When she came round, she was shivering on the cold slate flagstones, naked, the fire a clag of dying ashes.
Elise stumbled to the doorway in the dark, and fumbling with the latch, fell out into the stone kitchen yard. The dawn was trying to creep up the field's edge on the horizon; but a heavy, leaden weight of cloud and water blanketed the sky and muted the thin light.
She knelt on the cobbles and let the heavy drops of rain wash her upturned face and shivering form clean. She did not cry, she allowed the numbness to soak her mind along with the downpour.
When she could move, Elise clawed handfuls of lavender and rosemary from the raised beds and returned to the kitchen. With fistfuls of herbs and lukewarm water she began to scrub every inch of her body, until the smell of him was out of her nostrils, and her skin was chaffed clean. She coaxed the fire to life and sat before its encouraged flames to dry.
As the heat thawed her limbs, her mind began to work.
Worse than the lingering smell, her bruised scalp or bleeding knees, was the guilt.
The gut wrenching, bile raising sensation that she had somehow asked for this...that they had seen into her dreams, watched the impure thoughts and desires that bubbled under her surface...
She had to get out, before she was lost beyond all salvation.
Determination and desperation suddenly possessing her, Elise stumbled to her feet, and reached for her dress. Her hand froze when it met not the usual frayed linen, but soft velvet.
Apparently, Sir Grey had listened to Lucan's advice after all.
She held the new dress aloft and suppressed the sudden hysterical urge to laugh.
The last time she had set eyes on the claret garment, with its red and gold braid, it was gracing the elegant form of her mother. Of course, the irony was not accidental. Sir Grey was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Elise had no other clothes, and he had taken the linen. She began to pull on the velvet gown.
She felt as though she were dressing for her own execution, dressing up to become a ghost... Were these conflicting emotions an echo of those that her mother had once felt? What separated them at all now... was she simply a continuation of the same doomed story?
She shook her head. If she kept thinking like this, she would go mad, and may as well give up now...
She was a slightly different shape to her mother, after all. Josephine had been French, petite, slim. Elise had never met her father, but he had been an Englishman, and the result was the addition of traditional English curves to Elise's delicate French features. Though she fit the dress better than her old one, the bust was still tight, and the neckline lower. She wondered whether that had been considered in the choice of dress.
For a moment, she contemplated whether Sir Grey had actually meant to touch her at all the previous night. Whether he had ever intended to open the curtain, and if he had not simply planned to replace the dress and leave. Whether the drink only spurred the outcome...
These thoughts only compounded her unease. Because then, maybe, if not for the dream...
She shook her head again. What he had done could not be undone. He had shown what he was capable of. Had he ever shown charity to her mother?
Better to assume the worst was still to come, and leave.
***
Elise prepared breakfast meticulously and delivered it to the dining room, unseen, as usual. Had anyone been around to see her laying out platters and striding down the halls, no one could have guessed that today would be any different from every other.
She knew that if she left before breakfast, they would know she was missing within the hour. Now, she had a few hours to go unnoticed....Elise also knew that the best time to leave would be after dinner, when she had the whole night to go unmissed, and the cover of darkness...but to face another dinner with Sir Grey was more than she could bear.
In the kitchen, she reached under her mattress and extracted her mother's miniature, and a small purse containing a few gold coins. Little, but enough to be of use should she become desperate.
She wrapped up a loaf of bread and some cheese, and made her way to the stables.
The sun had risen and lit up the yard, bathing her in warmth. She slipped quietly into the stable building, pausing a moment to savour the sweet dusty smell of hay and of horses.
