AN: A big thanks to everyone who favorited this story and to everyone who took the time to review. I can't tell you how much it meant to me. :)
A big hug to my beta Robin who edited this monster of a chapter.
II. Silent Noise
Blair awoke the next morning to loud voices outside her door. She couldn't catch a single word but was able to identify Mr. Baizen's roguish tone and a high-pitched female voice. Blair already disliked the strange lady based on the grating sounds coming out of her mouth. She let her gaze move to the door tiredly. With a start, she jumped out of the bed, which was no easy feat considering its height, and scrambled to move the chair away from the door. She couldn't risk some maid coming in and running right into her security measures. That would surely get her fired right away. After moving the weighty chair to the side with some effort, she put her ear on the cold wood of the door, straining to catch parts of the conversation in the hallway once more. She realized that it might be undignified to eavesdrop on one's employers, but she also knew from experience that Masters liked to complain about the help, and if they were talking about her, she wanted to know it. To Blair's dismay, the voices appeared to be moving further away from her door.
Disappointed, Blair made her way over to the adjacent room to get dressed. She didn't want a maid, or worse, the lady of the house, catching her wearing knickers. They had been a present from Serena before she ran away. She had proclaimed them to be the latest fashion in France, but Blair knew that only loose women would be seen dressing in them. Still, after lying untouched in her wardrobe for several months, Blair had finally decided to try them on just before her departure to the North. To her surprise, she had found them comfortable enough, and since she didn't plan on undressing in front of anyone in the near future, she could see no harm in wearing them.
Putting on her corset and wrinkled gown with care so as to not rip open her stitches, Blair surveyed the dressing room critically, which was now illuminated by a circular ceiling window. She had never seen anything like it, nor had she ever seen a gilded tub and washbasin, which appeared more like decorative accessories than actual objects. Blair ran her finger along the ornate frame of a large oval mirror that adorned one side of the silk-paper decorated walls. Hesitantly, she forced herself to look into it, recoiling from her own reflection. Her usually lush brown curls were a tangled and lanky mess, her already pale complexion even more translucent, lending her the appearance of a haggard ghost. Immediately, she went over to the basin, poured some cold water from a porcelain jug into it, and splashed her face.
"Do you need a new towel, Miss?"
Blair whirled around, not having heard anyone coming into the bedroom. A round-faced, blond girl, dressed in a black maid's uniform, looked at her curiously.
"Excuse me, Miss, for scaring you. Lady Baizen sent me up to see if you might need help," she said with an apologetic look, but without curtseying.
"What is your name, girl?" Blair said harshly, but instantly regretting her impoliteness. After all, it wasn't the girl's fault that she felt out of place in this house.
"My name is Jenny, Miss," the girl replied, straightening her back haughtily.
Blair smiled wryly, recognizing something of her own sense of pride in the young girl.
"I have drawn the curtain for you. Do you wish me to fix your hair, Miss?" Blair didn't miss the snobbish condescension in the maid's tone.
"Of course. One wouldn't want the Lady of the house to think that my current state of hair is the result of your inexperienced hands," Blair stated with a bored tone and a side glance at Jenny.
The girl's features softened slightly, apparently recognizing that Blair would not be as easy to defeat as the other governesses. Eventually, she gestured for Blair to take a seat on the brocade ottoman in front of the dressing room mirror. Blair was pleasantly surprised that she proved quite skilled with the curling tongs and hairpins, creating a sophisticated coiffure. In the end, looking much more refreshed and polished than before, she was more than pleased with her own reflection.
"Miss has very beautiful hair," Jenny said quietly. Blair suspected that it was meant as a peace offering.
She locked eyes with Jenny through the mirror, nodding slightly. "Thank you. You are as good a hairdresser as I have ever seen."
Jenny blushed, averting her eyes again. "The Mistress has sent up two dresses for you to wear since yours were stolen."
"Oh?" Blair asked surprised.
"Yes, Miss. She was not very pleased, I dare say. I heard her having a spat this morning with the Master about it," Jenny whispered secretively.
Blair was amazed at how she had become the maid's confidant so easily, but thought that it might prove to be highly beneficial in the future to have a secret source here. At least now, she didn't have to wonder any longer about the heated argument in front of her room this morning. However, she would never lower herself to form a friendship with this servant girl. She still had some standards, after all.
Blair rose from the ottoman to take a look at the two dresses Jenny had laid out for her on the bed. After hearing about Lady Baizen's reaction, she wasn't surprised that both of them looked vile and only fit for a farmer's wife. One of them was the most horrid shade of green. It looked more like a moldy, rancid piece of French cheese than a proper garment. The other one was a bright shade of pink that Blair had only seen on ladies of questionable reputation before.
"I'm sorry, Miss," Jenny said, sensing her misery, "but Lady Baizen is a very jealous woman."
And rightly so, Blair thought to herself.
"Do you need any help dressing, Miss?" Jenny inquired. Blair just shook her head, wanting a few more moments to herself before having to face the family in one of these repulsive dresses.
"The Mistress expects you in the breakfast room in thirty minutes, Miss."
As Jenny turned to leave, Blair remembered her discovery from last night and walked over to the now open windows. "Jenny, wait a moment. What is this ruin over there?"
"It was a cotton mill once, Miss, but burned down two years ago. Many workers died and the owner was injured too, I heard. I was very young then myself, Miss. After that, my Master bought this piece of land to build his mansion on."
"Thank you, Jenny," Blair said, dismissing the maid. She continued to stare at the blackened remains, only hearing the click of the door as it was closed.
The old ruin didn't look half as frightening in daylight, but Blair was overcome with an inexplicable surge of sadness, imagining the poor people being burned alive in there. She wondered why the Baizen's had never removed the charred building from their grounds. It seemed to be a morbid reminder of something she couldn't fathom. She felt the strange urge to go outside and walk through the eerie structure, running her hands along the still-standing stones. Almost turning around to head for the door, Blair remembered with gritted teeth that she now had to ask for permission before going anywhere. So, instead, she forced herself to choose one of the rags draped over the bed. She considered wearing her own dress for another day just to spite her new Mistress, but knew that she had no other option if she didn't want to starve on the streets. In the end, she decided on the green dress, which would hopefully quench Mr. Baizen's desire for flirtation.
Although a little early, Blair thought it best to go downstairs to the breakfast room, wanting to impress her employers with her punctuality. Cautiously, she opened the heavy door, peering around the corner to see if the corridor was vacated. She felt like a silly school girl, but she wanted to avoid being corned by Mr. Baizen at all cost. As everything seemed clear, Blair stepped out of her room, making her way towards the gleaming white staircase. Immediately, she cursed the newly acquired addition to her wardrobe since the stiff fabric was as noisy as a river during flood season.
Not wanting to knock on every door in search for the correct room, Blair hoped that her dress would at least draw the attention of a servant. However, not a single soul was to be seen. Having been a constant guest of large mansions her whole life, she decided that her best bet would be one of the rooms downstairs. As she descended the sweeping stairs, magnificently catching the light of another circular ceiling window, a low rumble of voices echoed off the polished walls. Blair tried to follow the noise in hopes of finding someone that could point her in the right direction. For a brief moment she wondered if, in her old life, she would have approved of servants snooping around her house; however, she quickly dismissed the thought. Lady Baizen had asked her to come downstairs after all, and thus Blair was only following orders.
After taking a right turn into another deserted marble hallway, which had been decorated with dreadful Dutch paintings, clearly bought without any knowledge of fine art, Blair heard voices grow louder from a nearby door left ajar.
" … don't exert yourself, My Dear," a male voice sneered.
"I cannot believe you gave her one of the guest rooms. I told you explicitly she was to stay in the servant's quarters!" a female voice screeched.
"Well, we can't very well put her there now, can we, My Dear. That would be impolite," the dark voice replied mockingly.
Blair realized that it must be Mr. Baizen speaking, but she could hardly recognize him now. His gentle, teasing tone from last night had all but vanished, replaced by something malicious and cruel.
"Tell me, Carter, is she your hussy too? Did you bring her here just to torture me?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Dearest," Mr. Baizen said coldly.
"Oh, I know everything about that blonde harlot from The Lion that you are visiting every night," the female voice said with equal malice.
Blair heard Mr. Baizen laugh humorlessly. "And yet, you are staying with me … because you are too afraid to leave me and lose all of the precious money. If anything, you are a much bigger harlot than she is."
Blair would have expected the woman to slap him for that insult, but instead deadly silence spread through the house like a suffocating fog.
Not wanting to be caught listening in on private conversations, Blair frantically searched for a hiding place. Luckily, she spotted an open door a little further down the corridor and tried to slip into the room as quietly as possible, exhaling sharply once she was inside. Turning around, she realized that she had found the breakfast room by accident. Already the long table had been set for five people, pristine white cloths covering the surely expensive oak, and a clear crystal vase with exotic white flowers adorning it. She took a step closer to the table to get a better look at the soft ivory petals and clustered blooms. Just as she neared close to inhale the sweet scent, the door opened, revealing a displeased-looking woman.
Blair noticed her luxurious white silk gown at once, which was embellished with the finest black lace, imitating the color of her raven-black hair. Blair forced herself to fall into a barely noticeable curtsey, as she suspected that this female specimen was the Lady of the house.
"What are you doing here?" the woman snapped, in the same voice that Blair had heard in the other room.
"The maid told me that my presence was requested by you, Mrs. Baizen," Blair replied as politely as she could.
"It is Lady Baizen, if you please," she said icily, surveying Blair with hawk-like grey eyes.
"I apologize, My Lady," Blair said, trying not to look irritated.
"You must be the new governess, Miss Waldorf, as my husband was so kind to inform me. I should have recognized you by your attire," the lady sneered, looking Blair up and down as one would a cow on market day.
Blair gritted her teeth to keep from throwing the crystal flower vase at the lady. "Indeed, Lady Baizen, I thank you for your gracious gift."
Lady Baizen just waved her hand dismissively and moved to sit down at the table.
"Yes, generosity is one of my wife's most striking characteristics. Isn't that right, Penelope?" Mr. Baizen said entering the room, having apparently heard the whole exchange.
He took Blair's hand, kissing it lightly, like he had the night before, seemingly disregarding his wife's seething stares. "This dress becomes you very well, Miss Waldorf," he said with mischief in his eyes, knowing that Blair would not believe a word he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Baizen," Blair said tartly, withdrawing her hand gently as to not cause a scene.
He moved to pull out a chair for her across from his wife and bade her to sit. As he took his seat at the head of the table, a portly maid waltzed into the room with a tray cart, loaded with steaming rolls, fresh ham and eggs. The maid poured tea for everyone and set a bowl of fresh fruit in the center of the table. Additionally, she put a large plate of delicious-looking French pastries between the two still empty places.
"I was just telling Miss Waldorf here," Lady Baizen continued as if nothing had happened, "that from now on she has to content herself with eating her meals in the kitchen with the other help, and use the servant's entrance when going out."
Blair was confounded for a second, staring at Lady Baizen blankly. However, when the shock had settled in, a small smile crept onto her lips. "Of course, Lady Baizen, as you wish. I'm sure the two Misses will be thrilled to get to see that particular part of the house." Blair calmly took up her porcelain tea cup, gazing at Lady Baizen innocently.
Lady Baizen swallowed. "Of course, you will take the front entrance when you are with my daughters, Miss Waldorf."
"As you wish, My Lady," Blair replied sweetly, knowing that she had gained a small victory.
"And who knows what would happen if no one is here to chaperone the young ladies. Why, they could very well eat the petals of this poisonous Oleander here on the table and die right next to it." At seeing Lady Baizen's face lose all color, Blair almost feared she had taken this battle too far; however, she was rescued by Mr. Baizen's roaring laughter and clapping.
"I must say, Miss Waldorf, it's not often that I get to see a show like this." His blue eyes twinkled. "Come now, Penelope, even you must admit that Miss Waldorf is right. It would not do for our girls to die of this atrocious flower that you like so much."
"Of course, Miss Waldorf will be welcome to dine with the family if her presence is needed," Lady Baizen said frostily, glaring at Blair darkly. At last she turned her eyes towards her husband. "Dearest, where are the girls? I want them to meet Miss Waldorf."
"I'm sure they are still playing in their rooms. I'll fetch them, Darling," he said rising from his chair.
Blair vowed that she would stab herself if she had to hear their falsely sweet endearments one more time. Her thoughts were disturbed by Lady Baizen's not-so-subtle cough.
"Miss Waldorf," she said sharply, "you may amuse my husband, but if you ever speak to me in that manner again, I'll have to let you go. Is that clear?"
"Very clear, Lady Baizen. It won't happen again," Blair said without averting her eyes. If she had to submit to this woman, then at least she didn't want to show any signs of weakness in front of her.
"Because if you do, not even my husband will save you. You should consider this as a warning, Miss Waldorf," she said in an almost empathetic tone. "He will play with you and see how far he can push you, but he won't come to your rescue. And the only place for you to go then would be the whorehouse, I fear."
Before Blair could respond, the door swung open again and two small dark-haired girls stormed into the room, fighting each other to reach the table first.
"Girls, behave yourself," their mother chastised them promptly. "We have a guest."
Blair turned to smile at the girls warmly, wanting to gain their confidence. "I am Miss Waldorf, your new governess. And you must be Katherine and Margaret, is that right?"
The older girl scrutinized Blair with the same pair of grey eyes as her mother's and reluctantly curtseyed. "Yes, Miss, I am Margaret. I am pleased to meet you," she said with a superior air.
Blair knew immediately that this girl, however immature she may be, would be no small feat to handle. She already was as big-headed as her parents.
The younger girl was no older than five, Blair guessed, and tried to hide behind a chair, sucking on her thumb, and staring at her with big blue eyes. Blair wanted to extend her hand to the child, to show her that she could be trusted, just as her own governess had done with her. However, her sister at once started to slap her hand away from her mouth. "You are not a baby anymore, Kathy. Stop it," she hissed.
Blair was surprised that little Kathy did not start wailing at once. Instead, she just took her hand out of her mouth and took her seat at the table without making any noise or sound.
Blair looked questioningly at Lady Baizen. "You see what trouble these girls are," she said as an explanation. "The older one is, of course, much more accomplished than Kathy. Our little one is a very strange and silent child," the Lady sighed.
"Is there something wrong with her?" Blair asked with a compassionate look at the girl, who was now quietly eating one of the pastries, keeping her eyes glued to the plate.
"Of course not," Lady Baizen snapped. "She is perfectly fine. She can speak, of course, but she rarely chooses to. You can imagine what that does to my nerves," she sighed again, this time more emphatically. "The doctors suggested that we might have to send her to a reformatory school if her behavior doesn't show any changes within the next year."
Blair hoped for the sake of the girl that she would be spared this experience. Over the years she had heard many atrocious things about such private institutions; children being beaten, starved or abused. She doubted that Kathy would benefit from such torture in any way, nor was it certain that she would survive it. And as much as Blair disliked children, she didn't wish this kind of fate on anyone, let alone an innocent girl.
Blair raised her hand to stroke Kathy's soft black hair, but the girl, sensing Blair's movement, quickly turned her face to meet Blair's eyes. Yet, she didn't say a word, only gazed at Blair like a frightened doe. Blair swiftly pulled back her hand, realizing that she had somehow intruded on the girl's personal space.
"She hasn't always been this way," Lady Baizen said quietly. "After she was born she was just as lively as her sister, but ….," Blair heard the woman struggle for the appropriate words, "… one morning a few years ago, when I came to wake her, her eyes were open wide as if she just had the most horrible nightmare, and she refused to sleep for two whole days. Instead, she just stared out of the window."
Although Blair was not very fond of the woman sitting across from her, she couldn't help but feel deep sympathy for her situation.
Suddenly, Lady Baizen's head snapped up like a rattlesnake; realizing whom she was talking to, she quickly rose from her chair.
"Miss Waldorf, I expect you to chaperone the children until they finish breakfast. After that they will have to do their German and Math lessons. In the afternoon you will practice drawing with them. You'll find all of the materials in the school room. One of the maids will show you around the house," she ordered matter-of-factly, moving around the table to kiss the girls goodbye.
"You will make sure that the girls are ready for dinner at the proper time. You can join us tonight in the family dining room, if you please."
"Thank you, Lady Baizen," Blair replied wryly.
"And, Miss Waldorf, I don't want to be disturbed during the day. I feel like I might get a migraine soon." She turned to leave and Blair heard her expensive slippers clack on the marble floor. As the noise ceased abruptly, Blair looked up to find Lady Baizen frozen in place, one hand on the door handle, apparently waiting for Blair to acknowledge her.
"But don't fret, Miss Waldorf, I'm sure my husband will keep you company," she said with a small sardonic smile before finally sweeping out of the room.
After the girls had finished their breakfast and Jenny had given her a tour of the house, Blair ushered the children to the school room, which was located where she had heard their parents arguing in the morning. The shelves on the walls were stacked with all the most recent editions of educational books, various painting and needlework utensils, a hand-painted globe, and as much chalk as a dedicated teacher could desire. A black piano throned in front of a windowed wall that looked out to the blackened ruin and parts of a small fenced orchard. A large blackboard hung on another wall and still sported the scribblings of the former governess. Whatever the failings of the parents may be, Blair thought, they at least wanted their children to have a good education. Blair would be forever grateful to her parents and governess for forcing her to sit through her tedious lessons since without them she would not be able to earn her own living now.
Blair was surprised that the children seated themselves in two small chairs in front of the blackboard without further ado, looking at her with polite impatience. As she had only been on the receiving end of teaching until now, Blair felt nervousness settle into the pit of her stomach. Frantically, she tried to remember how her own governess had done the lessons but came up blank. To buy herself some time, she cleared her throat loudly and started to erase the old writings from the board with a dirty cloth she had found on the teacher's table.
"Ladies, I see that you studied German verb conjugation with your last governess?"
"Yes, Miss Waldorf, until I caught her kissing father in the kitchen," Margaret said with an unsettling gleefulness.
"Did you? And did you tell your mother what you saw," Blair asked, already knowing the answer.
"Indeed, Miss. I didn't like her very much anyway, and mother had her thrown out the same night," the little girl affirmed as if talking about her fondest memory.
"Well, Miss Margaret, you can be sure that I will be staying here for a long time," Blair said sternly, trying to reproach the girl.
Margaret just smirked and shrugged her tiny shoulders, throwing her sister a conspiratorial glance. Kathy, however, didn't notice because she was staring at Blair.
"I think we should continue with the verb conjugation so you will remember it better," Blair said determinedly, not allowing any arguments.
"Fräulein Katherine, bitte konjugieren Sie das Verb 'denken'" Blair said to the shy child gently. Yet, instead of conjugating the verb, Kathy turned her head, staring out of the window towards the dead mill.
"Fräulein Katherine …," Blair tried again, moving around the table to block Kathy's view and catch her attention.
Blair heard Margaret snicker. "You will never get her to talk to you, Miss. She doesn't like strangers … especially new governesses, who wear ugly dresses …," the older girl said acidly.
"Auf Deutsch, Fräulein Margaret!"
Ignoring Margaret's rants, Blair crouched down in front of Kathy. The little girl's eyes were distant and vacant. Blair tried to pull her out of her reverie by slowly laying her hand on Kathy's cheek; immediately, her eyes refocused, scrutinizing Blair once more. Blair swore that she saw the ghost of a tiny smile flit across her pale face, gone before it could bloom into something more. After a long moment, Kathy turned towards the paper lying in front of her on her desk, took up her feather, and started to write down the conjugations in a flawless hand.
"See, I told you, Miss, she will never talk to you," Margaret gloated once more.
"Auf Deutsch, bitte. Sonst müssen Sie eine extra Stunde Deutsch lernen," Blair said sweetly.
"But, Miss Waldorf, I don't want to do an extra German lesson," Margaret wailed. Blair only raised one eyebrow, challenging her to go further.
Margaret sunk her head, whispering "Entschuldigung" and began to scribble on her paper.
xxxxx
Later in the day, Blair decided to take the girls outside since the afternoon promised to be beautiful and mild. Though Blair loathed drawing almost as much as embroidering cushions, she wanted to at least enjoy the warmth of the sun while it lasted. She now understood that the Baizen's had built their mansion away from the town so they could enjoy the much fresher air up on this hill rather than the stink of the smoke-filled alleys. With a deep breath, Blair plopped down on one of the garden chairs, letting the girls roam freely through the bushes and flowers for a few minutes. Just as she had closed her eyes to enjoy the smell of freshly-grown grass and apple blossoms, a dark shadow blocked the sun rays from her face. Rapidly, Blair opened her eyes only to stare up into the face of a displeased looking olive-skinned servant.
"Excuse me, Miss Waldorf," the girl said, appearing not in the least remorseful for her disruption, "the Lady has certainly told you that the two Misses are not to go near the ruins or go outside without their bonnets."
"Indeed, she has," Blair lied, "but she must have forgotten to tell me your name. It must have slipped her mind, I'm sure."
The woman's cheeks turned scarlet red with embarrassment. "I'm Vanessa Abrams, her Lady's chambermaid," she said with a small curtsey.
"That must be a terribly demanding position, Vanessa," Blair smiled sweetly. "But you seem to be strong enough to empty out your Lady's chamber pot."
The maid huffed and threw two small bonnets in her lap. "Take care that the children won't wake up the Mistress." Then, she scrutinized Blair's attire pointedly. "And don't get any dirt on these dresses, Miss … I want them back just as they were."
Blair just gave the obnoxious servant a dismissive wave with her hand and watched her storm off. She should have known that Lady Baizen would not only give her hideous gowns, but a servant's dresses too.
She called over the girls to put on their hats, which they complied to with surprisingly little fussing. Afterward, Blair set up different paint brushes, graphite pens and oil colors, trying to get the girls to create a sketch of the apple tress in the garden. Blair realized that she was of little help for the girls since her own drawing resembled a giraffe more than a tree. Luckily, Margaret was more than eager to show off her creative skills and produced a fairly good likening of the orchard. But when Blair looked over Kathy's shoulder to examine her progress, she was shocked to see the dark outlines of a destroyed house greet her from the paper. Although Kathy had her back turned towards the old mill, she had drawn it in great detail from her memory.
Blair wanted to hide the picture from Margaret, but her prying eyes and tiny arms were quicker. She snatched the picture from the table, got up from her chair like a whirlwind, and ran right into her father, who happened to step out of the house at that precise moment.
Blair groaned inwardly, already steeling herself for the worst.
"Father, look what Kathy drew, I'm sure Miss Waldorf has let her go over to the ruins," Margaret said hastily before Blair could intervene.
For a split second, Blair thought she saw a glint of suspicion flash in Mr. Baizen's eyes, but he immediately started laughing loudly as if his daughter had just told him the most comical story. "My Dear, you know very well that this is not the first time Kathy has drawn it," he said, giving his daughter's chin a reproving nudge. Directing his eyes at Blair, he added, "She has had a weird fascination with that building ever since we moved here."
"Don't worry, Miss Waldorf, I won't tell my wife about it," he stepped closer towards her, "it will be our little secret."
In response Blair took a step back, straightening her spine, "Mr. Baizen, I must tell you that you won't receive any favors from me … if you thought that you had a chance with me."
She could see that he was surprised by her directness, but waited for her to continue.
"And, I will ask your wife tonight if she would be so kind as to give me a key for my chamber door."
Mr. Baizen's eyes betrayed nothing but mild interest; suddenly, he leaned forward, grabbing Blair's hip forcefully to try to keep her from moving away. Blair almost cried out in pain as he pushed his thumb deep into her stomach. "I'm afraid the key has been lost years ago, Blair," he whispered close to her ear.
"Unhand me immediately!" she hissed.
When he finally released his hold, she noticed with horror that not only the children had witnessed their encounter, but also the maid from before, who had come out with a tray of lemonade. She could imagine quite easily what this scene must look like, and she was sure that the rude woman would tell everything to Lady Baizen before the day was over.
To her surprise, Mr. Baizen pulled out a large pound note from his pocket, pushing it into the servant's apron and giving her a meaningful look. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
Blair felt as if she would faint when she saw Vanessa's smug expression as she returned to the house, a confused Margaret in tow. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to strangle the servant with her greasy black hair, or gag her with her atrocious dress. To her dismay, Blair was ripped from her fantasies when a small hand tugged on her skirts. Kathy's face stared up at her with an unfathomable expression. Yet, before Blair could react, Kathy had started running towards the ruins, looking behind her to make sure that Blair was following her.
"No, Kathy, you can't go there," Blair all but screamed, hastening after the child.
Instead of dashing inside the fallen building, Kathy stopped abruptly several feet away from a sooty entrance, which must have been the mill's main door once. When Blair caught up with Kathy, she knelt down on the grass next to her, not caring if she would ruin Vanessa's stupid dress. Kathy twisted her head slightly, catching Blair's eye, then quickly returned to stare at the dead factory.
"Kathy," Blair prodded gently, not knowing if it was best to scold the girl or be more lenient with her. Blair decided on the latter, assuming that Kathy already received enough punishment from her sister. Slowly, she put her hand on the small face, realizing with shock that the little doll-faced girl was crying. Yet, Kathy didn't try to wriggle out of Blair's touch.
"Kathy, you can't stay here. You and I will get in big trouble if your mother sees this … or your tattle-tale sister." The little girl gave Blair a crooked smile, and she almost wanted to congratulate herself for being better at this governess thing than she had expected.
"Yes, Miss Waldorf," a shy, timid voice replied. It took Blair a moment to realize that it was Kathy's. Blair didn't know why, but she thought she had never heard a sound that gave her as much pleasure or joy. She desperately racked her brain, trying to find a topic that would keep the girl talking. Kathy, however, was already disentangling herself from Blair, hurrying back towards the house. As Blair got up from the ground, letting her gaze glide across the icy façade of the mansion, her eyes caught a slight movement. Although she could detect nothing but an open upstairs window and a swinging curtain, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been watched.
xxxxx
When Blair descended the grand stairs for dinner, still dressed in that abominable cheese-colored dress since she absolutely refused to appear like a common whore, she considered cornering Lady Baizen to ask about the key. Although Mr. Baizen had made it clear that a key was non-existent, Blair hoped he had only been toying with her. As she opened the door to the dining parlor, however, she was greeted by the candle-lit face of the Master standing by the windows; whether he was staring into the night at the abandoned mill or at his own reflection in the glass, Blair did not know. She was sure he must have noticed her entrance, but he gave no sign of recognition. Although she wanted to turn around and leave the room immediately, Blair chided herself for her fearful foolishness. She straightened her spine, took one step forward into the chilly room, and cleared her throat to force him to notice her. In his reflection she could see now that he was smirking, seemingly amused by her entrance. It dawned on her that he must have watched her whole struggle in the window-pane. Anger boiled inside her at the realization, and her fingers clenched to a fist in the fabric of her dress.
He turned to face her. "Miss Waldorf, would you be so good as to tell me if the flowers my wife has put on the table are dangerous for my children."
Blair's eyes flickered to a porcelain vase on the table, filled with delicate, white bell-shaped flowers. "I believe those are lily of the valleys, Mr. Baizen, and they can indeed be very poisonous if eaten, but I doubt that …"
"You are quite the little scholar, Miss Waldorf," he interrupted her, taking a large sip from a glass filled with crystal clear liquid. One could almost mistake it for water, but Blair smelled the alcoholic fumes wafting across the room.
He started towards her. "I see you are still wearing that unflattering gown my wife forced on you." He came to a halt only a few steps away from her, but Blair refused to flinch or evade his leering gaze.
"If you are nice to me, Miss Waldorf, I could be convinced to buy you some new gowns," he said, raising his hand to touch her.
"Don't be crude, Darling," Lady Baizen said snidely, entering the room. To Blair's relief, Mr. Baizen dropped his hand again, though he was not trying to hide his intentions from his wife. "Miss Waldorf will not need your assistance. In fact, just an hour ago, a dirty boy from town brought up some of your stolen dresses. Apparently, they have caught one of the culprits."
"I'm very happy to hear that, Lady Baizen," Blair said, joy washing through her. She would have to send Thomas a note since she was sure that he was to thank for this happy reunion.
"I would think you are," Lady Baizen gave her a knowing glance. "They seem to be quite expensive." She walked gracefully over to her seat, signaling her husband with a determined look to pull out her chair. "I think I liked the emerald green gown best, you know, the one with the embroidered bodice," she added almost as an afterthought.
Blair knew that the Lady was baiting her with this offensive intrusion upon her privacy, but she reminded herself that she still had a favor to ask of Lady Baizen later. Hence, Blair decided to swallow her pride and any vicious retorts that were stewing inside of her.
"Yes, Lady Baizen," she said calmly, taking her place at the table without waiting for the Master or a servant to pull out her chair.
The Lady frowned, her eyes flickering towards the empty chairs of the girls. "Miss Waldorf, would you be so kind as to tell me why my daughters are not ready for dinner," she asked with a chilly undertone.
"Oh, I'm sure they will be in soon. They really wanted to see how the food was prepared, so I sent them to the kitchen to watch the servants," Blair replied.
Although expecting that Lady Baizen would be less than pleased by her children associating with the help, Blair had to suppress a giggle as she watched the lady's face turn redder and redder, increasingly resembling a tea kettle ready to explode. Glancing over to Mr. Baizen, who stood next to his wife's chair, she saw that he had a hard time concealing his amusement as well.
Just as Lady Baizen had regained enough composure to open her mouth and say something, the door opened slowly, revealing Kathy carrying a steaming pot of potatoes. Carefully, she walked over to the table, eyes focused, balancing the heavy load on her small arms. As Blair leaned over to help her put the food on table, she saw that the little girl's eyes sparkled with pleasure. The tiniest of smiles played across her lips. As Blair looked back up, she saw that Lady Baizen had noticed the same. She stared almost incredulously at her child, whereas Mr. Baizen smirked proudly, apparently delighted with this new development. Lady Baizen moved slightly in her chair as if to stand up and gather her child in her arms. However, she sunk back on to her seat a few seconds later, the moment having passed. "Thank you, Kathy," she said instead, her voice quivering slightly.
Kathy smiled timidly at her mother across the table. "Yes, mother," she whispered. Immediately, Lady Baizen's eyes shot up to meet Blair's, giving her a shocked and questioning look. Blair just shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say.
"I think we have to keep Miss Waldorf a while longer, Darling," Mr. Baizen said, breaking the thick tension. "Why, in one day she has made more progress with Kathy than you in two years," he added with a wink at Blair, but she could tell that an indefinable emotion strangled his voice. When she raised her head to scrutinize his face, she noticed that he studied his daughter with a slight frown. Yet, as son as he felt her stare, his expression changed back to one of fatherly delight swiftly.
The door banged and Margaret stormed into the parlor, looking flushed. "Father, did you see what Kathy did," she wailed dramatically, "I wanted to stop her, but she stole the pot from the maid!" As she realized that no one in the room seemed to be angry at Kathy, she marched over to her sister's chair and slapped her. "Never do that again, Kathy," she hissed heatedly. Kathy, however, gave no reaction. Seemingly unfazed, she just dropped her head slightly, staring at her lap.
Before Blair could wrench the two girls apart, Mr. Baizen's arms had already caught Margaret around the waist, carrying her towards the door. The girl started to scream as if poked with a hot needle. Blair could hear her crying as her father took her down the hallway to another room. A door clapped, followed by an uneasy silence.
"Where did he take her?" Blair asked with a shaking voice. Instead of replying, Lady Baizen rose from her chair and walked over the spot at the window where her husband had been only fifteen minutes ago.
"Miss Waldorf, take Katherine upstairs to her bedroom. She will have no dinner tonight," she said quietly.
"But Kathy did not mean to –"
"You do as I say, or I will never give you that key to your room," she said, her eyes glinting at Blair in the glass of the window. "I know everything that is going on in this house, Miss Waldorf," she said, answering Blair's unspoken question.
Blair swallowed thickly. Deciding not to push her luck this evening, she held out her hand for Kathy to take. When the girl didn't react, still paralyzed by the earlier events, Blair tried to lift the child from her chair. Immediately, a sharp, slicing pain surged through her. Her hand shot out to steady herself on the table. To keep from crying out and drawing attention to her state, she bit her lower lip violently. Tentatively, Blair looked down her dress. To her relief, she could see no red specks forming on her gown. She exhaled loudly, causing Lady Baizen to throw her a questioning look. With effort Blair raised herself, one hand pressing down on her stomach to soothe the pain. A tiny hand slid into Blair's and she felt without looking down that Kathy would now follow her without resistance.
As Blair led the girl down the empty corridor, she heard a sickening sound from behind one of the closed doors. It reminded her of long-ago riding lessons and how the instructor had repeatedly cracked his whip on the horse to make it go faster. Kathy burrowed her head into Blair's dress, grasping her legs tightly. Blair put one hand on the door handle, contemplating whether it was wise to interfere. After all, she had no right to tell the parents how to treat or raise their children. Still, she pushed down the handle, determined to face whatever happened in this room – but the door was locked. How ironic, Blair thought, that she now wished more than anything for this door to be open and unlocked. She raised her hand again to knock sharply on the wood, but from the corner of her eye saw Lady Baizen's shadowy figure enter the hallway.
"I thought I had made myself clear, Miss Waldorf. There is nothing here for you to do," she said sharply.
Hesitatingly, Blair dropped her hand and turned to walk up the stairs. Unshed tears stung behind her eyes as she ushered Kathy to the upper landing. As soon as they entered her bedroom, Kathy jumped onto her large bed, which was covered with a thick pink bedspread. Blair was surprised that the only light in the room came from a white candle on a small bedside table. No other fire had been lit. The candle cast a weak halo on several medicine bottles. "Do you have to take all of these, Kathy?" She looked at the girl with concern and unease, scanning her body for any signs of a visible illness.
The girl shook her head slightly. "Just, when I have bad dreams," she replied in a low voice. "Father gives them to me."
Blair nodded, not knowing what to make of the information. She didn't trust Mr. Baizen and his constant teasing was more than tiresome, but she had not witnessed anything out of the ordinary in the interactions with his daughters. Surely, she abhorred that he was probably now beating his own child; still, she knew that this was not an uncommon parental practice. She didn't want to imagine what it was like for these little girls to be punished in this way by someone they looked up to and loved. She sighed and stroked Kathy's black curls gently. Despite his other failings, she was now happier than ever that her own father had always treated her with respect and tenderness.
"All right, little one, let's get you ready for bed," Blair said, opening the buttons on Kathy's yellow day dress. "Should I steal you and Margaret some food from the kitchen? I can't let you go to bed without something in your stomach."
Kathy shook her head again, fixing Blair with worrisome eyes. "The housekeeper won't allow it … We never eat after."
Blair's hands stilled untying the ribbons in Kathy's hair as she tried to wrap her head around what the little girl had just said. "Does your Father punish you often like this, Kathy?" she tried to prod cautiously.
"Only when we are naughty, Miss," the girl said timidly. Blair brushed out Kathy's hair reassuringly, trying to put her at ease. Both remained silent, the swishing sound of the soft brush the only noise in the room.
After Blair had helped Kathy with her nightgown and hair, she pulled back the heavy blanket, letting the girl slide under it. She smoothed her feathery hair once more, leaning down to place a slight kiss on the girl's cheek. Blair had no idea what had compelled her to do it, but she felt that she needed the human contact even more than the child. Kathy didn't pull away, just stared at Blair with her usual calm and inscrutable gaze. "Good night, Miss Waldorf," Kathy said before turning her head towards the window, away from Blair.
Blair blew out the candle, not knowing if she had done enough for the girl. She wondered if she should read her a story or sing a song, like her own governess had done countless times. Kathy, however, seemed to expect nothing from her, so Blair thought it best to leave her alone. "Good night, Miss Kathy," Blair said warmly as she closed the door. She didn't know whether it was a reassurance or an apology.
When Blair entered her bedroom, she noticed that compared to Kathy's room, a fire was crackling loudly, filling the room with a stifling heat. She crossed the length of the room quickly and drew the curtains aside hastily to open the windows. She breathed heavily, the thick air filling her lungs like lead. When the mild, dewy night air finally hit her face, she gasped loudly. She almost wanted to fetch a water bucket from the kitchen to kill the flames at once; then, she spotted a wooden trunk next to her bed. Blair went over and kneeled before it, opening the heavy lid with some effort. As soon as she spotted a beloved green fabric, she realized that she would never have to wear that mold-colored servant's dress again. She sighed happily, letting her fingers feel the resplendent emerald green silk. She lifted the dress gingerly, letting it unfold against her body. A small thud next to her interrupted her reverie. Apparently, some object had fallen from the dress when she had unpacked it. Due to the semidarkness in the room, she had to weave her fingers through the plush carpet in search of the mysterious artifact. Her thumb hit a cold, metallic surface. Enclosing the object with her fingers, Blair's eyes went wide with surprise. It couldn't be …. When she held it up to her face, she saw that a long silver-gleaming key rested between her fingers. For a second she wondered if it fell into the trunk by accident or if it had been placed there deliberately. Storing those thoughts away for later, she rose from her crouch on the floor and headed towards her bedroom door with large strides. Her right hand shook as she tried to wrench the key into the slim hole under the brass handle. She tried to turn the key, but it didn't move. Taking another deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She wriggled the key once more, struggling to force it deeper into the lock. Hearing a small popping sound, she turned the key again. Relief filled her as she felt the key move and the strong lock click into place. Exhaustedly, she leaned her head against the wood of the door, her fingers still clenched around her silver savior. Down the hallway she heard heavy steps ascending the stairs. Blair held her breath, not wanting to draw attention, but the noise seemed to have moved into the opposite direction of her room.
Feeling much safer now, she went back to inspect the contents of the trunk. To her delight, many of her favorite dresses appeared from the dark depths of the wooden box. She even found one of her plain cotton nightgowns and two white chemises. She pulled the twinkling, heavy gowns out like a child opening a present, letting them fall on the ground next to trunk without caring about the mess she created. Once in a while she got up, holding one of the dresses in front of her, twirling around the room. Blair felt absurd being so giddy about old dresses, but it comforted her to know that some part of her old self and life had been saved.
As she finally got to the bottom of the trunk, she spotted another piece of white fabric. She lifted the cotton cloth, unfolding it quickly. At first she didn't recognize the garment, but as it dawned on her, she let it fall to the ground as if made from nettles. It was another pair of cotton knickers, now lying in a heap on the ground. Blair knew with certainty that she never had had more than one pair in her wardrobe, so the specimen she just dropped must have been packed into her trunk by accident or, more likely, as a joke. She took up the garment with two fingers, not wanting to risk touching too much of it in case it was dirty. Blair decided that it almost looked freshly-bought, not being able to detect any offensive stains or smells. Throwing the knickers on to the carpet again, Blair leaned over to check the trunk for more suspicious items. However, the only thing left was a small slip of paper, folded messily in the middle. Blair reached down to retrieve the paper, unfolding it slowly in the dying light of the fire. Only a few lines were written on it in a sloppy but squiggly hand that Blair recognized easily.
I heard you were in town. I work at the The Lion every night.
Come and see me soon. Don't tell anyone.
S.
Blair stared at the paper, different emotions warring inside of her. She traced the last letter with her index finger, thinking about how many times she had seen Serena write her signature like this on secret notes they used to pass each other in school. She remembered how the elderly French teacher had droned on about the right pronunciation of the word "attitude," while Serena had written down naughty French double entendres and wordplays. They had always made Blair giggle, earning her more than one stern stare from the teacher. Serena had never cared about that though. The same way she now seemed not to care that she was working in a seedy establishment as God knows what, or that she put Blair's reputation at risk by asking her to come. Blair missed her best friend more than anything and wanted nothing more than to take her into her arms and hug her tightly. Yet, she had no idea how she was supposed to sneak out of the house in the middle of night without being detected by any of the servants. For Serena everything just seemed so simple - no complications, no consequences, no indiscretions – just do.
Blair sighed, crumpling the paper in her hand. She walked over to the flickering fire, threw the paper into it and watched it being eaten by the blaze. Whatever she decided, she did not want the note to be found by anyone. Blair started to pace the room slowly, her thoughts swirling loudly in her head. Absentmindedly, her hand grazed the smooth wooden surfaces of the furniture. Her hand bumped into a rather large plate with dark red grapes laid out on it, gleaming beautifully in the light of the flames. Blair remembered that they had been on this dresser since yesterday, most likely an inappropriate gift from the Master. Since she did not want to eat them herself, another idea came to her mind.
Taking the plate, she tiptoed to the door, listening intently for any sounds from the corridor. After being incapable of hearing anything beside her rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing, she turned the key to unbolt the door. She pulled the key from its lock, slipping it into a side pocket in her dress. Now that she finally had the key, she would be damned if she'd risk someone stealing it again. Cracking the door open an inch, she tried to make out any unusual shapes in the lightless hallway. Detecting nothing, she slipped out quickly, shutting the door behind her soundlessly. For once, Blair was glad that this house was newly built, or else she would have had to deal with creaking doors and floor panels. She flitted down the hall, noticing that most candles on the upper landing had been extinguished. Downstairs, a lone candelabra illuminated the stairwell with a dim white light, casting long shadows creeping up the steps. Blair told herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong and hence had nothing to fear if caught; still, she couldn't quench the sensation that her quest was risky.
Blair stopped in front of Margaret's door, straining to hear any whispers coming from one of the other rooms. She could only make out a tiny whimper that rose and subsided unevenly. Before pushing down the door handle, she scanned the hallway for any signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she opened the door slightly, gliding like a ghost into the still fire-lit room. Shadows danced across the furniture and floor, mimicking the trembling flames. Blair saw Margaret lying on her stomach in a monstrous four poster bed on the far side of the room. She had her face burrowed into the pillows and was sobbing uncontrollably, desperately trying to stifle the sounds. Blair approached the bed slowly, sat down on the edge of the mattress and placed the grapes next to the child. Her hand moved to Margaret's head, stroking it gently. She still hadn't combed out her hair and was wearing a tight bun from earlier.
Margaret immediately stopped sobbing but did not raise her head to look at Blair. Calmly, Blair moved the white linen sheet covering Margaret's shoulders. Her eyes went wide for a moment as she saw that three bright red lines stained the girl's white nightgown on her backside. Blair now wished that she had brought more than just grapes. Tentatively, she tried to lift the gown to get a better look at the wounds, but withdrew her hands when Margaret winced heavily.
"I brought you something to eat, Margaret," Blair said instead.
Margaret turned her head slightly, glancing at the fruit and Blair. The expression on her face was unreadable, but Blair could tell from her puffy eyes that she must have been crying for a long time. Without eating or saying anything, Margaret turned her face back into the pillow. Blair felt for the second time today that she was out of her depth, like a helpless child rather than a governess. So she decided to do for Margaret what she had done for Kathy earlier, untying and unpinning her long black hair, brushing it out gently and soothingly. When she was done, Blair didn't know if the girl had fallen asleep or was just ignoring her. She got up from her place on the bed, grabbing a handful of grapes to take to Kathy's room. Suddenly, she heard a slight shuffle behind her. Turning her head, she saw that Margaret was now facing her, eyes open and fathomless. "Thank you," she murmured, barely moving her mouth. Blair gave her a genuine smile in return, nodding her head slightly to show that she had heard.
When she entered Kathy's room, she had to adjust to the utter darkness enclosing the space. The night was pierced by silvery moonlight, slicing through a wide crack in the curtains. It illuminated parts of the bed, but no matter how many times Blair blinked, she couldn't find Kathy's form under the blanket. Filled with panic, her eyes darted around the room.
"Kathy, where are you?" she hissed into the quietness.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw the window curtains move slightly, a black, girl-shaped shadow emerging from the night. Kathy's face was still hidden in the shades, but Blair knew she was looking at something in the gardens. Blair walked over quickly, almost tripping on her way to the window. When she had reached it, she drew the curtain back a little further to give herself a better view. However, all she could see were the sharp angles of the ruin, protruding menacingly into the sky.
"It's burning, they are burning," the girl whispered urgently beside Blair.
Blair kneeled down on the hard marble floor, grasping Kathy's limp arms to turn her away from the window. She cupped the little, white face in one hand, forcing Kathy to meet her eyes. Her skin was ice cold, making Blair wonder how long the child had been staring out into the sky. "Kathy, there is nothing out there. It was just a bad dream." Kathy's eyes were still unfocused, so Blair held up the grapes for her to see. "I brought you some grapes, little one. Maybe you will sleep better if you eat something."
Finally, Kathy's eyes cleared and she gently reached out her hand to take a grape. After plopping it in her mouth, she gave Blair a toothy smile, which she returned by nudging Kathy's nose playfully. Just like earlier in the evening Blair took Kathy by the hand, leading her to the bed and letting her climb in on her own. When the girl had settled in, she laid the remaining grapes on the pillow next to Kathy, urging her to stay in bed and sleep. Kathy nodded slightly, seemingly agreeing to Blair's conditions.
As soon as Blair had closed Kathy's door behind her a quietly as possible, she heard steps echoing through the entrance hall below. She froze, contemplating whether to hide in one of the girls' rooms or run down the corridor back to her own room. The person did not seem to be coming up the stairs, so Blair risked inching forward to where the stairs sloped down to the ground floor. Staying close to the wall, the shadows in the hallway obscuring her frame, she peeked around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of the person below. She could hear the flames of the candelabra being extinguished, leaving the entrance hall to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the ceiling window. Finally, the person – a man – came into view. Blair tried to hold in her breath, but feared that the thudding of her heartbeat could be heard a mile away. The man stopped next to the front door, putting on black gloves that matched the coal tones of his trousers, coat and riding boots. For a moment, he looked up the stairs in Blair's direction and she could clearly make out the features of Mr. Baizen's face. He seemed to stare right at her, but eventually turned to open the door. Soon after he had closed it softly, she heard the hoofs of a horse galloping away from the house.
Blair exhaled sharply, still staring at the closed door. She wondered if he was riding to meet that other woman his wife had talked about this morning. It seemed to have been easy enough for him to leave the house without being bothered by servants. As she crept back to her room, locking the door once more, a gleam of hope rose in Blair that it might not prove to be so difficult to visit Serena after all.