Ellie watched her dash from the room, then turned to her tray of food and began to eat.

Despite her hunger, Ellie found that she only had the appetite to eat about a quarter of her food. Her empty stomach did little to calm her nerves, and she practically jumped clear to the ceiling when, later that night, she heard the outer door to Charles's bedroom open. She heard him rustling around, presumably getting ready to go to sleep, and cursed at herself for holding her breath every time his footsteps brought him near the connecting door.

This was madness. Utter madness. “You have one day,” she muttered. “One day to feel sorry for yourself and then you must go out and make the best of it. So everyone thinks you set fire to the kitchen. That isn't the worst thing that could happen.”

Ellie spent the next minute trying to think of something that was worse. It wasn't easy. Finally she waved her hand in the air and said, a touch louder than before, “You could have killed someone. That would have been very bad. Very very bad.”

She nodded, trying to reassure herself that, in the grand scheme of life, the fire was actually a small incident. “Very bad,” she said again. “Killing someone. Very bad.”

A knock sounded at the connecting door. Ellie yanked her bedsheets up to her chin, even though she knew that the door was locked. “Yes?” she called out.

“Were you speaking to me?” Charles asked through the door.

“No.”

“Then may I ask to whom you were speaking?”

Did he think she was carrying on with a footman? “I was talking to myself!” And then she muttered, “Save for Judith, I'm the best company I'm going to find in this mausoleum, anyway.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“I couldn't hear you.”

“You weren't meant to!” she fairly screamed.

Silence, and then she heard his footsteps carrying him away from the door. She relaxed slightly, snuggling more deeply into her bed. She had just about gotten comfortable when she heard an awful, terrible clicking sound, and she groaned, just knowing what she was going to see when she opened her eyes.

An open doorway. With Charles standing in it.

“Did I remember to mention,” he drawled, leaning casually against the doorjamb, “how annoying I find connecting doors?”

“I can think of at least three replies,” Ellie retorted, “but none of them are particularly ladylike.”

He waved her barb away. “I assure you, I've long since stopped expecting you to behave in a ladylike manner.”

Ellie's mouth fell open.

“You were talking.” He shrugged. “I couldn't hear you.”

It took a powerful force of will to unclench her teeth, but somehow she managed it. “I believe I said that you weren't meant to.” Then she grinned in what she hoped was a sickly sort of manner. “I'm a bit batty that way.”

“Funny you should say that, because I could swear you were carrying on in here about killing someone.” Charles took a few steps toward her and crossed his arms. “The question is: just how batty are you?”