To Have A Heart (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 7)

“You could steal a horse to get you to Horace,” Sir Hugo suggested. “There are some in the field at the back of the barn, but you will have to be quiet and quick about it and hope that Mallory knows how to ride without a saddle.”

Callum mentally cursed. He knew it was a hopeless situation Sir Hugo was expecting him to wade blindly into.

Callum raked Sir Hugo with a searching look. He wondered briefly if this was all some sort of sick joke and that Sir Hugo fully intended to be the one to go into the house.

“I will do my best but make no promises,” Callum promised, and he would.

“Stay safe.”

Callum opened his mouth to ask Sir Hugo if they were to meet up in a nearby town in a few days or something only to look around the now empty woods in consternation. He huffed a snort of disbelief because, as swiftly and silently as he had arrived, Sir Hugo had vanished again. Callum just wished he could do the same.

Instead, he was compelled to turn to study the house, and look for the best way to get in.

CHAPTER THREE

Mallory turned over in bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. She was so cold she had lost all feeling in her toes. The only covering she had was a thin blanket, which was as useless as her still damp clothing. Her dress was cold and clammy and stuck horribly to her chilled flesh, but it was the only one she had.

“If only I hadn’t had to go back outside to fetch the washing in while it had been raining,” Mallory whispered forlornly.

While she said the words, Mallory knew that getting her soaking wet and uncomfortable had been Mrs Cummings’ plan. By the time she had retrieved all the sheets, everything was wet including herself. Mallory had been scolded mercilessly for not drying the washing. As punishment, she hadn’t been allowed to dry off beside the fire. Mrs Cummings had made it clear that the sheets had to dry before the fireplace now, and there was no space for Mallory. Instead, for failing to dry the sheets as ordered, Mallory had been commanded to return to work in the scullery where she had stayed for several hours in cold and damp clothing.

“I may as well be in a coffin,” she whispered as she stared blindly at the ceiling of the small chamber she slept in.

The windowless room was six feet in length and half as wide. For most it would be a cupboard, but for her it was the only place in the house she could truly be alone. Further, the quiet of the midnight hour gave her the ability to contemplate her situation without being interrupted. The constant moaning, criticism, and insults that flew at her in the scullery were a world away in the middle of the night when the culprits were mostly asleep. It was the only time of Mallory’s day when she allowed her guard to drop so she could contemplate what she was going to do about trying to regain her freedom.

“I have to leave here, of that there can be no doubt,” she murmured only to wince when her breath fogged out before her.

Mallory knew that if she continued to lie on the stone floor with nothing between her and the ground than a thin blanket she was going to die.

“I cannot just allow them to steal my life,” she whispered.

Again, the memory of Jemima’s screams shook her. They were enough to make Mallory stand up even when all she wanted to do was lie down. Even before she faced the work the day ahead had in store for her, Mallory was exhausted, but once upright, she began to pace backward and forced across the narrow enclosure. She moved so speedily that she eventually struggled to contain a wave of dizziness that made the room move about her.

Without giving much thought to what she was doing, Mallory quietly eased the door open. Her heart pounded. Her legs shook. She knew that if she was caught out of her room she would be beaten. It was only the knowledge that she didn’t have much time to make her escape that compelled her to move out of her room.

Once in the hallway, she rested her shoulders against the damp stone wall and waited. Not a sound could be heard, except for her own heartbeat. Her fear was heightened by the thought that someone would hear the harsh rasps of her breathing. Before someone did hear her, Mallory quietly as she could toward the kitchen door, and the faint wisp of light that filtered out beneath it.

“Onwards I go,” Mallory brea

thed.

And she did go. The entire length of the corridor, until she reached the kitchen. There, Mallory paused. She knew that Marcus, the kitchen boy and Mrs Cummings’s nephew, slept before the hearth. One sudden movement, or slight sound, and he would wake up.

“Well, you aren’t going to stop me either,” Mallory whispered.

Sucking in a deep breath, Mallory held it while she nudged the door open. A deep-rooted yearning to savour the heat emanating from the fireplace blossomed into life while at the same time it made her shiver anew, not least because she knew she couldn’t stop and savour it. Instead, Mallory had to force herself to ignore her current discomfort and focus on securing something far more important: her freedom.

“Just get it done, Mallory.”

Eyeing the door to the scullery, Mallory paused long enough to make sure that Marcus remained undisturbed. When she was confident that he wasn’t going to wake up, she tiptoed across the room.

Just keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t dither, or you will get caught.

In three, four, five, ten, eleven, twelve steps, Mallory was able to step into the scullery. She closed the door and turned to look at the back door that would take her out to the kitchen garden. It was locked and bolted. She knew that without even looking at it not least because it was always kept that way to prevent her escape while she washed pots at the sink.

“The window isn’t locked, though,” Mallory mused.

She squinted through the darkness at the small room to the side of the scullery. The small square window in there was tiny but might be big enough for her to squeeze through if she was lucky. The only problem she was going to have to deal with was how she was going to reach it seeing as it was five feet off the ground and there was no stool she could use.