Page 25 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
He nodded a few times.
“Is that all?”
“Oh,” he said, “no, M’Lady. There is the matter of ... of your singing.”
“My singing?”
“Her Ladyship ... uh, doesn’t approve. What I mean is, the noise, it disturbs her as she tries to think. She’s a very intelligent woman and she thinks very intelligent thoughts. And she often requires silence for them.”
“I understand.”
“Now, M’Lady. I understand what it’s like. I was in ... I was in a place not unlike the one in which you find yourself this moment. I found it a great relief to whistle and hum. I’m not very good at it either, but it did help ... pass the time. Made me feel more like a man and less like a beast if you know what I mean.”
“I understand,” she said gently.
“What I’m saying, M’Lady, is that you should do your best not to sing too loud, is all, lest Her Ladyship, uh,curtailsyour privileges further.” He smiled at his own ability to employ such fine language.
“I understand, Mr Garret. Thank you kindly.”
“Not at all, M’Lady. Uh, you’ll let me know how you enjoy the book?”
“Certainly,” she said with a smile.
He nodded and left the room. The deadbolt slid slowly and softly.
#
The last remaining hours of daylight had passed quickly and easily. Dare she say the time was pleasant? Mr Defoe’s exciting tale had all but transported her. There was still half the book to go. She found herself wanting to read slowly, lest the story end with hours to go before she could request another.
She stretched on her cot and rose to head towards the table with the candle. She opened the tinderbox carefully. There was everything she needed: four brimstone matches, or “spunks” as Garret had called them in his low tongue; there were several pieces of tinder in the form of pieces of scorched linen, and of course, there was a palm-sized chunk of flint, and the accompanying steel, the latter of which was shaped like a heart. She took the steel and struck the flint several times. A spark lit before her and left its trace upon the stone. She brought the match to it and it flared. She smiled at this small triumph and lit the candle.
The glow brightened her heart ten times more than it did the room. She carried the candle around as if walking the halls of Aspendale. Sorrow filled her then, and she felt like crying. No, she would not let despair get her like that.
With this new feeling, this winning over the battle for her emotions, she exulted in a new frame of mind. She looked around the room, feeling as though she were noticing everything for the first time.
That’s when it caught her attention. She’d never noticed it before, but the wooden planks that surrounded the tiny window of her cell seemed to have been added at a later time, for they were of a different temperament than the rest of the wood. They were smaller planks, too, the size of bricks, and were obviously patched there. The window was once bigger in size, she guessed, and was made smaller in advance of her own arrival.
She placed the candle on the floor and dug her fingers in the wood. She beat it with her fists.
She began to sing softly as she did so.
She went to the tinderbox and extracted the steel, inserting the pointed end of the heart into the seam between the planks. They began to dislodge, as old bricks would under similar pressure. Excitement tingled through her. Imagine, escaping under the cover of night! Of course, there was the prospect of having to leap from the top floor to the leafy ground below. She might sustain some terrible injury in doing so, but escape was worth every risk, and so, she went to work on the planks, slowly but surely widening the means of her liberation from this prison.
Oliver,she thought,fuel to my fire, I will be with you soon!
Chapter 18
“You told her of the singing, then?”
“Aye.”
Lady Elizabeth glared at him. “Aye?”
“I mean, yes, M’Lady.”
“What is with you, Mr Garret?”
“What you mean, M’Lady?”
