Chapter 14- The Noble Family's Arrival
…
"Ahh, Paquet. The cold air is so invigorating. Makes me feel like a new man! Don't you think so?" Luc asked his friend while they worked.
"It's a little cold on my cheeks, but I'll survive. One more hour until the ladies put on hot tea and vegetable soup!" Jean replied cheerfully.
"Same thing as always," Luc laughed. "Well, if you're starving, you can't be choosy."
Weeks had now passed after the incident with the two attackers, who'd been tried in Paris and sent back to prison. Winter still plodded on, and though the calendar said late March, the frost and chill remained. The food supply in the mansion was getting low; it had been reduced to fresh-caught fish and last year's vegetables.
Luc and Jean were fully recovered from the fight and were glad to be back at work. This day, the two construction men were busy mortaring and laying stonework on the mansion's main outer chimney. The chimney was at least five feet wide; it connected with fireplaces on all four floors. It was imperative that it be repaired, in order to keep the Marquis, his family, and the staff warm.
The Marquis was due to arrive in only two days. The estate was to be his spring and summer home, but he had decided to move in before spring started. It was said that he was fearful of the smallpox in Paris, and wanted to get his family out of the city.
As for Luc, he had recovered from the fight, and his sickness the previous autumn. People liked and admired him here, not only because he had fought and rescued Emilie and Adelaide from two would-be rapists or killers, but because his hard work ethic and take-charge personality drew the other workers and earned their respect.
Some of the workers- Jean especially- thought Luc had better leadership ability than the head of household M. Valois did. Valois was absent often, and when he was around, he'd bark orders and leave again. Luc knew it was his duty to obey his command, just as if he were a soldier in the military. He owed his life to M. Valois for giving him a job and taking him out of squalor. It seemed like a nightmare, looking back.
Luc and Jean descended their ladders some time later and went inside the fragrant kitchen for a short lunch. Emilie was there, pouring tea and putting bowls of oniony vegetable soup on the tables. Her warm smile and kind manner was the one thing that Luc looked forward to seeing every mealtime; though with the business of their tasks they rarely had a chance to speak. They locked gazes, said 'Bonjour' and the usual pleasantries, but soon the half hour was passed and Luc and Jean had to continue on the chimney.
That evening, Luc turned down his pal Victor's invitation of a whiskey-soaked card game in the men's quarters to join Monsieur Guérrisser in the galley kitchen. He'd hoped to find Emilie there, have an excuse to talk to her if she was still tidying up for the night.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Luc. Why aren't you upstairs after such a long day?" the kind cook and dishwasher asked. He was alone; the rest of the cooks and maids had retired to bed.
"No one's sleeping yet in my wing," Luc replied. "They have a rowdy game of poker going on, everyone drinking and I, um, can't. One of them's certain to gamble away his day's earnings. You know, bachelors," he added with a smirk and dismissive wave of his hand. "Quieter down here...mind if I scrub pots with you?"
"I don't mind at all. I'm a bit behind every night on this," the galley servant replied. Luc began to scrub up a large soup tureen, watching as Monsieur Guérrisser wiped his pans with awkward and clumsy hands.
"Are you alright?" Luc asked, trying hard not to roll his eyes. The man seemed to be getting nowhere. He'd been washing and washing, but the pans were still not clean.
"I have a touch of arthritis," Guérrisser replied. "It just takes me a little longer to get things done nowadays."
"Oh. I hope you get better," Luc replied. "When I'm working, I still have a bit of soreness in my back from when I took down those rank cowardly monsters! Saving the ladies' lives with my own impressive-"
M. Guérrisser was giving Luc a somewhat annoyed look. "You sure like to toot your own horn, don't you, son?" he asked him.
Luc's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what that means."
Guérrisser sighed and shook his head, as if Luc were a dumb pupil and he was his teacher. "It means you seem to have a high opinion of your abilities. We already know of your strength and bravery."
"Oh. Of course. I beg your pardon." Luc said simply and continued scrubbing. Of course everyone already knew about Luc's brave but dangerous deed. Everyone had thanked him many times over for it, and if he 'tooted his own horn' too much, he might lose their respect. He did not want that to happen.
Besides, a niggling guilt had been eating at him lately about another blunder in judgment he had made. Aunt Agathe.
He didn't know where she was, or what she was doing. For all this talk of the smallpox-she could have succumbed to it after all, and if so, it was Luc's fault. Not for having the disease. For failing to seek her out and ensure her welfare before he followed Jean to pursue a new job.
While he was lost in worried thought, his hands busy with the tub of warm water and the onion-scented pot, Luc noticed that Guérrisser was frustrated with making his dishrag work again. He watched the man reach into his apron pocket to grab something, searching through it, finding it empty. He gave Luc an embarrassed look before taking his hand out of his empty pocket.
"Did you lose something?"
"My...wristwatch."
"It must be about eleven at night...Monsieur, what is your first name again? I think since you and I have shared a room for weeks, I ought to be reminded. It sounds too formal to always call you 'Monsieur Guérrisser'."
"It's Aloysius."
"That's strange," said Luc. "A relative of my aunt...and I suppose my own, has that name. A fellow who peddled rotten fruit in my old neighborhood. I need to find him and ask what my aunt is doing. I've been thinking about her. I'm honestly worried. She...she could be dead."
"Why do you think she is dead?"
Luc put the clean soup tureen on a drying cloth, and stared ahead with a faraway and disturbed gaze.
"My Aunt Agathe is old and frail. She was trying to get some charity help, because I had smallpox last fall and couldn't bring in money. I haven't seen her since December." He sighed, balling up his dishrag in a tight fist. "Never got to say goodbye. Guess I thought she knew what she was doing, but I left Paris without looking for her first. If she is dead..."
Aloysius was quiet for a moment. "What if I told you...I knew her as well?" he asked tentatively.
"You? How could you know my aunt? Did you live in the Second Quartier on Septième Rue? She never strayed far from her home, at least from what I remember."
"Oui, I did. I lived on Septième Rue, as recently as a month ago."
Luc laid the pan and rag down, and scratched his head. "Funny thing is...as close as we supposedly were, how she raised me growing up- I don't even remember what her surname was. Why is it that the one relative who took care of me in place of a parent for years-" He sighed in frustration. "I know so little about her, that I couldn't tell you her full name. How can that be?"
"You cannot? Hmm. Well, sometimes children think of their parent, or guardian in your case, only in terms of what they do for them, as self-focused children often do. They fail to find out more about them as people. Perhaps you did the same, in your youthful ignorance?"
"Probably." He shrugged. "So, how do you know Aunt Agathe?"
"We often spoke in the neighborhood. I lived on her street, a few blocks away. We all knew Agathe. A poor woman, a spinster, but one with so much inner strength and dignity in herself. She mentioned a nephew. You must be him."
"I am."
"And I can assure you that she is doing well. I saw her last month. She was healthy and happy, and that's all that I can say."
"Is she back home?" Luc asked.
"No. She found a situation somewhere else," replied Aloysius.
"A situation? You mean work? She couldn't be able to work. She must be over seventy years old...and God help me, I don't even know her actual age-"
"Believe me, she is fine. I think it might be a job sewing," Aloysius reassured him.
"That makes sense...she was always sewing things. Thank you, Aloysius! I'm glad I met you. It's...it just amazes me how fate puts certain people in your path! And you're here to let me know that my aunt is safe and well." Luc beamed at him; a satisfied, relieved smile.
"You're welcome."
"So, if you live on Septieme Rue, in that general neighborhood-" Luc pressed, "have you ever met the other man named Aloysius? It's an unusual name. I mean, frankly, it's not a normal name, like my own name, or Jean, or Pierre. No offense," he added lightly.
Aloysius laughed. "No it isn't. And yes, I know good old Aloysius. A little touched in the head, isn't he?"
"Indeed. He dressed in rags, I mean, I know what it's like being poor, but he pushed that fruit cart around as if it were a real job. Everyone knew it wasn't. I would bet he didn't make a sou in a year, and his fruit looked horribly unappetizing."
"Agree, but he was truly brilliant underneath it all. Did you know that oranges and limes, and other sorts of fruits, prevent scurvy?"
"What's 'scurvy?'"
"A disease. Fruits and vegetables are the best foods to prevent some kinds of ailments. That is what Old Aloysius always said, and no one believed him. Have you felt better and stronger since you arrived here?"
"Yes. Very much. I think it's the fresh country air. I was able to recover from that injury incredibly fast. Got all my strength back to work."
"And what foods have you been eating lately?"
"The cheapest kind, of course. What's remaining in storage from last year's gardens. Way too many vegetable soups and beans. I like the fish, though. You cook it well!" Luc added, as he realized he'd been grumbling over the limited fare.
"Not me, Monsieur Luc. Adelaide and Emilie and the other three ladies cook it. I've been demoted to dishwasher, due to my inabilities."
"I keep hearing Adelaide say she can't wait until the Marquis and his family are here, because they won't settle for eating like country mice," Luc recalled lightheartedly.
"And I keep telling her to be patient," said Aloysius. "In two days, they'll be here, and this place will be filled with champagne, cake, wine, and parties. And it will all trickle down to us!" Aloysius laughed. "But for now, bear with what we have."
"I will." Luc finished cleaning the last pan. "Let's call it a night, shall we?"
Aloysius nodded in exhaustion. He was too tired from trying to do things without magic to call Agathe and tell her how pleased he was that Luc was so concerned for her welfare.
…
Two days later, the Marquis Antoine Phillipe de Brugmaine, his wife the Marquess Marie-Juliette, and their twenty-one year old daughter and only child, Lady Evangeline, arrived on a grand carriage pulled by a team of sleek white horses. Footmen accompanied by the head of household, M. Valois, escorted the aristocratic family to the mansion while the entire retinue cheered.
The old Luc would have been bitterly resentful of all the attention and celebration bestowed upon 'The Master and Their Ladyships.' Of late, only M. Valois had been the man above Luc when it came to authority.
Yet he was glad. Everyone had been preparing for them to come and live here, and Luc was caught up in the gaiety and joy of it all. After observing and touring all floors of the mansion, the Marquis declared the refurbished place 'his new second home, our place of glorious repose and refuge.' He declared a new name for the estate- 'La maison des Jacinthes,' or The House of Bluebells, on account of the bluebell flowers that grew on the grounds every summer. The staff allowed them a quiet afternoon to get settled in.
After he'd thought about it a moment, Luc remembered something. What M. Valois had said to him and Jean and the other members of the construction crew months before, when they were first hired...
"The position is temporary. When construction is over and the family arrives to make their home there, you will be reassigned. Either in the estate, or elsewhere. If the latter, I will try to see if you get another position."
The thought made him lose the good cheer he'd had all day.
Supply carriages arrived later that day, bearing an additional crew of servants and a bounty- bags of flour, fruits, sugar, eggs, fresh beef, butter, cocoa powder, tea, and even wines and beers. Luc, of course, still suffered from the inability to consume alcohol in fear of the painful 'reaction.' He and Jean took part in unloading the bags and crates, carrying them to the larders and iceboxes. Mme. Chambon and Adelaide both squealed in delight as each item was unloaded; their giddiness made Luc, Jean, and Emilie laugh.
"Like Christmas in March, isn't it, ladies?" Luc commented.
"It's wonderful!" exclaimed Adelaide. "I've been literally starving for months! First thing I'm going to do is look up a chocolate eclair recipe! But I can only make it if Her Ladyship doesn't need her hair done. I've missed her."
"Really?" Luc teased.
"Yes. I have," she shot back before leaving for the master suites of the mansion, to see if Marie-Juliette and Evangeline wanted a cup of tea or 'freshening up.'
Luc turned to Emilie, who seemed a bit downcast. He stepped closer to her, a questioning look forming. "Are you alright?"
"I don't know how I can handle both sewing and cooking! Now that they're here, I think my workload may double. And I can never bring it up to M. Valois. He doesn't care," she said in a frustrated whisper.
"Are you certain? But I thought I saw at least ten new people arrive. Aren't some of them cooks?"
"I hope," Emilie replied. Before Luc could say any more to her, Madame Chambon called out from the front door. "Emilie!"
"I have a task assigned," she said, turning to leave.
"I'll walk inside with you. As a stonemason and construction worker, I fear that...my job may be ending now that the rebuilding has been completed. I'm not quite sure what Jean and I will be assigned to...or where."
"What do you mean...you'll be leaving here?" she asked guardedly.
"About a fifty percent chance. At least I think that's what M. Valois had said."
She swallowed, and looked down at the ground. "Oh."
"What do you mean, 'oh'?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing." She shrugged. "Just that I hope and pray you find as useful work in the future, as you have over this winter."
"So not 'oh' as in 'I am ecstatic that the old, insufferable beast is out of my hair?'"
"Of course not!" Emilie replied with a tiny smile.
He smirked. "Good." They parted ways, as Emilie had been called to do some meal preparations.
…
"Charles, can I have your honest opinion? Do you like the silver wig, or the usual white?"
"I think the silver is flattering, Your Honor. It's new and different, which is always good," the barber Charles replied as he trimmed off all of the Marquis Antoine's remaining hair and sweeping the older man's bald pate clean with a fluffy brush. He chose the silver curled wig and affixed it upon the Marquis' head.
"So what are your upcoming social engagements, Your Honor?" Charles asked as he removed the barber's cloth from his master's shoulders.
"None away from here. For at least two months, thank God," the Marquis said gruffly at himself in the mirror. "I have exhausted myself from all the balls and cotillions, and now that Evangeline has been betrothed, I can finally rest."
"I'm truly happy for you," said Charles in a flat tone, meant to appease.
"The only social engagement I have this week is the arrival of my future son-in-law, Louis Jean-Baptiste. He will be here this Saturday."
"The Louis Jean-Baptiste? The Prince of Normandy?" Charles asked, his voice rising in interest. "I hoped it would be he who would choose Evangeline! That is fantastic news. And he's going to be here soon?"
"Oui. It is the best match I could have imagined. He is the second wealthiest Prince in France."
Charles nodded. "Who's the first wealthiest, Your Honor?"
"Prince Adam of Alsace-Lorraine. We don't talk much about him. He's a young second-cousin of Louis, but he's-" The Marquis gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
"There's one in every family, Your Honor," said Charles dryly, nodding as he fixed stray strands of the Marquis' wig.
"I received an invitation yesterday to Prince Adam's birthday celebration ball, on June twenty-seventh. Three months away. It will be a perilously long journey."
"Yes, it will be. Alsace-Lorraine is very far away. I hope you and the family will be well enough rested to travel by then," said Charles.
"I'm very impressed with the new fireplaces and chimney," the Marquis Antoine commented as he gazed at the reflection of the master-suite fireplace in the parlor behind him. "Who were the stonemasons who rebuilt them?"
"It was headed by Monsieur Avenant, and Monsieur Paquet. They are still here if you want to let them know you like their handiwork."
"I will."
…
Luc and Jean, dressed in their best clothes, were called up to the Marquis' dining room after dinner that evening.
"We're very pleased with the stonework on my new fireplaces and chimney, gentlemen," Marquis Antoine said from his table as he nursed a cup of tea with his wife, the Marquess and Lady Evangeline.
Luc was a bit self-conscious, an unpleasant feeling. He had met Evangeline once before and had acted too forward with her. He now worried that she might remember him. But that was many months ago, and he'd been ravaged by smallpox since and didn't look quite the same. He saw no hint of recognition in her eyes as he nodded politely in her direction.
"Thank you, Your Honor," he said after an awkward moment.
"Have either of you gone foxhunting before?" Marquis Antoine asked them.
Luc's heart jumped, and he held back an excited smile. During his illness, he'd had such pleasant and recurring dreams of being a sportsman, riding a horse, hunting for game, dreams that seemed so real-
Jean was answering. "I have never hunted before, Your Honor."
"And you?" the Marquis asked Luc, eyeing him curiously. "I saw that twinkle in your eye, Monsieur. You're amused by something."
"I've never hunted before either, but it sounds...interesting," said Luc. His eye wandered over to Lady Evangeline, who gave him a somewhat amused smirk. She seemed to like him. Perhaps it was because he was dressed in good clothes today.
"Then I want you to speak to Charles Perruque. My barber, the man who's been tending the horses until I arrived. He's at the stables at the moment. I gave him a collection of bows, arrows, and muskets which he locked away, because he is the only man I entrust with weapons. He couldn't harm a fly. Speaking of such, Monsieur-"
"Avenant," said Luc politely, still standing straight next to Jean, both mens' hands behind their backs in a stance of respect for the noble family.
"I've heard your name mentioned today amongst the staff, in regards to an incident earlier this winter," said Marquis Antoine.
"Incident?" Luc's heart rate rose a bit. Could he be considered in the wrong, for the brutal way in which he fought against Roland and Lavassieur?
"You had caught two hired construction workers red-handed, in the act of attempted-" Marquis Antoine caught the eyes of his wife and daughter. "Darlings? Can I speak in private with these gentlemen? It is not for your ears."
"What is it, Papa? Why can't we know?" Evangeline asked shrilly. Her mother gave her a stern look, and made Evangeline follow her out the door. Evangeline peeked back at her father.
"Please close the door, would you, Monsieur?" Marquis Antoine asked Jean, who was standing nearest the door. Jean obeyed, and closed it softly.
"As I was saying, you caught two workers in the act of attempted...rape and possibly murder," Marquis Antoine said in a lowered tone. "And I thank you for the fact you were there to prevent that from happening to those maids. What I want to know, is why I wasn't informed of the incident by my head of household?!" His voice raised on the last words.
"I don't know," said Luc. "I believe it's up to Monsieur Valois to keep you informed of things among the staff. To be fair, I would have wanted you to know."
"Pierre Valois hired two men who were known to be criminals? To work among young ladies? Am I correct? Because that is what I've heard in hearsay, from the mouth of one of the victims herself, while I was walking near the servants' dining area one hour ago!"
"Well, yes. But I'm sure he didn't know-" Luc began.
"He did know!" Jean interrupted, finally speaking up.
Anger flushed Jean Paquet's young face as he remembered how he had been brutally beaten. "He even said it out loud when he confronted them. He said, 'I should have known not to trust you, and it's back to prison with you both!' Luc! That meant Monsieur Valois knew that those two had been in prison for something before they came!"
Luc shot a brief, appalled look at Jean. How can he speak against his employer? Luc had been taught to tow the line, obey his superiors. Jean was in danger of being fired now.
"I don't wish to disrespect Monsieur Valois, Your Honor," Luc quickly said to the Marquis. It was their boss Jean was talking about. Even if Jean and his wife didn't mind being relocated elsewhere, Luc didn't. He wanted to stay in M. Valois' good graces.
"Gentlemen, you can go now," Marquis Antoine ordered them, his aged face furrowed in distress.
"Are you an idiot?" Luc hissed at Jean when they were out of the room.
"What? I was telling the truth. I have an excellent memory, and besides, our loyalties should be with the Marquis. Not Valois."
"Well, so are mine. For both. Who said they were against each other? There's no good reason for Valois to be sacked, and for it to be our fault!" he growled in a low tone.
Jean shot him an 'uh-oh' look, the one he always gave when Luc's temper began to flare.
As Luc and Jean headed out the door of the master suites, downstairs to the servants' dining area and kitchens, Lady Evangeline suddenly appeared from behind a potted plant, descending upon them in a cloud of pink ruffles.
"What was my father talking about?" she demanded.
"It isn't for your delicate ears, he said," Luc replied.
"But I want to know! You have to tell me!" She followed them down the staircase. Luc turned around and gave her a scowl.
"No!" he said in his most commanding tone. Evangeline's pretty lip quivered; she balled up her fists. That moment, Marquess Juliette appeared.
She'd just heard Luc yell at her daughter.
"I beg your pardon," Luc said to both of them soberly. Mon Dieu, you're getting out of line again, Avenant! They are all your superiors!
"It's all right," Marquess Juliette replied calmly. She walked right past her daughter, Luc, and Jean, and into the servants' dining hall. Luc and Jean were there just in time to see all spoons drop, all teacups laid down, and every person stand up upon sight of her. Echoes of "Your Ladyship" were uttered around the tables.
"I'd like to see Monsieur Pierre Valois, please," she announced.
The tall, mustached man stood and bowed in a combination of both subservience and self-importance. "Yes, Your Ladyship." He followed her back up to the master suites.
Luc sought out Emilie amongst the small group; she wasn't sitting at a table or having tea. Only the three older maids were there, teacups in their hands and bread crumbs on plates near them, still in a celebratory mood.
"Ladies, have you seen the Fortier girls?"
"Kitchen. Helping the dishwasher, the poor incompetent sap!" a maid said, pointing to the kitchen.
Luc bounded on quick steps into the galley kitchen. He wanted to give headstrong Mademoiselle Adelaide a piece of his mind for speaking ill of Monsieur Valois. She must have been the one bringing up the incident, and the Marquis had heard her. It didn't look good for the boss they'd known and followed all these months. Not at all.
"Adelaide!" he commanded when he saw her, back turned to him, her pretty hair in a curled ponytail. Emilie had her hands on Adelaide's shoulders.
"Monsieur Luc- what is wrong?" Emilie said, giving him a shaming eye. Adelaide turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears were streaming from her cheeks.
"Wha-what's wrong? Adelaide?"
Adelaide tried to smile. She wiped her face with her apron. "You...you're just..catching me at a bad time." She attempted a weak laugh.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you...alright?"
"No," she said. "I'm not still 'alright,' Luc. I still have nightmares about it all. We've been stressed, we're overworked, and-" She heaved a ragged sigh as a tear trickled down her face. Emilie hugged her.
"I know, it's still hard...I'm afraid to take walks out in the forest, too," she said consolingly.
The notion dawned on him that perhaps, just maybe, Adelaide and Emilie weren't quite over their ordeal. Perhaps, they might still want to talk about it. Talk about the assault, about Luc saving them, about the fact M. Valois hired men with criminal pasts. The two sisters seemed happy these days, Luc had assumed.
But that was the thing. He had assumed.
"But you're both so brave," Luc whispered. He moved toward them and found himself enveloping both of them in his arms. A chaste, familial hug. He listened to them sob louder as they embraced.
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean…" he mumbled awkwardly as he started to pull away from them, but they both clung to him tighter. "Huh?"
"Luc, you boorish ox, can you get it through your thick head that we need you here? Doing this?" Emilie whispered fiercely.
"Oh. All right."
After hugging each other for a moment, they pulled away. The galley kitchen door opened, and a balding but youngish man in fine clothes, cravat and velvet waistcoat appeared. "Adelaide?"
"Charles!" she exclaimed, rushing to the arms of the Marquis' personal barber. She clung to his slim waist like a drowning woman to a life preserver. Charles, in turn, gave Luc and Emilie a bewildered and confused look, his hands loose and splayed, not touching her hair or body.
Can you just kiss, or at least hug, your girl already? Luc thought, eyeing down the Marquis' hairdresser.
"Um, Adelaide, dear...why don't you and I go outside for a walk if the dishes are done," Charles said softly. He eyed Luc and Emilie in veiled annoyance. "Are the dishes done? Adelaide, you don't need to be doing dishes anymore. You both need to leave that to...For heaven's sake! Where is that Aloysius fellow?"
"He went to the storeroom for a few minutes, to find more soap," said Emilie.
Charles rolled his eyes. "I'm glad His Honor is finally here. It's been nothing but chaos. No authority whatsoever." He gave Luc a second glance. "Except for you. But you can't be the boss, unfortunately. Come Adelaide, I want to take a walk with you."
"I will see you both later," Adelaide said as she glanced back at them, her eyes drying. "I still want to go outdoors. Charles is going to show me the baby foals out in the stables. I'm still nervous about going out too far-"
"Let's go, dear," Charles insisted. The two left, arms hooked as if they were escorting each other to a ball.
"Good God! What does she see in him?" Luc muttered under his breath. "How long have they been seeing each other?"
"A few weeks," said Emilie. "She's Lady Evangeline's hairdresser, and Charles is His Honor's. A match made in heaven and hair accessories."
Luc shook his head.
"Are you jealous?" Emilie said quietly. "Most of the bachelor men have been eyeing Adelaide, so I wouldn't be surprised if you-"
"No, of course not," Luc said, shaking his head as he looked out the kitchen door. "Adelaide? She's like a sister to me. Besides, I don't think I'm her type. I mean...if he's her type, than I'm certainly not."
Emilie gazed up at Luc in shy admiration. "She needs a big brother then. Actually, I can think of no one better than you to be here for both of us. She said she has nightmares. And you...you spoke of having bad dreams. You should talk about it more, like you did to me that one time. Because you...understand."
"I think I do," said Luc, bumbling and unsure. Truthfully- he did not. "At least, I want to understand. I mean, you're women. And to be honest, it's hard for me to understand, but I truly-"
His words were interrupted by an angry shout from outside the kitchen. It was the voice of the head of household, Pierre Valois. He was in the process of berating the entire staff.
"I'm happy to say I don't get to see your faces ever again! You motley crew of inconsiderate, stupid fools! So you think you can betray me? Well damn the whole lot of you!"
Luc and Emilie had peeked out the kitchen door just in time to see that Monsieur Valois' entire face was red as a raw beefsteak. In fact, he resembled one; white streaks of mustache and facial hair over his ruddy, sweaty visage. His wig and cravat were askew, and he glared at everyone with a disdain that shocked Luc. He never thought his boss was that bad of a head of household, after all. He tended to keep his distance, seemed a pleasant enough gentleman. He'd only acted when someone was truly out of line.
Like the Roland and Lavassieur incident.
M. Valois' eyes met Luc's, and he gave him an extra serving of venom before he turned and left.
"I saw that coming," Luc said nonchalantly.
"Hmm?" Emilie said, surprised.
"The Marquis just had a word with me in his suites upstairs. With Jean and I. He wasn't happy about the attack on you and Adelaide. And that Roland and Lavassieur were allowed to be here. Valois knew they could be dangerous, but I guess they'd been all buddy-buddy before, and he let it slide until… it happened. He was incompetent as a head of household in the Marquis' absence."
Her eyes widened. "So he's been sacked?"
"I suppose."
Emilie smiled, and her flushed face looked pretty in the dimness of the galley. Luc put his arm reassuringly around her shoulder. She leaned into him, laying her head against his chest and sighed.
"I'm relieved. He never treated us like people. Never got to know us. We were just...objects to be ordered. He sneered at me once, back in Paris, last summer. As if he were disgusted that I had smallpox...I'm glad he's gone."
Luc tightened his arm around her. Her hair smelled like 'borrowed' perfume. Evangeline's, most likely. "I'm glad, too. Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Tell your sister she needs to stop using the Mistresses' cosmetics. And you, too. The fragrance I'm smelling on your hair and clothes is something I haven't smelled until today. I have a keen sense of smell. I don't want you in trouble."
"You can? Oh, no. I better change soon! I didn't even use any, but she did."
The back rear door of the galley opened this time. Aloysius the dishwasher burst in, his arms full of new boxes of soap. He dropped the boxes on the floor and regarded Luc and Emilie, his arm still holding her close, with wide-eyed surprise.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?"
Emilie let out a small giggle. "No. Not at all."
...