Raphael sat alone in his study, gazing fiercely at the small flames dancing in the giant fireplace while he waited for his breakfast with increasing impatience. The fire did little to warm the huge room and he felt the cold gnaw at him almost as sharply as his hunger.
Amy, where are you now? Are you doing fine on your own, as you letter message indicated? Or, in the time elapsed since then, have you become hungry and afraid in this predatory world?
The fire flickered spastically and fell to a barely smoldering pile of embers. From above the fireplace, the mounted head of a buck stared blankly at the brooding Frenchman. Since Amy's disappearance, Raphael preferred to take his meals in the seclusion of his study rather than the vast, empty Great Hall. But this morning the emptiness of his great house had overflowed from the larger rooms and seeped into every tiny place, making everywhere feel cavernous and hollow.
The minutes trickled by, each one irrevocably stretching time and space. Still, Adrienne did not come to tend his fire of bring his breakfast.
Finally, Raphael could take it no longer. He rose from his overstuffed armchair and stormed through the winding corridors to the kitchen. The halls seemed to grow longer with each hurried step, but at last they gave way to his destination.
The kitchen hearth was cold, last night's ashes unswept. Adrienne, absent from the scene, had not even begun the morning chores. The cistern dripped once; the sound of the falling droplet echoed off the stone walls. He was alone now, truly alone. He felt as if he had walked into a bad dream.
The window carved into the kitchen door looked out to a gray world, vague and featureless. Raphael walked to it and stared through the thick pane of glass, wondering why it had come to this. Why had he tried to build a family when he knew he was fated to be alone?
Suddenly the door gave way before him and a bundled shape collapsed at the doorstep. Fruits and vegetables spilled from a pair of overturned baskets.
"Adrienne!" he cried in surprise, at once realizing who the bundled shape was. He stooped down and offered her his hand, but she drew away from him. He stepped back, confused. "Adrienne?"
"Oh, I hope I haven't hurt it, falling like that," she said breathlessly as she climbed to her knees and patted the pockets of her coat, checking for damage. From one pocket she procured a fuzzy, black ball. "Are you alright, kitty?"
"Kitty?" Raphael asked, staring in disbelief at the winded, disarranged servant and the even more pathetic creature that Adrienne had just called "kitty." It was the skinniest kitten he had ever seen. Its yellow eyes were huge globes protruding from its tiny, scruffy body. Raphael looked away from its pleading eyes and met the worried gaze of his servant.
"Oh, I am so sorry, sir," she said, babbling apologies while he took the kitten from her arms and helped her to her feet. "On my way back from the market—and I was already late because I had such a time trying to get a good price for the pears you wanted—I passed a garbage heap and saw this poor creature picking among the trash. It didn't run when I came near it, unlike any other stray. In fact, it came up to me and meowed, all friendly-like. I felt sorry for it—it having nothing but garbage to eat—so I kneeled down on the street and offered it a bit of the fish you had me get. It hardly looked at the fish, but leaped straight for me and clung desperately to my cloak, meowing pathetically. I thought to myself, 'This isn't just a stray—this was someone's pet. It's used to people taking care of it. It can't survive on the street!' Well, I also thought how dreadfully lonely the master has been, and I..." she trailed off and looked up at Raphael with a guilty smile.
He sighed and, placing the kitten back into her pocket, began to gather up the spilled groceries.
"Of course, I could take it to my mother's. I don't want to cause trouble for you, sir," she continued uncertainly.
Raphael smiled in spite of himself. Adrienne would never leave him. She was always thinking of him, and tried her hardest to ease his pain over Amy's prolonged absence.
"You'll do no such thing," he said, hoisting up the baskets with their contents replaced. "I guess I'll have to skip petit-déjeuner and go straight to déjeuner. But make sure to cook something for the kitty as well."
"Oh, of course," she replied happily. "And then there's the wash. I really have a lot to catch up on—I'm so sorry. You won't catch me late again."
"The wash can wait. But the Great Hall could do with an airing-out. Of course, I hate to eat there alone. Would you care to have lunch with me?"
Adrienne's dark eyes grew wide with surprise. "Oh, uh, certainly, sir," she replied. She always took her meals in the kitchen. She was always very careful so as to avoid trespassing on her master's personal space. She liked to think that she made herself seen and heard as little as possible, but really her presence in the manor house was quite obvious—and quite comforting to Raphael.
"I'm going to get the little scoundrel cleaned up in the meantime," he said as the kitten poked its head out of Adrienne's coat pocket. The little creature was truly filthy. If it had once been someone's pet, it had clearly been neglected for a long time.
"What should we name him?" Adrienne asked, smiling.
Amy, Raphael thought immediately. But he wasn't sure if the kitten was a girl.
"How about... Whisper?" Adrienne suggested. "When it jumped up onto me, I thought I heard it whisper my name...."
"Whisper it is, then," said Raphael as he placed the baskets inside. He lifted Whisper from Adrienne's pocket and cradled its scruffy, emaciated body in his arms. You'll never be alone again, Whisper, he thought.
"You mustn't be so generous toward me, just because Amy said that you should be kind to me. You have always been kind to me," Adrienne said as she placed the lunch platters on the table between her place and Raphael's. They were situated at one end of a long table, near the window that faced out to the garden. Sunlight shone through the window, illuminating Raphael's golden hair. Beyond him, in the garden outside, roses and weeds grew together in a tangle of neglect. Adrienne was not much of a gardener, and Raphael claimed that the liked the garden in its natural, chaotic state. To him, Queen Anne's Lace was as beautiful as the rose.
"I know," he replied to her statement. It sounded stupid to his ears the moment he voiced his reply, but what else could he say? Adrienne sat down next to him and they began to eat the soup—thankfully not cabbage this time—and fresh bread that she had prepared. But you have been like a mother to Amy. My daughter's mother deserves at least my kindness and generosity. His thought faded into the stiff silence.
Whisper finished his fish quickly and began exploring the large room, his movements easing the stillness between the master and servant. They watched him poke in the corners and bat at the hanging tapestries, and at last settle on the sunlit window for a nap. Adrienne might have seen a chaos of weeds through that window, and Raphael a natural order, but they both focused on Whisper.
"Thank you, Adrienne, for brining him home."
