The figure turned uncertainly.
Simon burst through the door.
With a shriek of pure fear, the figure jumped out of the window.
Simon cursed and rushed to look.
"Good God!" He stared. "She's landed on the loggia" Leaning out, he waved. "Come back here, you little fool!"
Helena rolled her eyes. Shrugging on her robe, she hurried to join him. The sight beyond the window made her lay a hand on his arm. "Don't say anything more."
But Simon had already fallen grimly silent.
Outside, the cloaked figure, weaving and staggering, was attempting to walk one of the beams of the loggia that extended away from the house over the flagstone terrace. If she overbalanced and fell, broken limbs would be the least of it.
The figure teetered precariously; time and again, she swayed, arms flailing — every time, she regained her balance. The heavy cloak swung about her legs, a dangerous encumbrance. Under her breath, Helena prayed.
"My stars," Simon breathed. "I think she's going to make it."
"Don't speak too soon and tempt fate."
In the gloom of the gardens, they could just make out Martin hovering by the shrubbery, and Sugden on the path to the kennels. Both remained frozen, silent witnesses to the girl's perilous flight. No one made the slightest sound, the slightest movement, did nothing to distract her.
After what seemed an eternity, the wildly lurching figure reached the end of the beam where it joined with an upright support. Simon tensed; Helena sank her fingers into his sleeve. "You are not following her."
Simon didn't even glance at her. "Of course not. No need."
They waited silently as the figure grappled and grasped, then partly swung, partly fell, partly scrambled to the ground, landing in an ungainly heap.
Simon immediately leaned out of the window. "She's on the ground by the loggia outside the music room!"
His ringing call propelled everyone into action. The girl jumped to her feet and tore off toward the shrubbery.
Then she saw Martin closing from that direction.
With a shriek, she pivoted and fled in the opposite direction, toward the rose garden and the darkness of the wood beyond.
She was almost there, almost to the path that led into the shadows, when she ran directly into Lucifer, who'd left the house through the front door and circled around the east wing.
Luc heard Simon thunder to Helena's room, but no one had passed either him or Simon, so how…? Via the window? But Martin, Sugden, or Phyllida would have seen… how had anyone got past them all?
Striding into the west corridor, he saw Simon dash into Helena's room. He paused, poised to react, then he heard Simon speak. Confused, Luc waited — there was clearly no drama occurring in the room, no danger to Helena.
What the devil was going on? He was about to stride to Helena's room and find out when he heard Simon's call.
"She's on the ground by the loggia…"
She.
The word stopped him in his tracks. The possibilities crashed down on him. Could they all have been wrong? Had Anne gone out of her window and around the outside of the house? Or had she not even been in her room but in Helena's?
Swinging around, he strode for the east wing.
Amelia was hovering outside Anne's door; she'd heard Simon's call but the house was too massive for her to make out his words. But she saw Luc coming, understood enough. She didn't hesitate.
She opened Anne's door. "Anne?" No reply. The bed was draped in dense shadows. "Anne!"
"Huh? What…?" Pushing her thick brown hair from her face, Anne groggily sat up, peering at Amelia. "What's the matter?"