I didn't wait around to see if they all agreed, but took off down the passage. The billiard room door clicked shut, and with their longer strides, the men wouldn’t be that far behind me. I flew to the staircase, cursing myself for a fool. I plunged down the steps and almost immediately slipped and fell, tumbling all the way down to the bottom. I couldn’t prevent an unladylike “Oof!” from bursting out when I landed. At least the steps were wood, not marble.
My fall made an ungodly racket, mainly because the candleholder bounced along with me. I lay stunned in a graceless heap, waiting. I was afraid to move.
"What was that?" Will asked.
"I've no idea.” Stephen’s voice. “God's breath! Someone's fallen down the steps."
The four of them raced to my side. Perfect.
Cries of "Olivia!" and "Niece!" echoed through the empty hall. I moaned and tried to sit up.
"Do not move! Lie still and let me see if you've broken anything," Stephen said. He began to check my feet and ankles, then my calves, knees, and thighs. "Any discomfort?"
"Nay." Not the kind you're talking about, anyway.
Thomas melted into the shadows and I had the distinct impression he was praying for me. I thought I saw him make the sign of the cross. Alexander paced back and forth.
When Stephen carefully pressed my ribs with his fingers, I protested. "Stop it! That tickles."
He ignored me. "Shakespeare, try tilting her head. We must make sure her neck and spine are not injured." Will cautiously moved my head from side to side.
"It does not hurt. Indeed, 'tis only my vanity that has been wounded."
"I think you've been exceedingly lucky, sister. Now, let's get you up." Before I could protest, he swept me up into his arms.
"This is not necessary!" I said, placing my arms around his neck nevertheless.
"It is if we want to avoid awkward questions," Stephen hissed. "Would one of you open the doors, pray?"
When we reached the staircase leading to our chambers, Alexander said, "God keep you, niece."
"I shall pray for your prompt recovery," Thomas promised.
A surge of guilt washed over me. "I am fine, and I thank you both for your care. Fare thee well." Will followed us upstairs, leaving us when we arrived at my chamber.
Stephen strode over to the bed. "Jesu, mistress, you're heavier than you look." He laid me down on the bed and said, "Would you care to explain what you were doing?"
I sat up, and with a groan, fell back. "I was seeking information. And lower your voice—Jennet's in her room."
"Explain 'seeking information' if you please."
"My original plan was to search Thomas's chamber, but the door was locked. I re-thought my plan and listened to the conversation in the Billiard Room instead. It was most informative."
"What did you think to gain from searching Thomas's chamber?" He glared ferociously at me, and I dropped my gaze.
"I'm not sure. I thought maybe I'd find some correspondence about Shakespeare, or possibly be able to take a look at whatever it is he's been working on."
"Can you envision what would have happened if you'd been caught? You—we—would have been sent home in disgrace, my father informed, our whole scheme would have been discovered!"
"I didn't actually do it, Stephen, so why don't you calm down? I was only trying to be helpful."
"Promise me you will not try anything so foolish again.”
I rolled my eyes. “All right!”
He lowered himself to the edge of my bed, and in a gentle voice said, “Are you in pain?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll live.” Slowly, I slid my hand across the coverlet so that it curled into his. “I’ll be sore in the morning, but it will remind me not to do something so stupid again.”
Quickly, he raised my hand to his lips before rising. “I shall call for Bess.”
Before I could utter a word, he’d rushed through the servants’ door. Damn. What was the hurry? My hand wrapped in his felt so natural. And undeniably romantic. I absolutely needed to ban all romantic notions concerning Stephen from my mind.
