A Reason to Rebel by Wendy Soliman Page B

confusion and concern, she had never liked herself less. She sighed and propped the missive on the mantelpiece in her chamber where it was sure to be seen and handed to Lady Crawley by the maid.
    Dressed in her warmest travelling attire, Estelle slipped from her room, valise in hand, and crept down the stairs in the direction of Lord Crawley’s study. It had been very obliging of him to mention that the secret passage had two wings. She had not noticed that it split off in different directions and was grateful that she happened to have chosen the correct route earlier. It also meant that her escape from the house would now be expediently achieved.
    As expected, his lordship’s study was devoid of human presence, only the embers of the dying fire lending it any light. But that was sufficient for Estelle to make her way to the concealed doorway and slip behind it. Only then did she appreciate that she should have thought to bring a candle with her. She told herself it was no gloomier now than it had been this afternoon. The darkness of the night could not penetrate these hidden passages. But the thought did little to reassure her and she hesitated, suddenly unsure of which direction to take.
    Only the sight of a pair of inquisitive eyes staring beadily up at her compelled her to gather up her skirts with a shriek and move her feet. She shuddered, her skin crawling with repulsion. Where there was one rat very likely more were lurking. She was so appalled by the thought that for a moment she considered giving up her bid for freedom. But only for a moment. She had come too far to turn back now and told herself not to be so pathetic, aware that she must now move quickly if she was not to lose her nerve altogether.
    She sped along the dank passageway as fast as she dared, touching the walls on either side with her valise and reticule respectively. She spoke aloud in the hope that the commotion she was making would scare off the more inquisitive members of the rodent population. Only when she sensed a change in the draughty atmosphere did she slow her pace. Aware that she must have reached the point at which the paths divided, she stared straight into the eyes of the one rat which had refused to be deterred by her noisy intrusion into his territory.
    “Which way do I go now, then?” she asked him, strangely comforted rather than alarmed by his determination to accompany her.
    The rat regarded her with an air of complacent superiority and a twitch of his whiskery nose but offered no opinion.
    “You are no help at all,” she admonished, shaking a finger at him.
    She forced herself to take several deep breaths as she waited for the confusion that was clouding her mind to dissipate. As it gradually did so her powers of reasoning were restored to her. She decided that if she had approached from straight ahead this afternoon, and she was sure that she had because she did not recall turning any corners, then her path on this occasion must lay to the right. Blindly stretching out her hands she turned in that direction, cursing as she struck her head on an overhang which knocked her bonnet askew. She ducked beneath the offending rock and followed the path as it turned sharply to the left, fervently hoping that her subterranean journey was coming to an end. Instead she was almost blinded by the light glowing from a wall scone.
    “Ah, there you are at last!” The owner of the rumbling male voice levered himself from the wall against which he had been sprawled. “I was beginning to think you must have taken a wrong path.”
    Estelle gasped, her heart pounding against her rib cage. This was simply too much for her fragile grasp on reality to cope with. She had defied her father; overcome her fear of the dark and her repulsion for rodents, only to be challenged by some nameless male figure of authority before she had even escaped the confines of Crawley Hall. Her head was swimming and she staggered backwards a few paces, dizziness