Chapter 39
"You stay where you are and don't bother to move," Henry's voice directed.
Elizabeth was slammed hard onto a bed which she knew was in one of the servant's rooms. She swallowed and her heart beat and she wished Fitzwilliam hadn't been shot. Her brother and uncle were also tied up and her father was gone. The only resort she had was prayer; the figure of Henry Kingston had disappeared down the hallway and she knew that he was walking in the direction of the living room where the crate of Our Lady of Perpetual Help was and she only guessed why he'd left her alone in the bedroom.
The stinging feeling from her roots hurt and she was glad that he'd left her where she was although she feared the worse. Oliver wasn't with him when he'd left her where she was and when the door slammed tight, she hear the key lock and she knew she was trapped.
"A prisoner in my own house," Elizabeth thought as she slowly rose after the door was locked. She knew that Henry had the key and there was no escape. But she also knew that she was allowed the freedom to move around and it wasn't too dark inside to see where her surroundings were. She heard footsteps outside and deep masculine voices, which she couldn't guess or knew, talking outside and she felt her throat twist and her eyes narrow when she recognized one of them.
"The uncle and brother are already showing the signs,"
"Good; it's about time that they get out of the way,"
"Where you able to lock him upstairs?"
"Ha! Bleeding as he is, there's no need to finish him off! He'll be dead by the time anyone knows what happened and then you can finish your business with her afterwards,"
"She's safely locked up here and the keys are with me."
Elizabeth's anger grew and she knew who those two men were. She swallowed and her heart beat when she softly distinguished.
"Oliver and Henry Kingston, the man who shot my husband."
She tightened her fist as their footsteps disappeared down the hallway. When this happened, she made herself sit up in bed, ignoring and disobeying Henry's warming, because he wasn't inside the room with her. She knew that she was given the freedom to move around and she was happy to know that she knew this part of her mansion and she quietly waited to hear if there was anyone else stationed outside.
"I wonder if Henry would be that clever to do something like that," she asked herself and she waited a minute. She heard nothing and she was relieved. Her heart beat and she drew her legs up to her chest before she removed her slippers. She knew she was going to tiptoe around and she wished to make sure that no one heard her or knew what she was doing. She may not have known about the hidden passages but she knew that in the servants' quarters, there was little to be entertained with but she knew their chambers better than those passages.
"And to suppose I grew up here and didn't know boo about them," she thought but she wouldn't allow this to prevent her from moving around to figure out a way to escape. She swallowed when her feet touched the cold wooden floor and she felt something else and she breathed.
"The servants' don't bother to clean this area and the floor is always cold," she thought aloud but she remained silent when two more footsteps rushed past the locked bedroom door. She had to find a way out and seek help! She also knew that her husband was in a terrible state and she remembered how she had smelled the blood, heard the gun fire, and then witnessed how the bullet had gone through his chest and Elizabeth feared that Fitzwilliam had been fired in the lung. She started to pray and narrowing her eyes, she stood to her full height and with her bare feet, she speculated her surroundings. She knew she was the only one capable to help her uncle and brother, as well as her husband and she was in no frame of mind to allow anyone, not even Henry Kingston, to prevent her from sneaking away and out to help those trapped inside the manor. Within moments, she was relieved to hear that barely a soul was sight and no one was outside to overhear her as she maneuvered around to do her work.
The small room contained only one bed, a closet to her right, a fireplace to her left, and a modest means for the servant who resided her to live in after a hard day's work. Elizabeth knew this room better than the others because it was the one where Mariah had been murdered and she swallowed when she remembered how the woman had been more like a second mother to her and she missed her cooking. But she would allow the grace of God to allow her to do her work inside as Elizabeth tiptoed over towards the table near the woman's bed. Elizabeth knew from here where she would find what she was searching for and when the drawer was opened, she took out a prying knife and she nodded. Then she glanced over towards the closed bedroom door and listened; there was hardly a sound and she smiled slightly. She swallowed when she remembered something which Oliver had taught her but her anger at him made her only more determined to do what she knew would be the only option to help those inside her manor.
Making her way over towards the window, she made sure that no one was present in the room, before she raised the prying knife, and aimed directly at her target. She had learned a thing or two about prying a window open using a knife and she also knew how to sneak through the glass and she knew that it was a risking business but she knew that her husband, as well as her brother and uncle were depending on her and she wasn't going to let them down because of what had happened earlier. She could smell the foul odor of her husband's blood and it had stained her nightgown and how he had even struggled to fight to protect her from Henry and she loved him more because of that. Her memory returned when she imagined how he had loved her and touched her back when he was making love to her the previous week and she marveled at how the two of them had sparked.
She felt her mouth dry when she refocused her attention back to her work: she narrowed her eyes when she heard the sound of the glass cut as the knife glided across, allowing the feeling like nails on a chalkboard enter her ears as she crafted her way through to break open the window. She knew that if she didn't hurry along, she wouldn't be able to escape and gather help before it was too late. She knew too that the doctor was one of her comrades in this fight and a few others of the neighborhood. She started to pray more as she prayed.
"Dear God in Heaven, help me escape from this rat so that I can run and gather help before he's gone!"
She continued her work with a feeling of peace and she knew that her prayer was answered.
"Where in tarnation is that painting?!" Henry's voice boomed through the manor.
Those assembled around him had to cover their ears when he shouted this. Even Oliver was upset when the crate's lid was opened and the painting was gone. Inside was nothing; only the hay and the fabric which was used to keep the painting in place was there. Oliver snapped his fingers as he answered.
"There's only one person who could have hidden it underneath our noses."
"Who?!" Henry shouted; his face was beat red.
"Fitzwilliam," Oliver's voice replied.
Finally, Elizabeth was able to set herself free.
The knife dropped to the ground and she didn't care how loud it was. She knew she had to get help and she couldn't push aside the thought that she would possibly lose Fitzwilliam and she started to pray again. She knew that prayer was her only resource of help and when the window slowly opened, she made sure that it was silent before she glanced over her shoulder, made sure no one was outside, nodded, before she placed her hands on the sides of the frame, and soon pushed herself up and managed to slip through the opening and thankfully, there was no glass pieces to scrap her as she slid out of the trapped bedroom, turned around, and managed to make her body enter through the window and when she did this, she felt the wind touch her as she continued to slide out of the frame. Before long, she was on the dirt ground and which she made sure, holding onto the sides of the wall, she didn't fall but the ground wasn't too far off. Mariah's bedroom was on the first floor and it wasn't hard for Elizabeth to land on the ground with ease. She felt more like she'd jumped from a small stool rather than a window. It was a simply drop but one which didn't endanger her or anything. It was her husband, Fitzwilliam and her brother and uncle she was worried about.
She felt her heart pound when she remembered how Henry had dragged her and made her lay down on the bed and she shivered at this memory.
"Whatever his intention was, he's not going to rape me or hurt me because I've escaped," she thought as she glanced over her shoulder before she returned her attention to where she was. The wind blew in the trees and she heard a few birds above. She knew that the rats inside were there but she also knew that Fitzwilliam needed her help more than ever. After overhearing a few bits and pieces of conversation from Henry and Oliver, whom she was despising with all her being, she knew that there were more than several men inside her home and who had been informed where all the locations of the secret passages were and she was grateful to have learned that from overhearing them. She pressed her lips together when she felt how Oliver had deceived her and her family and how she'd looked up to him as a father figure only to learn the reverse.
She knew the meaning of betrayal and this hurt her and Elizabeth inhaled; remembering how betrayal showed lack of feelings and only showing that of selfishness from the other person and she felt another wave of anger hit her when she remembered how Fitzwilliam had spoken to Henry before he'd been shot his name and she felt the feeling of turned against in his voice.
With this in mind, she glanced around before she finished.
"I have to get help; otherwise, Fitzwilliam may be gone before I return."
Then suddenly she heard the sound of a door bang open and she ducked low underneath the window when a man's voice shouted.
"She's not here!"