by K C Norrie
~*~*~*~*~
November 20,
Odd things occur. Keys disappear and locked doors somehow open.
I've been just re-locking them. I don't think anyone else has noticed.
~*~*~*~*~
December 2,
The storms keep raging. We may have a bit of cabin fever already. Perhaps that was why Madame Anders was a bit snippy today about not being able to see out the kitchen window again. I don't know what she expects me to do about it.
~*~*~*~*~
December 5,
I found the cellar door wide open again. I closed and re-locked it. I noticed that new girl watching me. I reported her to Madame Anders. "Please keep a closer eye on that new girl," I asked of her. I even used my most polite voice. You would have thought I'd asked for the moon.
~*~*~*~*~
December 10,
I found the cellar door wide open three times today, and so I closed and re-locked it three times today as well. Rafe caught up with me this afternoon and said his key to the Chateau was not hanging in its usual place this morning. He has searched everywhere and cannot find where it's got to. I told him I would get him another, but later when I opened the closet where the spares are kept, they were all gone. I will have to speak to Madame Anders. I wonder if it was that new girl, Henrietta.
~*~*~*~*~
December 15,
Gwendolyn has been especially mischievous this season. She plays odd games. But she has been that way ever since the accident, all those years ago. One day, she spent the entire day following Monsieur Traver. Today she is following me. I wonder who will be next. I am surprised the two of them are even here. I thought for sure they would stay in Paris, at least for the winter. That is where Lucas is with his pretty new wife Louise. A nice Saint Ange girl. Monsieur Traver is just a shell of a man without Lucas around to encourage and cheer him.
~*~*~*~*~
December 17,
Madame Anders asked me to keep a closer eye on the cellar door.
"The staff are starting to think we have ghosts," she said, and she tried to laugh it off.
I too have heard the rumors. The staff are saying those two girls who disappeared last year have come back to haunt us. I know this to be untrue. One of those two girls is very alive in Paris and the other is where she cannot cause trouble.
~*~*~*~*~
December 20,
Today when Rafe and Sauli came for breakfast, I kept Sauli with me and set him up in the big room to watch the cellar door. I kept him there watching the door all day. "Has the door tried to open of its own accord?" I asked him later.
"No sir," he answered politely.
I made a list of whom he had seen pass by that afternoon, but the list was too long for me to come to any conclusion. Since I can't have him sit by the door all winter, I sent Sauli back with Rafe when he came in for dinner.
~*~*~*~*~
December 22,
I sleep with the cellar key under my pillow. I cannot have this key come up missing.
~*~*~*~*~
December 25,
Christmas day at Chateau de Riene is not always the happiest of occasions. Most of the staff have family in the village whom they cannot visit because of the weather. The hardest hit are the young staff who don't live in. They are forced to stay here because of the snow. Not a Christmas goes by without someone ending up in tears missing their family.
We try to make it as festive as possible.
On Christmas Eve Monsieur Traver read the verses of Luke from the bible and Madame Anders served her special fruited punch.
Today we dined in the Grand Dining room polished up and decorated with candles and glass bulbs. A few men and I braved the cold long enough to cut branches from the holly and pine that grow in front of the Chateau.
Mademoiselle Gwendolyn and Monsieur Traver joined us for dinner. He led the prayer and carved up and served the two fresh turkeys we had raised from chicks last spring and kept in the stable with the horses. The dinner was followed up with a brandied cake. I must compliment Madame Anders. The meal was perfection. After dinner, Mademoiselle helped Monsieur Traver hand out little hand-wrapped gift boxes filled with hard candies and mints. Then I played the piano, and we sang carols and wished each other well before retiring for the evening.
It was Madame White who broke out in tears this year saying her first grandchild was surely born by now, and she wouldn't get to see him or her for months.
~*~*~*~*~
January 2,
In addition to the snow, the weather has now turned so cold and windy, that Rafe and Sauli must stay at the carriage house. We signal back and forth with a lantern so that I know everything is okay with them and they know we are fine up here.
~*~*~*~*~
January 10,
The sky is dark though it is only noon. I fear another storm is about to attack us.
~*~*~*~*~
January 10, (Later)
I was right. At least another foot of snow has piled up these last several hours. We are keeping ourselves in the common rooms with the fires going. We are well prepared. The big storeroom in back of the kitchen has a woodpile stacked to the ceiling.
~*~*~*~*~
January 11,
I found that new girl Henrietta killed in the dungeon last night. She must have been attacked by one of the other two who tore out most of her neck. At first, I amazed myself for keeping a calm sensible head. I dragged her body into her own cell and locked her in. I fetched buckets of soapy water and cleaned the blood off the dungeon floor. By the time I brought down the meal I had served faithfully for nearly twenty years, I was crying and could not stop. That poor girl. How sad for a young woman to end up this way. And where there had been only one, for years and years, we now had the burden of caring for two more.
~*~*~*~*~
I should have told Madame Anders about Henrietta right away, but I didn't. Instead I approached Monsieur Traver who was writing at his desk. Mademoiselle Gwendolyn sat quietly in a nearby chair with an embroidery hoop in her lap; a picture of normalcy.
"Could I speak to you for a moment sir," I asked Monsieur. He looked up at my expression and rose from his chair. Something must have been written on my face. We went to the hall. Thankfully, Gwendolyn did not follow.
"I found a girl dead," I whispered so Gwendolyn would not hear. "She was killed in the dungeons. I don't know what she was doing down there. Her neck was ripped open." I hesitated a moment to let it sink in. Then I whispered on. "Someone keeps unlocking and opening the cellar door. I suspected the dead girl, Henrietta.
Monsieur Traver was greatly shaken.
"What should I do?" I asked him. "The others will notice her absence. What will I tell them?
It was quite late. The staff were in their quarters keeping warm by their fires and no one was about. Monsieur Traver wanted to see. By the time we went down the stairs to the dungeon cells Henrietta had come alive again. She was the most grotesque yet, with that open gaping neck. Monsieur Traver looked alarmed.
I asked again. "What shall we do?"
Monsieur Traver squared his shoulders "We must tell the truth Bates. The time has come. Perhaps they will understand," he answered. He surveyed the three of them and nodded his head, determination in his expression.
I don't know what Monsieur planned to say, but I made plans in my head to let Madame Anders know first. She always seems to have a solution. I never got the chance. When we arrived at the top of the cellar stairs, we found the door closed and locked, with us on the wrong side of it.
I had foolishly left my key in the door on the other side. We didn't want anyone to hear us shouting to let us out, so we waited in silence and hoped whoever locked us in would come back. I was thankful for the light of my lantern, and that we were far enough away to no longer hear those awful sounds that our inhabitants made.
When the door finally opened, it was Gwendolyn who opened it. She held a large ring filled with many many keys. I tried to grab t
hem from her as she danced by me, but she skittered off and away. It was by now very late. Everyone was asleep. Surprisingly, no one reported Henrietta missing. I left Monsieur Traver to deal with his sister and took myself to bed.
~*~*~*~*~
January 12,
I was shaken awake this morning by one of my men. Ferguson. He informed me that one of the girls was missing this morning.
"Her name is Henrietta," said Ferguson. "Her bed has not been slept in. The women are upset. We are arranging a search if you would like to help."
"Of course," I answered. "But of course, I will help."
I climbed to my feet filled with dread. Only noticed this morning. Had anyone noticed me climbing into bed so late?
I dressed and went to find Madame Anders. I was told she had gone up to the family quarters to notify Monsieur Traver. I nodded and turned in that direction. A scream rang out. Madame Anders! We rushed toward her cry. I tried to run, but I am no longer a young man, so I was not the first to arrive as I should have been. When I pushed my way through the others to see what they already saw, I found Madame Anders standing over Monsieur Traver. He had been shot in the chest and he was dead.
Mademoiselle Gwendolyn lay across his chest crying and gulping on sobs. She held a gun in one hand and the ring of keys in the other. They were both stained red with blood; a picture of horror. My heart broke to pieces.
I bent down and gently removed the gun from Gwendolyn's hand, and then the keys. I placed both in my pocket. Then with the help of Ferguson we lifted her away and handed her to Madame Anders. I tried to lift Monsieur Traver, but he was too heavy.
I knew what must be done. I had a plan. I needed to take him down to the dungeon. I needed to do this for Monsieur Traver whom I loved like a son. It's all I could think at the time. I could not dwell on the outrage or the sorrow of what had happened. I could do that later. Right now, I had a room filled with staff looking to me to do something—to fix things. Would they listen to me? I didn't know.
"We need to get him down to the cellar," I said firmly. "Who will help me?"
"But why do we need to take him down there?" asked someone. "Why not just leave him here? We could lay him on the bed in his bed chamber."
"Are you forgetting we are trapped inside the Chateau?" I reminded my staff. "He will begin to decompose, and the stench will become unbearable. Neither can we take him outdoors for animals to eat. Even if we could get him to the stable at the carriage house, which we cannot, dead things make horses too nervous." I wasn't sure if this was true or not, but it sounded true enough. Horses were sensitive creatures, and many things made them nervous. There was a mausoleum on the grounds, but it lay even further out than the carriage house.
"The cellar is much cooler and cut off from the rest of the residence. He will be safe there until we can notify the coroner and the priest in Saint Ange. They can bring us up a proper casket when the weather clears."
"But what about the rats?" someone else asked.
"Rats don't eat dead things!" I answered as forcefully as I could. This was probably not true. I think rats will eat anything. But what nobody knew—what nobody knows is that we have no rats at Chateau de Riene. Not anymore. They left shortly after Lucas was born. They also did not know that Monsieur Traver would probably not remain dead for long and we were running out of time.
"Who will help me?" I asked quickly before emotional thoughts could intrude. Ferguson volunteered.
"I will."
I nodded.
"Anyone else?" I asked. I knew no one else would speak up. They were too frightened. I asked just the same. I would have rather done this myself, but I hadn't the strength in me anymore. Monsieur was a big man. I even worried how the two of us would get him down, but then I got an idea. Ferguson helped me set Monsieur into a chair with wheels. The gore was sticky, reminding me for the need to hurry, so we started right off, wheeling him out the door into the hall. We quickly made our way down the first flight of stairs. I had set the rest of the men to cleaning the room. For a little while, the missing Henrietta was forgotten. I had no idea what Madame Anders was going to do with Gwendolyn. The little mademoiselle. I still thought of her as a little girl. I was greatly fond of her. I had no children or family of my own. They were my family. These two were like my children.
We made it down the second and third flight of stairs. As we headed toward the cellar door, I worried about what Ferguson would do once he saw what was in the dungeons, but I then got another idea.
I took out the key ring and unlocked the door. "You must be very careful here Ferguson," I said as I opened the heavy door. "The steps are narrow, and you don't want to slip and fall," I cautioned.
There were two lanterns I kept lit at the foot of the stairs. They hanged on hooks high above my head. I need a special hooked tool to get them down. The tool was hidden where it could not be seen. Beyond the light of the two lanterns was blackness. When we reached the bottom of the steps, I pushed past the hanging lanterns on into the blackness where the dungeon chambers waited.
"Don't worry about the dark, Ferguson. I know my way around. Just follow me."
We walked slowly, wheeling the chair through the cavernous dark. I felt along the wall for the first chamber. If you knew what to listen for, you could faintly hear the gutterings of the dead things at the far end of the dungeon, but I had no intention of going that far down, and I hoped Ferguson heard nothing. I fumbled in the dark until I found the lock. I pulled the key ring from my pocket and I pushed open the cell door.
"Ferguson, I do think I need more light after all. You will need to bring a lantern down from upstairs," I said cunningly.
He hesitated. "Are you sure Bates? I don't wish to leave you down here alone. I hear rats."
"I am sure! Go quickly now Ferguson" I ordered him. When he left, I began pushing the chair into the cell when I felt something sharp strike the back of my forearm, so I pushed Monsieur Traver, chair and all, with great force into the cell. The noise echoed throughout the dungeon. I struggled to close the door and find the lock in the pitch dark. Monsieur Traver had come alive just a hair too soon.
"What is that all that noise?" Ferguson raised his voice from near the steps. I could see him turn and step back toward me, but he was too late. I found the lock, turned the key and quickly sped past him up the dungeon stairs. "I think I ran over a rat's tail with the chair," I lied to him. "That was why I needed the light, but it must have run off. Let's go back up and see how the others are faring, shall we?"
I locked the cellar door behind me.
I could not stop to rest but I wanted to. I should have checked my wound, but I couldn't think about that now. I needed to talk to Madame Anders.
First, we checked the status of Monsieur Traver's quarters. Ferguson and I both scrubbed the rug again. It still wasn't to my standards. The rug would have to be thrown out.
Next, we found Madame Anders in the kitchen preparing the noon meal for the staff. A private conversation with her was not possible. Most of the staff were mulling about nearby with nothing to do but listen in on other's conversations. I could not blame them. Ferguson would not leave my side and little Gwendolyn would not leave Madame Anders. She sat on a stool sipping red tea. She had been cleaned up, and it was hard to imagine anything was amiss by just looking at her. She was quiet and locked into herself staring at nothing. She no longer noticed the rest of the world, but I had seen her this way many times before.
I called the staff together. I don't know how I found the words.
"Today is a sad and tragic day at Chateau de Riene. As all have heard our Monsieur Traver is dead. His death was accidental and most unexpected. We are all in shock. Monsieur Traver was like a son to me and will be greatly missed by many.
It is unfortunate that the weather holds us captive. We cannot call the priest; we cannot ready his body for burial. We cannot contact Monsieur Lucas, or his uncles, Monsieur's other loved ones. We cannot bury him, pay our respects or move on fr
om this tragedy until the weather allows us.
"Meanwhile, the storm outside rages on.
"When the weather breaks and the thaw arrives, we will have all these things. The priest will come, Monsieur Lucas and Madame Louise will return. And when we at last have the funeral, I imagine the whole village of Saint Ange will come to pay their respects.
"Until then we must wait. I pray it will not be long. Monsieur Traver has sadly been placed in the cellar. It is cooler down there and his body will be more preserved. I will personally check on him several times a day. Let's imagine that he is not in the cellar, but instead rejoined with his true love Madame Merena."
I choked up at this. What a liar I was. What had I become?
"Let's pray."
We bowed our heads and said a prayer for Monsieur Traver.
Most of the staff had tears in their eyes. No one questioned me and I was surprised at that. I was just waiting for someone to mention the Montrell curse, someone to ask what happened to Henrietta, but thankfully no one did. I excused myself to clean up. Thankfully Ferguson did not try to follow me.
I was able to relax a bit once in the sanctity of my own quarters. It is really not much more than a small bed chamber with a desk, a small sitting area with a little fireplace and a washing up room. I lay wood in the little fireplace so it would be ready to light on my return. I would have liked to bathe, but this would have me bringing in buckets of heated water, and I didn't have time. I needed to get back... I slipped off my coat and shirt to look at the wound. It was little more than a scratch; it barely broke the skin. I was somewhat relieved. I washed it thoroughly with soap and water. Then I covered it with a small cloth bandage. I shaved and changed my clothes, then went to join the staff at the dining table.
What a dismal meal it was. The winter storm kept us in shadows and the fire in the fireplace did little to warm the room. The little Mademoiselle Gwendolyn sat with us staring at nothing, clutching an old doll. No one talked. I thought the meal tasted off. I lost my appetite, and it worried me, but I noticed no else one ate much either.
