Chapter 4: The Escape

From the Dungeon to the Forest

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When Violet first returned to her dorm, completely soaked from the rain, she planned to climb the wall in broad daylight so a teacher would catch her and send her home. But as she peeled away her sopping clothes, she realized that the professor had mentioned multiple offences this boy had collected to get him sent home. Violet would have to get caught scaling the wall on multiple occasions and endure many tongue- and hand-lashings before possibly getting sent home. And when her father and Josephine found out, who’s to say they wouldn’t simply send her to another more dreadful school to root out her disobedient heart?

She stared out the window in her dry uniform and eyed the vine-covered wall that rambled on along the exterior of the school. The variety of stones and thick vines made the wall look easier to climb than she had expected. Violet had clambered up many trees over her years at home, and one time she even climbed up to the roof of her own home (which granted her a thorough scolding from Matilda and her father). She could climb this wall.

But where would she go? Violet remembered her carriage ride to the school. Matilda had accompanied her for the trip, to her relief, though she would sadly return home with the carriage once Violet was dropped off. As they rode along, Matilda had pointed out the window at a small home tucked away within the trees. “That there is your Uncle Bartley’s estate. Do you remember visiting him? He’s your mother’s brother.”

Violet had scrunched her nose up but then slowly nodded as the memories came trailing in. Running up the driveway as her father yelled something about being lady-like, a thin, jolly older man bending down to catch her, the smell of cigars and old leather… “Vaguely, I believe.” How many years had been since Violet had seen him? She believed that last time she had been three—so thirteen years ago, before the big blow-up between her uncle and her father.

“You were only small. Anyway, that’s where he lives. Perhaps one of your professors would be willing to escort you to visit him sometime. I know your father wouldn’t approve, but what’s he going to say? Your father is now a day’s journey away; he’ll never know. And I know your uncle would be overjoyed to see you; he is a wonderful man. He had that beautiful smile your mother had.” The carriage had rolled up the driveway to the boarding school only minutes later. 

The perfect escape formed in her mind. She could scale the wall and run to his estate. If he were the lovely man she and Matilda remembered, he would surely rescue her from this dreadful place. 

Now, as she laid on her thin mattress, she felt antsy. She wanted to go at that moment but feared getting caught. She hoped that by midnight, every person within the school would be asleep. 

 Violet laid in her bed listening to the faint ticking of the clock of the girls’ dormitory. She had counted the resounding dings as the clock struck another hour, and now she waited for midnight to chime. Finally, she heard the midnight clang of the grandfather clock standing down the hall. Violet swung her legs over the side of her bed and slipped on her leather shoes.

Violet breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped down the old oak tree and planted her feet in the outer courtyard of the school. She didn’t realize how many night watchmen she’d have to slip past—there were three she had seen, and she assumed there were more scattered over the school. She had snuck past the one sleeping in the girls’ dormitory, but then she came down a thin hallway where one was laid back in a wooden chair reading a book by candlelight. There was no way she could creep around him, and she had no excuse to be wandering the halls. She had to go back down the hall to a far window that happened to be cracked open, gently lift it, and climb out to the ancient oak tree. She nearly fell twice as she slinked out on the branch, but she swallowed her screams. 

Currently, she was in the courtyard, and the wall was before her.

Violet rolled her shoulders back and brushed her sweaty palms off on her skirt. As the cool air brushed past her, Violet reached up and locked her fingers into the slim notches. Once she had a good grip, she brought her feet up and dug her toes in. Bit by bit, she pulled herself along. 

About halfway up, she sighed and paused to catch her breath; from the bottom of the wall, it hadn’t appeared so tall, but now as her fingertips and toes burned and ached, it seemed to loom above her. She dragged her foot up as she reached her hand for the next rock, but her foot skidded off the ledge and she slid down partway. She caught herself before going too far, but she had lost about two rows of stone. Her knees burned and she glanced down to see wrinkled skin and blood. She groaned but pressed on.

As her fingers trembled, she chewed on her bottom lip and dug her toes in. If only Matilda could see her now—she’d get such a scolding.

“Listen, Miss Bennett,” Matilda had said all those days ago as they drove up the long driveway to the school, “you know I hate this school and this whole idea just as much as you. But that doesn’t mean you should be mouthing off to your professors or getting yourself into trouble. You are a good girl, Miss Bennett. Don’t let this school change that. Know I’ll be doing everything I can to get you back home—but you must promise me you’ll behave yourself in the meantime. You know that’s what your mother would have wanted.”

Violet had nodded that day as tears had pooled in her eyes. She had blinked them away and stared out the window, not daring to look at Matilda again until all she could see of her was her brown and grey bun out the back window of the carriage bumping down the driveway away from her.

Violet let this propel her forward. I won’t get caught, Matilda. Matilda would eventually find out what she had done, but she could only hope the old woman would smile just a little and be a bit proud of her for escaping. She said she hated this place too, right? Violet stretched her arm up higher, trying to make up for the time she had lost when she slid. She smiled to herself; this didn’t count as getting into trouble unless she got caught, and she won’t get caught. That’s what she’ll tell Matilda when she sees her again. 

Violet didn’t let herself worry about what her uncle may think of the whole ordeal. She believed that he’d be proud of her for her ingenuity and resourcefulness. How could he turn her away after she had gone through so much? It would be like sending a dog away that you had driven miles from home yet had somehow found its way back again. Violet broke a nail as she dug it into a slimmer ledge, but she kept hauling herself along. 

Yet visions of her father’s scowling face kept pressing through all these thoughts.

Violet swallowed against the lump in her throat and pulled herself higher. Her toes skidded again and she gasped, but she caught herself more quickly than the last time. Finally, the flat ledge was in reach. She put both hands on it and hauled her stomach up. She flattened out on the top of the wall and simply laid there, heaving for air as her heart thumped against her chest like a dog scratching its ear. She felt fresh air flow more strongly over her skin, giving her goosebumps up her legs. She breathed in the smell of the trees beyond the wall.

Then she heard a door creak. As her heart hammered in her ears, she pushed herself over the wall. She meant to grab onto the ledge and simply hang on the other side, but instead her whole body rolled through the air and collided with the mossy ground on the other side.

Her head pounded as she eased it up from the ground. Then she heard voices and froze.

“I thought I heard something out here,” a croaky man’s voice mumbled.

She heard someone cough. “You old coot,” he said, stopping to hack and cough again. “You’re always hearing things. There’s nothing out here.”

“Well, I remember just last month you called me out to check the ground with you because you…”

The voices trailed off as she heard the door moan again and latch together.

In the silence, Violet exhaled and rolled over. Grass and moss were layered over the ground, so her fall wasn’t as bad she expected. Her body felt sore, but nothing seemed broken or twisted. She slowly stood and brushed the greenery off her clothes. As she lifted her eyes to the forest before her, her stomach sank into her feet. 

Pitch black. She had no light. 

Her bottom lip quivered for a moment as her breath quickened. She couldn’t navigate this forest in the dark, let alone find her way safely to her uncle’s house. But what would she do? She hadn’t thought about having to sleep in the dark forest all night. She trembled as another cold wind whisked past her. She didn’t have even a blanket or a jacket. 

Violet slapped her forehead. She didn’t think this one through. 

She thought about walking to the front of the school so she could get to the road, but she knew that would also be heavily guarded and she could be seen. At this point, her best way forward was sleeping in the forest until morning came and she could begin her trek to her uncle’s house. It couldn’t be that far away; Matilda had pointed it out only minutes before she arrived at the school. She should be able to get there before night again. 

She hoped. 

She heard her father’s cursing in a distant memory. 

“You fool, Violet! Do you ever think before you do something?” he had said that day she had climbed to the top of the roof. 

Violet swallowed against the growing lump in her throat and stumbled towards the woods. She tripped over roots and rocks and finally gave up and hunkered down at the base of a tree. She felt for a soft bed of moss to lay her head on, then curled up in the fetal position. She hugged her knees into her chest as she shook from the cold wind stirring under her dress. 

She couldn’t go back—it was not an option. She felt lichen tickle her face and she brushed it away. No, she must stay. She couldn’t turn around now, not after how far she’d gotten. Her uncle’s house had to be just a few hours of a walk within this forest. Freedom appeared at the end of her reaching fingertips. Tomorrow night, she’d curl up in a bed on her uncle’s estate and be treated with love and kindness. She couldn’t give that up now.

Violet tried to focus on the memories of going to her uncle’s home. She had been so small, no older than three. It was the last time her father saw Uncle Bartley; a few months later, her father had a wretched fight with Uncle Bartley about something that no one would tell Violet about, not even Miss Taylor. Violet hadn’t seen him since.

Violet tried to picture him. A tall man, but not broad and towering like her English professor. He had eyes like walnuts. He had a spindly form and lines all throughout his face—especially around his mouth and eyes when he smiled. His mousy brown hair had receded and thinned. He was a well-shaven man. He always had a joke for Violet and propped her up on his knee when she came over to him. She smiled as she reminisced. 

As Violet looked around, odd shapes slithered within the shadows. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Finally, she had to close her eyes. She stopped looking around every time she heard a twig snap or leaves crunch, though it still bothered her. She knew she had to sleep at some point. She thought about bringing her hands up around her ears, but they were so cold she had to keep them tucked under her shirt and wrapped around her sides.

Somehow, Violet found herself drifting into that cloud of sleep, where dreams started to tug at her mind though she could still hear the real world around her. 

“Run!”

Violet jolted up as the little voice screamed next to her. Her eyes flitted around to see the little person the voice had come from, but instead, she found the bared teeth of a wolf.