Gossip

by Cay Templeton

  “I will do my best.”

  Genevieve pushed the door to the study open. Claire moved past her through the room to the Countess's desk. Behind it rested the painting that the Countess had turned around the first night she was there.

  “That is odd,” said Genevieve. “She must have taken it down just before you got here.”

  “She probably wanted to tell me the story first.” Claire turned the picture around to reveal the painting of the Fairy Godmother prominently in the middle of the picture and off to the one side was Isabella with Prince Fabian, smiling. On the other side was Josephine crying.

  “She really did live in torment. She has the picture of Count Daughtry’s dead wife right outside her office door. She has this picture of Isabella living well while Josephine suffers.”

  Claire looked back down at the painting of the Fairy Godmother.

  “You must go,” Genevieve urged.

  Claire’s eyes flickered up. “Have Botley meet me outside in twenty minutes. Make sure he has the carriage ready.”

  “I will tell him at once.”

  “You must go, too,” Claire said.

  “Me?”

  “You and Josephine are an important part of this story.”

  “But I have not been out in society in years. Neither has Josephine.”

  Claire looked at Genevieve with a huge smile across her face. “Perhaps it is time to become ‘reacquainted’ with Paris.”

  ***

  Botley had the horses hitched up when Claire made her way out of the house. She was the first one of the group to be ready to go. While she waited next to the carriage, Botley gave her a look of disapproval.

  “What?” she asked sternly.

  “I think if the Countess wanted you to come after her, she would have said something to me about it.”

  Claire moved agitatedly to the other side and got into the back of the carriage. “If you have not noticed, Botley, she is not exactly the most forthcoming person in the world.”

  “Maybe with you, Mademoiselle, but with me she has always been quite clear with her intentions.”

  “Now we are following my intentions.”

  “Clearly,” he muttered.

  “Where is everyone else?” Claire wondered aloud.

  “Try to remember that these girls have been in this house a long time. They might be more nervous confronting their horrible past, than say, you are.”

  Claire turned away from his rude comment and waited impatiently. Her eyes narrowed before she realized what she was looking at.

  “Botley, come with me.”

  “Mademoiselle?”

  Claire climbed out of the carriage and went straight for the side of the house.

  Opening the large door into the barn, her eyes scanned the empty stables. “You told me while we were standing in the tower that the Count got a few other things when he got the door with the pumpkin on it.”

  Claire looked at the old butler, and then stepped into the empty barn.

  “The pumpkin carriage is not the mad ramblings of the Queen, is it?”

  Botley looked at her blankly.

  “I know it was you who took Isabella to the ball that night. Please, show me where it is.”

  The old butler grabbed Claire’s hand and pulled her to one side of the barn. Then he kicked a big pile of loose hay away from the floor exposing a large trapdoor. With Claire’s help he struggled to slide it open. Underneath was a little ramp and a large object concealed beneath a tarp.

  Claire moved quickly down into the hole. Pulling the cloth tarp away, the small iron carriage that was shaped like a pumpkin stood before her.

  “The pumpkin carriage is real.” Claire shot a look at Botley.

  “He died before he could give this to her. Only years later, when she needed to go to the ball and the carriage was already gone, did you think of this. Am I correct?”

  “You are right on all accounts,” Botley confirmed.

  “The Countess is in real trouble,” Claire stated.

  “The worst part is, I think she has given up the thought that she will ever be left alone. I think she has just been worn down over the years by Isabella.” Botley said, and then pulled the tarp back over the carriage.

  “I need you to get the girls out here; I truly believe I can save her from her own stepdaughter.”

  Without any warning, Botley reached out and hugged Claire. There was a sense of comfort and sincerity that caused Claire to accept the embrace. When they finally broke, Claire asked, “What was that for?”

  For the first time since they had met, Botley lost his composure. He released a deep sigh, “That is the first kind word this family has heard in . . . well, a long time.”

  Claire clutched his arms in her hands and looked at him straight-faced. “I hate to see anyone suffer because of a misunderstanding. Now, we must hurry before it is too late.”

  Botley nodded and scuttled off towards the house.

  Chapter 21

  “The Staff of Terror”

  “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Victor asked as the carriage came to a halt in front of the castle.

  “Seems the last time you were here, you got a little tongue tied.”

  Claire glanced down at the drawings sitting in her lap, and then over at Josephine. She pulled at her long stringy hair while she hummed her own little tune.

  Claire looked back at Victor’s unsure expression. Then she turned to Genevieve who remained quietly looking out the window.

  “The Countess will never say what really happened that night. I must say it for her.”

  “Do you really know what happened or do you just think you know?” questioned Victor.

  “She knows,” said Genevieve sternly. “However, Mother would never approve of you coming to the castle like this.”

  “There you go,” said Victor. “We should turn around.”

  “We cannot. Besides, there is more to be gained from this visit than just saving the Countess,” argued Claire.

  “Like?” Victor said with curiosity.

  “When all is done, there is nothing to fear. Too late now, the guard is here,” hummed Josephine.

  The carriage door flew open and four royal guards stood outside with muskets pointed at them.

  “All right, all of you out,” screamed Monsieur Monte.

  “Ah,” Victor hummed to Claire, amused. “It is our old friend.”

  They all came out to the courtyard where more guards awaited them.

  “You should have left when you had the chance,” spat. the head guard.

  “Come now, these are the Queen’s guests,” said a familiar voice.

  Genevieve was the first to turn and see the Captain approaching. He smiled at them all but reached out and took Genevieve’s hand. Her lips parted and a little gasp escaped. The Captain bowed and kissed her hand.

  “My Lady, it has been far too long,” he said, then turned to the royal guard and gestured for them to drop their weapons. “I do not think we are in any danger, men. Stand at the ready.”

  The guards followed their Captain’s orders and rested their muskets at their sides.

  “Now that you are here, I guess we should take you to the main event. The King and Queen are questioning the Countess as we speak.”

  “It is strange to me that you are not in there with them.” Claire pondered out loud.

  “They had a feeling you would not be far behind so they sent me out here to wait for you. Now that you have arrived, I think it only right to show you in.”

  The Captain gestured with his hand to follow him, but before anyone moved, he offered his elbow to Genevieve. She looked at him, bright-eyed and in disbelief, as she interlaced her arm with his.

  “I thought you were dead,” she whispered to the Captain.

  “I was until a moment ago,” he replied. When he looked over at the blushing beauty, she smiled cordially, and then faced forward again.

  When the group entered the throne roo
m, the Countess was standing before the King and Queen in a very proper manner. Her hands were shackled in front of her and she held her head up high as she spoke. Queen Isabella stood before her, and Claire noticed that she was holding onto the Countess's cane.

  “Ah, I thought you would never join us,” said the King in a jovial tone.

  The group moved through the crowded room until they, too, were standing before the King and Queen. The Queen’s sharp eye darted from the group to the Countess.

  “Why did you bring these foreigners to your house?” demanded the Queen.

  “They are friends,” the Countess said tranquilly.

  “They are more than that, I think,” stated the King.

  “After questioning them yesterday, I am quite convinced you had them summoned here to contradict the Queen’s story. Is that not so?”

  The Countess looked up at Isabella. “If by contradict you mean telling them the truth, then yes, I did.”

  “Blasphemy!” the Queen shouted with narrowed eyes.

  “Is it, Isabella?” the Countess asked, not backing down from the Queen’s harsh glare.

  “How dare you,” hissed the Queen, raising her hand to strike the Countess across the face.

  “Isabella, no.” said Botley in a father-like tone, and calmed the tension. “That will not make it right.”

  Looking back over to the group of traitors, the Queen’s eye caught the old butler. Her tone softened.

  “Botley, I had hoped you would not have come with this riff raff, though I am glad to see you, old friend.”

  The Queen relaxed her hand and moved over to kiss Botley on the cheek. Genevieve, who was still attached to the Captain’s side, instantly distracted her.

  “I should have guessed you would be here, Evey, supporting your traitorous mother.”

  “Lofty words coming from you, now that you are Queen,” Genevieve replied ever-so-calmly.

  The Queen’s face became morose. “Just because I did not say all that was in my mind when I was a child, did not mean I was weak. I was polite. Something, I fear, you have never really known anything about.”

  Genevieve bowed her head to the Queen mockingly. The Queen’s eyes narrowed before turning on to the two foreigners.

  Before she spoke, she gestured with her hands and the squire came out with the hot bowl of water and a bar of soap. As Claire had seen previously, the Queen ceremoniously washed her hands while she kept her eyes on her and Victor.

  “I thought I was quite clear yesterday in asking you to leave immediately,” said the Queen.

  “I thought it only right for me to stay until I know my friend is out of harm’s way.” Claire gestured to the refined woman, still unflinching in her conduct.

  The Queen, too, looked at the Countess.

  “You are wasting your time. She is bound for the stocks.”

  “Please, Your Majesty,” Claire pleaded, looking past the Queen to the King.

  “That is enough!” The Queen snapped, slamming the cane into the floor so the sound echoed throughout the hall. She stepped towards Claire, “I want you and your friend to leave France at once, never to return. Am I clear enough this time?”

  “No,” Claire said simply.

  Murmurs spread throughout the court. The Queen looked at all the questioning faces then back at Claire.

  “No?” the Queen repeated, angrily. “I said leave!”

  “No.”

  This time the crowd whispered more loudly. Hands covered mouths in shock and eyes spread wide open, waiting to see how the Queen would handle this defiance.

  “What do you mean, no? Guards, come and remove her from the court!”

  The Captain released Genevieve, stepped towards the guards with his hand held up to stay in their positions.

  “What is the meaning of this?” yelled the King and rose to his feet. All the nobles in the room fell to their knees except the group before them and the Captain.

  “Your Highness, I have been in your service for many years now. I implore you and the Queen to hear Mademoiselle Du Bois,” pleaded the Captain.

  “Guards, take the Captain into custody,” came the King’s reply.

  “Escort these two out of France and make sure they stay out,” said the Queen. “As for these miscreants, take them to the jail and hold them there until we decide what to do with them.”

  The guards did as they were ordered and quickly detained all of the traitors.

  “Wait,” said Claire. “Your Highness, there is so much you do not know.”

  “I do not wish to know!” argued the King. “You have done nothing but stir up trouble since you have been here.”

  “Please, King Fabian-”

  “I said, get them out of here!” demanded the Queen.

  “Listen to her!” screamed Botley over the crowd.

  “Why should I?” said the King, taking lofty steps towards the old butler.

  “Because she is your sister.”

  The room fell silent.

  The King grabbed Botley by the coat and leaned close to his face. “What did you say?”

  “If you cannot see the resemblance, then you are blind.”

  “You are more brazen than the Captain. Would you like to join the Countess in the stocks?” threatened King Fabian.

  “You may send me anywhere you like. That does not change that Claire is your sister.”

  The King’s face hardened. Finally he yelled, “Bring her here.” The guards dragged Claire over to him.

  “You are not seriously entertaining this idea, My Lord,” said the Queen.

  “Silence!” the King hissed.

  His face was inches from Claire’s. He studied every crevice in her forehead, every freckle on her cheek, until his hazel eyes looked into her hazel ones. Then, the King’s gaze drifted down to the trinket around Claire’s neck. When he lifted it and saw the ancient royal emblem, his eyebrows relaxed in acknowledgment. “How can this be?” he whispered under his breath, stunned.

  He turned to the Queen in disbelief.

  The Queen’s patience had run out. “You have your orders. Get them out of here,” she screamed.

  The guards again grabbed the members of the group and started pushing them towards the door.

  The struggle with Josephine became fierce when they tried to grab her. All of a sudden, a piercing scream filled the room. Everyone covered their ears. Claire broke free from the grasp of the guard and ran over to her.

  “Tell them, Josephine. Tell the Queen what you were trying to tell us with these pictures. Tell her what really happened the night of the ball.”

  “No,” growled the Countess, struggling to break free from captivity. “Mademoiselle Du Bois has lost her senses.”

  The guard grabbed Claire by the wrists.

  “Wait a minute,” she screamed.

  The King turned back to the room, still looking stunned, and held up his hand.

  “Let her speak.”

  The guards released Claire once more and she moved back to Josephine. “Tell your friend what happened.”

  Josephine shook her head ‘no’ back and forth, repeatedly.

  “Do not do this, Claire,” the Countess yelled.

  “Silence, evil witch,” snapped the Queen.

  “She is not as evil as you think. Look for yourself.” said Claire, holding out Josephine’s pictures to the Queen. The Queen stared blankly before moving closer to Claire and taking them from her. Flipping through them, the Queen’s face became perplexed.

  “These are pictures from our past. That is all they are. Memories from our past.”

  “I think they are more than that, Your Majesty,” Claire said, and then turned back to Josephine.

  “Then tell me their significance,” demanded the Queen.

  “The only one who can help you understand is Josephine,” Claire said, encouraging Josephine to speak.

  But Josephine’s head dropped and her face hid behind the strings of her disheveled hair. An awkward moment of
silence passed and Josephine simply hummed to herself.

  “What happened those many years ago was my fault,” the Countess tried to confess. “I take full responsibility.”

  “Guards, take them all away.”

  “No!” screamed Claire. “Josephine, you must tell your friend the truth!”

  The guard took Genevieve by the arms along with the Captain and began escorting them out. At the same time, the Countess struggled with her cuffed wrists.

  “Josephine!” she screamed.

  Guards tried to grab Josephine but she continuously slipped from their grasp. She placed her hands on her ears, humming louder and louder as the commotion around her grew more frantic. Finally her lips parted.

  “She was there, so pretty in blue. She was there, that is when I knew. She would leave me from what I had seen. She would leave me so she could become queen.”

  “Josephine, do not do this!” screamed the Countess, still struggling to break free and comfort her daughter.

  Josephine didn’t falter as she continued to sing. “I did not see my friend say goodbye. For days and nights I would cry and cry.”

  “Stop!” cried the Countess.

  “I took the cane into my hand, I took the cane and hit my friend. I dragged her to a place so dark, it was not a garden, nor a park. But to a place where her fairy dreams could run free, in the smoldering ashes by a fiery sea.”

  Josephine parted her hair, exposing her face for the first time.

  The Queen’s eyes flooded with horror and she stumbled backwards up the small stair.

  “I could not bear to see my friend go, that night oh so long ago.”

  Josephine’s legs buckled from underneath her and she collapsed to the floor. The Countess was finally able to break from the guards’ grip and ran over to her daughter.

  “The Countess buried her daughter’s secrets under the famous fairy tale to protect Josephine,” Claire concluded.

  “It cannot be,” said the Queen, choking back tears.

  “It is obvious; even Josephine professed the truth. See the picture of the cane. There’s a dot on the hand. That is Josephine’s hand.” Claire took Josephine’s hand and raised it to show the room the mole on her thumb.

  “No,” the Queen said in denial.

  “The Countess is not so evil as you may think.”