ said Hannah. ‘Hiding clues.’
Emmeline stood, blinking. Her body jerked as she hiccoughed. ‘A game,’ she said slowly.
