CHAPTER ELEVEN
GISELLA
Charleton escorted me along the hall, jacket still smoldering on the gallery’s carpet. He drew the heavy drapes with disdain, as though he couldn't have cared less if the entire gallery went up in flames.
So much for protect the portraits.
To my surprise, Charleton led me to the front door. A twinge started in my belly, panic spreading quickly.
I clasped my hands together, willing my voice steady. “Am I being evicted?” Proud of the evenness in my voice, I even managed to accompany it with a small smile.
Celebrate the small things, Gella.
Sebastian’s harsh voice grated on my nerves. That I’d done something wrong by him, and Charleton, the people who had let me into their lives when I was but an insurgent into their established lives, an outsider, that ruined something important inside me that I had clung to, and not known.
Your trust.
A huff answered me, though no new words entered my head. Sebastian left me alone with my own thoughts. To my horror, a tear escaped down my cheek.
Charleton drew me into the sunlight on the broad drive, overlooking the forest below. “This is your home, as it is ours.” The butler-cum-valet turned me to face him. “We serve our master because we are bound to him. He gave us a home, the safety of this place. That bond is stronger than any piece of paper. You also are bound, but your freedom is your own. I’m sure he would agree.” Anger rose in his face for the first time, as though daring Sebastian to dispute his offer.
If he doesn't like that, I’m sure we will both hear about it.
Both of us paused, waiting, but there was nothing the man in question added to our weird conversation.
“I don’t want to leave,” I blurted. “I want to wait for him to—” I swallowed the tears that threatened, but in the end, there were too many. They cascaded down my cheeks, and I lost myself too deep in self-pity to care.
“I’m sure he will see you tonight.” Charleton withdrew a clean hankerchief, pressing it into my hands. I clung to it, much as I had my cup this morning. “Why don’t you sit in the sun until he wakes? I’ll send Minette for company—in fact, I think we could all use a little sunlight right now.” A smile entered Charleton’s voice.
I nodded, cleaning myself off. “Please. I would be grateful.”
“As we are to you, madame.” He bowed low, gesturing me to the entrance to the gardens off of the drive, and returned to the darkness of the house.
I frowned after him, wondering what he meant. The gate to the gardens was covered with climbing plants I didn’t recognize. An archway cut into the high hedge held a kissing gate that led from the drive. The place had a lived-in quality the rest of the estate lacked, from the forbidding forest to the closed-in house. I leaned on the gate, and it swung outward. I stepped through the hedge, letting the gate swing closed behind me.
Walking through Sebastian’s gardens was like stepping across oceans and into my home province. Fragrant roses edged the lush green hedges. Sprays of lavender were surrounded by the quiet humming of bees nestled in the flowers.
A small flagstone pathway lined with irises led to a large, formal fountain. Water tumbled from the lips of a gothic creature, its limbs twisted and contorted with a comical expression, not unlike the gargoyles which often adorned the rooflines of churches and buildings in Paris.
He was an oddly comforting companion, despite his repulsive appearance. I scooped up my skirts, settling on the fountain’s wide-lipped edge. Water splashed around me, offering a gentle relief from the warmth of the day, past its height.
Voices and a clatter of footsteps turned my head. Minette led a gaggle of downstairs staff into the garden. Armed with blankets and baskets, they laid out a picnic lunch with a degree of efficiency I envied. I knelt to grab a corner of a bright red rug, straightening it. Minette shooed me away with an expression of abject horror, but I shook my head, determined to be more than a useless figure amongst the flurry of activity around me.
As people settled on the blankets, piled with plates and a lemony drink that was somehow both sweet and sour, I was astounded to count the staff employed by the estate. And, knowing some aspect must be farmed or worked in an outdoor capacity, this wouldn't be the full capacity Sebastian employed, all keeping his secrets.
“Did you empty the house?” I asked Minette softly.
Beside me, a maid and her beau chattered in soft undertones, their frequent touches a comforting sight. All love is not lost here. No, in true French fashion, flirtation and romance were heady in the air, reminding me of a slice of home. Charleton sat with another young man, discussing finer points of dressing their employer. I was glad to see he had replaced his ruined coat with a fresh one, overhearing his passionate discussion with the younger man. I shook my head. Even when he didn’t need to be working, he couldn't stop. Minette’s eyes followed his companion’s enthused conversation, and I wondered if this was the elusive James.
“I thought you might like the company.” Her soft smile lit up her entire, heart-shaped face. The expression froze as she glanced at the house and then back to me. “I—I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, madame.”
“Not at all.” I returned her smile. “I’m glad for the company. Especially after… Will Charleton forgive me?” I kept my tone light, but a knot tightened in my stomach at the reminder of this morning’s debacle. “And please call me Gisella. This isn’t that sort of place, it seems.”
If they forgive me for breaking their rules.
Will Sebastian?
“Of course, he will. It was bound to happen sometime. Or something of the sort.” Minette busied herself, piling my plate with sausage and beignets.
“Why do you stay here? Knowing what I do of…Sebastian.” I blinked as his presence filled my mind, as though the mere mention of his name might summon him.
She shrugged a light shoulder. “James and I came from a plantation estate to the north. They treated people...poorly, there.” Her smile was haunted, and I knew that wasn’t half the story. “Many come to newer towns to escape something they’ve left behind—ruined families, war service, other…forms of employment. It’s a new start for every person here. His lordship ignored all those things and gave each of us clothes, a safe place to sleep each night. Food. We give him…” Her mouth set in a line, though it wasn’t hard this time, and she shrugged again.
I poked at the sausage as she added dainty puffs of cooked batter to my plate, my mind awhirl with the information and what on earth I was to do with it. The household was a broken collection of dolls, and I was no exception, lacking the glue to hold us all together. Pastry flaked around my fingers as I pressed too hard on the sides of the cloud-like puff.
“What’s this?”
“Try it.” She smiled mysteriously.
I bit into the puff. A savory explosion of flavor burst across my tongue, the soft center warring with the crisp outer shell. “That’s delicious. What is it?”
“Fried oyster.” Minette continued to pile my plate high until I held up my hands to stop her.
“Who do I have to thank for this magnificent feast?”
“Desiree,” Minette called. A rotund, tanned woman scooted across the rug to join us. “Ma— Gisella,” she caught herself and sent a rueful grin in my direction, “wanted to compliment you on your food.”
Desiree’s face lit up. “You enjoyed it?”
A lilt lifted her words in a sing-song tone.
I nodded, grinning. “You’re responsible for breakfast this morning, too?”
Desiree nodded, stuffing a beignet into her mouth.
Enjoying yourself?
I smiled outwardly, hiding my surprise at Sebastian’s easy tone behind the facade of drinking.
Trying to fit in with the normal crowd?
I blinked, his anger rolling over me. I’d assumed wrong. “Not now,” I muttered under my breath.
“Beg your pardon?” Minette asked, her brow furrowing as she stared at me.
I placed the cup back onto the blanket. “Excuse me.” I rose, straightening my skirts, and paced through the low, hip-high hedges, moving away from the small crowd gathered at the garden entrance.
I’m glad you made time for me.
His mocking voice roiled around my head in a snarl I could envision written across his handsome face all too well.
“What’s got you riled?” I asked softly, curling loose strands of hair around my fingers to cover my mouth, though I already knew what had upset him.
My staff don’t appear to be doing their job.
“But they are doing a job. And they’re doing it wonderfully.”
What job is that?
His anger rocked me again.
I stopped walking. “They’re giving me a reason not to leave. They’re giving me a home, Sebastian. Like you have given to them.”
Silence saturated our strained conversation, leaving a deep void between us. I swallowed, continuing to wind my way through the hedges which grew taller the deeper I ventured into the garden.
“Sebastian?” I traced the line of shadows with my feet where they began to merge in the late afternoon. “I don’t want to leave.”
Nothing.
I sighed, walking around a corner, and found myself in the middle of a wide, open space, paved with colored tiles—a child’s mosaic. Circular paths branched away from it in all directions. I turned to retrace my steps but found myself with too many options. The paved tiles gave no indication of which branch I’d come from.
I stared between them, bearing down on a small wave of panic. Which path took me back to the gathering? I peered back across the labyrinth of hedges, but I couldn't even see the ugly stone gargoyle. In my conversation with Sebastian, I had wandered far distant from the group, almost to the edge of the forest.
The shadow of the castle stood close to my slippered feet. I edged back as it crept closer, like long fingers reaching for me.
I’m glad you want to stay.
Sebastian’s voice intruded on my deliberations, swiping aside my fear.
Am I interrupting you again, my wife?
“No, of course not,” I answered, distracted by the choices before me. I trotted down one path to be brought back to the center of the courtyard I had started in a moment before, and no closer to my goal. Another choice led me to the same outcome. “Um, how do I get out of your maze?”
What are you doing in there? Never mind. Follow the red poppies. They’ll lead you back to the gate.
I breathed a gusty sigh, relief lessening the line of tension in my shoulders I hadn’t known I carried. “Thank you.” Another thought occurred to me. “Will you tell me about Amy?”
Another pause. I located a row of red poppies and followed the path. This one didn’t turn back on itself, offering me a short respite.
I’ll see you tonight, Gella.
I rolled my eyes. My new husband was never one not to be enigmatic, it seemed. I promised myself I’d ask all the questions I needed tonight. And get the answers, too, though I knew he wouldn't make those easy. I smiled to myself, likely looking like a loon as I traipsed away from the looming shadows for a brief respite.
Until I took a wrong turn.
The red poppies turned to whites, then a dusky purple. In the deepening shadows, they became more difficult to pick out. Finally, the petals turned black. I groaned, lifting my skirts to my ankles, trotting in ever quicker steps. The shadows deepened, melding the rows together as the sun hung above the horizon. The end of the path appeared to open out ahead. I picked up my pace, though the staff were likely long gone.
Huffing, I reached the end, and stepped onto a slippery tile. Skidding a little, I flailed for balance as the sun sank out of sight, daylight succumbing to a dusky twilight, back in the center of the mosaic I thought I had long left behind.
Lost.