Aged floorboards groaned, though I took the path of least resistance. For such an old establishment, one could never forgo such protestations, but with familiarity I could minimise them. When lit this narrow corridor seemed much shorter. When not tresspasing, when my heart did not threaten my rib cage with its aggressive beating.

It was not my first choice, but my final which had lead to this desperate act. Generally I abore assignations. Farradidle reserved for romance novels born from female minds. I’m unable to stop myself smirking at the realisation that this plan was in sole fact just that, for the chit I owed for this clandestine engagement now awaited me in the library.

She, who had writ me as the heroine of this farce, a dashing rake to steal her away in the dead-of-night. She without much ado but jump into my arms as I carry her from her fathers miserly clutches, away from her intended; a man known from her cradle she loved as a sibling rather than a prospective husband. To run away from me.

A little late for me to contest the idiocy of this quest. Illogical it may appear, stealing a girl away from an engagement to myself, but such her indomitable spirit and fanciful demeanour, partnered with her tyrannical father, her happiness depends upon leaving this manor.

Nearing my destination, the library door, a faded light flickeres from the servant stairs upon the opposite end of the corridor. I hasten, quickly and quietly opening the door and shifting in, the doors squeak announcing my plight. Having not fully shut the door, I watch through the infinitesimal gap as the light shifts closer along the corridor.

I jump as hands grab my waist.

“Evening,” a high pitched whisper just shy of my ear. I turn my head and place my index finger to my lips. I feel her nod, her chin grazing my shoulder blade with the action. Grace noticing the light in the adjoining room does so immediatly.

The candle stops at the adjacent room, Graces room. My heart begins pounding faster. Surely noone could know of our plans. She could not have been so foolish as to have let slip, or confide in someone.

The figure, a silhouette all he could see, tried the door knob opposite. It yielded, and the door swung wide revealing Graces bedroom; an empty empty bed.

A woman’s scream followed by hysterical shouting, “go’n, Miss Trillen ‘s go’n!”

Grace, known to the staff as Miss Trillen, plucked a book from the nearby shelf and pushed me aside, stepping into the hallway.

“Such an hour for screaming Del, my father will not abide by it.” A second scream from Delores having been set upon from behind wrang down the corridor. Not other doors began opening as the house began to stir.