by Barb Hendee
“I compliment you on your taste, Stefan. It’s been impossible for me to find such pleasing help in Enêmûsk.”
To my shock, Stefan laughed, as if Luciano had said something amusing. I kept my eyes on the plates and ignored both men. But when I had to look up, I was startled by the anger on Beatrice’s face… to the point that I feared she might do something foolish.
When the two of us returned to the kitchen for dessert, we found Maisy putting the finishing touches on plates of plum tarts with heavy cream.
“Almost ready,” she said.
In a huff, Beatrice stomped across the kitchen and drew a pitcher of sweet dessert wine from a cask.
“Perhaps I’ll stumble and pour this into one of their laps.”
“Don’t do anything,” I insisted. “You may have forgotten what your life was like before coming here, but I’ve not forgotten the things you told me.”
Some of her anger faded as she looked at me. Her face was narrow, and her lips were thin. She’d once fled a father who beat her, and then she couldn’t find work in the village. She’d only come to me in the “cursed manor” out of desperation. At the time, I had been glad for her help. Now, I was glad for her friendship.
“I’ll not have you dismissed on my account,” I said.
She nodded curtly and then tilted her head. “Why do you think she’s so old?”
“Old?” I repeated in surprise. “She’s hardly old, Beatrice.”
“She’s older than you, mid-twenties at the least. Don’t fathers in their class marry the girls off as soon as possible?”
I hadn’t noticed before, but for all her exotic beauty, Coraline did look to be in her mid-to-late twenties. Beatrice was right in that most fathers seeking a connection either between noble families or with noble families—as Luciano was doing—tended to offer their daughters by the age of seventeen. Coraline could be a decade past that.
Maisy put the dessert plates on the tray and glanced at me. “You’d best take these in.”
She didn’t appear happy about the situation either, but there was nothing any of us could do about it. I’d never quite realized before how powerless I was. I held the keys to every door in the manor and managed the house accounts and servants. I had seen to all Stefan’s needs, and I’d begun to view myself as irreplaceable.
I wasn’t.
It was a rude awakening.
Beatrice and I carried the plum tarts back to the hall and served them with fresh goblets of sweet wine. No one at the table even glanced at us, and Coraline still hung on Stefan’s every word.
·····
Stefan and Coraline were married in the village three days later.
The following day, Luciano departed back for his home in Enêmûsk. He took his guards and all the servants he’d brought except for Coraline’s personal maid: a thick-waisted, middle-aged woman named Olga.
On that first day with Coraline settling in as the lady of the house, I both dreaded and expected her to call for my presence so that she could explain any changes she wished in the running of the manor. Apparently, her own mother had been dead for some years, and so she must have been managing her father’s wealthy household in Enêmûsk. Of course she would have her preferences for how things were done. I assumed she’d take over planning the menus with Maisy and likely ask me to turn over all the keys.
However… this didn’t happen and, after a few days, I realized Coraline had no interest in the running of the manor. I wasn’t sure what she did all day, but she left management of household duties—along with the keys—entirely in my hands. I found this so odd that I finally went to the kitchens to speak to Maisy.
“Has her ladyship expressed displeasure with the menus?” I asked. “Has she offered any preferences? I’m sure the food she was accustomed to in Enêmûsk must be different.”
Maisy hesitated. She was a good-natured woman with a round face and red cheeks—rather what one would expect in a cook. But I knew she was capable of cooking much more complex meals than what Stefan normally preferred.
Her long pause caused me to shake my head in confusion. “Maisy?”
“I…” she began, and then lowered her voice. “I don’t think she knows how to give proper orders to a cook… or anything about running a great house. I asked her about which sauce to serve with last night’s trout and she got… huffy. Told me to discuss such things with you.” She paused again. “I’ve never known a lady in any house who didn’t want to give the last detail of the menus.”
I hadn’t either—though my experience was limited. Lady Byanka had been most particular, but perhaps Coraline was different. Perhaps she and her father had left everything to their staff.
If it bothered Coraline that Stephan’s housekeeper was a pretty young woman who wore muslin gowns, she never showed it beyond that first instant in the courtyard when her eyes had narrowed. Maybe Stefan’s manner toward me had convinced her I was no threat.
And I wasn’t.
Coraline slept in his bed every night, and during the day, Stefan barely noticed when I entered a room.
He was in love, for the first time, I think.
His first wife, Byanka, had been dear to him, as she’d connected him to the royal family, but she had been stout and plain and sensible. His feelings for her had been more of an affectionate nature than anything else.
Me… me… he had needed.
But not anymore.
Now, he followed Coraline with his eyes wherever she went, and he made excuses to come home early so he could be with her.
I began wondering how I might leave this place, find a position elsewhere, and still be able to survive. The thought brought me pain, as I loved my home—I loved Stefan—but I wasn’t sure I could remain here as the housekeeper.
Strangely, though, not everything was terrible.
Almost immediately, Stefan had men working on the roof, and I was glad of this. In addition, when I’d first had to change rooms, I’d been at a loss. Beatrice had asked me to come and share a room with her. As first maid, she enjoyed a slightly larger room in the servants’ quarters—with two small beds.
Out of little more than impending loneliness, I’d accepted her offer, and it proved to be a blessing. My mother had died giving birth to me, and I’d been raised by my father. I found living with another woman to be comforting. The two of us sometimes lay in our beds and whispered to each other halfway through the nights.
I realized I wasn’t alone.
·····
Life at the manor continued in this fashion for about a moon. I waffled between finding a way to leave and finding a way to allow myself to stay. Then things began to change.
While Beatrice and I were serving supper one night, I noticed a tension between Stefan and Coraline that hadn’t existed before. Their words were polite but short, and he no longer followed her face with his eyes.
After pouring their wine and making certain they had anything they required, I returned to the kitchen. Beatrice had already had a long day, as we’d decided to wash and iron all the curtains in the manor, and she looked exhausted.
“Go on up to bed,” I told her. “I’ll clear the dishes from the hall when our lord and lady are finished.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, but she sounded hopeful.
“I’m sure. You go on.”
With a grateful nod, she headed off, and I stayed for a while to help Maisy scrub pots. When I thought enough time had passed that Stefan and Coraline would have gone up to bed, I left the kitchen and headed down the passage. As I neared the archway, slightly raised voices made me stop.
“Again?” Stefan asked, sounding angry. “You’ll sleep in your room again?”
“As I said,” Coraline answered in her rich voice, “I am weary.”
“You’ve been weary for four nights. Your place is with me.”
Out in the passage, I tensed and tried to silently retreat from what I should not have heard.
Only a moon into the marr
iage, Coraline was refusing to sleep in Stefan’s bed. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t accept that lightly. Byanka had never refused him. Neither had I.
“I was told you were a noble, a lord,” Coraline said. “In Enêmûsk, noblemen treat their wives properly, like rare porcelain. I will not be treated like some harlot ordered to your bed whenever you please.”
A moment of silence followed, and then to my shock, Stefan said, “Of course. Forgive me.”
I was far enough down the dim passage that Coraline didn’t see me when she emerged and headed up the stairs. Almost immediately, Stefan came out and for some reason, his head turned my direction. He saw me, and even from a distance, I could see the troubled pain in his eyes.
“Elena,” he said simply.
Did he expect my pity? I had none to give.
Turning, I walked back toward the kitchen.
·····
In middle of that night, I was awakened by a scream and sat up in bed. A breath later, Beatrice did the same, and another scream echoed through the manor.
It was heart wrenching… and consumed with terror. I knew the voice only too well.
It was Stefan.
Still coming to my senses, my thoughts slipped back to the worst days and nights of his curse, when he had screamed like an anguished mad man. I rushed out of bed and to the door, wearing nothing but my night shift. This was different. I’d never heard him scream from fear before.
With Beatrice on my heels, I ran out and down the passage and turned a corner. The servants’ quarters were on the upper floor of the manor’s east side so the sun would wake us early. The family bedrooms were on the north side. As I ran, the screaming stopped.
By the time I reached Stefan’s door, a small crowd had already gathered in the passage. Maisy, two of our house guards, Coraline, and her lady’s maid, Olga were all there. Beatrice was right behind me. Coraline, wearing a silk dressing gown, struggled with the door but it would not open. No sound was coming from the room.
“Elena!” Coraline cried. “Do you have the key?”
She’d never spoken to me as anything other than the housekeeper, and even under the circumstances, I was surprised by her familiar address.
That didn’t stop me from running to her.
I always wore the key to Stefan’s room around my neck, for he often kept his door locked while he slept—an old habit. Pulling the cord over my head, I quickly unlocked the door, and Coraline pushed past me into the room. I had no idea what we’d find inside.
Stefan was not a man to scream in fear of anything. He was more likely to kill anything that threatened him.
“My love,” Coraline cried.
Stepping in behind her, I saw Stefan with his back pressed to the wall beside his window. His eyes were wide in an ashen face, and his mouth still gaped as Coraline ran to him.
“What… what is it?” she begged, grasping his hand.
I went in next, watching her face. Something in her voice caught my attention, something that rang false, and the concern she expressed for him didn’t reach her eyes.
Suddenly, Stefan seemed to see her and realize she was touching him. He pulled his hand from hers long enough to point near the bed.
“It was there,” he whispered hoarsely. “Horrible… a dead child with his throat cut. He said… he would walk inside me and drain my life.”
Coraline glanced past me at the others gathered in the doorway and back to Stefan. “Oh, my dear,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Do you still see him?”
Stefan blinked as if confused. “No, of course not… but he was there!”
I knew one of the guards fairly well, a levelheaded young man called James with reddish hair and green eyes. Even at nineteen, he was a steady sort and very little rattled him.
“James,” I said. “Help me get our lord to bed.”
Without hesitation, he came to me.
Stefan appeared exhausted and didn’t object much as he was coaxed back to his bed. Once beneath the blankets, he closed his eyes.
Coraline silently waved everyone else outside into the passage, but she didn’t dismiss anyone.
Instead, she looked at me and sighed softly. “My father promised me that he was cured of his madness, that it was behind him. I had hoped rather than believed.”
Again, I could barely believe she was speaking to me in this familiar way, and I was stunned that she would mention “madness” in front of Stefan’s guards and servants.
“It is behind him, my lady,” I answered carefully. “Perhaps he suffered a vivid dream.”
She nodded. Her face was awash with pity that again did not reach her lavender eyes. “Yes, I’d heard that he often mistakes dreams for what is real. Did he not spend years believing himself to be trapped inside this manor?”
All the others gathered around listened to her words intently. What was she doing? She made it sound as if Stefan had fancied his own curse.
“He was trapped, my lady,” I said.
She nodded again, no longer looking at me. “You are loyal. That is good. Everyone return to your beds. I will sit with him for the rest of the night.”
Beatrice and I glanced at each other, but there was nothing we could say. Everyone began to disperse and head back for their own beds, and still I couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling that I’d just been part of a show for the benefit of the household. Beatrice and I were the last ones to leave, but when we stepped around the corner, I tapped her shoulder and we both waited a moment.
Turning, I peeked around the corner and back down the passage to see what Coraline would do. She stood outside of Stefan’s door with her head tilted, perhaps listening to the fading footfalls of the staff. Then, as if satisfied she was alone, she pulled Stefan’s door closed and walked down the passage to her own room.
She slipped inside and closed her door.
Something was very wrong here, but I had no idea what.
·····
Stefan was tense the next evening at dinner. While I was in the hall serving their meal, he didn’t speak of his experience the night before. But when I returned later to clear the dishes, I heard him begging Coraline to stay with him that night.
She refused.
As with the night before, I waited in the shadows of the kitchen passage as he left the hall and went upstairs first. Moments later, she came out and headed for the stairs, and I quietly followed her. I had to admit she was magnificent tonight in a dark purple gown with her lovely black hair pushed back by the silver tiara.
“My lady?”
Turning, she appeared mildly surprised to see me. “What is it?”
I touched the cord at my throat. “Perhaps you should take the key to our lord’s door? If he has… difficulty, your room is much closer.”
She frowned. “As housekeeper, you should retain the keys. It is best to keep them all with one person.”
“Then perhaps you could counsel him not to lock his door?”
Her expression of irritation deepened. “It is not my place to counsel my husband on his private matters, nor is it yours.”
With that, she swept up the stairs.
Why would she not want the key to his room if he was having difficulties with nightmares? I slept on the east side of the manor, and by the time I could arrive, the entire household would be awakened.
Unless she wanted the entire household awakened?
No. I shook my head and pushed such thoughts away. If I were to suggest such a thing, even to Beatrice, I would be seen as a jealous, jilted woman looking for trouble where none existed.
·····
That night, the sound of screaming broke through my sleep.
This time, I woke instantly and ran for the door without even waiting for Beatrice.
By the time I reached Stefan’s door, Guardsman James, Coraline, and Olga were already there. Other servants were arriving. I unlocked the door as fast as I could, but once again, Coraline pushed past me, soot
hing Stefan with sweet words that all rang false in my ears.
He was worse, sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees, babbling about a headless ghost threatening him with a cold death.
One of the upstairs maids standing in the doorway looked openly frightened at the sight of him.
“Is he going mad?” she whispered to James.
James didn’t answer and again helped me move Stefan back to the bed.
Before Coraline could say anything, I spoke directly to James. “Our lady needs her sleep after last night. Will you stay and sit up with our lord?”
He nodded instantly. “Of course.”
I looked to Coraline. “My lady?”
A flicker of something passed through her eyes as she seemed to realize I’d circumvented her.
“Has this guard been in service at the manor long?” she asked. “He is young. Does he know what to do when his lord falls into a bout of madness?”
Again, that word… madness.
“James is fully capable of protecting his lord,” I stated.
“Very well,” Coraline agreed, still watching me as if I’d done something unexpected.
Everyone went back to the bed, and James remained with Stefan.
·····
The next night, Coraline claimed a headache and did not come down for dinner. Her maid, Olga, put a tray together and carried it upstairs. Stefan sat at the table alone while Beatrice and I served him. His face was pale, and he ate little.
In spite of everything, I couldn’t help feeling pity.
This all felt like a long nightmare that had ended and was now returning in a different form.
When I came back to gather the dishes, he was still sitting at the table.
“My lord?” I asked. “Can I bring you anything else?”
Before Coraline’s arrival, I’d called him by his name, but not anymore.
He lifted his eyes to my face and breathed, “Elena.”
A warning bell went off inside my head. He was tense and lonely, and his beautiful new wife was shunning his company. Standing there, I realized that if he asked me into his bed, I would refuse. Pride was a trait I’d never truly considered, but it rose up inside me with a vengeance. Even if he should dismiss me and send me packing off into the night with nothing, I would not serve as some secondary replacement.