The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

“No,” I said. “I-I mean…yes. Well, I never looked.”

  “But you just said you watched.”

  “I did, but when he rose, I looked away.”

  “And missed the best part?” Her mouth gaped. “They’re coming for you.”

  Panic seized my chest. “Who?”

  “The Sisters!” she said a little too loudly, and looked through the looking glass at the door as though expecting Mrs. Potts to come charging in and deliver the news.

  I gawked at her in confusion.

  She balled a hand on her ample hip. “You’ve escaped the convent, I’m certain of it.”

  Oh. I breathed a sigh of relief and expelled a nervous laugh. “I’m not from the church.”

  “Then why didn’t you look?” Her brow puckered, then her eyes widened. “You liked this boy and were too embarrassed to look.”

  I lowered my eyes from her intrusive stare. That…and I wanted to respect him like I hoped one day he would me.

  “That’s it, isn’t it,” she said with a giggle.

  “Yes.”

  The shoes pinched my feet, and the fabric of the gown irritated my skin as I descended the spiral staircase. The merry chatter of children and the clanking of dishes drew me to a room near the front of the home, its light spilling into the hallway. From the doorway, I looked at the family seated at a table large enough to seat ten to twelve people. Servants dressed in black and white bustled around the table, adding dishes. A man Mrs. Potts had informed me was the butler stood at Lord Winslow’s shoulder.

  Knots formed in my gut at the thought of enduring his lordship’s company, but the grumbling in my stomach pulled me into the room. Lord Winslow glanced in my direction. His tight expression relaxed and his mouth parted as he looked me over. My breath caught. The suspicion that I’d donned another of his wife’s garments appeared to be true. The children were too young to remember their mutter, but had the gown stirred troubling memories for their vater?

  He quickly recovered and assumed his usual distant demeanor. “Miss Wolf, it is kind of you to finally join us. I dislike being kept waiting. Please ensure you stay on schedule.”

  “Yes, my lord.” I curtsied and crossed to the chair the butler pulled out. Mentally, I chastised Yara and myself for getting caught up in girly chatter. How had we lost track of time? Then I recalled never being given a time for when I was to join the family. Had Mrs. Potts and Yara set me up for failure from the beginning? Did they conspire with Lord Winslow?

  “I hope you find your chamber suitable.” Lord Winslow’s voice pulled me from my fretting.

  “Yes, it’s lovely.” I folded my hands in my lap and rolled back my shoulders, mirroring his stiff posture. I settled in for a meal that promised to be laborious.

  Seated between her vater and me, Zuna looked charming and grown up in a mauve taffeta gown. She practically bounced in her seat as she eyed the food. “May we please eat, Papa?” She pulled her eyes from the dishes to address him. She appeared to be a healthy child, and I doubted she’d missed a meal in her ten years.

  “Yes, child, eat,” he said.

  I winced at his interaction with the girl, but she paid him no mind. Permission granted, his daughters filled their plates as I sat, twisting my hands in my lap. My taste buds danced with yearning as the delectable scents made my mouth water.

  “Did the afternoon in the yards not grant you an appetite?” Lord Winslow studied me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then do not dally—eat.” He nodded at the food.

  Without further hesitation, I forked a piece of braised pheasant and placed it on my plate before moving on to the next dish.

  “You look like a real lady,” Zuna said between mouthfuls.

  I smiled at the endearing child. “Thank you, Lady Zuna.”

  “Doesn’t she, Papa?” She boldly turned her attention to her vater. Silence followed her question. “Papa.” Zuna grabbed his hand, resting on the table.

  He jumped and quickly withdrew his hand as though her touch had scalded him. “Scrubbing away the layers of filth and a proper meal will put color in anyone’s cheeks.”

  It would take an amiable woman with a lot of patience to put up with his lordship. I couldn’t imagine life married to him would be anything but an absolute bore. I inserted my fork into the pheasant on my plate and placed the meat in my mouth, grateful to use a full mouth as an excuse not to engage with him further.

  Overhead, a gas chandelier flickered and drew my attention, the beauty of the crystals glimmering off the wall and ceiling quickly mesmerizing me. It reminded me of the miniature crystal horse the Romany woman had given to Vater to ensure my silence. And it had, but it didn’t stop Mutter from finding out about Vater’s treacherous ways. I’d taken the trinket and crushed it with a rock until only a powdery substance remained.

  Tears of guilt and shame had racked my small frame as I thought of the pain on Mutter’s face when she had come upon him with a dairymaid in town. We’d gone to purchase flour and eggs to make gnocchi, her favorite dish as a child. Instilling a bit of her culture in Orell and me had been vital to her. She’d often said, “You must always know where you come from.” When we had returned home that day, I raced inside to my room and removed the toy concealed inside a lace handkerchief of Mutter’s before fleeing to the forest to destroy Vater’s and my secret.

  “What is it about the chandelier that brings you such pain?” Lord Winslow asked.

  “It’s nothing, my lord.” I forged a soft smile. “It’s exquisite. We never had the luxury of pretty things.”

  “Tell me, Miss Wolf,” he said. “If I’m to believe you’re a poor farm girl, how do you come to speak like a girl from an aristocratic family?”

  “My mutter was every bit the lady without a title. Her vater raised her with the luxuries your daughters have, and she too had a caregiver, and the best education Nonno’s money could buy.”

  “Papa says our mum came from France,” Farrah said. “She was lovely, people say.”

  “I’m sure she was. And it appears her daughters take after her,” I replied, trying to find common ground with the girl.

  “You’re wrong.” Her gaze challenged me. “I take after our mum, but Zuna doesn’t.” Lord Winslow cleared his throat, and the child ceased her chatter. She moved her food around on her plate, her expression blank.

  “The girls wish to visit the dressmaker to purchase some new gowns,” he said. “If you’re to accompany my children to social events and into town, I expect you to look presentable. You’re to purchase a small wardrobe for yourself. My steward will inform you of your allotted allowance.”

  I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had a new dress.

  “I don’t wish to be reminded of what I’ve lost,” he said.

  I gulped. “Pardon me?”

  “You need clothing of your own. My wife’s clothing will hardly do.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t wish to wear the clothing, but—”

  “There is no reason to explain, I’m aware of the circumstances.” He raised a hand to silence me.

  I pressed my lips together and lowered my head.

  He raised a wine glass and took a large swig before he said, “A trip to the village should take care of everything.”

  A few days later, and the morning I accompanied Yara and the children to town, the clouds had settled on the earth and crept across the grounds, shrouding the estate in a veil of white. As I stepped outside on the landing, the light mist cascading from the heavens danced on the tendrils of hair escaping the bonnet Yara had found for me in an old trunk in the attic. At the bottom of the stairs, a raven landed on the stone lion statue guarding the front entry and cocked its head before releasing a shrill caw.

  Lord Winslow stepped from the hazy shadows at the foot of the steps, and the bird took flight. The pattering in my heart sped up as he stood gazing at me with an unreadable expression, only breaking his study when a black enclosed carriage circled the front dr
ive and came to a stop at the carriage stone. The driver perched atop the private buggy wore a black silk top hat and a uniform of navy velvet trimmed with gold, matching the footman’s attire.

  “Let us go,” Yara said as the footman jumped down and hurried to open the door. The girls bounded down the steps and greeted their vater before walking to the carriage.

  He and Yara exchanged a few words I didn’t catch before she quickened her step to catch up to the children. His lordship swung back to look at me. “Valentina.” His tone was businesslike and cool.

  “My lord.” I inclined my head.

  “I trust that you will manage the children with Yara’s help. I would accompany you, but I have other affairs to attend to.”

  “As expected, my lord. No need to worry, we will manage,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  “Let us hope.” His intense stare revealed no signs of displeasure or satisfaction.

  My eyes fastened to the lapel of his charcoal frock coat. Did a heart pump inside him, or was there only a dark cavern? I’d come to understand that, like Farrah, he thirsted for a challenge, and I was no stranger to it.

  “I trust my steward gave you the funds to take care of the expenses,” he said.

  I held up my wrist, where Yara’s drab drawstring purse dangled.

  A muscle twitched near his left eye, though he made no remark. I sensed he opposed the condition of the purse. He swept his hand toward the open carriage. “Do not let me delay your journey.”

  He walked me to the buggy and offered a hand to help me embark. I settled on the seat next to Zuna, who looked up at me with adoring eyes. Since my arrival at the estate, when the child wasn’t busy with her studies, she’d turn up at every corner and accompany me as I carried out my chores. Her happy chatter had become endearing, but Lady Farrah appeared to resent the attention the child doted on me.

  “You girls are to remember that Miss Wolf is in charge. You will obey and listen to her as you would me. Understood?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Zuna said with a vigorous bob of her head.

  Farrah glared at her but held her tongue in her vater’s presence. She fixed a smile on him. “We will be on our best behavior.”

  “Good.” He stepped back and signaled for the footman to close the door.

  The fog had lifted by the time our carriage halted outside the dressmaker’s shop. All morning my nerves had hummed with building anxiety at the chance of someone recognizing me and reporting back to Orell or Helias. Yara and Farrah had watched with curiosity as I repeatedly leaned forward and pulled back the curtain to look outside before settling back in my seat.

  When we entered the shop, I breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty except for a clerk stationed behind the counter. He glanced up and offered us a greeting before going back to tallying his ledgers.

  A middle-aged woman with skin that the sun had seldom touched entered the shop from a back room. Though her arms overflowed with bolts of various fabrics, she walked confidently toward us. “Good day,” she said. “What can I help you with?” She placed the bolts of fabric on the counter.

  “We require some new dresses for the children,” I said.

  “And for Miss Wolf.” Yara looked the woman straight in the eye. Her years in the slums had given her spunk and a confidence I envied.

  “Certainly. I am Fräulein Schmidt. And who may you lovely ladies be?” She clasped her hands and fixed a radiant smile on the children.

  “We hail from the house of Lord Winslow.” Farrah arched back her small shoulders. Yara grabbed the child’s arm to silence her, but she pulled herself free.

  “Lord Winslow? I wasn’t aware he had returned.” The woman’s brow wrinkled as she glanced from Yara to me.

  “Well, we—” I said.

  “We just arrived,” Yara interjected. I glanced at her as the fib rolled effortlessly from her tongue. It had been days since I’d arrived at the chateau, and weeks since I’d seen a convoy of carriages turning down the lane to the estate. Had she lost track of time?

  “And where are you staying?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, fräulein.” Farrah narrowed her eyes at the woman as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet and removed it.

  “Why, I…” Taken aback by the child’s frankness, Fräulein Schmidt pressed her hand against the hollow of her ivory throat. “My apologies.”

  “No, it is we who ask your forgiveness,” I said before addressing Farrah. “Please mind your manners.” I cringed when she mumbled an unapologetic apology, and I bestowed on the woman a winning smile. “What Lady Farrah means to say is that his lordship was informed of the quality of work you offer your clients and ordered that your shop be our first stop of the day.”

  Though my intention to charm the dressmaker had been flawlessly executed, I sensed from her dead silence that she wasn’t easily wooed. Yara gave me a weighted stare, and I shrugged. I had to try.

  When Fräulein Schmidt spoke, it was as if nothing had happened. “I’d be happy to assist you in any way I can.” She stepped aside and gestured at the seemingly endless stands of fabric.

  I moved to stroke a bolt of yellow silk on a table next to me. She followed behind me. “This one arrived yesterday. One of our finest families was in here just yesterday and purchased this fabric for a gown for their daughter. With Lady Farrah’s hair color, it would look stunning.”

  I roamed through the aisles and stopped at some tightly woven brown wool. “I think this would do.”

  “Are you daft?” Farrah said from behind me. “We aren’t servants, and we aren’t about to blend in with them. I knew he was wrong in hiring you. Why, you’re about as dull as the last governess.”

  “Farrah.” Zuna pulled on her sister’s sleeve.

  “Lady Farrah,” Yara said, “please allow Miss Wolf to speak.”

  “I will not.” She stomped her foot. “She doesn’t have a lick of sense. What drab fabric will you pick next?”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be too awful,” Zuna said, trying to defuse the situation.

  Farrah turned her sass on her sister. “I won’t be caught wearing either.” She marched to a bolt of light green muslin. “This is the color that looks best on me. It brings out my eyes. I will have a gown made of this.” She removed her glove and stroked the material between two fingers.

  The dressmaker’s mouth had unhinged, and she looked from me to the child. I gave her a nod, and she went to assist the impossible girl.

  “You mustn’t let the child speak for you in such a manner,” Yara said in my ear.

  “What am I to do? She has a mind of her own.”

  “You must remind her you’re the governess, and she’s the child.” Annoyance at the child flickered in her eyes.

  “Very well,” I said before stepping in to rein in Farrah’s control of the shop.

  The next hour passed without further episodes from the child, and after fittings for new frocks, petticoats, and other undergarments were taken, we left the shop.

  “On to the hatter’s.” Zuna skipped up beside me and slipped her hand in mine. We strolled the boardwalk and paused in front of the window displays of bonnets varying from simple to extravagant, embellished with feathers, ribbons, and silk flowers.

  A familiar voice pulled my attention to a peddler’s cart down the way. Flicker! My heart leaped with happiness. “Yara, can you take Lady Farrah and Lady Zuna inside? I’ve forgotten something at the dressmaker’s shop. I’ll be quick.”

  Yara tilted her head and studied me, but said, “Come, let us go inside.” She placed her hands on the girls’ shoulders and turned to open the door of the hatter’s shop.

  I hurried down the boardwalk. Footsteps echoed behind me, and before I knew what was happening, a hand covered my mouth while another circled my waist and pulled me into the shadows between the cathedral and the post office. My screams for Flicker were muffled by the gloved hand, and I struggled to get free. I dug my heels into the ground, trying to find leverage agains
t my attacker.

  “Valentina! It’s me, Nisse.”

  Nisse?

  “Promise me you will stay calm, and I’ll let you go.” His breath was warm against my ear. I bobbed my head. He released his hold and guided me deeper into the alley and out of view of passersby.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I beat my fist on his chest. “You frightened me. I thought you were Orell or one of his friends.” I adjusted Lady Winslow’s bonnet, which now sat lopsided on my head.

  “You’re safe.” His hands held my shoulders as he inspected me as he had the day I fell out of the tree while spying on him and Orell. “The demon didn’t take you.” He planted a kiss on my forehead and crushed me to his chest. His heart thundered against my ear.

  “No, I left of my own free will,” I said into his chest. I breathed in the familiar scent of leather and pine.

  He held me at arm’s length. “Orell’s friends came into town some weeks back. They were naked and wrapped in blankets and furs, claiming the beast had made off with you and your brother. They said it invaded your home and ravaged the place, leaving them stripped of clothing. After tying them to the cottage rafters, it left them to the mercy of winter. Helias said the creature took the livestock.”

  Beast? If such a creature existed, I doubted it would leave them without clothes and alive. “Orell? He wasn’t with them?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “In their drunken state, perhaps hallucinations took over their minds,” I said.

  Nisse shook his head. “No, it scared them. You could see it in their eyes.”

  The thought of Helias and the others shivering naked and humiliated before the villagers brought a smile to my lips, and I didn’t feel a lick sorry for it. They deserved that and much more.

  “Here I am in the flesh.” I thrust my hands at the heavens. “No beast carried me off. I left of my own accord. But you mustn’t tell Orell, because I’m not going back. I assure you my brother is fine, and it is a story he and his friends concocted to explain my disappearance.”

  “It seems like something the coward would do,” he said. “But why, after all this time, did you leave?”