AN: This is a really short filler. I'm sorry it's not longer but I needed to bridge the previous and next chapters together and it didn't fit with chapter 11. Also, thank you to the anon who corrected my French! I can't believe I left out the s in 'est'. That is so embarrassing... I shall have to go through all my chapters and get rid of the accent on Edouard's name (even though my name guide told me otherwise.)
In which there is an unwanted return
Summer was officially over. It had been for nearly two weeks but now that the Madame de Grandpré and the heir were returning, the season of freedom had truly gone. The house was prepared. All the surfaces were polished, the paintings straightened and the curtains artfully draped. The staff had wasted no time in making sure the chateau was up to the Madame's abnormally high standards. Aveline had remained in her room for most of it, determined to keep her small sanctuary the way she wanted it. After all, it would be the only place she would get respite from her family for a long time.
As the gaudy carriage was driven along the road to the house, Aveline and Morgane stood side by side on the grand staircase at the entrance, watching. Morgane had no need to be there but she knew Aveline wouldn't be able to handle it on her own – no matter how strong a front she put on. And so there she was; her arm linked with her friend's as they waited. She could already feel Aveline start to tremble. Her face remained hard and emotionless, the same expression she always put on in the company of her stepmother. Morgane gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. Aveline tore her eyes away from the approaching carriage to smile at her svelte friend.
"Ça va, chérie?" Morgane asked. She was answered with a slight nod. As the woman nodded, Morgane caught sight of a reddened splotch on her right cheek. Frowning, she took Aveline's chin between her fingers and turned her head to face her. Her cheek was puffy and red. The corner of her eyes was blacked and a thin scratch lined her jaw. Morgane gasped.
"What happened? How did you get that?"
"Nothing. I just… I fell down in the garden."
"What rot!"
"Morgane, please," Aveline begged, her voice becoming strained. Morgane pursed her lips and released her friend. Folding her hands in front of her, Morgane silently cursed the man who did it –and it was no doubt a man. It was probably that pitiful servant Aveline had been so kind to. He probably had enough of her and decided to lash out. Morgane's anger boiled.
"I don't know what you see in him," Morgane spat.
"In who?"
"In that bloody Indian. He's nothing but a peasant and a savage. I know you think that you and he have some sort of connection because of your colour, but he is nothing but danger! I don't want to find out that you've been murdered and your scalp is on display for the entire nobility to see!"
"He wouldn't do that."
"How do you know? They're all capable of violence! He is no different."
Aveline's eyes dropped. Even though she knew the truth, she knew it would only be ignored. Everyone, even Morgane (who had taken pleasure in making fun of Edouard since they were children), believed that Édouard would never strike anyone who didn't deserve it. And that would be all her confession would be reduced to: either she deserved it or she was lying.
She turned her attention back to the carriage that was now parked in front of the staircase, hoping to drop the conversation. A footman stepped off the carriage and swiftly opened the door, holding out his hand to the graceful woman who strode out. They were home. They were finally home.
Aveline wanted nothing more than to run.