and amethyst choker: two gold hair combs studded w ith diamond chips: and five rings of varying decoration.
It was a fair feminine inheritance, in the normal sense of things, but in terms of purchasing a half year's existence, it was precious little. She hated to sell them, these last gifts from her mama, but there was no use in feeling regret that they must go. A girl had to eat and pay her keep. All the same, she sighed heavily as she replaced the jewelry in the purse.
Things about this atypical household put a body on edge— for even as Elizabeth pulled the pursestrings into a knot, she jerked up her head at a glimmer of movement that had caught the corner of her eye. A flash of red. but then it was gone, and it was at that moment Elizabeth realized she stared at an angled looking glass placed over a dresser. Her own reflection did not reside in that angle—she turned abruptly to face the area mirrored in the silvered surface.
A tapestry hung there, its bottom edge just touching the floor. It stirred ever so slightly.
"You there, come out!" Elizabeth ordered, her voice roughened by alarm.
There was no response, and the tapestry settled once more.
"I shan't be perturbed with you, but I would like you to come out," Elizabeth insisted. She studied the far wall. Where would someone hide, for the surface was flat. Was there a door behind the tapestry? Or perhaps a window to echo the open one to her left?
No one came forth.
What had she seen? A flash of red—a cloak? But, no. For a heartbeat she had thought she had looked at her own reflection. ... Had she seen a face? Gooseflesh raced up Elizabeth's arms at the thought.
She threw back her coverlet, only to catch her breath and go utterly still. Her movement had caused intense pain to radiate all the way up from her heel to her knee.
Gasping and moving gingerly, and with an eye on the tapestry, Elizabeth reached across the width of the bed, her fingers just managing to grasp the bellpull.
A sharp tug brought a knock at her door in short order. "Come in," she called at once.
A maid entered, one Elizabeth had certainly not seen before, for this one was undeniably in the family way. The woman's high, rounded belly thrust forward, tightly covered by a white apron.
"Miss?" the maid inquired on a curtsy.
Elizabeth stared, realizing she had never before seen an expectant maid, at least not one clearly engaged in service. Most maids were unmarried girls, in service until such time as they attracted a husband, whose house they then went to and where they spent their confinements. "I..." Elizabeth floundered for a moment as this newest shock displaced her previous alarm. She shook her head, as though to clear it of cobwebs, and uttered, "The tapestry. Please pull it aside."
The maid glanced between Elizabeth and the tapestry, open puzzlement etched on her features, but she moved to do as she was bid.
Behind the tapestry there rose a flock-papered wall. No window, no door.
"But," Elizabeth said on something near a gasp. "Is there not some manner of door there?"
"No, miss," the maid said, and now it was her tone that implied puzzlement.
'There must be a ... what are they called? A secret passage, used by monks, to escape persecution."
The maid just stared, still holding back the edge of the tapestry.
"Well, then, don't just stand there, knock on it, on the wall," Elizabeth instructed, pointing at the width of the tapestry.
The maid obliged with a series of raps down the wall, atop the tapestry, all of which made a solid thunk as she knocked. "It's just a wall, miss," she said.
Elizabeth gazed at the wallpaper, pale yellow and white, and then back at the looking glass. Maybe she had considered the angle wrong? But a quick glance proved nothing in the room was red, and no matter how one considered it, the flash of red that the looking glass had shown had to have been in the vicinity of the tapestry.
"Did you want luncheon, or perhaps tea and biscuits, miss?" the
It was a fair feminine inheritance, in the normal sense of things, but in terms of purchasing a half year's existence, it was precious little. She hated to sell them, these last gifts from her mama, but there was no use in feeling regret that they must go. A girl had to eat and pay her keep. All the same, she sighed heavily as she replaced the jewelry in the purse.
Things about this atypical household put a body on edge— for even as Elizabeth pulled the pursestrings into a knot, she jerked up her head at a glimmer of movement that had caught the corner of her eye. A flash of red. but then it was gone, and it was at that moment Elizabeth realized she stared at an angled looking glass placed over a dresser. Her own reflection did not reside in that angle—she turned abruptly to face the area mirrored in the silvered surface.
A tapestry hung there, its bottom edge just touching the floor. It stirred ever so slightly.
"You there, come out!" Elizabeth ordered, her voice roughened by alarm.
There was no response, and the tapestry settled once more.
"I shan't be perturbed with you, but I would like you to come out," Elizabeth insisted. She studied the far wall. Where would someone hide, for the surface was flat. Was there a door behind the tapestry? Or perhaps a window to echo the open one to her left?
No one came forth.
What had she seen? A flash of red—a cloak? But, no. For a heartbeat she had thought she had looked at her own reflection. ... Had she seen a face? Gooseflesh raced up Elizabeth's arms at the thought.
She threw back her coverlet, only to catch her breath and go utterly still. Her movement had caused intense pain to radiate all the way up from her heel to her knee.
Gasping and moving gingerly, and with an eye on the tapestry, Elizabeth reached across the width of the bed, her fingers just managing to grasp the bellpull.
A sharp tug brought a knock at her door in short order. "Come in," she called at once.
A maid entered, one Elizabeth had certainly not seen before, for this one was undeniably in the family way. The woman's high, rounded belly thrust forward, tightly covered by a white apron.
"Miss?" the maid inquired on a curtsy.
Elizabeth stared, realizing she had never before seen an expectant maid, at least not one clearly engaged in service. Most maids were unmarried girls, in service until such time as they attracted a husband, whose house they then went to and where they spent their confinements. "I..." Elizabeth floundered for a moment as this newest shock displaced her previous alarm. She shook her head, as though to clear it of cobwebs, and uttered, "The tapestry. Please pull it aside."
The maid glanced between Elizabeth and the tapestry, open puzzlement etched on her features, but she moved to do as she was bid.
Behind the tapestry there rose a flock-papered wall. No window, no door.
"But," Elizabeth said on something near a gasp. "Is there not some manner of door there?"
"No, miss," the maid said, and now it was her tone that implied puzzlement.
'There must be a ... what are they called? A secret passage, used by monks, to escape persecution."
The maid just stared, still holding back the edge of the tapestry.
"Well, then, don't just stand there, knock on it, on the wall," Elizabeth instructed, pointing at the width of the tapestry.
The maid obliged with a series of raps down the wall, atop the tapestry, all of which made a solid thunk as she knocked. "It's just a wall, miss," she said.
Elizabeth gazed at the wallpaper, pale yellow and white, and then back at the looking glass. Maybe she had considered the angle wrong? But a quick glance proved nothing in the room was red, and no matter how one considered it, the flash of red that the looking glass had shown had to have been in the vicinity of the tapestry.
"Did you want luncheon, or perhaps tea and biscuits, miss?" the
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