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LAURA
I once read somewhere that grief doesn’t really end; it simply changes over time. It’s not a place to linger. You move on and come out the other side, as spring follows winter. Sorrow passes, or maybe a part of it does. But like a virus, it lays dormant beneath the surface, out of view until a particular scent, a word, a name, or walking into a familiar room disturbs it and painfully brings it to the surface.
It’d only been a few days. I had to give it time. Although I’d known Judy, as my aunt, all my life, Luc had only entered it about a month ago. To avoid me being discovered by the Brethren world until I came of age, he’d kept his distance.
So little time with them. Now they were gone.
After a few deep steadying breaths, I slid my hands down the front of my lambs-wool dress and eyed myself in the mirror. My tummy was still flat, and would be for at least another month or so. None of the Brethren would guess I was pregnant, and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.
I leaned into the mirror. My fingers traced pale skin and then dark shadows under my eyes. Every time I dozed off, I was trapped back in the vault, clawing at the stone walls, calling out for help as the fire roared around me, staring at Judy’s lifeless body at my feet, Luc dragging the screaming Madam Thierry into the flames. I’d wake shivering, drenched in sweat and breathing as heavily as if I’d run a marathon. Sweet sleep evaded me.
The pregnancy-safe mild sedatives Alec had given me helped, but I now dreaded falling asleep. How long the nightmares would last, not even he knew. Pity mesmerisation didn’t work on the Bloodgifted—Alec had tried. I would’ve welcomed a bit of hypnotherapy.
I sighed, leaning into the soft plushness of the sofa. Yet another resumé lay on the coffee table. I drew it onto my lap. ‘Bring her in, Kari.’
Madame Sabine Gilbert came with great references. She would be the fifth prospective housekeeper Kari and I interviewed for the job. Although they all had come with impeccable references, I hadn’t felt comfortable with any of them. After my experience with Constans Thierry, would I ever trust another? Again, the last few minutes of her life flashed through my mind. I forced away the horrific images by reciting a biblical mantra: “The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” As I stared at the beautiful landscape painting on the wall and recited, the images receded.
The door swung open. Kari ushered in a middle-aged woman, dressed in tweed skirt and jacket, with the whitest skin and hair I had ever seen. Albino? Her short bob bounced around the edges of her chin as she came toward me—hair that looked as soft as cotton wool. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. She extended her hand and, behind her glasses, sympathetic pale blue eyes gazed into mine. ‘Milady Laura, may I convey my deepest condolence at your loss.’
Her voice was as soft as her hair and was comforting. Her grip was firm, yet gentle. Capable hands, short nails, no polish. Solid and reliable sprang to mind. Was it gut feeling? Whatever it was, I felt at ease with her.
‘Thank you. Please.’ I indicated the other sofa.
Kari sat next to me, one booted foot crossed over the other. She wore black leggings and a double-breasted military-style jacket in honour of Luc—a style he’d favoured and which had been adopted by his men this week. The brass buttons caught the glint of light from the window as she picked up the pot of hot coffee from the table. ‘Madame?’
The woman smiled and nodded.
‘You’re originally from the village. One of the First Families?’ I asked. The previous applicants were not locals, having worked at other Brethren estates. Kari had sourced them from recommendations.
‘Yes, Milady, on my mother’s side. I’ve been away a long time. It’s good to be home.’ She smiled and sipped her coffee.
I glanced at her resumé. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, why did you leave Derbyshire?’ The National Trust estate in England she and her husband had managed was a well-known, popular tourist spot. Anyone who could manage that should have no problems here.
She lowered the cup and saucer onto her lap. ‘My mother still lives in the village here, in a house very kindly given to us by Lord Luc. With the recent death of my father, God rest his soul,’ she crossed herself, ‘she’s all alone. And ... her heart isn’t sound.’
She said it matter-of-factly, though tears clouded her eyes. Madame Gilbert, too, had recently suffered the loss of a parent, and rather than uproot her ailing mother from her friends and familiar surroundings, the Gilberts had come home to take care of her. It showed a selfless spirit.
Kari beat me to the next question. ‘You’d rather live in the village then, huh?’
Madame Gilbert’s gaze darted from me to Kari. She blinked rapidly and set the cup and saucer back on the coffee table. ‘If that’s a problem–’
‘Heck no. Isn’t that right, Laura?’
When we first discussed hiring a new housekeeper and estate manager, we determined they wouldn’t live on the premises. From our first meeting, Madam Thierry made me feel an intruder in my family’s home. We would never again risk allowing the management staff to believe the chateau was their possession.
There was suitable accommodation on the estate grounds, and if the Gilberts preferred to live in the village, even better. It was within easy walking distance of the chateau.
‘I understand if you’d prefer to stay in the village with your mother. It’s not an issue.’
She clasped her hands together on her lap and smiled broadly.
‘More coffee?’ Kari asked.
Madam Sabine Gilbert ticked every box, even down to her sense of humour. She’d originally trained as a midwife, and explained, ‘I married Valentin—he’s an estate manager—so most of my deliveries were of the piglet and calf variety whenever the vet arrived late!’ She laughed, and the fob watch attached to the lapel of her tweed jacket bounced on her chest.
I smiled. It seemed so long since anyone had laughed in this house that I didn’t want her to stop. Just for a moment, the deep ache in my heart lessened. I craved more of that lightness.
Kari leaned toward me and whispered, ‘She’ll do.’
I agreed. ‘When can you start?’
‘Now, if you like.’ She looked at us expectantly.
Kari and I exchanged glances. The memorial service for Luc and Judy was scheduled for two days time, and, once again, all the dignitaries of the Brethren were expected to attend. Many would be bringing their donsangs with them—their human blood partners. There was much to prepare. The sooner Madame Gilbert could begin, the better.
‘Perfect. This couldn’t be better timing.’
‘I’m glad, Milady.’ She smiled.
‘Now, we need to show you around the house and grounds and introduce you to the staff, Madame Gilbert.’
‘Do call me Sabine.’ Her smile grew and she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
She reminded me of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.
‘Magnificent,’ she uttered, blinking up at the ceiling frescoes in the library. ‘I remember playing hide and seek here as a child.’ Her gaze travelled to the bookcases and the great globe in its stand in the centre of the room. It had been repaired since Alec had sent it careering across the floor. ‘Every Christmas Eve, all the First Families were invited for the celebration in the great hall. Lord Luc used to hand out presents to each child.’ Her eyes shone at the memory. ‘And for that night only, all the children were allowed free run of the ground floor.’
Another unknown piece of my father’s past slid into place. How little I knew of him. A wave of heat flushed through me at the short amount time I’d been given with him—all because of Madame Thierry. I’d never truly hated another human being before, but for her, I wished all the torments of hell.
I pushed my vengeful thoughts aside as, level-by-level, room by room, we reached the top—Luc and Judy’s suite. It hadn’t been opened since their deaths. Kari lingered on the top step. Crimson tears glistened in her eyes and she clutched the small perfume locket she always wore around her neck. It had been a present from Jake.
With heart racing and trying to ignore the cold, hollow pit that opened in my stomach, I grasped the doorknob only to see my hand was trembling.
‘It’s alright, Milady. We can always come back another time. When you’re ready.’ Her soft voice flowed over me like a warm blanket. Of course, but how long would that be—days, weeks, months?
‘Fine by me.’ Kari sniffed and dabbed at her eyes leaving red streaks on the backs of her hands. She wiped them down the side of her black leggings.
It was some comfort to share our grief. The shock of their deaths had hit Kari just as hard, just as wrenching, for she and my mother had been best friends.
I turned to Sabine and nodded, appreciating her sensitivity, yet unable to speak. It was all too raw, too soon.
‘How ‘bout you meet the staff now?’ Kari called as she started back down the stairs.
‘Capital idea.’ Sabine tucked her hands into the pockets of her tweed jacket and followed Kari.
‘Rest in Peace,’ I whispered to the door, stroking the timber panel as if their essence was somehow infused into its grain. Then I followed them down.
