Gossip

by Cay Templeton

  Claire lost her breath as she barreled down the hall towards the open door to Victor’s bedchamber.

  When she entered his room, Claire’s legs almost buckled underneath her. Lying in the bed, unconscious, was her dear friend, Victor. A nurse tended to the gash over his brow and it was hard to miss the multiple scrapes and bruises that covered his arms.

  “What happened?” Claire gasped.

  The Countess, who was standing on the far side of the bed, looked up at Claire, unmoved.

  “The Queen,” she said simply.

  Claire moved to the vacant seat next to the bed and scooped Victor’s hand into hers.

  “Victor?” Claire whispered, but there was no response. Looking over his wounds, she caught the mix of small pebbles and blood strewn through his long, dark hair.

  Grabbing a wet cloth from the basin on the nightstand, she dabbed the cut on his brow line. Fury and terror swarmed through her, causing her whole body to tremble.

  The nurse took the cloth from Claire’s hand.

  “Mademoiselle, I will take good care of him, I promise.”

  Claire relinquished the cloth in her hand, and then shot a knowing look at the Countess. The Countess's face was unsympathetic.

  Not wanting to linger any longer, Claire made her way out to the hallway. She could feel that the Countess was on her heel. When she heard the door close, she spun around.

  “You knew this was going to happen?”

  “I had my suspicions,” stated the Countess, matter-of-factly.

  “Why did you not warn us? Why did you not let me know how much danger we would be in by coming here?”

  “I needed you to come,” the Countess said sternly. “You are my only chance.”

  “At what?!” Claire screamed, losing her composure.

  The Countess walked right up to Claire so that their faces were inches apart. “A normal life! Look, I am sorry for your friend’s misfortune, but my daughters and I have suffered the same consequences day in and day out for seven years!”

  Claire didn’t even blink to cut the tension. Instead, she started for her own bedchamber door.

  “I will be returning home once Victor is well enough to travel.”

  “Why did you come here, Claire?” the Countess shouted after her. “If my memory serves me correctly, you want to find your father.”

  At this, Claire’s hand loosened on the door handle until her arm fell limp at her side. The Countess had her, and what was worse is that she knew it. Claire’s jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth and her mind raced at the Countess's words.

  “It is an absolute shame that I know his identity,” the Countess said, more poised, while moving towards her.

  “How could you know that?” Claire said, stunned.

  “Last night you said you did not want to stay with me because you had other business in town. Personal business. You wanted to snoop around to find out where your mother came from and hopefully find out the identity of your father.”

  Claire turned to the Countess, who was now a few feet away from her.

  “Is it wrong to want to know my father?”

  “Only if it will get you into more trouble than you are already in.”

  Stepping closer to the Countess, Claire said, “Will it really?” The Countess looked down at the ground seriously, and nodded.

  “Then tell me. Why all the secrecy?”

  “If I tell you how I know that you are the Baron Dupree or the identity of your father, you might not stay to finish listening to my story.”

  “But I will,” Claire pleaded.

  The Countess shook her head. “I cannot take that risk. I do apologize you are far too integral to what is going on here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You still do not understand. I am a traitor by every word I say to you that contradicts the Queen’s story. It is imperative that we finish before . . .”

  “Before?” Claire barked, losing patience.

  The Countess huffed. “Before I must go.”

  “Is all this worth it?”

  “It will be.”

  “I hope for all our sakes that you know what you are doing.”

  The Countess looked unflinchingly into Claire’s eyes. “I do.”

  “All right then. Night is upon us. I think I will take my dinner alone. We can continue tomorrow morning, after I spend a little time with Victor to make sure he is all right.”

  “Fine,” the Countess said shortly.

  The two women stared at each other for a long moment, measuring one another. Then Claire broke away and went into her bedchamber.

  ***

  Other than the crackling in the fireplace, the dining room was tranquil. The Countess kept her promise and allowed Claire to eat alone. She sat quietly lost in her thoughts when—“Whoosh!” sounded from behind the curtains, breaking Claire’s concentration.

  Looking down the row of windows, she saw all the drapes had been pulled and rested comfortably against the wall except for one. Claire couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed, but. the last curtain, furthest from where she sat, was protruding out from the wall with something moving behind it.

  At first Claire looked up and down the hidden object, and then, “Whoosh!” sounded again.

  “Josephine?” Claire said softly.

  A small spatter of giggles shot from behind the curtain. Josephine poked her head out and looked at her through her stringy, black hair. After a moment, she went back into hiding.

  Claire rose from her seat and took slow, calculated steps along the row of windows until she reached the curtain Josephine was standing behind.

  “Whoosh!” sounded again.

  When Claire reached out and pulled the fabric back, Josephine let out a high pitched squeal that melted into laughter. All of a sudden, her body went stiff as a board and she fell flat on the ground.

  Claire quickly knelt beside her.

  “Josephine?”

  “Falling down, falling down, if you get caught you will be falling down.” Josephine sang. Pushing her feet against the floor, she rotated her body in circles while she remained on her back.

  Claire moved out of her way to avoid getting stepped on.

  All of a sudden Josephine sat up straight and looked at her. “Green!”

  “Green?” Claire repeated.

  “Green is the color all love in their sight, but not she who hates it with all her spite.”

  “Who could hate a color?”

  “Green is the color all love in their sight, but not she who hates it with all her spite.”

  Josephine raised her hand high in the air and like a fallen bird she allowed it to spin and whirl until it landed in her pocket. Then, like a most prized possession, she pulled out a large emerald ring and held it out to Claire.

  Leaning closer to get a better look, she saw that the stone was flawless. The five-karat emerald was surrounded by four tiny diamonds and locked in place by a sterling silver band. It easily took up a fourth of Josephine’s palm.

  Claire reached out to take it from her but Josephine snatched her hand back close to her body, hiding it.

  “Why did you want to show it to me?” Claire asked, more to herself than Josephine.

  A little tune accompanied the answer. “Green is the hated color by she who did not love the owner of thee.”

  This time, Josephine held her hand out and plopped the ring down into Claire’s hand. Before Claire could say anything to her, Josephine curled up in a ball and started rocking back and forth.

  “How strange you are,” Claire said. “By the sound of things you might have made good friends with Isabella.”

  “She did,” said a comforting voice.

  Claire stood up quickly and turned to see Botley standing by the doorway.

  “Herr Botley. You really must stop sneaking up on me like that,” Claire said with a light chuckle.

  While in the moment of humor, Claire quietly pocketed the emerald ring so the old butler co
uldn’t see it.

  Botley moved towards Josephine, who was now lying still on the floor.

  Claire looked back down at the frozen girl. “You said that she and Isabella were friends?”

  “Yes,” Botley said, struggling to get Josephine to sit up. “The best of friends, in fact.”

  “What that must have been like, I wonder?”

  Botley stopped for a moment. “I think it was the best thing to happen for both of them. They kept each other company despite their oddities.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Isabella met Prince Fabian and she is now living happily ever after.”

  “Ah,” Claire said with understanding.

  “What was Josephine doing in here?” Botley asked.

  “She was hiding behind the curtain.”

  “Playing hide and seek with you, was she? Did she tell you anything?” the old butler inquired.

  “Nothing that made any sense. Why?”

  “She does not play hide and seek with anyone but me. You must be special to her.”

  Claire flushed crimson.

  Botley smiled in his genuinely nice way and said, “I cannot speak for anyone else in the house, but I think you are a right fine lady, Mademoiselle Du Bois. After all, you are putting yourself in harm’s way to be here. I know the Countess appreciates it, even if she does not tell you so herself.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Botley finally got Josephine to her feet. “Now if you will excuse me, I must get her to bed.”

  “Of course. Have a good night.”

  “You as well,” said Botley, before helping Josephine out of the dining room.

  Claire’s eyes clung to the entrance a moment longer. Once she was sure she was alone again, she pulled the emerald ring out of her pocket and held it close to her eyes so she could examine it.

  A humming tune started in the back of her throat until it finally made its way to her lips. “Green is the color all love in their sight, but not she who hates it with all her spite.”

  Chapter 10

  “Victor Krouse”

  Dawn had not yet broken when a creaking sound stirred Claire. Her eyes felt heavy and not wanting to open, but the repetitive creaking sound forced her to wake.

  When her eyes fluttered open, she saw Victor gliding back and forth in the rocking chair next to her bed. His eyes were closed with his hands folded over his chest. He had certainly been up long enough to have already gotten dressed.

  “Victor!” Claire squealed enthusiastically and sat up in the bed.

  Victor’s eyes popped open and a gentle smile set in. “I have no idea what kind of mess you have gotten us into this time, Claire Du Bois, but it seems very exciting,” Victor said in amusement.

  Claire hopped out of bed and embraced Victor so quickly that she knocked the air out of him.

  “I am glad to see you too,” he said.

  “I was so worried about you! Was it the Queen who did this to you?”

  “Indirectly, I suppose. The royal guard passed me on the road here. They wanted to know what business I had with the Countess De Leon. I told them that I did not know.”

  “So they beat you?” gasped Claire.

  “They did not care for that as an answer. That, and . . .”

  “And?”

  Victor looked away mischievously, whistling a merry tune.

  Claire pinched his arm tightly between her fingers.

  “Victor Krouse!”

  “All right! All right,” Victor surrendered. “I told one of the guards that his horse’s butt had a better chance of getting a girl than he did.”

  “Victor!” Claire groaned.

  “He only got a couple of shots on me before the Captain, who had been traveling separately, passed by. He ordered them to release me immediately.”

  Claire sat back down on her bed, shaking her head as images of Victor’s night played out in her mind.

  “Why must you always stir up trouble?”

  “It just comes naturally, I suppose.”

  Claire was not impressed with the charming smile that accompanied his tale.

  “Do you want to tell me why we are here?” Victor asked. “I can tell it cannot be good between my rendezvous with the royal guard and you biting your lower lip.”

  Claire’s teeth instantly released her lip after his remark.

  “The Countess is holding us captive so she can tell me about her encounters with Queen Isabella.”

  Victor stared blankly at her.

  “It would seem that the Queen has fabricated her story about her childhood.”

  “Do you believe that?” Victor asked, trying to catch up with all that Claire had gone through in a day.

  “I believe she thinks it is true.”

  “That is not what I asked.” Victor argued.

  He tried to sit next to Claire on the bed but she immediately got up and moved over to the window. The sun was now lighting up the room more fully and the circles under Claire’s eyes were pronounced.

  “She knows about the Baron Dupree.”

  An awkward moment of silence passed before Victor said, “All right.”

  “And she knows who my father is.”

  Victor’s face dropped. “I see.”

  Rising from the bed, Victor joined her by the window and placed a caring hand on Claire’s shoulder.

  “I believe that it is important, not only for our safety but the Countess's as well, that I stay and listen to what she has to tell me,” said Claire.

  “Agreed.”

  “But . . .” Claire turned to him. “I want you to return back to Stuttgart. It is far too dangerous for you to stay here. I already know too much, but you can go.”

  “And leave you to have fun here without me? Nonsense.” Claire’s eyes started to water. She looked away, embarrassed. Victor put both his hands onto her shoulders, turned her towards him, and placed a caring hand on her cheek.

  “Claire, as always, you are overreacting. I am not going to abandon you just because I got a little bump on the head.”

  Overwhelmed by his kindness and friendship, Claire could feel her arms embracing him with thanks.

  Victor dried the tears from her face, finishing it with a kiss on the forehead.

  “Why do you not change and I will wait for you in the hall?”

  Claire nodded in agreement as she took over wiping her tears away. She watched Victor make his way to the door when she said, “Thank you.”

  Victor glanced back at her with his charming smile. “For what?”

  Before she could answer him, he started whistling loudly again and slipped out the door.

  ***

  Botley greeted Claire with a courteous bow when she opened her bedchamber door.

  “Oh,” she said. Disappointment crossed her face as she looked around for Victor.

  “Good morning, Mademoiselle Du Bois.”

  “Herr Botley. How do you find yourself this morning?”

  “I am well, thank you,” replied Botley.

  Now taking a full step into the hall, Claire didn’t even look at the old butler but instead scanned the halls wondering if she simply missed seeing Victor. He was such a prankster and never took anything seriously.

  “Excuse me for saying so, but you seem distracted this morning,” said Botley, with inquisitiveness.

  “Have you seen my friend this morning? We were supposed to go down to breakfast together.”

  “Monsieur Krouse already went down.”

  Claire shook her head in disbelief. “If I know anything about Victor Krouse it is that nothing gets in the way of his stomach,” she said light-heartedly.

  “That might be true,” Botley agreed. “However, I also told him you are having breakfast with the Countess in her study. She wanted to meet with you as soon as you woke.”

  Claire’s amusement faded. “I am sure she did. To apologize, I hope.”

  Botley shrugged his shoulders. Claire knew that even if Botley knew
why the Countess wanted to meet so early, he would not divulge that information to her.

  “Well, lead on then, Herr Botley. We must not keep her waiting,” she said, gesturing down the hall. Botley turned and began walking with Claire alongside him.

  “I understand that you are in close connection with the famous author Baron Dupree. I am quite an admirer of his work,” Botley said.

  “I am sure he would be glad to know that he has admirers in France.”

  “I am sure that the Baron has admirers that extend farther than that. It would mean a great deal to me if you told him how much his stories have impacted my life.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Claire said, sincerely. “I am sure he would love to sit and chat with a man such as yourself, Herr Botley. It seems as if you, too, have many secret stories to tell.”

  “Many secrets, none of which I wish to tell.”

  “Not even ones about the Queen?” Claire said curiously.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Would you at least tell me what she was like?”

  “A dreamer, mostly,” recalled the old butler.

  “Every girl dreams.”

  Claire looked over at Botley to gauge his expression, because his tone led her to believe that it wasn’t a good thing.

  Claire continued, “After all the Queen endured, I would think there would be nothing wrong with being a dreamer.”

  “She started to lose touch with reality,” he admitted in dismay. “Once, she found a tattered old dress that belonged to her mother. Though it was twice her size, she wore it everywhere, pretending to be that peasant girl from her book. At first it was harmless, but once the Countess arrived, everything changed.”

  Claire stopped, and turned to face Botley. “Why do you think that was?”

  Botley looked down at the floor, seeming to struggle to find the words. “I think the Count remarrying was too much for Isabella. After all, who could possibly stand in her mother’s shoes?”

  “A witch that casted a spell,” Claire said, putting the pieces together.

  “Precisely,” Botley affirmed before turning down the next hall.

  “What about her cleaning habits?” she inquired.

  “When the Count died, Isabella started behaving strangely. She would wake up early in the morning and go down to the river to fetch a bucket of water. With a bar of soap and a scrub brush, she would scour the floors, starting in the entrance hall and working her way upstairs.”