Saurimonde jerked the cloak back into place after it had slipped over one shoulder. Her dress was disintegrating before her eyes and Elazki's frock she had borrowed barely fell below her knees. Ahead of her was the garden full of hollyhocks and she could hear the thrum of the bees as the day began to warm. She skirted the edge as she didn't want to look too closely. This was something else she would have to sort out and there were so many messes and mistakes, she didn't know where to begin. She prayed no one would see her arriving back to the manor house. She must look like a beggar woman and prying eyes and wagging tongues were the last thing she needed right now.
There
had been no way to cover her feet so she had to pick her path
carefully. It was slow going, but the stables were within shouting
distance. She knew this place so well. This had been her home. It
still was her home, but it felt unfamiliar, like it was part of a
life lived long ago.
She
tiptoed quietly into the stables and listened carefully. All she
heard was the restless shuffling of the horses waiting for their
morning feed. Good, she thought, luck was with her.
The stables were cool and damp and she could barely see in the tack
room as she fumbled slightly, but she knew where Gilles' saddle and
bridle were as they sat in perfect condition. He'd always insisted on
the best and he'd always gotten his way. Well, almost always. She
wasn't sorry she'd killed Gilles, as far as he was concerned she felt
nothing at all, except the overwhelming need to erase all trace of
his existence. It wasn't rational, she knew this, it was reaction to
all the events which had befallen her. All because of Gilles and his
need to destroy everything around him. At least he couldn't hurt
anyone any more.
Still
cursing about her lack of footwear, she saddled up Gilles' black
gelding. The poor beast had been so beaten into submission, he barely
moved a muscle as she tightened the girth. Hopefully his next owner
would be kinder. She led him out the back, tied the reins in a loose
knot and hooked them through one of the buckles in the front of the
saddle so he couldn't get tangled in them. Then she let him go. He
stood still for a moment unsure what to do so she grabbed the nearest
whip and gave him a harsh whack across the hocks. It was all the
motivation he needed as he took off for the trees. She felt a little
bad about it, but desperate measures called for desperate means. If
her luck continued then someone would find the horse sans rider in a
few hours. Then there would be a search party to go look for their
master, thinking he had fallen off. After they didn't find him the
rumors would start about the men in the forest who had been attacking
people for money. Maybe they had been stupid enough to abduct Gilles.
Maybe they'd gotten in a lucky punch or stab wound. Maybe Gilles was
dead... It could all work so perfectly, she thought. She froze
as she heard someone whistling a tune not so far away. Damn, and
double damn, she inwardly swore.
She
backtracked a little to give herself some time and to make it look
like she was coming in from a morning stroll. She smoothed down her
hair and put on her most regal air. And then she strode forward to
face the inevitable full of false confidence.
A boy of about ten with carrot colored hair and a smattering of
freckles across his nose was putting together the meat for the pack
of mastiffs Gilles had bred and raised as his hunting dogs. She
didn't recognize the child and at closer inspection with the red hair
she wondered if he was Gilles' offspring as well. The man had
certainly been busy populating the countryside. Thank the goddess he
had never gotten her pregnant. It wasn't that she didn't love
children, but her skin crawled at the thought of it. Then she noticed
Lucifer, her late husband's pride and joy, lying sulkily in a corner
away from the rest of his pack who were busy making a racket as they
waited impatiently for their breakfast. His sullen, golden eyes
caught hers as if conveying some hidden message. An older man walked
up to the boy and grabbed the haunches of fresh kill from him. His
pinched face was redder than his hair and his hands shook a little.
She knew who he was, one of Gilles' lackeys, and by the look of it,
more than a little hungover. She decided to make the first move to
catch him off guard.
“Why
is Lucifer separated from the other dogs?” Her voice rang out sharp
as a blade. Even she was taken aback by the harshness of it.
The
man jumped as if he'd seen a ghost. “Madame...” He stuttered, “No
one told me you were back. How...?”
“I
came back early this morning,” she answered in a haughty manner.
“You haven't answered my question. Why is Lucifer separated from
the others?” She could see him sizing up her unkempt attire so she
stared him straight in the eye, until his gaze hit the ground.
“The
master told me to... I...”
She didn't let him finish. “Put him back.”
“But
the master... The dog savaged him – and he...” He stopped.
“Gilles
is not here. I saw him this morning as I was arriving.” She
continued to lie smoothly. “He went to fetch his niece. Seems she's
run away and gotten herself into some trouble. I don't have to tell
you that Gilles would want you to keep this quiet.” She arched an
eyebrow.
“No
surprise there, madame. A bit of a wildcat she is. You don't have to
worry about us.” He pointed to his son who was busy taunting an
insect with a stick. “We won't say nothing to no one.”
Yeah,
right, she thought as she gave him a tight smile. “Good. Then
do as I say and put Lucifer back. I'll deal with Gilles.” She gave
a little imperial wave towards the pens as she started up the drive
towards the house.
“Yes,
madame...” he called out after her.
She
walked as calmly as possible, but inside she was quaking. What was
wrong with her? She'd never taken that kind of tone with the
servants before. She had spent most of her life here trying to be
invisible. All of the hired help were Gilles bought and sold. But
Gilles was gone and he was never coming back. For a moment she felt
like skipping. She felt like a warm wind after the rain. She felt...
That would never do. First she had to play distraught wife and then,
hopefully, grieving widow. She giggled softly to herself. It was
quite mad, but things were going to be very different.
She
made it up the backstairs and to her room unseen by any of the house
staff. She desperately needed a bath, but that would mean asking one
of the servants and she wanted to delay the inevitable a little
longer. Her sanctuary looked untouched as she basked in its heavy
wood and jewel tones, but something was missing. She looked around as
she tried to figure out what. Her carved, oval mirror was missing.
Why that of all things? She wondered. It was not exactly an
easy piece to move. Maybe Gilles smashed it, she thought, as
she poked into one of the upright cabinets finding nothing. Some of
her clothes were gone, but she had expected that.
As
she looked around, she noticed the door on the far side was slightly
ajar. Possibly someone had put her mirror in the other room?
But that room was never used for anything other than the guests
they'd never had. She opened the door cautiously and sucked in her
breath - every shade of pink imaginable was vomited all over. It was
a sickly monstrosity mixed with the definite odor of dog shit. She
felt faintly nauseous as she took it in. This must have been
Mariel's room, she thought as somewhere at the back of her mind
the briefest flash of a salmon colored dress appeared. Why had
Gilles let her do such a thing? Tentatively, she walked across
the carpet spotting her mirror propped up by the bed. Had Gilles
given it to his niece? she wondered. It certainly didn't
fit in this confectioner's nightmare. Then she noticed the piles of
frilly expensive lingerie sitting on the bed. Had Gilles given her
those as well? It seemed so tacky. The girl could not have been
barely more than a child. Spying a slip of paper that was
sticking out of the wall, she walked across to take a closer look.
She tugged at it and noticed the perfect round peep hole. Her late
husband had been a man of many devious appetites and peeping was high
on the list of them. She shouldn't be surprised, but Mariel was his
niece – a close blood relative. She peered at the slip of paper.
It was a receipt for the lingerie and the amount paid was staggering.
Gilles had indeed signed for it. Pervert, she thought as she
threw it down in disgust.
She
stared at the mirror, hands on hips. It would be heavy to move, but
she had to take it back. Lifting it up, she grimaced as she heard
what was left of her frayed dress rip down the side. That was
definitely the end of it. The mirror was heavier than she had guessed
as she awkwardly rolled it across the carpet and maneuvered it
through the door. It was louder too. Great. No doubt one of
the servants would be up soon to investigate, she thought. Her
dress ripped further with every effort until there was much left
covering her. Breathing heavily, she managed to lift and edge the
mirror back into place just over the low-seated vanity. She stared at
her reflection. She was a mess. How long had it been since she sat
there examining the bruises Gilles had left around her throat? she
asked herself. The memory had faded like all bad memories did with
her and she wanted to hold onto that one. She wanted to remember that
day clearly, and exactly how beaten down and afraid she had felt.
Picking up the golden comb she struggled with the tangled mess of her
hair until it shone like the sun and fell smoothly down her back in
waves. She was still covered with grit, but it was a start. She
smiled at her reflection. One step at a time and things would get
better. She would deal with the servants. Then, she would deal with
Sordel. And after that she couldn't plan any further. But first, she
sat on the edge of her bed and peeled off the remnants of her frock.
She was going to close her eyes for a few minutes to gather back her
strength. She grabbed the pillow nearest to her, pulling it close and
hugging it like as person as she snuggled into the blankets. Then,
blessed nothingness.
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