We had a duty, though. Tristan knew him better than any of the other Knights, having served on the same crew with him. He knew how Thomas worked and thought. Our friends had been killed. A portion of the treasure of the Knights Templar that Tristan had been trusted with had been stolen. Things like that couldn’t go on and be forgotten. We had to do something to make it all right. Not anyone else.
“I dream that the wind grows and takes ye away from me,” Tristan whispered, gripping my hands in his.
“Never. Never!” Pandora’s Box was still in the bottom of the Pit, where it would remain until I found it again in the future—a future that was now my past. Only heaven knew if someone had pulled it out of there after I vanished.
I hoped not.
“I’ll never go, not willingly.” Leaning forward, I kissed him, squeezing his fingers.
“I know ye wouldn’t.” Standing up, he pulled me into a hug, brushing a hand over my unbound hair. “But I can’t help the fear that one day ye’ll be gone, and there will be nothing I can do about it. Ye’ll be okay while I’m away?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said against his shoulder. “And I’ll go find a maid.” He laughed at my sour tone, releasing me and moving toward the door.
“Ask the lady of the house here. She might have some good suggestions. If ye want, I’ll make some enquiries on my end, too.”
“That would be nice. How long will you be gone?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. Ye’ll be wanting to explore some?” When I nodded, he continued. “Don’t stay out after dark, aye?”
“I won’t. I love you.”
“And I love ye.” Kissing me briefly, he straightened his coat once more and turned for the door, off to do the work I’d always known he would have.
The city was as amazing and beautiful as I’d imagined. Cobblestone streets led the way past tall buildings with designs that seemed to have been forgotten by my own generation, trees lined the avenues, and all of it left me gaping. Paris even had a sewer system, which I hadn’t been expecting. It was a relief, not having to watch where I stepped, for the most part. Walking through the space was like going back in time all over again.
Upon leaving the inn, I still wasn’t quite ready to hire a maid. I wanted to see the city on my own and didn’t know if she would immediately start following me around. While Tristan had been right about my major anxiety being over something else, I was still uncomfortable with the thought of ringing a bell and having a woman appear to serve me.
Slowly, I made my way through town, stopping at merchant carts and watching the people. It felt like a maze of sorts, with some of the structures set into the old walls that had been erected around the city. I arrived at places with no idea of how I’d gotten there, despite having just passed through the area. At one point, I suddenly realized I was on a bridge; one side of the path was all houses, built up tall and skinny, but when I turned around there was a perfect view of the river. Eventually, I found myself standing before one of the sights I’d most wished to see—Notre Dame.
It was more than I expected, probably due to the pictures I’d seen of the place. In my mind, it was just the iconic front facade and towers, but the whole edifice stretched out behind that, apparently bustling with people doing their religious work. The cathedral was huge, reaching into the sky, her painted glass windows shining in the sunlight. Bells rang in the tower and I closed my eyes, taking in the moment.
“Señorita?”
Gasping at the familiar voice, my eyes flew open and I turned, bursting into the widest grin I’d worn in ages. The man was wearing the plain, brown robes I’d met him in, his dark hair still fashioned in a bowl cut. He looked every bit the pious priest, and yet I knew him to be one of the most fun loving, romantic men on Earth.
“Father Torres!” We stepped together, laughing, and threw our arms around each other. “How are you? I didn’t know you were in Paris!”
“Sí, sí,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “I came on the ship from the island.”
“Of course. We went on one and you were on the other. I thought they would have dropped you off in Spain, though.”
“No. I had to speak with the men—you know which ones—about keeping the secret.” His voice lowered as he stepped away, peering around cautiously. “What happened on Oak Isle—”
“Was horrible,” I interrupted him. “Thank you for your help. I know you were worried about working with an organization you didn’t feel you could support.”
“The Lord commands evil men be stopped, señorita. I did what I felt was right.” Pausing, he studied me over, smiling at my dress. “You look very lovely. I suppose I should call you señora, no? How is your husband?”
“Wonderful,” I replied warmly. “He’ll be sad that he missed you. He’s working now, unfortunately.”
“At the Temple?” He watched me expectantly, clearly thinking I had some idea of what was going on.
“I’m sorry, Temple?” I asked, confused. “What Temple?”
“The one built by the Knights Templar,” he stated. “It is across the river some way. Of course, I don’t think they openly admit the Knights are still there, since they were cast out from the church. I believe many artisans live and work in the area. It has been standing for centuries.”
“Really? I had no idea anything like that was even here.” Staring in the direction he pointed, I bit my lip. Would the Templars hide in plain sight like that, using a building they had erected and been removed from hundreds of years before? Had the Temple been the very place that was ransacked when King Philip demanded the Knights arrested?
“It is very large,” he continued. “It served as the Knight’s prison when they were captured as well. I thought Señor O’Rourke would have told you about it.”
“We’ve been a bit more preoccupied as of late.” Laughing slightly, I turned back to him, pushing the Temple to the back of my thoughts for later. “I am to meet the King. As you can imagine, I’ve had to learn how to be a proper lady for the occasion.”
“His Majesty, the King!” He appeared both flabbergasted and pleased at the same time. “What an honor! I’ve always wanted to visit the gardens at the palace, but I have never been called to visit. Maybe someday I will get to serve in the chapel there. I hear it is very beautiful.”
“Do you plan to stay here in Paris? I thought you wanted to be a missionary.”
“I did,” he replied, chuckling uncomfortably. “I am somewhat ashamed to admit that my time as a pirate was not what I’d expected it to be. It was a romanticized version I wished to play out. Now that I have experienced the real thing, I do believe I am done with traveling the high seas for a time.”
My expression fell a little at that, guilt overtaking me. “I’m sorry for what I put you through, Alfonso,” I said quietly, looking at the ground. “If we’d never run into each other on that dock, you might have had the life you wanted.”
“If I hadn’t found you on that dock, you never would have made it on the ship and back to your husband. The pirates would have killed me when the boat was overrun. You have nothing to apologize for, my friend. I would not change the past for anything.”
Glancing up, I caught the end of the bow he had honored me with. All the memories I had of him began flooding my mind and I suddenly wondered if there was as good a library here as the one he’d left behind at the abbey in Spain.
“Would you like to come in for mass, Señora? Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”
The question interrupted my musings and I smiled. “I would love to. All I have left to do besides sightseeing is hiring a maid. To be honest, I don’t even know how to go about that.”
“A maid?” He didn’t seem stunned by the notion, but he did look contemplative. “Do you have specific requirements for her?”
“That she knows how to tie a knot? I don’t know. I really just need help getting dressed. Tristan’s grandmother thinks I need someone to accompany me everywhere, though.”
“It would be wise to have someone with you,” he agreed, nodding. “Paris can be a dangerous place, Samantha. I think I might be able to help you.”
“Really? That’s surprising.”
He made a face, halfway between amusement and offense.
Frowning, I laughed at myself. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just didn’t expect a priest to suddenly have a girl who can help me.”
“Come inside.” He chuckled, motioning for me to follow.
Leading me through the wooden doors, Father Torres smiled as I gasped at the interior of the building. High, vaulted ceilings took my breath away as I stared up at them in awe. Magnificent pillars stretched from the floor to the top of the room, carved with such elegance that I couldn’t even think of any words to describe them out loud. Looking to the congregation space, I watched the small crowd gathering in the pews, getting ready for the mass Alfonso had mentioned. Priests scurried around the front of the room, behaving as if they were trying to be reverent, making sure all was in order. Religion had always made me somewhat uncomfortable, but I would have come to sit in this room every day, whether there was a mass being performed or not.
“This way,” he whispered, going through a door off to the side. A spiral staircase greeted me on the other end, the Father’s footsteps already echoing down from above. Hurrying up the steps with ease, I met him at the top, momentarily stunned by the balcony view stretching out in front of me.
“A few weeks ago, a young woman came here seeking sanctuary from her abusive father.” Shaking his head, he motioned to someone standing at the edge of the balcony. “She’s too afraid to return home, but she can’t stay here much longer; there isn’t room to take in every person off the street. I’ve spoken with her many times and find her to be very pleasant. She’s been helping with the cleaning, but we will have to put her out soon. Perhaps you would like to meet her?”
Surprised, I nodded, wondering what condition I would find the woman in.
“Her name is Abella,” Father Torres said, gesturing for me to go ahead.
Taking a deep breath, I took a step forward, ignoring the slight breeze that ruffled my hair. The air didn’t seem to bother the girl either, her long, black, curly hair blowing away from her face. Studying her, I tried to guess how old she must have been. Sixteen? The plain dress she wore did nothing to hide how beautiful she was, either. With a sickening twist in my stomach, I suddenly wondered how her father had been abusing her.
“Abella?” I spoke softly, not wanting to scare her. It didn’t look like she’d heard us come up at all.
“Oui, Madame?” She didn’t turn, simply staring out across the city, what I could see of her eyes locked on something far away.
“My name is Samantha O’Rourke. Father Torres tells me you might be needing work?” Hesitating, I remained a few steps away, not exactly sure how to act in this situation. I’d met abused people before, right after the offense had happened. Some of them didn’t want to be touched or stand too close to other people.
“Oui, Madame. What kind of work did you have in mind?” Her voice was high and sounded like tinkling bells. Did she like the bells here? Was that why she fled to the church, instead of leaving town?
“I need a maid, mostly to help me dress.”
She nodded, the expression on her face never changing.
“You’d live in my house while you were employed,” I added, wondering if her living situation was the issue. “And accompany me on outings. Really, I guess I’m looking for . . . a friend. You won’t be treated like a slave, and it’s only for while I’m in town. My husband is refusing to help me get a corset on every day. I’m to meet the King and something tells me I should probably be wearing one when I do.”
She did peer at me then, smiling lightly. “Did Father Torres tell you why I am here?”
“You ran away from your abusive father. I’m sorry for your hardship.”
“I stole bread,” she said quietly. “They wanted to cut off my hand. When Papa found out, he tried to do it himself, to restore the family honor.” She looked down at her wrist, touching the dirty bandage tied around it. Carefully, she pulled the cloth away, revealing a mostly healed hack job of cuts that made me want to pass out. “Would you want a disgraced thief working in your home?”
Swallowing hard, I looked away from her wounds. The thief part did throw me off some, but Tristan and I didn’t really have much to lose. Her crime suggested she’d been starving. I could accept her actions in that case. “Madame,” I said in as strong a voice as I could. “As long as you did not kill someone or sleep with my husband, I do not care what crimes you are accused of. Stealing bread because you are hungry does not warrant having your hand cut off, and I will stick to that statement till the day I die. Now, do you know how to tie laces, or not?”
Father Torres snorted behind me, hastily trying to cover it up with a cough. In spite of myself, I grinned at her, raising an eyebrow as I waited for the answer.
“Oui,” she responded, her teeth shining as she truly smiled for the first time. “I worked as a maid for a lady, once. I can help you. The King will be very pleased with your corset.”
Laughing loudly, I clapped my hands together. “Good. Come with me and we’ll get you fed. We’re moving from an inn to our permanent residence today. You can help with all of that, too. There isn’t much.”
“You aren’t worried I’ll steal from you?”
“All I have are corsets. If you want them, then by all means take the blasted contraptions.”
Father Torres emitted another hacking cough as she chuckled, turning away from the ledge and looking at me fully.
“I have plenty of corsets, Madame.”
“Wonderful. Do you want to stay for mass? It doesn’t matter to me either way.”
“I am hungry, since you brought it up before. I missed breakfast.” She seemed very calm and in control, but there was a fire in her eyes that I recognized. I’d seen it in myself many times.
“Let’s go, then. I could eat.”
“Merci, Madame.” She moved to follow me out, tying the dirty rag back around her wrist.
“Please stop calling me that. It makes me feel like an old maid.”
“What should I call you, then?”
“Samantha.” Smiling at her once more, I turned, knowing she would stay right behind me now that she’d been hired.
“Thank you, Alfonso.” Curtseying, I flashed him a grateful smile, too. “I’ll take good care of her.”
“I know you will, Señora. I would not have let her leave here with anyone cruel.”
“You didn’t tell me there’d be more servants!” I hissed under my breath in the doorway of our new bedroom. My face was positively burning as I fell silent, waiting for the woman who had suddenly appeared in the hallway to leave. After a moment, she disappeared inside another room, humming softly to herself and barely even giving us her notice.
“I thought ye knew.” Tristan glanced at me. There was an enormous amount of humor in his eyes, and a grin playing on his lips. “Every well off house in Paris has servants, lass. They’re getting paid to be here. It’s their job. Do ye even know how to run a household like this?”
“I took care of mine for years, thank you very much!” I snapped, turning and walking across the hall. Leaning against the banister, I peeked down to the floor below, watching Abella stand near the front door, acting like she didn’t quite know what to do. She’d been quiet since we left Notre Dame, only glancing over my clothes when we got back to the inn. We’d left shortly after that, and I’d had barely a moment to speak with her since walking into the house.
“Ye know that’s not what I meant.” Sighing, Tristan joined me, covering one of my hands with his. “Do ye know how to run a house with hired help? I know ye can cook and clean, ye lived on a ship with me for over a year.”
“Pardon me,” a small, female voice interrupted. It was the housemaid, her arms carrying an empty basket. “I put
new sheets on all the beds, Madame,” she said, curtseying. “And closed all the windows. The house should be aired out well enough now. Do you need anything else before I go help with dinner?”
Gaping, I stared at her, trying to think of what to say. “No?”
“Perhaps your Lady’s Maid would like to be shown to her room and change for supper?” Tristan suggested, but I couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, so he answered her for me. “That would be very nice, thank you. Would you please tell Mr. Claudel that I’ll join him shortly, as well?”
“Oui, Monsieur.” She curtseyed again and slid past us, hurrying on to her other tasks. Just as I heard her greeting Abella below, Tristan took my hand and led me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us.
Despite my horror at having even more servants, I couldn’t deny that I had no idea how to run the house we’d been put in. It wasn’t like I could order everything we needed online. The home was beautiful—hardwood floors, colorful rugs, delightful wallpaper, and the most ornate furniture greeted me at every turn. The outside was a magnificent façade of architecture that I probably couldn’t have ever dreamed up, even if I tried. It was like I was living in an old dollhouse, transported through time.
I suppose I was, after all.
Our room was rather large, with a sitting area and desk to work at. Resting in the armchair in front of a large mirror, I inhaled deeply, trying to take comfort in the smell of the bouquet of flowers arranged on the table just beside me. “How many are there?”
“The maid ye just met, the cook, and Monsieur Claudel, who is in charge of running the finances of the house,” Tristan replied, knowing I was still uncomfortable over our hired help. “He will bring everything to you for approval, of course. There’s also a coachman who can be called, should you wish to go anywhere.”
“That’s it?”
He smiled at the relief in my voice. “Ye are very peculiar about having people work for ye, Sam. Aye, that’s it. They take care of this place whenever someone comes to stay and are well acquainted with all her corners and needs. Ye won’t have to do much.”
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga Book 2) Page 7
