The Rakehell Regency(21)

Vanessa felt herself growing more and more aching and weary, but attributed it to nothing more than a long, distressing day and a surfeit of oysters.



She made her way slowly up to her room, and began to undress for bed. As she was brushing out her hair, a wave of violent nausea swept through her. She barely made it to the basin before she lost the contents of her stomach, and collapsed onto her knees onto the floor.





CHAPTER SEVEN



When at last the retching had subsided, Vanessa took a sip of water and rinsed out her mouth, then drank a cool glass, before doubling over and being ill again.



She now realized that this was more than simple fatigue or a headache. She rang the bell for the little hunch-backed maid who had been waiting upon her since her arrival at Hawkesworth House. But with the servants all abed, and the bell mechanism ancient and in poor repair, no one responded to her summons.



After waiting some time, during which she felt herself growing more and more cold and clammy, she bestirred herself to attempt the stairs. Another fit of nausea paralyzed her for several minutes.



By the time she summoned the strength to go down to seek help, Simms and the footman had made the entire house and stable block secure, and shut up the servants' quarters.



Thus, when Vanessa eventually descended the stairs on trembling limbs and began knocking feebly on the belowstairs door, no one was there to hear her, and all the bolts had been driven home.



She sat shakily on the stairs for a moment, before half-staggering, half-crawling over to the front door. It too was barred shut.



Vanessa knew she needed help. She could feel herself weakening, her vision darkening around the edges as though she were looking down a long tunnel.



She grasped her cloak from off of the clothes tree. Clutching it to her scantily clad bosom, she made her way to the nearest room, the large front parlor.



Her heart sank when she saw the shutters firmly fastened. A strong instinct for survival propelled her forward. Mustering what little strength she had left, she heaved on the bolt with all her might, and managed to shift the heavy iron bar a couple of inches. A few more tugs slid it open fully.



Vanessa then attempted to pull one of the huge panels ajar. She struggled hard for some minutes, pausing every so often as another wave of nausea doubled her over. At last she uncovered half of the window.



She groaned inwardly, for the next obstacle she faced was the huge casement window itself. The weight would be hard enough to manage. If the sash were broken, she would not be able to keep it up in order to climb through it. She risked the prospect of being trapped, or damaging one of her limbs.



She had not thought far enough ahead to work out how she was going to get to the surgeon's house. It was over two miles away on the outskirts of Millcote so far as she had discovered. She knew the road which went past their front gate was well traveled. If she could just manage to get out the window and down the short drive, she would be able to find help. She simply had to.



Vanessa heaved upwards on the window handle, and felt it give a half-inch or so. At least it was not completely jammed. But by the abrupt manner in which it fell back down, she knew the sash had given way.



Looking around the room desperately, she espied some books sitting on a small side table. Taking the thickest of them, she scrambled back to the window. Tugging with all the strength her slender frame possessed, she opened the window far enough to wedge the book into the space between the ledge and the bottom window frame, and then sat on a small stool nearby to rest.



Waves of biliousness continued to wash over her. She began to shudder with cold and the strain of her efforts. By now she knew that her struggles to get out of the house were a matter of life and death. She blamed the oysters, and knew enough people had died of food poisoning to know how serious her plight was. She might have vomited, but she couldn't be sure it was enough to purge the illness from her body. Death could well be nigh if she didn't hurry.



She steeled herself and moved with a greater sense of urgency. Heading over to the table to fetch the rest of her books, she repeated her efforts, propping the window wider and wider until she was sure she had enough room to slide through the opening head-first.



She bundled up her cloak and threw it out the window, and then put her own arms, shoulders and finally head through the small opening. She guessed the drop to be about six feet, but knew she had no choice. At least there were some straggling bushes below which would partially break her fall.



Propelling herself forward inch by inch on her hands, which were propped either side of her on the outer ledge, Vanessa writhed and wriggled like a serpent to get her ample bosom through the small gap. Next came her firm buttocks, and finally her long legs.