Midsummer Night by Deanna Raybourn Read Free Book Online Page B

emerged at last at the top of the tor, shrouded from the folk below by the trees. Above me stretched a wide sky of dark blue, the evening stars just twinkling to life. A low moon sat atop a hill, round and rosy as a pink pearl. A single torch flickered in the evening breeze, lighting the way as I unwound the garland of flowers and draped it over the well. I stepped back to admire my handiwork.
    “Careful, you nearly trod on my toe,” said a sharp voice.
    I whirled round to see Bess, the maid who had saved Crab. I gave a gusty sigh. “Finally. Charlotte King. I thought you would never declare yourself.”

Chapter Five
    What love can do, that dares love attempt.
    — Romeo and Juliet , II.ii.67
    C harlotte blinked twice then yanked off her cap, taking with it the dull wig of mouse-brown hair. “Thank God. That filthy thing makes my head itch.”
    “I can well imagine,” I told her.
    “When did you realise it was me?”
    There seemed little point in withholding the truth. “In the bath this afternoon. I was thinking of how brave you were with poor old Crab, and it occurred to me how curious it was—that habit of ducking your head when you were spoken to. And that wig was so horrid, I could not believe anyone would be so unfortunate as to have such awful hair.”
    She laughed. “It is a fright. Fair killed my vanity to wear it,” she added, shaking out her own long, corn-gold hair. It shimmered like so much silk in the torchlight.
    “Really, with no better disguise that that dreadful wig, I cannot believe I was the only one to know you for who you are.”
    She smiled. “I also darkened my brows with soot and changed my posture. You would be amazed what a difference it makes.”
    By way of demonstration, she altered her stance, and suddenly, instead of a tall, slender young woman of impeccable carriage, she was a diffident creature three inches shorter and painfully shy.
    “Astonishing,” I murmured. “I must remember that.”
    She shrugged. “One of the first things you learn in the theatre, my lady. There is nothing so telling as how a woman holds herself. A few simple alterations in posture and appearance and I am a thoroughly different person. And of course, no one really pays attention to maids, do they? I learned that on my first job. Lady Cobham’s rubies,” she said, her expression slightly dreamy. “She never once suspected the new chambermaid and I ended up with the most spectacular necklace—” she broke off her reverie and nodded towards the white robe. “You ought to get that off so long as we are making ourselves comfortable.”
    “I think not. It is ceremonial, you know.”
    She produced a tiny pistol from her pocket. “I insist. I’d rather folk not be able to track you as we make our way down the tor. That white robe will show for miles in the darkness.”
    Her own gown was of the plain dark stuff the maids wore for proper work, and underneath my robe I had a dress of dark green silk. Without the robe, the pair of us blended beautifully into the shadows.
    “What do you mean to do with me?” I asked, continuing to make polite conversation.
    She shook her head. “Not here, my lady. I mean to be well away in a short while, but not with you taking up my time with more idle chatter. There is a path down the back side of the tor, steeper than the one you just came up, but nicely dark and leading straight to the Abbey gardens. Now, be quick about it, and, mind you, don’t do anything foolish. I am not entirely certain I could kill you with this little thing, but I am not unwilling to try.”
    I did as she bade me, walking in front of her to the head of the path and descending steadily. I did not dare ask her further questions while we were on the tor; the descent was treacherous down the darkened path on the steep side and with every stony footfall I cursed the fact that I was not wearing breeches and boots. My flimsy slippers were cut to ribbons on the crude path, but we reached the