A/N: Short chapter, apologies!
Chapter 15- Vicomtess
It had been days since her confrontation with Philippe and not had word had been mentioned by Raoul, who was treating her as he always did. She listened in the morning warmth, to the birds singing softly outside the window. She eased herself from her bed and pushed the curtain aside with her finger, glanced out over the garden and allowed herself a half satisfied smile. The grounds were beautiful and they were hers. The garden, the land, went as far as her eyes could see, its perimeter was perfectly lined by trees, green as the emerald hanging on the night stand.
She admired the pond in the centre as the sun bounced off it causing the reflections to dance in its ripples to the music of nature. She could hear the fountain's gentle hissing and it relaxed her. She watched the help walk around, taking in the garden themselves, laughing with each other and going about their jobs like professionals. She loved the relaxed atmosphere that the servants were allowed to live in, she respected the way the De Chagney's treated their staff.
Her own maid walked in and smiled at her, holding out a bowl of steaming water. Christine smiled back and motioned for her to sit on the bed with her, for a moment she resisted but then, at Christine's insistence she sat and placed the bowl on the table in front of her.
'You're new,' Christine said and the maid nodded. 'What's your name?'
'Lucia,' she said quietly, faint accent, not French.
'Lucia,' Christine repeated and grinned. 'I wish to wash and dress myself today.'
'Are you sure?' Lucia asked and Christine nodded, politely shooing her away. Lucia stood, dipped her head in a half bow at Christine and left her to her own devices.
She plunged her hands into the water and splashed it over her face, wiped it away with the flannel and then did it again, enjoying the way the water crawled along the lines of her face, tickling her. She heard her husband's voice at the end of the corridor and was sure he was singing to himself. A few beats later and he walked in. Without a word kissed Christine's lips softly and then harder, pushing her down to the bed. She kissed him back, but not with the same fervour as he kissed her. His hands gripped her and gasped but it wasn't pleasure, it was nothing. Her mind had been in a spin but she knew that her body ached for him. Her mind ached for him. It was her heart that was the problem.