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CHAPTER THREE

INEXPLICABLE...“THINGS”

Morning was something Marie felt rather than saw. After all, the room was still dark behind drawn curtains; the house was as silent as a tomb.

She didn’t feel rested. So, maybe it wasn’t morning after all. Maybe her senses played tricks on her.

Her eyes were sticky with sleep that came free on the backs of her rubbing hands. Her mouth was dry. She had a headache.

Her sleep had been fitful and spread through with dreams mainly unremembered...except for her husband, sitting on the edge of her bed...except for the old lady standing guard in the sitting room like Cerberus at the gates of Hades.

It took Marie several minutes to get oriented. She kept wondering where she was. This definitely wasn’t England, or the plane, or the ship.

She threw back the blankets and came to a sitting position, dropping her legs over the edge of the bed. Without looking, she worked her toes into her slippers.

She picked up her robe en route to the French doors, fastening its cord before pulling back the curtains. The sudden entrance of light temporarily blinded her. Her right hand came to her forehead to offer shadow.

It was morning, but only barely. The sun, low on the horizon, only managed to reach the glass through a unique breach among the distant trees.

Marie was about to exit onto the small balcony, beyond, when the figure appeared beneath her and headed off across the lawn.

It was Charles, walking slowly, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, apparently completely unaware he was being watched. Reflexively, Marie, somehow feeling guilty in spying, stepped to one side so she’d be less likely seen by him should he chance to glance her way.

She wondered why she didn’t just proceed with unlatching the glass doors in order to call out to him, in that that seemed the more logical thing for her to do. Surely, he would much rather greet his wife than proceed on any early morning stroll?

Still, she intuitively sensed he would be less than pleased were he suddenly to be made aware of his wife’s Peeping-Tom status directly above him.

Marie couldn’t help feeling like a spy. That was silly, wasn’t it? What could possibly be suspect about her husband out on the lawn? Heading from where? Heading to where? For whom were the flowers?

She pulled back farther, unconsciously taking hold of the curtain to edge it more closely back into the position it had maintained throughout the night.

Charles continued across the grass, veering right toward the trees that bordered the long rectangular lawn on that side.

Movement in the shadows formed by the trees! There was someone there. Someone was waiting just within the border of darkness dividing the lawn from the thicker underbrush.

Charles stopped, obviously seeing the figure, too. Were the two talking? If so, no voices traveled to Marie, if just because the shut French doors kept out all such sounds.

The figure moved imperceptivity; just enough so Marie could identify the old hag from Marie’s bad dream (not a dream?) from the night before.

Charles continued forward, stopped on the very edge of the forest, looked down on the old woman who was pathetically dwarfed by his powerfully impressive physique.

What was he saying? What was the old woman saying? What mysteries had driven those two to that specific spot, on that particular early morning, while the rest of the household was possibly assumed asleep?

“Oh!” Marie exclaimed, turning toward the unexpected sound behind her, her heart leaping into her throat. She felt a combination of guilt and embarrassment as she saw that her cry of alarm had so scared the entering Madeleine that the girl had dropped a vase of flowers. Several habernia fimbriata had ended up scattered across a water-spotted rug, one orchid stem awkwardly bruised and bent.

“Oh, Madeleine, I’m so sorry,” Marie said, seeing the girl’s wide-eyed expression complete with soon-to-be released tears. Marie felt solely responsible for the accident. If she hadn’t been up and spying, but, rather, been in bed, where she should have been, none of this would have happened. “I’m afraid my nerves are just a little on edge, lately.”

She went to her knees and began picking up the flowers, continuing a running one-sided conversation she hoped would convince the girl that Marie wasn’t going to beat her for clumsiness.

Finally, Madeleine’s horror at dropping the vase was replaced by the horror of Marie busy doing the cleanup in which Madeline should have been the one engaged.

“Oh, Madame, do let me do that!” Madeleine said, hurriedly grabbing up the last flower from the rug and depositing it in the luckily undamaged vase Marie, also, surrendered to her.

“Well, it looks as if the two of us have sufficiently rectified any damage, doesn’t it?” Marie said with a wide smile.

Madeleine looked a little dubious as she noticed a sizable watermark on the rug, by the doorway, but Marie gave additional assurances, watching as the young girl finally deposited the salvaged vase and flowers on a bedside table.

Nonchalantly, Marie moved back to the window, noticing neither her husband nor the mysterious Little Mother any longer standing along the border of the lawn.

* * * * * * *

Charles entered while Marie was having breakfast in the dining room. He was obviously surprised to see her.

“I thought for sure you would prefer breakfast in bed, this morning,” he said, coming around the table and picking up a hot muffin from the serving counter. He reached Marie’s chair, bent, and kissed his wife gently on her right cheek.

“Had you witnessed how much time I spent in my bed during the voyage here, you might well understand my reluctance to stay bedridden now,” Marie commented.

“Feeling quite refreshed, then, are you?” he asked. Then, before she could answer, he informed a servant he would merely be joining his wife for coffee and a muffin, since he had eaten quite a large breakfast earlier.

Coffee cup in place, the last of his blueberry muffin eaten, he turned his full attention on Marie.

“I feel much better, thank you,” she told him. “Actually, I’m quite anxious to get out and about. You mentioned the lake in The Cauldron.”

“Well, that does, indeed, sound like a complete recovery,” he said, flashing an attractive smile. “However, I might suggest a few minor forays before we undertake such a major one. I’m afraid both of us will have to roll out of bed a lot earlier than this to make it to the lip of The Cauldron and back by nightfall.”

“Quite far, is it?” Marie asked, although, by that point, her question was obviously superfluous.

“I wouldn’t want to exhaust you completely after one such marvelous recovery,” Charles said, sipping his coffee and covetously eyeing another muffin on the service table. “I have to check the lower east valley this morning. Purely routine. I shall be perfectly free this afternoon, if you’re up to a look around of the grounds.”

Marie, who would have preferred a ride immediately after breakfast, surrendered to the fact she would obviously have to spend some time getting down the routine of the household. Certainly, she couldn’t expect Charles to handle domestic supervision now that he was married.

I’ll have Marc show you around the house, Charles said, anticipating the tangent his wife’s thoughts had taken. “Don’t worry too much about getting the hang of things too fast. This house has been without a mistress for....”

His eyes went suddenly glassy. His unfinished sentence made the resulting silence pronounced. His right hand began a slow drumming on the tabletop.

“Charles, are you all right?” Marie would have been up and out of her chair, or at least calling a servant, but his spell (or whatever it was) was short-lived. He shook his head, as if to clear it, gave a grin of embarrassment, as if he knew he’d been caught at something not quite normal.

“I’m quite all right,” he told her, pushing back his chair and coming to his feet. “I was telling you not to worry too much about the chaos, wasn’t I?”

“Something like that.”

“Just remember to be firm with the staff,” he said, coming around the table to plant his second affectionate kiss of the morning on his wife’s cheek. “The heat spawns a good deal of laziness, but, on the whole, you’ll find most of our people much more energetic than their peers in the villages and city.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Marie responded with a smile. What she really wanted, she realized, was for Charles to take her upstairs to bed. However.... “You said you’d have Marc show me the ropes?”

Marc was the black butler. Thank God, Marie wasn’t going to have to endure any early-morning powwows with the little old lady. She had no immediate desire to confront the old hag with the inappropriateness of that crone having invaded Marie’s sitting room in the dead of the previous night. Although in the light of the morning, Marie wondered if the old woman could really have forbidden her to follow Charles into the hallway. Whatever had taken place last night obviously occurred while Marie was suffering from acute physical and mental exhaustion.

“I’ll have Marc stand by for as soon you finish breakfast,” Charles said, making his exit. He returned, momentarily, pausing long enough to thrust only his head back into the room. “Have Karena fix a picnic lunch. I’ll get back early enough to enjoy it with you. Okay...?”

Before Marie could react with obvious pleasure, Charles was gone.

* * * * * * *

The management of the household was far from the chaotic state Charles had insinuated. In fact, everything seemed exceptionally well-oiled. Marc seemed pleased, in a very formal way, when informed by Marie that she really had no intentions of making any major waves in standard routine. She did make a request for a formal meeting with each of the servants (excluding the old lady). During the meetings, she took myriad notes, jotting down little things, like how they were two Helenes on the premises. Old Helene, not really old at all, except when taken in comparison to Young Helene, a girl of fifteen.

Julie, one of the parlor maids, proved the most talkative, dropping all sorts of household gossip, once Marie had skillfully broken down the girl’s reserve: Rolphe, one of the gardeners, was supposedly sweet on Sylvie; Julie preferred one of the stable boys, Theodore; Karena, the cook, had a husband and five children, with hopes, although not yet having broached them with Mr. Camaux, of her eldest daughter eventually being brought into household service.

Julie proved such a storehouse of useful information that Marie was shocked when she realized it was almost noon. She hadn’t yet informed Karena there would be the need for a picnic lunch for two in only a matter of minutes.

She began her discussion with the cook, however, by asking about whether Karena knew of the availability of any local girl Marie might train to be a personal maid.

“I would certainly prefer looking to someone whose references could be vouched by someone already in the household, rather than bring in some complete stranger,” Marie said, remembering the conversation had earlier with Julie about the existence of the cook’s eldest daughter. As expected, Karena immediately jumped at the bait. After Marie agreed to interview Karena’s daughter, the next morning, she, only then, glanced at her watch and delivered an exclamation of well-acted horror. She followed with the confession to Karena that Marie had completely forgotten about the picnic Charles had suggested for their lunch.

The picnic basket was ready by twelve o’clock.

Originally, Marie had had intentions of possibly promoting Madeleine to the post of personal maid, but Jannette (Karena’s daughter) obviously came with the advantage of not being one of the inner circles of servants at the house at the time of Marie’s arrival. Marie liked the idea of having someone brought in from the outside even newer than Marie was. Of course, Jannette’s connections with her mother would give that girl access to certain avenues of information not otherwise available to Marie. After all, it was very important for the mistress of any house to know the undercurrents at play in the servants’ quarters if she ever hoped to keep a well-run establishment.