The Abbe sat alone in the cold kitchen, pushing his cooling food around the plate with his fork. His appetite had escaped him, although a certain weakness plagued his bones due to the lack of food he had consumed that day. He propped his chin on his hand, eyes not really focussing upon anything. His conversation with the Marquis that morning had bothered- even unnerved- him. He didn't like the way de Sade was referring to Victoria, and Abbe was fully aware that the Marquis' reference to her was not too dissimilar from the way he regarded Madeline. Despite his disapproval, Abbe knew that Madeline had been alone with Marquis, and he was quite sure that some of the time she spent with him was less then wholesome. Nonetheless, Madeline was of age, unlike Victoria. She was only sixteen, and painfully naïve at that. Already she was bestowing gifts upon the Marquis, being seduced by his charm, his charisma- something which Abbe secretly yearned for. There was no denying that the Abbe de Coulmier was a physically fetching man, but to his dismay, his lack of sexual power and his daily attire restricted both him and those around him. One hand idly reached up to his neck to toy with the crucifix that hung about his throat, the metal cold and almost abrasive to the touch.
"Abbe?"
The Abbe started, jolting upon the summon of Madeline's voice. He tried to regain his composure and turned to her, smiling benevolently.
"Madeline…hello. Have you finished your laundry rounds already?"
Madeline shook her head, a smile quirking at her lips. She skirted the kitchen, hoping to find some food that she could eat before starting back onto her rounds. Satisfied at her findings, she settled opposite the Abbe at the kitchen table and sipped at some water.
"Not yet. But I've only a bit more to do and them I'm finished. Just thought I'd get something to eat before I started off again."
She bit into her food, before looking up and seeing the thoughtfulness upon Coulmier's face. Chewing slowly, Madeline frowned and swallowed.
"Something on your mind?"
Abbe set down his glass and let his fingers encircle the stem, clearly agitated about something. His eyes always gave him away, and at that very moment they were positively blazing with unresolved thoughts.
"Maddie…Maddie, do you feel safe with the Marquis?"
There was a heavy tone of questioning lingering in his voice, one eyebrow slightly raised in uncertainty. He refrained from looking directly at her, as if he was not anticipating her answer. Madeline peered furtively over her glass and gathered words in her head, hoping to phrase them to Coulmier's approval.
"Yes, of course. Forgets himself at times, but then again that's hardly a regular occurrence." She feigned innocence, her voice lilting slightly. "Why do you ask?"
Abbe moved closer to her, his voice hushed. Madeline was all ears, but was trying her hardest not to show it. She knew that Abbe was aware of her 'visits' to the Marquis, but she always felt that if he were to know more than what was necessary he might just find out who the Marquis' dedicated smuggler was.
"He's taken quite a shine to the new chambermaid, and that worries me. She is only young, and doesn't need to be accessing the Marquis' prose, or even his insidious suggestions." There was a nuance in Abbe's voice that seemed to be aimed at Madeline; subliminal messaging that wasn't actually turning out to be that subtle. Madeline stood up and picked up both her and Abbe's glasses, refilling them with water from a jug on a nearby table.
"Victoria? I'm sure she'll have forgotten him in a couple of days. Her fascination is merely that- fascination. She does not love him, so there's no need to worry. Anyhow, I'm sure that the Marquis would not take advantage of such a young girl."
Coulmier laughed bitterly to himself, rolling his eyes in a laughably adolescent style.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it past him. We all know what he did to that prostitute, and she was no more than Victoria's age. In fact, she may have been younger."
Madeline raised her eyebrows and placed the glasses back onto the table, resuming her sitting position. Worry had begun to gnaw at her mind, and subconsciously Madeline raised her hand to the back of her neck. She had been trying to avoid being with the Marquis on her own recently, and if Abbe were to stop Victoria seeing him, then he would look elsewhere. And somehow, Madeline couldn't see him accepting a visit from Charlotte.
"That was in the past. And I think that as a man of God, you might find it in your heart to forgive such indiscretions. And also, even stopping Victoria will urge her to do quite the opposite. I was sixteen once- I know what it's like."
Smiling despite himself, Abbe peered inquisitively at Madeline and shook his head slowly.
"Somehow, I cannot envisage you as being sixteen. Were you different? I'd like to know."
There was a distinct coyness in Abbe's question, and it made Madeline smile. His genuine curiosity and overall naïve charm intrigued her.
"Well, I didn't know half as much as I do now, hadn't seen anything. My father was still alive then, although to be quite honest I never really knew him that well anyway." She paused, fiddling with her cutlery. "And you? What were you like?"
"I was in the monastery then," Abbe mused, "still a young boy, I suppose. When you're in such a place, the world is hidden away from you, boxed away until the day you leave and then it is presented in all its…glory," he laughed. "I'm glad I came here, however, despite my concerns." He nodded his head to himself, smiling at Madeline.
"I'm worried over nothing, aren't I?"
"Yes, yes you are. Now I have to get back to my round. I shall speak to you later."
The Abbe de Coulmier watched Madeline leave, sighing before continuing on with his meal.
Victoria lay in bed that afternoon, a fever gripping her young body. She dressed in a thin cotton nightgown, and her body wrestled with hot and cold flushes. One minute she wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, the next she was kicking it off in feverish frustration. Michette would occasionally pass by and bring her something to drink, but until then she was left alone.
A light, hazy sleep had drifted upon her, so when her chamber door opened it woke Victoria. She spoke automatically, her voice feeble and cracked.
"It's alright Michette, I'm not thirsty."
"I'm not here to bring you water, I'm here to ask you something," chirped Michette, eyes sparkling. Pulling back the sheet, Michette grasped Victoria's elbow and hauled her out of the bed. Victoria coughed suddenly, the movement aggravating her lungs. She stumbled over her own feet, rubbing blearily at her eyes. Michette's face was the picture of excitement and scandal.
"The Marquis has asked to see you- on your own. I told him you weren't well and he wants to offer you some…medicine." The pause in Michette's sentence unnerved Victoria, but she allowed her to push her out of the door nonetheless.
"But what about my clothes? I'm not properly dre…" the door slammed shut in her face. Wrapping her arms about her to generate some warmth, Victoria padded down the corridor to the Marquis' cell.
The Marquis had been quite bored that afternoon. His inspiration was rather low, and the day had only been meagrely brightened by a visit from Michette. She had mentioned that Victoria wasn't feeling quite so well, and this intrigued him. He assured Michette that he had quite the tonic for her ailment, and could she send her along as soon as possible, please?
He had been sitting at his desk when her heard the ginger rap at his quarter door. A cat like smile spread across his face, and summoning all of the aristocratic class he had into his voice, the Marquis called out: "Come in child, you have a key."
"Abbe?"
The Abbe started, jolting upon the summon of Madeline's voice. He tried to regain his composure and turned to her, smiling benevolently.
"Madeline…hello. Have you finished your laundry rounds already?"
Madeline shook her head, a smile quirking at her lips. She skirted the kitchen, hoping to find some food that she could eat before starting back onto her rounds. Satisfied at her findings, she settled opposite the Abbe at the kitchen table and sipped at some water.
"Not yet. But I've only a bit more to do and them I'm finished. Just thought I'd get something to eat before I started off again."
She bit into her food, before looking up and seeing the thoughtfulness upon Coulmier's face. Chewing slowly, Madeline frowned and swallowed.
"Something on your mind?"
Abbe set down his glass and let his fingers encircle the stem, clearly agitated about something. His eyes always gave him away, and at that very moment they were positively blazing with unresolved thoughts.
"Maddie…Maddie, do you feel safe with the Marquis?"
There was a heavy tone of questioning lingering in his voice, one eyebrow slightly raised in uncertainty. He refrained from looking directly at her, as if he was not anticipating her answer. Madeline peered furtively over her glass and gathered words in her head, hoping to phrase them to Coulmier's approval.
"Yes, of course. Forgets himself at times, but then again that's hardly a regular occurrence." She feigned innocence, her voice lilting slightly. "Why do you ask?"
Abbe moved closer to her, his voice hushed. Madeline was all ears, but was trying her hardest not to show it. She knew that Abbe was aware of her 'visits' to the Marquis, but she always felt that if he were to know more than what was necessary he might just find out who the Marquis' dedicated smuggler was.
"He's taken quite a shine to the new chambermaid, and that worries me. She is only young, and doesn't need to be accessing the Marquis' prose, or even his insidious suggestions." There was a nuance in Abbe's voice that seemed to be aimed at Madeline; subliminal messaging that wasn't actually turning out to be that subtle. Madeline stood up and picked up both her and Abbe's glasses, refilling them with water from a jug on a nearby table.
"Victoria? I'm sure she'll have forgotten him in a couple of days. Her fascination is merely that- fascination. She does not love him, so there's no need to worry. Anyhow, I'm sure that the Marquis would not take advantage of such a young girl."
Coulmier laughed bitterly to himself, rolling his eyes in a laughably adolescent style.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it past him. We all know what he did to that prostitute, and she was no more than Victoria's age. In fact, she may have been younger."
Madeline raised her eyebrows and placed the glasses back onto the table, resuming her sitting position. Worry had begun to gnaw at her mind, and subconsciously Madeline raised her hand to the back of her neck. She had been trying to avoid being with the Marquis on her own recently, and if Abbe were to stop Victoria seeing him, then he would look elsewhere. And somehow, Madeline couldn't see him accepting a visit from Charlotte.
"That was in the past. And I think that as a man of God, you might find it in your heart to forgive such indiscretions. And also, even stopping Victoria will urge her to do quite the opposite. I was sixteen once- I know what it's like."
Smiling despite himself, Abbe peered inquisitively at Madeline and shook his head slowly.
"Somehow, I cannot envisage you as being sixteen. Were you different? I'd like to know."
There was a distinct coyness in Abbe's question, and it made Madeline smile. His genuine curiosity and overall naïve charm intrigued her.
"Well, I didn't know half as much as I do now, hadn't seen anything. My father was still alive then, although to be quite honest I never really knew him that well anyway." She paused, fiddling with her cutlery. "And you? What were you like?"
"I was in the monastery then," Abbe mused, "still a young boy, I suppose. When you're in such a place, the world is hidden away from you, boxed away until the day you leave and then it is presented in all its…glory," he laughed. "I'm glad I came here, however, despite my concerns." He nodded his head to himself, smiling at Madeline.
"I'm worried over nothing, aren't I?"
"Yes, yes you are. Now I have to get back to my round. I shall speak to you later."
The Abbe de Coulmier watched Madeline leave, sighing before continuing on with his meal.
Victoria lay in bed that afternoon, a fever gripping her young body. She dressed in a thin cotton nightgown, and her body wrestled with hot and cold flushes. One minute she wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, the next she was kicking it off in feverish frustration. Michette would occasionally pass by and bring her something to drink, but until then she was left alone.
A light, hazy sleep had drifted upon her, so when her chamber door opened it woke Victoria. She spoke automatically, her voice feeble and cracked.
"It's alright Michette, I'm not thirsty."
"I'm not here to bring you water, I'm here to ask you something," chirped Michette, eyes sparkling. Pulling back the sheet, Michette grasped Victoria's elbow and hauled her out of the bed. Victoria coughed suddenly, the movement aggravating her lungs. She stumbled over her own feet, rubbing blearily at her eyes. Michette's face was the picture of excitement and scandal.
"The Marquis has asked to see you- on your own. I told him you weren't well and he wants to offer you some…medicine." The pause in Michette's sentence unnerved Victoria, but she allowed her to push her out of the door nonetheless.
"But what about my clothes? I'm not properly dre…" the door slammed shut in her face. Wrapping her arms about her to generate some warmth, Victoria padded down the corridor to the Marquis' cell.
The Marquis had been quite bored that afternoon. His inspiration was rather low, and the day had only been meagrely brightened by a visit from Michette. She had mentioned that Victoria wasn't feeling quite so well, and this intrigued him. He assured Michette that he had quite the tonic for her ailment, and could she send her along as soon as possible, please?
He had been sitting at his desk when her heard the ginger rap at his quarter door. A cat like smile spread across his face, and summoning all of the aristocratic class he had into his voice, the Marquis called out: "Come in child, you have a key."