Back inside the house, you begin to explore the rooms leading off from the entrance hall. The first room you try is a lavishly furnished, quite cozy-looking living room with a couple couches, bear skin rug, large fireplace, a high ceiling, and more. Nothing here can help you, so you close the doors and try the next room.
Jackpot. The high study walls are lined with books. A desk and chair sit in the center of the room. An interesting-looking telescope is set up at the bay windows on the opposite end of the room. You open one of the oak drawers of the desk and find a stack of blank paper. In another drawer you find pencils. You grab one of each and head out to the maze.
After an hour and a half of zig zagging through the shrubbery, you become hungry again. Shadows fall inside the maze as the sun dips out of sight among the tall hedges. You'd better turn back now while you can still read your crudely drawn map. While you hadn't run across anything interesting, you're satisfied you could at least do something constructive.
You round a corner, keeping your focus intently on your position within the jumble of lines you've drawn on the paper. You plan to transcribe the map in better quality later. You're so fixated on the map, however, that you don't notice the stray root sticking up out of the ground in front of you. Your platforms catch on it, and you tumble forward onto your chest. Cool, wet dirt meets your cheek and hands.
"Ick," you say to yourself as you pick yourself off the ground. Bits of mud and dirt cover your dress, your stockings, and pretty much everything. You don't even want to think about what your hair's picked up. "Stupid boots," you grumble. Why couldn't the house have given you something more suited to the outdoors? You answer your own question as you think "All the better to keep me here."
You pick up the crumpled map and find your position, continuing on as the sun slowly sets.