Cinderella Six Feet Under(100)

“Hume was concocting elixirs from that book. They might’ve had a revivifying effect.”

“I couldn’t believe that hogwash if my life depended on—”

CRACK! Something zinged past Ophelia’s ear. One of the spooks had fired a gun.

“Get down!” Penrose cried. He rowed harder, and Ophelia threw herself to the bottom of the rowboat.

Another CRACK! Penrose stopped rowing and hunkered down. He patted at his jacket.

Searching for that revolver of his, no doubt.

“Let me row!” Ophelia said. “They’re catching up!” The spooks’ oars were splashing closer and closer.

“No. I could not live with myself if something were to happen to you.” Penrose pulled the revolver from his jacket and checked the cylinder. He lifted his eyes and the gun’s barrel over the edge of the rowboat. He aimed.

BANG!

Ophelia heard a plop. Penrose slid the revolver back into his jacket.

“That’s it?” Ophelia asked.

“Shot it out of Lord Cruthlach’s hand.”

“Almost too easy.”

“I’ve had a bit of practice.”

“I’m afraid to inquire.”

“Suffice to say that you and I, Miss Flax, could go into business together as a circus act.”

“You’d shoot apples off my head?”

“Something of the sort.” Penrose was on the seat and rowing again. “Do stay down, Miss Flax. They’ve drawn rather close, and they might have another gun.”

Penrose rowed hard for a half-dozen strokes. His jaw was tight.

Suddenly, an oar splintered through the side of the boat, just in front of Ophelia’s face. Water gushed in.

“Hang it,” Penrose muttered. He patted for his revolver.

Ophelia tried to struggle upright, but the boat was already tipping. She dumped sideways into the lake. She knew how to swim, but one did not customarily swim in a crinoline, corset, boots, and four layers of skirts. Her bottom half swelled with water. She churned her arms but she could barely stay afloat. Penrose shouted to her, reached out. He wasn’t watching Lord and Lady Cruthlach.

Lady Cruthlach, her face hidden in the shadow of her hood, pushed Ophelia under with an oar.

Ophelia screamed into the black, cold water. It filled her mouth, eyes, ears. She thrashed her arms, but the pressure of the oar bearing down between her shoulders was insurmountable.

She would die here.

A bright picture flickered. The swimming hole in New Hampshire, where she and her brother, Odie, had gone when the air was thick with damp summer heat and biting insects. The water there had been cool and sun-dappled, it had smelled of minerals. She saw Odie’s smiling brown eyes, which she had not seen for years past now. She had always supposed, but never known for certain, that he’d died in the war, so seeing him like this now, did it mean she was dying?

The pressure of the oar lifted. Ophelia surged to the surface, her lungs burning for air. She fought against the dead weight of her skirts for a brief moment, and then strong arms were around her waist, pulling her through the dark water as she coughed and said good-bye to Odie’s eyes. She was carried through the shallow waters to the shore. She was set down upon the gravel.

“Miss Flax,” Penrose murmured. “You were almost—oh God.”

Ophelia coughed again. Water poured from her mouth and nose.

“Lord and Lady Cruthlach are escaping to the other side. And the prince and his lady, too, have disappeared onto the far shore. But we shan’t give chase. Come, now, are you able to walk?”

Ophelia nodded. She wished she could cry.

Arm in arm, they limped, dripping, back to the chateau.

*

When Ophelia entered Miss Stonewall’s guest chamber, soaked and shivering, she found Prue and Dalziel hunched over a chessboard by the fireplace.

“Who taught you to play chess, Prue?” Ophelia asked, smearing water from her eyes.

“Ain’t playing chess. Playing checkers with the chess set.” Prue looked up. “Ophelia! What happened to you?”

“Suffice it to say that I’m in need of a hot bath.” Ophelia glanced at Dalziel. He seemed a nice enough fellow, but he was Lord and Lady Cruthlach’s grandson. “Will your grandmother and grandfather attend the ball this evening?” she asked him. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she believed the old codgers had nearly drowned her in the lake.