The Unknown Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novella

by Mayfair, Dorian

  Jany looked around. The fluttering light from a torch outside that had survived the rain shone through a narrow window, and it was enough for Jany to see most of the small room’s features. A narrow bed, a candlestick holder in an alcove, and a small stool at the foot of the bed. Underneath the smell of wet stone was a faint whiff of mould and dust. At least the mattress looked soft.

  Sitting down heavily on the bed, Jany sighed and put aside her satchel with her writing tools. Stuck in a castle along with a host of anxious aristocrats on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown. And maybe two vampires. A few months ago, she would have laughed at the notion of such beings, but the endless barrage of gossip was making her wonder. The city had become a cauldron of weird sightings, and while townsfolk exaggerated rumours as naturally as breathing, it took only one story to be true for anything to be possible. And those guards had been visibly unnerved.

  Vampires.

  Among the many supernatural creatures said to roam forests and cities, vampires were popular. Descriptions of all kinds ran rampant throughout the country. Strangely, whenever Jany pressed those who spread the stories, few had actually seen a vampire. Not a single on one she had asked could say they had laid eyes on one.

  Still, that did not stop people from gossiping about what their friend’s brother-in-law’s probably made-up uncle had seen. Vampires were winged and had horns. No, they were half-invisible and could not speak. Wrong, they were like sirens, hypnotizing their victims through beautiful song until they fell asleep, and then stole their clothes and their lifeblood. Report upon report fed into each other and became a tornado of crazed talk.

  Some things, however, the rumours agreed on: Vampires were bloodthirsty, they were fanged, and they were devious. Shrewd and murderous undead monsters attacking at random. Imagining a more frightening creature was hard.

  And if what people said was true, there were two of them here, in this building. A pair of humans-turned-demons, chained and jailed deep below the castle. Perhaps right under where she sat.

  Frowning and shaking her head, she tried to chase the ideas from her mind. Tomorrow would be demanding. Hopefully, she would not have to witness the two women suffer, but that was probably wishing for too much. It was her duty to take notes of all that happened. The ordeal might take hours; once nobles started to speak, they seldom shut up. She definitely needed to rest.

  Jany pressed a hand to the mattress and sighed again. It was filled with old straw rather than down, but she had slept on worse. Coming from a poor family, the members of which all had left Toulouse before Jany turned sixteen, she had grown up sleeping on blankets on wooden floors. Sometimes there had not even been blankets. Compared to that, this was luxury. Falling asleep would not be a problem; she was exhausted after the walk in the cold rain and the tension in the great hall.

  But while she could fall asleep standing up, hunger gnawed at her. Her dinner stood untouched next to her wine in her home. When the knock on her door had come, she had rushed to castle, knowing that the duke did not like waiting. Now she was paying for her haste. Unless she found something to eat – preferably a hot meal – sleep would taunt her for hours, perhaps through the whole night.

  Listening at the door, she heard faint voices and the sound of quick footsteps. Maids and servants, hurrying to make sure all the guests were shown to their rooms and served with what they demanded. Being one of the duke’s servants now would not be pleasant; nervous aristocrats made for a tetchy crowd.

  Still, even noble folk had to eat. Perhaps not at a formal dinner; given the current fear of shadows and things that went bump in the dark, most would dine in their private chambers. No one would want to wander through the castle’s dim corridors right now. There would be dishes carried to rooms, and with a little luck, she might be served some too. She sat down on the bed, read through the notes she had taken so far, and waited.

  After the church bells had rung twice, she had had enough of waiting. Over an hour had passed and no sign of food. They had forgotten about her, run out of meals, or simply decided she was unworthy of attention. She opened the door a crack and peered outside.

  Her room opened to a long shadowy corridor with an ached ceiling. Along the walls on her left and right were heavy oak doors; lining the opposite wall were chest-high candlestick holders in iron. The oil lamps fluttered in a weak draught and made the faces of nearby paintings come alive. Between the paintings hung shields with the duke’s family crest. Farther down the corridor were a row of narrow windows, opening to a rain-blurred view over Toulouse and its thousands of lights. It was cold inside the castle too, and the humid air clung to her like a chill that refused to go away.

  Thankfully, there was also the smell of food: grilled boar, roasted potatoes and wine. Her stomach growled so loud she almost took a step back in fear someone would hear. There had to be a good-hearted cook or a scullery who could find some cheese for her. Maybe a little hot wine too.

  Voices echoed from far away; clearly, not everyone was hiding in their rooms yet. Probably two lords arguing over who had the largest estate. Frightening as the situation was, one could not gather this many lord and ladies in one building without some trying to improve their status or make new connections. Many would try to drown their worry in wine, which just would add to the general paranoia. Fuel on the potential fire.

  As far as Jany was concerned, the people still roaming about were idiots. They deserved to be caught by the monsters they feared. If there was the slightest truth to what was being said about vampires, everyone should lock their doors and hide in wardrobes or under beds. She herself would. As soon as she had found something to eat.

  Silently and carefully, she left her room and walked left towards what looked like a junction of several corridors. A large chandelier with burning candles was suspended where the corridors met and cast the space in a golden glow. As she reached it, she saw five other corridors leading away. Three of them were dark, one opened to a gloomy staircase that led up, and another to wide stairs leading deeper into the castle. Because of what the duke had said, she did not want to go down, but there was a hint of light coming from that direction, and also the echoes of voices footsteps. The scent of food seemed to be stronger that way as well, but it was difficult to tell for sure.

  The fight between hunger and caution was quick and uneven: For a moment, she hesitated, then she gave in and started to walk down the stairs. Unless she ate soon, she would be unable to sleep at all. One slice of bread was all she needed.

  The stairwell was deeper than she had expected. After what felt like a minute, she was still descending the broad steps, and there were no doors in sight. The light she had seen turned out to come from small oil lamps mounted in alcoves, but they were weak and far between. Long stretches were so dark she struggled to see the steps. The voices she had heard were gone. Perhaps they had come from some other part of the castle; the many hallways created disorienting echoes.

  She wondered how the castle’s staff were able to walk down here. Perhaps they were so used to the lack of light that they could make their way with their eyes closed. She could not, so she treaded carefully around the treacherous cracks in the stonework where her feet could get stuck. Her boots were sturdy enough to protect her from cuts, but if she stumbled, she could end up breaking her back.

  Jany stopped. This was a horrible idea. If this stairwell led to the dungeons, she was walking exactly where the duke had said no one was allowed. Worse, there was no food in sight. The pleasant smell of roasted meat had disappeared long ago. Most likely, it had come from somewhere else, just like the voices. Now there was a suffocating silence, broken only by her own quick breathing and the dripping of water from the stone ceiling. Even the cold seemed to be worse down here.

  And she was alone. The women accused of being vampires were locked up, or so the duke had said, but who knew what else hid underneath the castle? There were dungeons below. Dank, dark cells holding criminals and other nasty individuals. Of
ten working at the court, she knew that the constabulary frequently made use of the duke’s underground jail when the city’s own prison overflowed. While the suspected vampires most likely were harmless maids who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, there could be all kinds of horrors down here.

  Jany took a step back. This was madness. These dark stairs did not lead to food; they were leading to trouble.

  She turned around, and found herself face to face with the baroness.

  *

  Jany swallowed a terrified shriek at the sight of the tall woman, standing still less than an arm’s length away. Impossible! Jany had been alone a moment ago. If anyone had followed her down the stairs, she would have heard the footsteps. Or could she have been so nervous she had missed the sound of someone walking right behind her?

  Whatever was the case, turning around and seeing another person just behind her was a shock, and that the person in question was the baroness made the surprise twice as bad. This was not merely a little inconvenient; meeting the noblewoman here was a shining, faultless disaster.

  Instinctively, Jany stepped back and immediately lost her footing. For a second, she stood flailing and gasping on the edge of a step, but then her reflexes stepped in, took control of her hands, and clutched the baroness’s dress. As Jany steadied herself, it dawned on her what she had done: she had used the baroness – a distinguished aristocrat and the duke’s eminent guest – as railing. The baroness appeared unruffled, but her eyes were hard as polished stone as she looked down at Jany.

  Gasping again, Jany snatched her hands back. She wanted to cry in both fear and shame. This was catastrophic in every way, and a few more. She had trespassed, she had no reason to be here, and now she had insulted the baroness.

  “Pardon, Madame.” Jany mumbled and gave a clumsy curtsey. “I was hungry,” she explained, “and didn’t mean to –” Panicking, she shut up. She was doomed. The duke would toss her into the first available cell when he learned about this.

  The baroness did not say anything, and Jany realized that she had misread the baroness’s mood. She had thought the woman was calm, but at a closer look, she looked surprised and pale, as if she was as startled as Jany was.

  “Dear girl,” the baroness said quietly. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To the kitchen,” Jany said quickly. “I haven’t eaten, and I was getting desperate.”

  “Is that so?” The baroness fanned her face and looked at Jany over the rim of the fan. “And you went looking for dinner in the basement?” she asked.

  “My mistake, Madame.” Jany curtsied again and moved to leave, but the baroness shifted to the side and held up a warning finger. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Wait,” the baroness said sharply.

  Jany’s hope of a quick escape fell away like dust. Clearly, the baroness was not going to let her get away with this. Then she heard a noise from below, and she felt her stomach clench. Footsteps and voices, coming closer. Male voices. The guards, she realized, feeling ill with worry.

  A moment later, two men in metal armour and green capes embroidered with the duke’s insignia came running up the stairs. Both men were holding their swords out in front of them like lances. When they saw the baroness, the men came to a quick, awkward stop and swung their blades aside.

  “My lady,” one of the men said breathlessly. “I apologise if we scared you, but we thought we heard a noise from here, and – “

  “It was I,” snapped the baroness. “I got lost while I was searching for the common room.”

  Jany had lowered her eyes but could not help glancing at the guards. If they thought it was strange to look in the basement for a room for social gatherings, they were hiding it very well.

  “I understand,” one of the guards replied and looked at Jany. “Did this maid here come with you, my lady?”

  “She did,” the baroness answered without hesitating. “Given the horrors that surround us, I wanted to be accompanied.” She raised her chin. “My thanks for making sure we are safe. You may go now.”

  “Ah, but – yes, of course.” The bewildered guards saluted smartly, turned around, and walked down the stairs.

  Only when their footsteps had faded did Jany exhale and look up. Now she had insulted a baroness and been saved by the same woman. This was almost stranger than the idea of vampires being real.

  The baroness turned back to Jany. “This is a dangerous place to wander alone,” she said. Her voice was calm even though she had lied to the duke’s guards only a moment ago. Then again, Jany suspected that the life of an aristocrat was full of deceit.

  “You are right, of course,” Jany said, and then added, “my lady.” She tried to calm her breathing, but it was hard. This was not what she had planned for when she had left her chamber.

  Worse, the baroness distracted her no end. Up close, the woman was even more astonishing than she had been from a distance. Her large eyes were almost tilted and the bottomless blue of deep waters, and her rumoured Scandinavian bloodline was evident in her high, distinct cheekbones. Strangely, her wide shoulders and strong neck suggested a body used to hard work. Not what Jany would have expected in a noblewoman, but she knew some of them were avid hunters.

  In a word, the baroness was irresistible. Jany felt like a butterfly next to the world’s biggest flower.

  “This way leads to the cells,” the baroness explained, studying Jany’s eyes as if searching for a hint of a lie. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was hoping to find some food.” Jany gazed at the floor again, not so much out of modesty as to stop herself from ogling the baroness. “I thought I smelled food down here, but I was mistaken.”

  The baroness laughed softly. “You would not want what the guards are eating,” she murmured. “Pigs, most of them. The kitchen is at the far end of the eastern wing. You’ll find what you are looking for there.”

  The baroness took Jany’s chin between her thumb and her index finger, and then raised Jany’s head until Jany was forced to look the baroness in her face. The baroness’s pinch was not rough, but not exactly gentle either. “Tell me,” the baroness said in an almost inaudible voice, “what do you think of the witchfinder?”

  Dumbstruck, Jany hoped the floor would open up to swallow her. Being close to the baroness without appearing daft or whimsical was hard enough; feeling the baroness’s fingers on her skin made her knees weak. A flurry of images raced through her mind like a mad carnival of forbidden ideas. None of them would ever be realized, but they still made her blush.

  And the baroness’s question was a death trap! The wrong answer would get Jany in trouble. She recalled the baroness’s face when she had listened to the witchfinder’s dramatic speech. Had it been admiration? Shock? No, that was not right. If Jany was right, the woman had not been surprised or astonished, and certainly not happy.

  What Jany had seen in the baroness’s eyes was anger. Cold and controlled fury. Most likely, the baroness thought of the witchfinder as someone who would slay two of her maids for no good reason.

  “He is a confused man,” Jany suggested with a feeble voice. “The demons against which he rages are more his own, I think, than real monsters.”

  The baroness smiled and nodded. “You are well spoken,” she said to Jany. “Even for a scribe. Yes, I remember you from the hall. And you are correct. The witchfinder is full of the bile of his own imagination.” Slowly, she let go of Jany’s chin.

  Jany turned her eyes to the floor again. Her face was on fire from being so close to this beautiful woman. The baroness’s eyes belonged in a song, not on a human being. She needed to reply, so she said the first thing that came to her mind.

  “Please believe me,” Jany whispered, “when I say that I will take no pleasure in watching the maids die.”Because of the witchfinder’s perverse logic, they will perish no matter what they have or haven’t done.”

  A silent moment passed while the baroness’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that wrong?” she
demanded. Her voice was low but sharp. “Surely, evil beings such as them cannot be alive to live. Or do you doubt their guilt?”

  “I don’t know.” Jany frowned as she spoke; without thinking, she was saying exactly what she felt. The maids might be vampires, but that alone meant nothing. It was all too strange. Guilt was proved by hard facts and proper proof, not erratic madmen who belonged on a stage. Or in an asylum.

  Knowing that she never would be this close to a baroness – especially not a baroness like this –Jany raised her head to look at the woman’s face again. This moment felt surreal, and she knew it would stay with her forever. She might as well speak her heart.

  “I believe in what I see with my own eyes,” Jany said firmly. “Not what I am told.”

  The baroness smiled again, and Jany chewed on her lip. Now she knew how robins felt when they were cornered by cats.

  “Wise words,” the baroness said. “You strike me as someone in whom I can trust.” She hesitated and cleared her throat. “You must wonder why I am here,” she suggested.

  Jany shook her head. “It is not my business.”

  “That is true,” the baroness agreed, “but that does not change the fact that you do wonder. That is how rumours spread. No offence.” She leaned a fraction closer to Jany. “I will share a secret on this stormy night. The truth is that I needed to see this vampire for myself. Are they truly as wicked as people say, or are they merely victims of circumstances? Perhaps they are destined to be shunned and persecuted because of misunderstandings? I need to know.”

  Wide-eyed, Jany looked the baroness in her eyes. The woman’s lips were centimetres from her own. What the baroness was saying was surprising, but she was far too distracted by the baroness’s nearness to listen. This was torture!

  Then again, it was also an opportunity. If she was fast, she could steal a kiss. Just one. It would be madness and get her into endless trouble, but it might be worth it. Those lips, and those eyes. How could anyone resist. Jany was practically being blackmailed. Slowly, she leaned a little closer...