The festive lanterns that had delighted me at the beginning of the evening were now my godsend, and I used their light to find the beginning of the land bridge, a line of large, flat stones protruding from the lake. I managed to hop from one to the next until, landing on one that was partly submerged, I lost my footing and flipped backwards into the bracing water. I struggled to my feet, standing shin-deep in the lake, my hair ribbons plastered to my nose and chin, and continued on, taking great care with each step not to repeat my plunge.
It was not long before my foot struck the mainland shore. Hoisting my sodden skirts around me, I moved quickly across the slippery grass path that led from the water to the back of the great house. Light poured from the windows of almost every room in the vast mansion, forcing me to hide in the shadows of a holly hedge. From there, I could see the back end of the servants’ wing, but how would I get in unnoticed?
As I watched, the large wooden door by the kitchen opened and Sandwell emerged on his way to the patio, but a doorstop prevented it from closing all the way behind him. I shrank back into the darkness, waiting to see if anyone followed him, testing a story in my mind.
If I were discovered, I would make light of it all. I’d tell them that I had been out for a rowboat ride with Charles’s dear friend, Mr. Chalmers, that I insisted he row me over to pick a flower from a lily pad, but I leaned too far over the water and I upset the boat. I’d paint George gallantly, and excuse myself to get cleaned up.
If I can somehow carry this off, I thought, I’ll marry whatever suitor Harriet wants me to. All would not be lost.
I pressed on with renewed confidence. I knew the back staircase was just off the kitchen and would be a hive of activity as the servants prepared the midnight meal. Lucky for me they would be focused on their work.
I could hear the clanging of pots and pans by the kitchen, then: “Look here, who’s out there?”
I froze. It was Harriet’s chief of housekeeping.
“I don’t care who you are, or if you think yourself too fancy to help out in the kitchen. Get yourself an apron and get to work. Be quick about it!”
How did she know I was there? I realized too late that the light in the hallway cast my shadow on the nearly opaque glass of the kitchen door. I made a run for the stairs, just rounding the first landing when the kitchen door creaked open.
“You upstairs maids think you’re too bloody good for us, don’t you?” she called after me. “Mr. Sandwell will hear about this, be sure of it!”
What was left of my shoes and stockings was wet and slippery, and I gripped the bannister as I vaulted the stairs two and three at a time. I thought of my mother, scolding me for this habit. “You don’t behave as a lady should, what with running wild on the estate all day. You’ve not learned polite manners.”
If I was to remain a lady, sacrifices had to be made, I decided wryly, as I sprinted in a most unladylike manner down the hall to my room. I opened the door and flung myself inside. I had done it. Leaning back, I shut my eyes and caught my breath. I had made it back without encountering a soul.
“Oh, miss, it’s you. You gave me quite a start!”
My eyes flashed open and I saw Jane, Harriet’s abigail, standing at my dressing table, my paste-glass necklace hanging limply from her hand, a candle in the other. A bright crimson flush rose quickly up her throat to her cheeks.
“I… I was just tidying up your dressing table,” she said, quickly depositing my jewellery into my red-lacquered box. “I didn’t expect you back from the party till much later.”
With her back to me, she made a show of straightening the few objects on the dresser top, but I didn’t care. I just needed her to go.
“That’s fine, Jane,” I said. “You can leave that for now. I heard the kitchen is looking for help, so perhaps you should see what you can do there.”
“Surely I can be of some assistance to you here, miss. Do you need your hair brushed or perhaps a dab of powder on your face?” She turned towards me, holding the candle high. A look of shock crossed her face. “If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, you could do with more than just a dab of powder.”
“I must look frightful, but a quick change of clothes and I’ll rejoin the party,” I said as lightly as I could. “I had a small accident with one of the rowboats, my own silly fault, leaned too far out to pluck a lily flower. You can fetch me a new gown. The lilac one will do nicely.”
“But your face, miss—there’s…” She motioned to the mirror.
We stepped forward, she beside me, observing my reflection, the candle close. The angry imprint of a hand was clearly visible on my face. I saw the light come into her eyes as it faded from mine. She knew my story was false. The whispers would start soon. How far they would go, I didn’t know.
Chapter Five
Two days after the party, the mark on my
