In the Shadow of Lakecrest(59)
Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the rain. I had to get out, before the whole place collapsed around me. I stumbled toward the opposite side. Marjorie had shown me the way out months ago, but I couldn’t even remember the first direction she’d turned. Silent weeping gave way to desperate, gasping sobs. I screamed for help until my throat ached, but there was no response. Who would hear me? Back at Lakecrest, the guests would be gathered in the ballroom, tut-tutting about the nasty weather. Had Matthew even noticed I was gone? Or were his thoughts too concerned with Marjorie?
I had never felt so alone. So hopeless. I moved through the darkness in grim defeat. Every corner led to another; each path that seemed promising led back where I’d started. Bricks fell at random around me as the ancient mortar gave way. It’s just like Lakecrest, I thought. Hallways that circled back on themselves, doorways that led nowhere. The creations of unhinged minds, designed to drive me insane.
I heard a faint thumping in the blackness, and for one terrifying moment, I thought it was the Minotaur. I froze and listened. Footsteps. A faint voice calling out, “Mrs. Lemont!”
“Help!” I shouted. My voice was raspy and weak, not nearly strong enough to carry outside. Desperate, I began to wail, cries that were beyond words. With an oddly clear certainty, I knew I’d die if I stayed.
The steps quickened and grew louder. A lantern glimmered in the darkness, and soon I saw Karel walking toward me. His face told me all I needed to know about what kind of state I was in. It was all I could do not to rush into his arms and hug him in relief. I could hear Hannah’s voice—Lemonts are never overly familiar with staff—and felt an irrational urge to laugh.
Blessedly, he didn’t ask what I was doing there. He simply said to follow him, and I stuck close behind as he led me out. It felt as if I were moving in a strange but welcome dream as we stepped out of the Labyrinth a few minutes later. I’d been so close to the entrance—why hadn’t I been able to find it?
The storm had died down, and golden hints of sunset peeked out from behind the drifting clouds. I’d have sworn it was midnight, but it couldn’t have been later than eight o’clock. Time had moved differently inside, as if it were endless yet also didn’t exist. Even as I walked away, the heaviness I’d felt inside lingered, a shadow on my soul. If the point of a maze was to test your wits and resourcefulness, I’d failed. And I couldn’t help feeling the Labyrinth had wanted me to fail.
My muddy feet slipped on the gravel path. Karel put his hand under my arm and helped me along.
“The kitchen door,” I muttered. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”
Karel nodded solemnly. He had one of those faces that’s best described as wooden: his features were locked in an unchanging sulky expression, and frown lines were carved around his mouth. But his strong arms and confident walk were comforting, and I began to calm down. While he seemed perfectly content not to talk, it didn’t seem right to leave without acknowledging what he’d done. As we approached the house, I thanked him for helping me.
Karel nodded. “You no go back there,” he said. An order, not a request.
“Goodness, no.” I had no intention of entering the Labyrinth again.
“Kate? Is that you?”
Marjorie’s voice rang out across the lawn. As I’d guessed, the party had moved indoors, and I’d counted on the terrace being empty. But there was Marjorie, walking across the flagstones. Behind her, the doors to the Arabian Room stood open, and people were beginning to drift back outside.
Karel dropped my arm. If I hurried, I could make it around the side of the house before Marjorie reached me. But I hesitated, long enough for Marjorie to get a closer look.
“Gracious!” she cried out. “Where have you been?”
People were staring and whispering, waving to others inside so they could come out and gape. Why wouldn’t they? There was Mrs. Matthew Lemont, bedraggled and wet, with dirt-caked legs and blood smeared along one arm. Marjorie escorted me straight into the lion’s den. The Arabian Room was a swirling haze of colors and patterns, and I narrowed my eyes against the onslaught. Dimly, I heard voices: “Is that Matthew’s wife?” “What on earth?” All I could see was Hannah, striding through the crowd with barely contained fury. Matthew was right behind her.
He looked upset, and I thought with an ache of the kiss, of Marjorie pressed against him. I wanted to slap him, and at the same time I longed to bury my face in his chest. The self-control I’d summoned for Karel began to crumple. It shattered completely when Matthew ran past his mother and grabbed my hands.
“Oh, my darling, are you all right?”
“Matthew.” Hannah’s voice was terse, but I knew what she was saying with that one clipped word: You’re making a scene. Get her out of here.
I clung to Matthew, my shelter in the storm. He patted my head, my back, my shoulders. Reassuring himself I was still intact.
“I thought you were resting upstairs,” he murmured. “What happened?”
“I got lost. In the Labyrinth.”
“The Labyrinth?” Matthew asked. Bewildered. How could I possibly tell him the reason I’d gone inside?
“The storm,” I tried to explain. “Bricks were falling down all around me, and the Minotaur—the statue—it crashed over, and the entrance was blocked and I couldn’t get out . . .”