The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

  My fingers relaxed. I drifted down and down to the rocky bottom below. Peace encompassed me.

  Then, I saw her. Mutter. Her sweeping robe moved like the fluttering wings of a moth as she looked into the horizon. When she twisted so I could look upon her face, I saw her rage. “No, it isn’t your time,” she said.

  I reached out, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel the safety of her embrace.

  “Fight, Valentina. You must fight.” I heard panic in her voice.

  But I don’t want to, I tried to say.

  “Fight!” Her cry became weaker, and then she was fading.

  My fingers outstretched, I struggled to reach her. Come back. Please come back. A sob caught in my chest.

  Muffled voices rose, seeming far away, as if they came from another world. Something slammed into me, and the water splashed around me as a struggle took place. I couldn’t make out what was happening. I fought to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. Hands grabbed at me and dragged me to the bank; I was too weak to resist them. Someone placed their head to my chest, and a mouth touched mine. Hands pushed on my chest, faster and faster, as though in a panic. I realized they were trying to save me. Orell. My heart sang. He had made a mistake. He hadn’t meant to harm me.

  I coughed and sputtered and rolled onto my side.

  “That’s right, breathe,” a man said, the voice unfamiliar.

  I fought to see his face, but the fogginess in my brain blurred my vision.

  “Will she be all right?” another said.

  “Murderous bastard nearly killed her. He was wise in having us watch the girl.” The other’s voice was laced with concern.

  He? My mind raced. I sank back against the earth as I realized what had happened. Orell hadn’t regretted his attempt to kill me. Hollow sobs formed deep in my chest, and my hands gripped fistfuls of earth. Rage and hurt rushed through me, and over and over, I struck at the ground.

  Sometime later, I sat up and looked around. I was alone in the forest with no sign of the men or of Orell.

  “You’re safe. No one will harm you.” Yara’s soothing voice pulled me back. She was kneeling beside me, her fingers brushing the damp hair from my eyes. “You needn’t worry. This Orell you speak of isn’t here.”

  Had I said my brother’s name aloud? He could never know I was here. He would have started searching for me by now. The wagon tracks! They would lead him straight to me. In my attempt to escape the wolves, I hadn’t covered our trail. “I must go.”

  “You’re scared out of your skin. You aren’t going anywhere. Do you need the position here or not?” she asked.

  I became aware of my nakedness. “Yes.”

  Kindness gleamed in her eyes. “If you stand a chance at nabbing this job, we must make you look presentable. And I’d suggest you don’t go like this,” she said with a laugh.

  I laughed softly. “I suppose not.”

  “I know what it’s like to be alone and scared, and something tells me you could use a friend.” She rested a hand on my shoulder, and I allowed her to help me to my feet. “We can do this differently. You finish bathing, and then we will wash your hair. All right?”

  I nodded and wiped away the tears. What choice did I have? I had to trust her.

  Bathed and dressed in a blue woolen dress, I allowed Yara to brush my hair before pulling it back into a plait and securing it with a ribbon.

  Downstairs we found Mrs. Potts on her knees, scrubbing the floors in the foyer. She used the back of her hand to wipe away the sweat trickling down her forehead and pooling inside her spectacles. “Never thought I’d see myself scampering around like a house lass,” she said to herself.

  Yara cleared her throat and alerted Mrs. Potts to our presence. She jumped and almost upended her pail of scrub water.

  “You mustn’t sneak up on people.” Mrs. Potts pushed to her feet and strode toward us, her gait wide and graceless. She stared openly at me. “Well, you look a spot better than you did when you wandered in here yesterday eve.”

  I forced a smile. “Thanks for giving me shelter.”

  “Aye.” She wiped her rather large hands on her apron. “Let’s not keep him waiting. I’ve been informed the line outside is growing.”

  I frowned.

  “You didn’t think you’d be the only one to inquire, did you? People started arriving shortly after the sun came up.” She turned on her heel and sauntered down the corridor.

  I glanced at Yara, who offered me an encouraging smile. I hurried to catch up with Mrs. Potts. She led me to a room at the front of the mansion to the left of the foyer. In the daylight, the eeriness of the home seemed to fade, and it appeared as an old home in desperate need of repairs. Servants and workers bustled everywhere. A mason grouted loose flagstones while two men teetering on ladders removed broken windowpanes. Others tinkered at gas chandeliers and scraped away worn wallpaper. A maid opened the door and shooed a hare out with a broom.

  “It appears the forest critters have made a home of the place in the family’s absence. We’re finding them in every cranny,” Mrs. Potts said with disgust. “They’ve made a fine mess of the furniture and trimmings.”

  I wiped sweaty palms on the sides of my dress and listened to the chatter of the applicants waiting outside. I gazed out the window at a line of women’s lined winter bonnets and men’s felt caps. The need to impress the earl became ever more pressing. “Am I the first of the day?” I asked.

  “Aye. I’d advise you to not squander the opportunity.” Mrs. Potts pressed her lips together and rapped on the heavy mahogany door.

  “Come in,” a stern male voice said.

  Mrs. Potts’s mouth twisted with annoyance, and I wondered why she seemed suddenly agitated. Taking a deep breath, she mumbled a few words I didn’t catch and opened the door. “Lord Winslow, this is the first applicant of the day,” she said tartly. I peeked at her, even more mystified by her behavior.

  Standing at the window with his hands clasped behind his back was a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man. He didn’t turn when we entered but continued to gaze over the grounds. “Mrs. Potts, you may leave us,” he said.

  The door closed with a soft click behind me and I swallowed the nerves constricting my throat. I was alone with him.

  “Mrs. Potts informed me that you showed up after the house retired last night.”

  “My apologies, but—”

  “What do they call you?” He tilted his head as if cocking his ear for my reply.

  “Valentina, my lord.”

  “You sound young. Are you sure you’re capable of minding children?” he asked.

  “Children?”

  He swung around, and alluring dark blue eyes roved over me. He stared with no restraint, and I squirmed under his gaze. His lordship was dapper and handsome, but the grimace on his face warned me to advance with caution. “Yes, children. Am I to believe you were unaware of the position you were inquiring about?”

  “A housemaid is what the advertisement stated.”

  He cranked his neck side to side and cursed. “Take a seat.”

  I seated myself in the chair in front of his desk and folded my hands in my lap.

  He moved to the desk, but before lowering himself into the leather-bound chair, he adjusted his black tailored suit and smoothed back his hair, using a polished statue as a looking glass. Once seated, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Where do you come from?”

  “From the north.” I squirmed mentally at the lie.

  “How did you hear of the position?”

  “I was passing through town when your advertisement found me.” At least the last part was truthful.

  His brow arched. “Found you?”

  “It was blowing around on the ground.”

  He looked away, his hands clenched on the desk, then relaxed as his focus returned to me. “This morning, I awoke and saw the oddest sight from my window. Do you care to know what it was?” An uncanny coldness surrounded him.

  I wondere
d if all he had suffered had caused his lack of emotions. “If you choose to share.”

  “There was a horse with an upturned wagon still attached, eating the hay by the south stables,” he said. “Does the horse belong to you?”

  I swallowed hard. “On the road, a pack of wolves tried to overtake us. I tried to outrun them, and they were gaining on us, until the strangest thing happened. We turned down the lane and they stopped. One started to advance, but then he withdrew and whined as if injured.”

  His brow knitted. “Yes, quite odd, indeed. That would explain why Mrs. Potts told me you arrived badly shaken and scraped.” He sat, unsmiling. “The stable master also informed me he found a cow and a hen or two roaming about the grounds. Am I to assume they also belong to you?”

  I avoided his intense stare, and the clawed foot of his desk seized my gaze. “Yes.”

  He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Did you bring the whole bloody stables with you? Or am I to think you’re a thief?”

  My head swung up, and my hands clenched into fists in the folds of my dress. “I am no thief. I may be many things, but that I am not. It was a matter of life or death. If I were to leave the animals behind, their fate would be death. Influenza took my vater. With no other family around, I couldn’t make payments on the farm, and the bank came to collect our debt. Left without a home, I had to seek work elsewhere.”

  “And the animals? Surely you could have fetched a coin or two for them.”

  “I suppose I may have, but overcome with grief, I wasn’t capable of logic. I was passing through town when I saw your job posting. I do hope you will consider me for the position.”

  “Do tell me, what has Mrs. Potts told you about the position here?”

  “She didn’t. But the ad mentioned housekeeping,” I said with surprising clarity. “And I’ve done my fair share of housekeeping and farming.”

  “There isn’t much to you. Don’t suppose you’d last a day in the work yard,” he mused as if considering the idea. “I didn’t expect to arrive to find the place in such disarray. My time will be occupied in getting this estate in order. The children would need to be kept in line and out of my way.” He leaned forward. “Do you like children, Valentina?”

  “I haven’t been around many,” I said. Again, his brow rose. Suddenly aware of my blunder, I rushed on. “Well, what I mean to say is…I like children.” Or at least I believed I did.

  “And you have no bastards of your own that will turn up in the coming weeks if I were to hire you?”

  My mouth unhinged, then snapped shut. “I assure you there is no cause for concern.”

  “I have two children. Twin daughters. They’re ten and a bit to handle. I’ve had trouble keeping a governess. The last one stayed one week before she packed her bags and returned to France.”

  What was wrong with the children?

  He waited for me to digest the information, and when I sat unwavering, he continued. “I would require you to bathe them, ready them for bed, and accompany us on outings. Most days, they’re with their tutor, Mr. Evans. During such times, you would perform the household duties Mrs. Potts lays out for you. If you’re chosen, you will receive room and board and a small salary. However, the state of the animals and your gaunt appearance make me wonder if you’re capable of caring for anything that draws breath.”

  “Please, I beg you, give me a chance. I’m an honest and hard worker.” I hated stooping to begging, but desperation pushed me to it.

  “Very well. I have a full afternoon of candidates. Until I have spoken to all the applicants, you will take a seat in the parlor and wait. And I will let you know my decision.”

  “I thank you.” I rose.

  He grumbled and waved a hand in dismissal.

  I turned and took my leave. Outside, I wandered down the hall, looking in each room until I located what appeared to be a parlor and took a seat on an embroidered burgundy settee to wait. Glancing around the room, I reflected on what life would have been like as a lady from an aristocratic family. Mutter hadn’t been a lady with a title, but she had come from a prosperous family. She’d told me stories of their servants, and the luxurious belongings she’d had. I wondered if her chambermaid was like Yara. I’d asked her once why Nonno had approved her marriage to Vater. Weary and void of emotions, she’d said, “Because the one truth your vater speaks is that Nonno spoiled me. I was sickly as a child, and as his only child he gave me all my heart desired.”

  “I did it, Mutter. I’m finally rid of him,” I whispered.

  Voices filled the corridor, but time ticked by and no one had come to wait in the parlor with me. “Excuse me,” I said to a tall, slender man walking by.

  “Yes, miss?” He ducked to step through the doorway, and I marveled at how his bald head shone like polished silverware. “Can I help you?” He straightened to his full height.

  “Is this the parlor? Lord Winslow told me—”

  “No, miss. This is the music room. The room you’re looking for is down the corridor. The second room on the right.”

  I bounced to my feet, hurried past him, and mumbled a thank-you over my shoulder.

  At the doorway, I paused and peeked into the room, hoping no one would recognize me, or me them. Spotting no one familiar, I walked into the room and took a seat on a chair in the corner.

  The man I’d spoken to in the hallway returned and called out a name, and as hours passed, the room began to empty. When only a woman and I remained, he called my name. “Lord Winslow wishes to see you. Come with me,” he said.

  Nerves twisted my stomach as I walked to his side. What if this was it? What if he didn’t award me the position? Where would I go?

  “Go on in; he’s expecting you.” The steward opened the door and gestured me in.

  Cautiously I entered the room and stood in front of his desk.

  He sat writing on a piece of parchment. He never looked up. “I’ve made my decision.”

  Hurried footsteps and the giggles of children echoed in the corridor, and he stiffened. There came a soft rap on the door. “Come in.” His mouth set in a firm line.

  “Papa.” A blonde girl raced across the room, excitement dancing in her bright blue eyes.

  Lord Winslow put his hand up to stop her. “Zuna, you mustn’t run.”

  She halted and stood several feet away from his desk. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she curtsied and said, “Yes, Papa.”

  “This is Lady Zuna and Lady Farrah.” He nodded at the somber, auburn-haired child standing beside her sister. “My daughters.” He spoke the word as though it pained him. “Children, I’d like you to meet Miss…” He regarded me. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your full name.”

  “Wolf,” I said.

  “Miss Wolf will be your new caregiver.”

  Farrah jutted her nose upward. “If you must find someone to care for us, maybe you should take a wife.” She spoke with more opinion than was appropriate for a child.

  Lord Winslow rose, strode around the desk, and perched on its edge. He clasped his wrist with a hand and rested it on his thigh. “Do not test me today, Farrah. I’ve no time for your fussing.”

  Zuna looked at her sister. “Remember, Mrs. Potts said no puss face.”

  Farrah let out a huff. “Well, there’s no reason for her to be sleeping in our room. You may consider us children, but we don’t require a nursemaid.” The child conducted herself as though she was years beyond her age.

  I wriggled in my chair.

  “She will have her own room across the hall.” Lord Winslow used his index finger and thumb to rub the bridge of his nose.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Wolf, our room’s not as nice as we’re used to either. But Papa’s working hard to have the rooms repaired.” Zuna came to stand beside me, her small hand resting on my arm. “We’ll all feel at home very soon.”

  “Let’s hope.” I smiled at her.

  Lord Winslow cleared his throat, and the girls’ gaze turned to him. “You are dis
missed. Return to your studies.”

  After they’d left, he said, “I expect you to join us for dinner this evening.”

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  His eyes gleamed dark and dangerous. “Are there any other persons in this room?”

  I wondered about his daughter’s disdain for him, and Mrs. Potts’s behavior. After all, he was an absolute delight, I thought sardonically. Should I be suspicious of him? Maybe I’d been wrong in thinking I’d find refuge in his household.

  “I will do as you request, my lord.”

  “Good. Now I’ve work to attend to. Find Mrs. Potts. She’ll inform you of your duties.”

  I curtsied. “Thank you.”

  I turned to leave but halted when he called out, “Consider yourself on trial.”

  I swung back around. “Trial?”

  “I can’t trust just anyone to watch my children, now can I?”

  But you don’t even like them, I wanted to say. His presence was like a cold breeze in the dead of winter, yet there was something alluring about his lordship. A woman would be blind not to notice. My pulse raced, not because of his dark charm, but the emotionless way he regarded me.

  After he dismissed me, I walked down the hall to find Mrs. Potts. My thoughts dwelt on Lord Winslow. What was it about his daughters that triggered such contempt in him? Perhaps the pain of losing his wife and child still haunted him. I understood such emptiness.

  “The rest of the afternoon, you’re to help in the stable yard,” Mrs. Potts said when I found her in the kitchen. She made notes in a ledger as she strolled about the room. “No, no, you daft girl.” She stopped in front of a young scullery maid. “If you expect the quiche to have any flavor at all, you must add more herbs and onion.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Potts.” She reached for some dried herbs in a woven grass basket resting on the table.

  “You.” Mrs. Potts chased after a male servant who strode toward the larder with a sack of flour slung over his shoulder. The threads that sealed the burlap sack together had come undone, and a slow, steady white path flowed behind him.