Secrets Behind Locked Doors. Laura Martin
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Silently she crept down the stairs, pausing every few steps to check no one else was stirring.
Louisa knew the streets of London were cruel and unforgiving to young women with no money or connections, but at least she would be dependent on no one but herself. She couldn’t bear growing close to Lord Fleetwood, starting to enjoy her new privileged lifestyle, only to have it ripped away again. It would be better never to experience it, to not know what that life could be like. Because it would be ripped away. It might be in a week or in a year, but Louisa knew that all good things in life didn’t last. One day, when she was least expecting it, her life would again be turned upside down.
Louisa reached the front door and quietly started to unlock it. Only a couple of minutes and she would disappear into the anonymity of the London streets. As she pulled the door open she wondered if she should leave a note for Lord Fleetwood, an explanation of why she had left, but decided against it. Although he might protest otherwise, Louisa doubted she was little more than an inconvenience to his ordered lifestyle. He’d saved her from the asylum and she didn’t doubt he was a good man, but he’d done it out of a sense of duty, to right the wrongs of his great-uncle. Within a few days she doubted she would even enter his thoughts.
Louisa wouldn’t forget him quite so quickly, though. Her knight in shining armour, the man who had actually believed she wasn’t insane and rescued her from a lifetime of misery locked in Lewisham Asylum. Louisa knew Robert Fleetwood’s face would grace her dreams for many nights to come.
She slipped out into the darkness and gently pulled the door closed behind her. As she heard the latch click she knew there was no going back now. Taking a deep breath, Louisa pulled the shawl Mrs Kent had lent her across her shoulders and walked down the steps. It was a chilly night, the sky was clear and cloudless and the air crisp, but Louisa was no stranger to cold. In the asylum the winter nights had been almost unbearable. More than once Louisa had thought she would perish from the icy temperatures alone.
With one final look at the house she’d felt most at ease in for the last nine years, Louisa hurried off down the street. It wouldn’t do to linger. Every second she remained, a little bit of her resolve weakened. She turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared into the night.
* * *
Robert woke up, gasping for air. The screams and shouts that had been haunting him in his dreams faded into the darkness, but he was left with a pounding heart and his muscles tensed, ready for action. He knew if he closed his eyes he would see the faces of his fallen comrades as clear as the day they had died. He might have come home from the war over two years ago, but the awful sights he had seen still haunted him at night.
Slowly he sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water he kept on his nightstand. It was tepid, but as the liquid hit his throat, Robert didn’t care—it was more about distracting himself from his nightmare than needing a glass of water.
He sank back down on to his pillows and lay staring up at the ceiling, knowing he would not get a wink more of sleep. Not that he wanted to. If he succumbed to the tiredness that flowed through him, making his eyes droop, he knew he would be right back on the battlefield, looking at the agonised faces of his friends as they took their last breaths.
As he lay in the darkness he listened to the sounds of the house. It was quiet outside. His closest neighbours on either side were elderly couples who didn’t attend any social events and his house was off the main thoroughfare so they didn’t get many passing carriages. Inside the house there was the occasional creak of wood, but it sounded as though all the servants had retired for the night.
Robert was contemplating getting up and heading down to his study to look over some papers when the distinctive click of the front door being closed came to his ears. He listened for any further sound, but the house was entirely silent.
Rising quickly from his bed, he strode over to the window and pulled back the curtains. He looked out into the moonlit street. Louisa was just turning away from the house, pulling a woollen shawl tighter around her shoulders and walking off down the street.
For a moment Robert froze as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. He couldn’t understand why Louisa was out in the street, leaving his house.
After a couple of seconds he sprang into action. In this instant it didn’t matter why she was leaving, it just mattered that she was. Or more specifically that she was out on the streets of London all on her own in the middle of the night. Even in a neighbourhood like this Robert doubted she’d survive more than an hour before she ran into trouble.
He pulled on a pair of trousers and threw a shirt over his head. The foolish woman would be a few streets away by now. He had to find her before she disappeared into the anonymous heart of London. Slipping his feet into a pair of boots, Robert threw open his door, dashed along the corridor and bounded down the steps. Within seconds he was out the front door and onto the street. He set off in the direction he’d seen Louisa take from his window.
When he reached the corner there was no sign of her and Robert felt a stab of panic. He couldn’t lose her already, this young woman he’d promised to protect. He couldn’t fail her.
He set off at a jog, all the time glancing left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Louisa in her shapeless grey dress.
A coach sat at the end of the road, the driver leaning back against his seat. For a moment Robert thought the man must be asleep and cursed under his breath.
‘Good evening, sir,’ the man said without moving as Robert slowed his pace. ‘Fine evening for a walk.’
‘Have you seen a young woman walk past?’ Robert asked, sparing no time for pleasantries.
‘Oh, yes, sir, not two minutes ago. Pretty little thing in an awful oversized dress. Shouldn’t be out on the streets alone at this time of night.’
‘Which way did she go?’
The driver scratched his chin and Robert had to fight the urge to reach up and pull him from the seat. Didn’t the man understand the urgency?
‘Turned left on to Poplar Street,’ he said eventually.
Without stopping to thank the man, Robert dashed off. He ran down the entire length of Poplar Street. As he was approaching the end he wondered if the coach driver had sent him the wrong way. Surely he should have caught a glimpse of Louisa by now. She’d had a few minutes’ head start, but there was no reason why she’d be hurrying. He’d practically been sprinting for the last few minutes.
A cold ball of dread started to form in the pit of his stomach. What if she’d been snatched from the street, dragged into an alleyway, her screams muffled? He couldn’t stop the image of Louisa being attacked from settling in his brain and he felt the anguish rip through him. Another person he hadn’t been able to protect, another life destroyed because of his inadequacies.
Suddenly he was once again back on the battlefield, the unmoving faces of his fallen men surrounding him. He felt the darkness start to take over and his body start to shake.
A high-pitched scream drew him back to reality. Louisa. It had to be. No other woman would be foolish enough to be wandering the streets at this