Page 20 of Kept 3
I gasp as he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.
The hairdresser arrives shortly after nine with a huge array of bottles and equipment, talking the whole time she sets up, under the careful scrutiny of the butler.
I smile, listening to her carefree banter about the village and how excited she was to be invited here for the first time, having lived basically on the Estate since her birth, but never having set foot inside the manor before. She rattles on about how beautiful the house and my room are, how wonderful it must be to live in such luxury, etc etc and I wait for her to slow down so I can consider how to use her in my next escape plan.
Her arrival was a complete surprise. Nicholas didn’t tell me last night that he had organised her visit, then again, he had said very little at the meal last night, which was unusual.
“Butler,” I address my prison warder, refusing to call him by his first name because I dislike him as much as he dislikes me, “can you let Chef Contell know I will be a little late today, and I haven’t planned yet for the evening meal, so I’m not sure I have anything to prep.”
“The chef will not be required tonight, or the next three nights,” the butler intones, not meeting my eyes, “I have given him some time off.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll just cook for Nicholas and I then.”
“You will not be required to leave your room for the duration of the week,” he says, his voice barely containing his joy at imparting this news.
“What? Why? I want to see Nicholas the moment he wakes. This is bullshit.”
“The master is away from home until Friday,” he smiles benignly at me.
I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but shut it quickly as the hairdresser bids me sit in front of the big dressing-table mirror.
“Black,” I say angrily to her, “turn it black.”
“A nice choice,” she nods and smiles, her friendly eyes meeting mine in the mirror, “with your colouring, I think a violet-black, maybe some auburn highlights, nothing too dark.”
‘Lady, you have no idea.’
“Yeah, whatever,” I murmur, “you’re the expert.”
She smiles and begins, and I look up at the mirror and meet the butler’s bored expression.
“You don’t have to stay, moron, just lock the door on your way out – that is your intention anyway isn’t it?”
“His lordship expressed concern that I ensure you do not leave the manor,” he intones.
“Well, considering there is a trigger-happy gamekeeper roaming around, the fact that the only clothes I still own are ballgowns and that I’m being watched constantly by a moron, I can’t see any issue, can you?”
He frowns and I watch as he leaves. Above the snick, snick of the scissors, I still hear the key turn in the lock, but my heart lightens knowing he has left us because I fully intend to get the hairdresser to help me escape.
“So,” I look up at her and breathe out a deep sigh of relief, my chest tight with hope that she is not also under the impression I am brain-damaged, and that if she is, I can stifle that with a long and intelligent conversation, “how long have you lived in the village?”
My hair complete, the first time I’ve ever had it professionally coloured, I stare at myself in the mirror and shake my head. It looks wonderful. The cut has managed to highlight my cheekbones, and the layers of gentle curls fall in graceful swirls, rather than their usual unruly chaos.
“You have done such a brilliant job,” I smile, genuinely impressed.
“Thanks, hon,” she laughs, packing up her gear.
“Look, before you go, I wonder if you would mind taking a letter with you to the village, to post for me, if that is not too much trouble.”
“Happy to,” she says brightly.
I rise and walk quickly to the desk near the door and scribble yet another ‘help’ message to James. It has been two weeks since my failed escape attempt, and I have had no answer to my last letter. I can only assume that either the gamekeeper didn’t post it, or James is not contactable through the school anymore. I have to try once more, I have no one else to turn to.
Addressing the envelope quickly, I hand the letter over to the hairdresser with a shy smile.
As she takes it, her eyes alight on the name on the envelope, and she smiles.
“Well, this will take no time at all to reach its mark,” she says, smiling.
