" They barreled through the side door, both heaving with exertion as they collapsed on the stairs.
"You," Blake said. "Up to the washroom. I'll find the servants."
Caroline nodded and dashed up the stairs, slipping silently into his washing room. She looked around with a good dose of chagrin. The Lord only knew how long she was going to be stranded mere. "Well," she said aloud, "it could be worse."
Three hours later Caroline had discovered that the only way to stave off boredom in the washing room was to entertain herself by listing all of the situations that would be worse than her current one.
It wasn't easy.
She immediately dismissed all sorts of fanciful scenarios, like being trampled by a two-headed cow, and instead concentrated on more realistic possibilities.
"He could have a small washing room," she said to her reflection in the mirror. "Or it could be very
dirty. Or... or or or... or he could forget to feed me." Her lips twisted into a peevish line. The bloody
man had forgotten to feed her! "The room could have no windows," she tried, glancing up at the aperture. She grimaced. One would have to possess an extraordinarily optimistic nature to call that little sliver of glass a window.
"He could have a pet hedgehog," she said, "which he keeps in the basin."
"It's unlikely," came a male voice, "but possible."
Caroline looked up to see Blake in the doorway. "Where have you been?" she hissed.
"I'm starving."
He tossed her a scone.
"You're too kind," she muttered, wolfing it down. "Was that my main course or merely an appetizer?"
"You'll be fed, don't worry. I thought Perriwick was going to have palpitations when he heard where you were hiding. I imagine he and Mrs. Mickle are preparing a feast even as we speak."
"Perriwick is clearly a nicer man than you."
He shrugged. "No doubt."
"Did you manage to intercept all the servants before they mentioned me to Penelope?"
"Yes. We're safe, have no fear. And I have your things. I moved them to my room."
"I'm not staying in your room!" she said, rather huffily.
"I never said you were. You're certainly free to remain here in the washing room. I'll find some blankets and a pillow for you. With a little ingenuity, we can make this place quite comfortable."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Only a touch, I assure you."
"Did Penelope ask after me?"
"Indeed. She has already written you a letter asking you to pay a call tomorrow afternoon." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small envelope, and gave it to her.
"Well, that is certainly a boon," Caroline grumbled.
"I shouldn't complain, were I you. At least it means you can escape the washing room."
Caroline stared at him, really annoyed by his smile. She stood and planted her hands on her hips.
"My, my, we're looking militant this afternoon, aren't we?"
"Don't condescend to me."
"But it's so much fun."
She hurled a chamber pot at him. "You can use this in your own room!"
Blake ducked and then laughed despite himself when the pot broke into pieces against the wall.
"Well, I suppose one can take some comfort in the fact that it wasn't full."
"If it had been full," she hissed, "I would have aimed at your head."
"Caroline, this situation isn't my fault."
"I know, but you don't have to be so bloody jolly about it."
"Now, you're being just a bit unreasonable."
"I don't care." She whipped a bar of soap at him. It stuck against the wall.
"I have every right to be unreasonable."
"Oh?" He ducked as his shaving kit sailed through the air.
She glowered at him. 'For your information, in the past week, I have been, oh let's see, nearly raped, kidnapped, tied to a bedpost, forced to cough my voice into nothingness-"
"That was your own fault."
"Not to mention the fact that I embarked upon a life of crime by breaking and entering into my former home, was nearly trapped by my odious guardian-"
"Don't forget your sprained ankle," he supplied.
"Ooooohhhh! I could kill you!" Another bar of soap flew by his head, grazing his ear.
"Madam, you are certainly doing an able job of trying."
"And now!" she fairly yelled. "And now, as if all of that weren't undignified enough, I am forced to live for a week in a bloody bathroom!"
Put that way, Blake pondered, it was damned funny. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his laughter.
He wasn't successful.
"Stop laughing at me!" she wailed.
"Blake?"
He went utterly sober in under a second. "It's Penelope!" he whispered.
"Blake? What is all that yelling about?"
"Quick!" he hissed, shoving her back toward the side stairwell. "Hide!"
Caroline scurried away, and just in time, too, for Penelope pushed open the door to the washing room just as she closed the one to the stairwell.
"Blake?" Penelope queried for the third time. "What is all the commotion?"
"It was nothing, Penny. I-"
"What happened here?" she screeched.
Blake looked around and gulped. He'd forgotten about the mess on the floor. Chamber pot shards, his shaving kit, a towel or two...
"I... ah..." It seemed to him that it was far easier to lie for the sake of national security than it was to his older sister.
"Is that a bar of soap stuck to the wall?" Penelope asked.
"Um... yes, it appears to be."
She pointed down. "And is this another bar of soap on the floor?"
"Er... yes, I must have been rather clumsy this morning."
"Blake, is there something you're keeping from me?"
"There are quite a few things I keep from you," he said with absolute honesty, trying not to think about Caroline sitting out in the stairwell, presumably laughing her bloody head off at his predicament.
"What's this on the floor?" Penelope bent down and picked up something white. "Why, it's the note I wrote to Miss Dent! What is it doing here?"
"I haven't had a chance to send it yet." Thank God Caroline had forgotten to open it.
"Well, for heaven's sake, don't leave it here on the floor." She narrowed her eyes and looked up at him. "I say, Blake, are you feeling quite the thing?" "Actually, no," he replied, seizing the opportunity she'd offered him. "I've been a touch dizzy for the last hour or so. That's how I knocked over the chamber pot."
She touched his forehead. "You don't have the fever."
'Tm sure if s nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."
"I suppose." Penelope pursed her lips. "But if you're not feeling better by tomorrow I'm summoning a doctor."
"Fine."
'Terhaps you ought to lie down right now."
"Yes," he said, practically pushing her out of the bathroom. "That is an excellent idea."
"Right, then. Here, I'll turn down your sheets."
Blake let out a huge sigh as he shut the bathroom door behind him. He certainly wasn't happy about the latest turn of events; the last thing he wanted was his older sister fussing over him. But it was certainly preferable to her discovering Caroline amid the chamber pot shards and soap slivers.