A/N: Ok, I took a long time updating this. I'm sorry, Psychology coursework. And, I'm going away for the half term week so I won't be updating then either! (But I will when I get back.) xx

Chapter Seven: The Plan

The next day a particularly sombre effect took hold of Upper House. Silence was valued, and there was mere talk about any subject. Lord d'Narley did try to liven the house up by suggesting games, but after yesterdays revelations I did not feel to play, my thoughts were with Lady d'Narley, her safety, and the kiss that almost took place in the gardens. And Lady d'Narley was feeling a little under the weather. Her maids said her poor health was due to the cold – although I knew any excuse for time alone she would welcome - and she rarely came downstairs for long.

Dinner was a quiet affair. I knew Lady d'Narley was still engrossed in her own thoughts for escape, as I was.

I did want to help her, as much as I knew she could not keep running forever, and at one point in time, her past will pull alongside her. But I did feel for her, aside from her last actions at Merry Fellon, I had gotten to know her quite well, and being at Upper House and with her did seem like being reacquainted with an old friend.

I did not see Lady d'Narley to ask her plans as thought of, until she sat in the Blue Room with some sewing. The maids had lit an exceptionally well built-up fire, and she was sitting within close proximity to it to keep her temperature.

"Ichabod," she greets me warmly. "Pull up a chair by the fire." She rests her sewing on her lap. The light from the flames dance playfully around on her face, illuminating her eyes, making her ailing face come alive. She resumes her sewing, a colorful piece.

"Have you constructed a plan, my Lady?" I ask her, she lets her hands relax a little and looks pensively towards me.

"Geoffrey's talking about having a ball," she simply states. "I can not leave until this has happened if indeed he is planning it. I will press him further about the matter and fabricate preparations surrounding those." I begin to speak, but she cuts me off, not unkindly. "I know how you wish for me to leave, almost yearn for it, for my own safety, and I thank you. But if we can work mutually until the ball has been, then it will be safer for us both to go."

"Both?"

"Why of course, Ichabod. You surely do not intend to stay here when I must leave?"

"But your Ladyship, if I also abscond then I will also be put under suspicion. It will be much safer for me to depart after you have, and then we can meet," I dispute. A knock is heard on the door of the Blue Room and Maisy opens it, carrying a tray with a decanter, glasses and browned bottle.

"Your syrup, my Lady," she announces her reasons for entering, setting the tray down on the table.

"Thank you, Maisy," Lady d'Narley smiles at her. The maid pours a little draught from the sparkling decanter as Lady d'Narley takes a spoonful of the syrup, drinking from the glass presently.

"Thank you my Lady," Maisy curtsies and leaves the room. Lady d'Narley sets up her sewing.

"I think, Ichabod, that I will retire," she says, I rise with her.

"You look much better than this morning, my Lady. I pray you brighten up further tomorrow," I bid her as we part at the crest of the stairs.

There is something about Claire d'Narley that intrigues me, and I feel as though I do not want to let her go. I remember verbalizing meeting her after her parting from Lord d'Narley, yet I have survived this year without her, but I long for her to be with me again.

Perhaps the danger she brings with her is what I am looking for. Perhaps it is the risk that I want to have. And when our personalities merge I do feel comfortable in her presence, knowing that whatever her past, I am safe with her. Her radiance is what any man desires, and her traits individual and friendly. I enjoy her company, and we find much to talk about when we are in each others presence.

Then why aren't you with her?

Because she is a married, respectable woman.

Her husband was unfaithful and she took her revenge out on the maid. She holds no love in her heart for him, she holds it for you. You remember the garden talk, why can't you comprehend her physical communication?