Finding a mouse (or anything suitably creepy-crawly, really) proved difficult in the middle of the day. Finding my way around the service corridors, however, proved easier than I'd anticipated. Some brilliant palace staff member had placed name cards outside the service entrances to each of the debutantes' suites. Sadly there were no peepholes - for understandable reasons, given that the rooms were those of young ladies - but it was easy enough to overhear any chatter if one crouched near the door. I very nearly got discovered myself, huddled down next to Ashley Mayfair's door as I attempted to pick up some useful bit of gossip from her ladies in waiting. Jane, Maybelle, and Rosemary prattled on about Hattie Hensley, one of Penelope Roxton's ladies in waiting who had been escorted back to Penelope's suite a few minutes before last night's curfew by none other than the extremely eligible Dorian Fletcher. I had been so intently listening to the ladies debate whether or not Penelope ought to send Hattie home or use her proximity to Dorian to her advantage that I almost didn't hear the maid approaching with a tea tray. Scrabbling against the wall to rise, I ducked around the corner and jogged as fast as my skirts and the narrow corridor would allow back towards Ella's room. I tumbled into my shared bedroom, my dress snagging on the door as I hastily attempted to close it. With an almighty rip, a wad of fabric tore free from the seam Audra had just pinned up in a bustle, the dark fabric snagged on the latch bolt. I let out a moan as I inspected the gash, certain Audra would never forgive me after destroying her dresses for a second day in a row. I racked my brain for some way to fix it on my own, attempting to pry the fabric from where it had caught on the door. When it didn't immediately come free, I crouched to examine it, moaning anew when I realized that one of Audra's tailoring pins had jammed itself into the latch mechanism. I tugged at it a few more times before I gave up and rewarded the infernal door with a kick, sending it slamming into the wall in frustration. I expected it to spring back open thanks to the broken latch, but when it didn't I cursed my luck, figuring that now I had jammed the darned thing closed. I gave the door handle a little shake before I prepared to pull with all my might, only to have the door slide open easily, the fabric now wadded up to only partially block the latch. I tried opening and closing the door a few more times before I realized that my mishap was in fact a blessing. Thanks to the torn piece of fabric and the pin attached to it, the bedroom-side door handle no longer locked closed when the door swung shut. I couldn't help the devious grin that lit up my face as I cast a look around, relieved that I was alone in discovering such a useful little access point to the service corridors. "What is all the ruckus in-Libby?" I hastily kicked the door the rest of the way shut as Rosanna poked her head into the room. "However did you get in here?" she asked, frowning as she looked around. "The, ah, seamstress' apprentice showed me back through the service corridor," I lied. Rosanna's frown turned into an outright scowl. "Of all the ways to treat a lady in waiting! Really, we're not maids!" she sniffed, "See that it doesn't happen again, it would not do for you to be seen wandering among the servants!" "Of course," I lied again, my fingers crossed behind my back. Now that I had my own personal, secret access point to the service corridors that ran throughout the palace, I really had no choice but to eventually go exploring. ****** My revenge for Ashley's harlot comment took a back seat the moment Ella returned from tea with the queen, bemoaning the seating arrangement for the opera outing the next evening. It seemed that news of the so-called elite events had leaked and Ella was beside herself that she wasn't one of the three debutantes that would share Andrew's row in the royal box at the opera. Instead, she, Harriet, Emmie, and Penelope would be sitting in the row just behind him, doomed to watch while he chatted with Sarah, Ashley, and Mary, the ladies Ella now considered to be the queen's top choices. "How can they possibly have made such an impression already!" Ella moaned, having collapsed dramatically on her bed. Rosanna was flitting around, preparing a dinner outfit, while Emily sat beside Ella, attempting to calm her before she would burst into tears. "It's only one outing," I said, for the third time as my cousin's melancholy mood darkened. "Apparently there was a croquet game this afternoon!" she wailed as Emily crooned and patted her back. I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed as I chewed my lip. If I had only had the nerve to speak to the prince sooner, perhaps Ella would have been one of the top three chosen to sit with him. Then again, if the elite events were by invitation of the queen, Andrew may not have had any say in the opera seating arrangements. "I'm sure we can find some way-" I started, before Emily cut me off. "We'll simply have to ensure that Ella looks her best for the outing," she said, shooting me an annoyed look, "No matter where she's sitting, she should look the part of a future queen!" Rosanna called out her agreement from the closet, as she waded through the rows and rows of dresses. I said nothing, dissatisfied, until Ella's own ladies' maid appeared to press her dress for the evening. The door to the service corridor snicked shut behind her as she bobbed a curtsey, hastening immediately to Rosanna's aid. "...you just going to stand there looking daft?" Emily was saying, her words only drawing my attention away from the service door when she snapped her fingers, "Go fetch the face powder!" I sneered, rolling my eyes in Emily's general direction as Ella wallowed on the bed, too absorbed in self-pity to witness our exchange. ***** My plan was extremely poorly thought out. I'd spent a good part of the dinner hour wondering whether I should even attempt it, then the latter part of the evening deciding that I should. When our food was brought up, I was so lost in thought that I ended up pushing my food around on my plate instead of devouring it. Without meaning to, I'd created a perfect excuse when Rosanna noted my lack of enthusiasm with the chicken and asked whether I was feeling all right. The lie came swiftly to my lips when I said I had a headache, eagerly retiring to my bed while Emily and Rosanna went calling to visit the other ladies in waiting before debutantes returned from their royal dinner. Once the room was empty, I quickly changed out of my nightclothes into one of my old uniform dresses, sweeping my hair back into a hasty bun. I had no apron or cap, but I would have to make do. I hurried over to Ella's room, riffling through her writing desk until I found a scrap piece of paper. My dearest prince Kindly consider repaying Sable's favour at the opera tomorrow night. Yours, The Spy I hastily folded the envelope and addressed it to Andrew, forgoing a seal since the only one available was Ella's coat of arms. I hadn't wanted anyone but the prince to understand the request, especially since my plan for somehow delivering it to him was shaky at best. Ella's crest would only make it that much more obvious to anyone who happened to see the letter. Without giving myself a moment to doubt the note or my plan, I returned to my room and tried the service door, a wave of relief flooding me when it swung open soundlessly. Taking a breath to steel myself, I set off into the darkened corridor, feeling my way along the wall before my eyes adjusted to the dimness. Feminine laughter echoed from Ashley and Mary's rooms, the rest of the ladies in waiting no doubt gathered there to gossip the evening away. I crept along, straining my ears for any sound of an approaching maid, only to find the corridors deserted until I descended into the main stone corridor I'd discovered on my first night. Here, there were servants running to and fro, with a hallway leading off in the direction of the main dining room especially trafficked with footmen carrying trays of food. My mouth watered as I passed them, my stomach begrudging me for skimping on dinner. But I had to tear my thoughts from the platters of venison and pheasant wafting their aromas my way. I kept an eye out for anyone with letters, hoping to slip mine into the pile. I kept pace with the other servants in the hallway, only to realize with dismay that I was getting nearer to the stairs James had escorted me to on the first night. I turned a corner and hovered for a few seconds in the empty hallway, before turning back around and doing the length of the main service corridor again. As luck would have it, a harried looking butler was riffling through a stack of letters as he zig-zagged through the hallway around other servants. I inhaled, steeling myself before barging towards him. We collided and the letters rained all over the floor, the butler swearing colourfully as I ducked down to collect the envelopes. "I'm so sorry, so sorry!" I kept muttering as I jammed my letter to Andrew in among a pile of the butler's dropped letters. He grumbled something that sounded terribly like "idiot" as I handed him the letters I'd assembled. He hurried off in the opposite direction and I hastened my way back towards the debutantes' wing, only stopping to lean back against a wall and blow my cheeks out when I was safely back in the service corridor outside Ella's suite.