This is a LONG chapter (at least for being me… ;)) But it was best to put it up as one chapter. I felt like that at least. .:)

Disclaimer. No, I'm not making any money, I'm just trying to become a better writer, and amuse myself. I'm 16, I live in Sweden, really…

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Looking up at the house, my, hopefully, future home, if one could call it that, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The house was grey, with no ornaments or decorations. The door was grandly bordered with dark grey, almost black, stone pillars that made the town house look almost as a castle. Another unusual thing was that it had no close neighbours; the nearest house was a few meters away. Very unusual in a crowded city like Paris.

I didn't like the look of the house at all. It made me feel trapped, almost caught in cage. It wasn't a very good first expression. My father, god bless him, had taught me to never to judge by first impressions, but this house made me wonder. I got the distinct feeling that if I went into this house, I'd never be able to leave it again and still remain the person I had been when I entered it.

With my father's face before my eyes and his voice ringing in my ears, I walked to the door, and rang a bell that sat just beside the doorframe. The bell was black, with a long, thick chain attached to it. The sound it made was dark and hollow. A few seconds after I'd rung the bell, the door opened and a tall servant, whom I estimated to be about forty years old, appeared. He was very thin, and his head almost bumped into the top of the doorframe. He had only a few black strands left in his otherwise silver hair, and he regarded me with hard, blackbrown eyes. He seemed to judge if I was worth speaking to, or if he should just slam the door in my face. After a moment, his hard expression lessened. I seemed to have passed his examination. I had been surprised if I hadn't. The clothes I wore were old, but they had been of very fine quality when they were made. It was very hard to take me for a beggar.

"Mademoiselle.", he addressed me, after a moment's thought. He obviously didn't think me old (or married!) enough to be called Madame, which made me feel a little better about myself. I still had some of my nobility left in how I carried myself. Pride was everything in my circles. Not even Miguel had managed to make me lose all my pride.

"Mademoiselle, what business brings you here?" At least, this lady Marie couldn't be too bad; at least, she had polite servants.

"I heard that the lady of the house was looking for a new maid, monsieur, and I want to apply for the post, if it's not yet taken?" I answered, trying to sound as polite as possible. He looked me over once more, his dark eyes widening slightly, he had obviously not thought I was the kind of girl to apply for that post. Then suddenly, a kind smile lit his features, and he stepped aside.
"Of course, mademoiselle, come inside. May I ask for your name? The post is still free, I'm glad to say. I will show you to Madame Dubois, and she will interview you. She handles all such things herself, you see."

"My name is Tayce Martineu, monsieur." I replied, and flushed a little. I had to meet the lady herself? I looked judgingly at the servant, and added:
"Do I look decent enough to meet…" I was unsure what to call my possible mistress, and decided to use the name the servant had used. "Madame Dubois?"

He smiled slightly.
"Perhaps you want to wash your hands and your face?", he said. "I had a daughter in your age, and she always said that washing oneself one extra time never hurt."
"Yes, that would be very nice, thank you." I answered, and wondered slightly if his daughter was dead. I felt sad for him, he couldn't have deserved the loss of a loved one... He wasn't cold anymore, now that I had passed his test. But a look at his thin, but apparently strong frame, told me that he was not person to get on the wrong side with.

He led me through several dark corridors, each one as cold and gloomy as the building had looked from the outside. It seemed to me that Madame Marie Dubois was a person that was very sure of what she liked, and expected everyone to follow her orders. Even in the servant quarters, as I was sure we were in now, was decorated in the same, ugly style. He led me to a small dressing room, with a mirror and a sink. I quickly washed my hands and my face, checked my hair, and my dress, then nodded in answer to the servant's question if I was ready, and followed him through the endless corridors, with doors at each side, and only a few candles lighting them. Even though it was still early afternoon, it was as dark as at night inside the house. It wasn't cold, though, which at least was something to be thankful of.

As we came into bigger and more spacious corridors, with more decorations, I saw more candles, and expensive paintings and rugs. Madame Dubois was apparently rich. We stopped outside a big door, which most likely led into a drawing room. He didn't knock immediately, but instead turned towards me and said softly:
"Be polite, answer all her questions, and don't speak unless you're spoken to. Don't act like this is your last resort, look sure of yourself, but don't brag. You'll do fine." He said it all very quickly, and smiled. I felt a bit confused by all the instructions, but I knew better than to show it. I just nodded, and whispered a thank you. He lifted a hand to knock on the door, but I stopped him.
"Wait! Please, monsieur, at least tell me your name. If I'm to work with you in the future, I must know your name." He chuckled softly, then said:
"Of course, mademoiselle, I forgot. My name is George Alavoin." He smiled. "I hope I will meet you again soon. The best of luck to you. Tayce".

With that, he lifted his hand and knocked on the dark wood of the door. I lifted my gaze and waited.

Nothing happened. I let go of my breath (I had obviously been holding it…) and turned to look at Monsieur Alavoin. He looked confused. Then his dark features were lit up by a knowing smile, and he leaned towards me and whispered:

"Madame Dubois is a bit deaf. You might want to remember that." He smelled of something… Something rather strange. Something I couldn't really place. It reminded me… Reminded me of…

"MOTHER!", I screamed. She abandoned all rules of society, hiked up her skirts and ran to me, embracing me and holding on like she would never let go.

"My little darling… Baby.. Sweetheart." The words of endearment soothed my soul like balm. Mama was here. Nothing could hurt me now. Mama was here. Mama was here. I had repeated the phrase all the time, like a mantra. Mama was here. It had made me keep going, given me courage. Mama was here.

I had been staying with an aunt of mine, whose husband drank a lot, and I had accidentally ended up smashing one of my aunt's favourite vases. She had got mad, and thrown me into a broom cupboard. Oh, the darkness.. It stills haunts me. I was only a small girl, five years old at the time. And the darkness almost killed me. I repeated the words mama will come all the time. And she came. And then everything was alright. And when she embraced me, after saving me, she smelled like this man did now. Apple blossoms…

I nodded. Strange, that a man that look so strong and protecting should smell like apple blossoms. I didn't have time to consider it, though, before he knocked again. This time, something happened. Someone spoke. It was a warm voice, quite deep for a woman, but undoubtedly a woman. It was the kind of voice that drove men mad, or had driven. It was like deep red velvet, smooth when you stroked it one way and hard the other. True, age had taken some of the voice's quality, but there was no mistake in that this voice belonged to a dangerous woman. There was an edge of steel to it, a knife hidden among the velvet. Blood stains cannot be seen on red fabric. It frightened me, shook me. That voice, I knew, would change my life. If it was to be a good or bad change, I could not tell. But a change, that was to come. I knew it.

"Enter", the voice said. One word. Just one and yet my mind was lost, and I was helplessly walking through the door. What I saw inside made me freeze with shock. I had expected a beautiful woman, but what I saw… Her face was marred with terrible scars, one of her eyes white and useless. Why didn't monsieur Alavoin warn me! I could have used that more than the information that she was deaf! Only the faintest shadow remained of what had once been extreme, and fatal beauty.

How could a woman like her live with this? I asked myself. It must be unbearable, to look in a mirror and see the constant reminder of what she had lost.

"Go on, dear girl. Go on." She coaxed softly. Oh, heaven, her voice!

Let me explain to you. I have always had a thing with voices. I am myself a hopeless singer, and not much inclined to enjoy music. But I enjoy voices. My mother always tried to warn me not to be mislead by the voice of a stranger.
"That will be your fall, Tayce, love. Be careful." She told me. I didn't listen. Miguel, the one who had put me in this situation, without his voice, I would never have fallen in love with him. As it had been, all I wanted was to hear just another small word from his lips, another sigh, another laugh… Even a harsh word, or an insult could do. I suppose you could compare the satisfaction I got from nice voices to having sex, or something along those lines.

Of course, I hadn't really tried love-making yet, no matter what Miguel said. My father was a catholic priest, and my mother nobility, even though not high-nobility. I would never think of losing my virginity before marriage. It would be too shameful, and would completely ruin my marriage possibilities. It is a metaphor.

I walked towards the hideous creature, sitting in the chair, elegant hands folded in her lap. She wore a lovely green velvet dress, fitting perfectly to her corseted frame. She could have been a queen, despite her face. I started to seat myself in the chair opposite Madame Dubois, but something flickered in her one brown eye. I decided it was better to stand. The flicker returned. Anger? I shuddered. Something was not right with this woman. There was a… cruelty, in her destroyed features, that frightened me. I suddenly realized what she wanted me to do. With my already ruddy face burning even redder with shame, I curtsied quickly, before looking Madame Dubois straight in the eyes. Eye.

"Ah, you're the girl applying for the maid position?" She arched what was left of a delicate eyebrow.
"I must say, you do not look like one of the people. Your back is too straight, you neck is too proud… And such white hands. Tell me, dear girl, have you ever worked in your life before?" A little smile crossed her lips, and she looked at me, waiting for my answer.

"Ehm. Well…" What should I say! I couldn't really tell her my story, or tell her that I had no experience at all…Ah, well. Something in between then.

"I am a very quick learner and…" She interrupted me.

"Speak up, girl, I cannot hear you!" I blushed, feeling extremely ashamed that I had disappointed this… Creature, with the heavenly voice.

"Eh… Madame, and… I don't require much money. I need somewhere to stay, some food, and perhaps… a few francs…" My voice died away. I didn't like the look in her eyes. What I just had said was stupid. Idiotic. But done's done. The dice was thrown. Now, I just had to await my judgement.

"Not much money, you say. Tell, my dear, did you run away from home?" She laughed, but the sight of her scarred face contorting was unpleasant. How did she know? How had she guessed! "Oh no, no, don't look away, it is nothing to be ashamed of, I assure you. So tell me… Did you run away from home, Mademoiselle?"

"No, Madame. I didn't. My parents… They are dead." I straightened my back, trying to remain stoic. I was of as high station as she. Probably higher. Or perhaps not. But she WOULD not look down on me. She laughed again, quietly. The laugher slid from her throat like a silk scarf falls to the floor, softly, slowly and so utterly graceful that it hurts to look at. I couldn't tell if it was a laugh meant to hurt or to soothe me.

"Did they indeed? That is very sad, mademoiselle. In that case, I have no other choice than to hire you. Now, go away. George will show you around. We will speak later tonight. Not now, I have a headache." She closed her eyes and massaged her temples with long, slender fingers with nails painted a blood red .

I just stood there, looking at here, dumbfounded. She just… Gave me the job?

"T-t-thank you, Madame D-dubois", I stuttered. She opened her eyes, EYE, and peered at me, curiously, like a cat stalking a bird.

"And girl, what is your name?"

"Tayce Martineu, Madame." She frowned.

"You certainly don't have a servant's manners, Tayce." She thought for a moment. "But it doesn't matter. I will teach you. I'm sure it will prove to be a fine… amusement.
Now, leave me."

I stared at her for a second, made a wobbly curtsy, and walked as fast as I could towards the door.

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