Chapter 131 - Hundred And Thirty One
George hovered around the tall, grand iron gates of the Duke’s private residence like a ghost. He had been there for over an hour, hidden across the street, watching. His heart was a heavy stone of despair in his chest. Anne’s disappointed words from the tavern still echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of his failure. He had to find something, anything, that he could use to prove his worth to her, to win back her favor.
He saw the familiar figure of Mr. Rye, the Duke’s driver, emerge from the carriage house carrying a leather satchel filled with what looked like important documents. He hid himself more when he remembered how Mr Rye was about to blow his brains out the last time. A few moments later, he saw Delia herself came out of the front door, dressed for an outing.
"When did she become this beautiful?" He asked himself, completely mesmerized.
She entered the waiting carriage, and it soon rolled out of the courtyard and disappeared down the street. The house was now relatively empty, guarded by no one. This was his chance.
He waited for a few more minutes, his heart pounding, and then he pushed the gate. To his complete surprise, it swung open with a soft, quiet creak. It was unlocked. He slipped inside the courtyard and stood by the grand entrance door, his mind racing.
"How do I get in here now?" he asked himself in a desperate whisper. The front door was certainly locked. He couldn’t just knock.
As he was thinking of what to do, he heard the distinct click of a lock from a side door, the one that likely led to the kitchens or the servants’ quarters. He immediately ran to one of the large, decorative stone posts that flanked the main stairs and hid behind it, pressing his body flat against the cool stone.
Mrs. Agnes, the housekeeper who came frequently to clean the house, came out, humming a happy, cheerful tune as she carried a large wicker basket overflowing with clothes and linens that needed to be washed and aired out in the sun. As she was distracted, her back turned to the open door as she walked towards the washing lines at the back of the house, George saw his opportunity.
He darted from his hiding place, his movements quick and silent. He slipped inside the house through the still-open side door. He found himself in a small service hallway. He was confused, not knowing where to hide, where to go. He could hear Mrs. Agnes still humming outside. He knew he couldn’t stay on the ground floor. He made a quick decision, went up a narrow set of servants’ stairs, and found himself in the main upstairs hallway. Without thinking, he entered the first room he saw—Delia’s room.
He closed the door softly behind him. He heard Mrs. Agnes come back inside, her humming getting closer as she continued with her work. He held his breath as he saw her shadow stop right in front of Delia’s door through the small gap at the bottom. He saw the doorknob begin to twist, and his heart was thumping so loudly he was sure she could hear it. But then she stopped.
He heard her mutter to herself. "Oh my, silly me. I have already cleaned Her Grace’s room this morning. Let’s go on to His Grace’s room now."
He heard her footsteps retreating down the hall. George let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, his back pressed against the door.