“Not that I won’t get you back by midnight. Do you want to see Foxworth Hall now? You should see it both at night and during the daytime. It’s a mansion with its own special personality. It changes when the sun goes down. Sometimes I think of it as being alive. It’s well over one hundred years old, but between some of the improvements my father had made and ones I’ve been making, it’s . . .” He looked about the living room. “It’s not suffered like this, although there are rooms, places, that no one’s paid much attention to for some time, decades, in fact.

“Let’s just say it will be an experience to remember, night or day,” he concluded.

The idea of sneaking out of my great-aunt’s house seemed thrilling. This was just the sort of excitement I had hoped to have.

“With such a promise, how can I refuse?” I replied.

His smile burst like a firecracker on his face.

“You don’t need anything. There’s just a slight chill in the air, but I have a new horsehair blanket, specially made for me recently. I’m experimenting with emblems for the Foxworth family. I’d love your opinion of this one. Shall we go? I have a driver waiting just outside.”

He stood.

Now that I had bragged so much about exercising my freedom, actually doing it took on another meaning, however. I listened for any sounds indicating that either Hazel or my great-aunt was still awake. It was very quiet. They really wouldn’t know I had left, I thought. There was no danger of that.

“Very well,” I said, standing. I was trembling a little, knowing how upset both my parents would be when and if they learned about this evening escapade unchaperoned. I smiled immediately to prevent him from seeing the fear and hesitation in my face, but he was apparently good at reading me.

He put his right hand over his heart and recited, “I promise I’ll get you back well before midnight, and no one will be the worse for it, including you.”

“Then we should get started if I’m to have the time to see anything,” I said, washing away any hesitation. The longer we talked about it, the more frightened I became.

He nodded. “Absolutely,” he said, and went to the front door, holding out his arm.

I took it, and we stepped out. I had never seen a carriage like his, parked in front of my aunt’s house. It looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. It was no wonder he had referred to Cinderella. There were four beautiful large horses, each at least seventeen hands, all coal black. The carriage had an enclosed black body with gold trim. There were two doors and a glazed front window.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.