Chapter Two
"Oh, mon dieu! It is a woman! Come in, my dear, come in quickly." A kind, male voice encouraged. Blissfully warm hands pulled her through the door, and she felt heat course through her body as her eyes adjusted to the light.
The voice belonged to a tall, thin man several years older than Mable. He tugged at her drenched coat and scarf efficiently, dark eyes gentle as he escorted her further into the room. She studied him blankly as he continued to strip her of her outer garments, clucking like some overprotective mother hen. He wore a formal, long black jacket over a pristine white shirt, the jacket tails draping down to his knees His hair was a dark, chestnut brown with the slightest touch of gray at the temples. His face was interesting, with a beak-like nose and thin mouth, which should have made him look austere. But his eyes were a deep, chocolate brown that studied her not in distaste, but in a caring, fatherly way that helped her relax. He picked up her hands and started to massage them, kneading the blood back into them.
"You poor, poor thing. We are so sorry we did not open the door sooner, but you can never tell with a storm like this, you know. We thought it was just the wind, we never imagined that a lady such as yourself was standing out there in the cold! Come, come, you must sit down." He had a mellow voice that held more than a touch of a French accent. He led her over to a high-backed chair, gently seating her so he could pull off her boots. Mable, still a little dazed by such elegant treatment, started to flex her hands a little and hissed when pain shot up her arms.
"Now, you sit here for a moment and warm up a little." the man suggested. He gathered her wet things. "Make sure you move your feet and hands to get the blood moving again, otherwise it will hurt worse. I will go get you room ready, and maybe something to eat. No, do not argue! You need to rest and warm up; you are frozen to the core! Wait just a moment, I will send someone to escort you to your room." The man hurried off, leaving her dazed and confused in the foyer.
Mable sat back, wondering if she had fallen again in the woods and was now in a hypothermic hallucination. She certainly felt like she had fallen again; her body ached all over.
"Okay, calm down." She murmured to herself, taking some deeps breaths. "There is no sense in panicking." She checked her phone again, and whimpered when she saw that she still didn't have a signal. "Maybe this is a mental breakdown, a bad dream caused by stress. I couldn't possibly be in a castle in the middle of the freaking woods, being waited on by—by—" it occurred to her that she didn't even know the man's name. She stopped and took several deeps breaths again.
"Well, he seemed sane. But don't all psychos seem like regular people?" That was the first thing they said on the television. "Well, the castle has to be real. You can't make shit like that up. Right?" she asked nobody. She closed her eyes, and pinched her arm hard enough to draw blood. She opened her eyes, and sighed. She was still here.
It would be better to have a decent look at the place, in case she had to run. Mable groaned. Just the thought of running seemed to make her ache with exhaustion. She couldn't run, not after fighting this blizzard to get here. Even if she did have the energy, how far would she get? She had no idea where she was.
To distract herself from these unpleasant thoughts, Mable took a look around the foyer. It was worth the time, because it was phenomenal. It was longer in length than in width, with several doors leading off to unfamiliar rooms. The whole room was probably bigger than her backyard. The walls themselves were made of the smoothest marble, a swirl of gray and white hues. The floor underneath her feet was dark, elegant wood. A long, ornate carpet stretched lengthwise through the foyer, ending at a door straight across from the front doors. The rug was a piece of artwork in and of itself, a mixture of red, gold, and black that was a blur in to her weary eyes. Bordering the area of the room were chestnut tables that held large, thick vases full of colorful flowers. Mable's eyes lingered on the roses; they couldn't be phony. Their petals gleamed with color and life, and their scent had reached her nose; a perfume so heady it made her sleepier than she already was. Shaking her head to clear it, she spotted several trinkets on the tables, along with the flowers. The one next to her chair held a small, gold clock that ticked monotonously. She frowned at it, her heavy eyes straining to focus on the time. It couldn't possibly be after midnight?
Her eyes fluttered, but she forced herself to stay awake. She looked up, hoping to snap herself out of it. She ended up gaping at the ceiling instead. A chandelier that was bigger than her car was hanging down, and despite its size, it still only took up half the ceiling. The rest of the ceiling was painted ornately with cherubs, angels, and other heavenly creatures that seemed to move when she glanced at them. She did only glace at them because, even though the light was bright enough to make her eyes water, she couldn't tear her sight away from the chandelier. Its size was astounding, but the sheer detail put into piece fascinated her. Gold chain fastened it to the heavens above, and trickled down where it seemed to branch out in a million directions. At the end of each branch was a bright, shimmering bulb that glittered in her vision. Not only that, but each of the bulbs were exactly alike, in every detail. She did not see even one that was burnt out, flickering, or misshapen. It was a masterpiece, a wonderful melding of art and electricity.
"Well, if this is a dream or hallucination, it's a beautiful one." She muttered. The blood had come back into her legs and arms, and she felt tired enough to sleep for a week. She glanced at the door the man had exited; perhaps she should start looking for someone? Even a cot in the back room would be good right now.
She jumped when the large door across from the front doors opened, and in walked a stately woman. She wore a sensible blue dress over her slim figure, a frilly white apron strung around her waist. She looked a few years older than Mable, with brown hair that stopped just above her shoulders, a little white cap perched on her crown. Not one strand of hair was out of place, and it swung majestically as the woman came forward.
Mable ran her fingers through her own, dripping hair.
The woman's eyes, a bright, emerald green, remained focused on Mable. She seemed surprised, as if Mable wasn't who she expected to be here. The woman tapped her way over to Mable and studied her for a moment. She couldn't have been much taller than Mable standing, but from her seated position the woman seemed unnaturally tall.
The woman's eyes roamed her face for a moment, and Mable thought she saw a hint of satisfaction, as if Mable had passed some test.
The woman suddenly smiled a generous, friendly smile, and Mable felt a little more at ease.
"Good evening, mademoiselle." The woman's voice was a pleasant alto, also with a touch of a French accent. "I am terribly sorry for what happened earlier, leaving you out in the storm like that. Are you feeling better?" Her voice was soothing, and Mable relaxed. When she tried to nod, she had to stop because he head was spinning. The woman clicked her tongue, shaking her head in sympathy. "Poor darling, you must be exhausted. It is quite a storm raging out there, and you were probably wading your way through the worst part of it. Do not worry; we'll take good care of you." The woman patted Mable's hand compassionately. The gracious hostess stood up, her hands still on Mable's.
"Come. I'll take you to your room." She said warmly, her hands gently tugging at Mable's.
Mable stubbornly stayed sitting down. "I'm not entirely sure I should go with you." She said, though she desperately wanted to. She was tired, cold, and wet. "I don't really have a good reason to trust you."
"Oh, mademoiselle, you have nothing to fear here." The woman said reassuringly. "I promise, we would never harm you. But if you do not mind me saying, what other choices do you have?"
Mable really couldn't argue with that.
The woman gave Mable's hands another tug, and shakily, she stood. She was glad to know that she could still make her body move properly, despite her fatigue. Her worries of psychopaths and madmen disappeared, if only because she was so exhausted she didn't really want to question it. She barely took the time to look around as the woman led her through endless hallways, each longer than the last, and was only conscious of her aching feet and body. Her eyes refused to adjust to the low lighting in the corridors, and she could only see the dark head of her companion in front of her. Mable could hear the clomping of her boots on soft carpet, and winced. She could only imagine the amount of work some maid or whatever was going to have after she was through.
Mable was pushed through halls, pulled up stairs, and coaxed through various doors and passages by the woman whose name she had not even asked, until finally they stopped in front of a large, wooden door. This door was like the ones in the foyer, with a blank nameplate placed at her eye level. The woman turned to smile gently at her, and pushed the door open, leading Mable into the most beautiful room she had ever seen.
Mable stepped further into the room and turned slowly, taking it all in. The room was far larger than her room at home, the walls covered with crimson velvet and tapestries spun in gold and silver. The floor was also gleaming wood, sanded so smoothly that it shone and looked almost golden in the candlelight. The room had two large bay windows, with seating so a guest could sit and study the world peacefully, on a sunny day. Tonight though, the world outside was less than peaceful, and Mable shivered gratefully when the woman gently closed the curtains. Mable inspected the other parts of the room, glad to have an excuse to look away from the dark, intimidating storm outside those windows.
On her right, next to the door, was a hand-crafted desk with papers stacked neatly in the left-hand corner on the top. Mable blinked at the bottles of ink and quills that lined the right-hand corner of the desk. It seemed natural that this place had no modern equipment, but it was still startling to see a desk that looked like it came out of a history book. The desk itself was made of gleaming mahogany with shelves and drawers to keep things tidy.
A vanity table with a large mirror stood on her left, the edges trimmed with gold, silver jars and hairbrushes neatly displayed for her perusal. Mable glanced at herself in the mirror and flinched. She looked ragged, her hair dripping and her face red with the blood returning to her cheeks. Turning so she wouldn't have to look, she gasped in delight when she saw the canopied bed and night table. The bed was humongous, big enough to fit six people comfortably. It was covered with cream-colored blankets and pillows, the canopy above a dark, spring green. Mable inched closer to lay her hand on the bedposts, smiling when she saw that they were carved delicately to look as if ivy was slowly creeping up and spreading over the bed, sheltering whomever was sleeping below. Mable felt a terrible longing to lie down and just sleep.
"Come, mademoiselle." The woman had been bustling around the room, pulling the covers down on the bed. She motioned for Mable to lie down.
"No offense or anything, but you probably don't want me sleeping in that bed with these wet clothes on." Mable said. That sounded lame.
"It does not matter much to me; I am here to make you feel welcome, not to worry about wet sheets. But it probably would be more comfortable for you to wear something warm and dry. Un moment, s'il vous plait." The woman stepped up to a door Mable hadn't noticed, and opened it wide enough so Mable could see endless varieties of clothes. There seemed to be millions of colors, fabrics and styles. Mable stared in fascination while the woman rustled about through some drawers over to one side.
"Where did all that come from? Do you guys own some sort of clothes emporium or something?" Mable asked, still staring as the woman returned with some underwear and a simple, green nightgown.
"No, that is not quite it, mademoiselle." the woman chuckled, "Now, if you would like to change out of those wet things, I will take them to be cleaned. You will have them back tomorrow, I imagine." The woman beckoned to the closet, "You can change in there, if you wish." She held out the clothes, and frowned in concern when Mable hesitated. "What is wrong, mademoiselle?"
Mable fidgeted, feeling her face grow warm with embarrassment. "They may not be my size, so you may need-" she broke off when the woman chuckled.
"No, no, these will fit you fine, do not worry. You just change out of those wet clothes."
Mable took the clothes, still feeling a little awkward. She doubted this lean, lovely woman would know much about plus sizes. Mable herself was not really fat, just plump, but it still made shopping unpleasant as an adolescent with her two gorgeous older sisters. Now, she barely had time to go clothes shopping at all unless it was an item she desperately needed, like new boots.
With that on her mind, Mable stumbled into the closet, preparing to try on clothes that wouldn't fit. At home, she liked to sleep in an oversized nightshirt. The man she had met drifted into her head. Maybe he could lend her a shirt. She grinned at the idea of that well-dressed, polite man lending her a night-shirt.
Stripping off her wet clothes, she studied the numerous amounts of dresses, slacks, and blouses that hung on the racks that circled the closet. It was more of a room, since it could probably fit five of her closets combined in its space. A flickering candle was encased in crystal glass, keeping the fire away from the flammable garments. Shoes were aligned on the floor, everything from high heels to slippers, all in array different colors. After pulling off her sweater, she took a peek in some of the drawers on the left. One held underwear, of various shades and fabrics. Another held socks, tights, and leggings.
The third held jewelry. Necklaces, rings and bracelets glittered from their cozy spot in the drawer, winking up at her in the light. Some had diamonds, some had rubies or sapphires, and some had jewels Mable couldn't even name. She reached in to touch one, just to see if they were real, but noise outside startled her, and feeling guilty, she returned to pulling off the rest of her clothes.
To her surprise, the underwear and nightgown fit perfectly, and were incredibly comfortable. The nightgown was soft cotton that came down to her ankles. She thought giddily that it even made her look more feminine. Giggling at her whimsy, and feeling quite cozy, Mable wandered back out into the bedroom, holding her still-dripping clothes far away from her. The woman was in the same position as before, only now her smile was back, friendly and welcoming.
"Wonderful, I will take those," She held out her hand for Mable's wet things, "and you may get into bed. I will be right back, don't you worry. Food is on its way, and then you can get a good night's sleep." It was only when the woman had tapped out of the room that Mable realized that she had not asked the woman her name
Happy to finally lie down, Mable jumped into the bed, and snuggled in the blankets and pillows. Oddly, she felt at home here. She hardly knew why; she was still in a strange place with people she hardly knew, but the very thought of food and sleep made Mable feel content.
She started to think about her father, and immediately felt ashamed. She hoped that Miss Carol had stayed over. He father needed someone to look after him, and without her there, he might just get up and wander into the blizzard.
There was no use fretting about it. Without signal, she could hardly call to check in, and she certainly wasn't going anywhere tonight. Miss Carol was a sweet woman, and knew both of Mable's sisters. She had probably called them when Mable hadn't come home, and Jeanne would have insisted that the retired nurse stay until morning at least. Tomorrow morning Mable could collect her things and get home before Jeanne could even think of taking the four-hour drive to their house.
She rested her head against the pillows, savoring the warmth and softness. Her mind drifted, and she stretched like a cat in the sun. Outside the wind whipped and howled, but inside all she could hear was the crackling of the candles. She briefly wondered how a place that depended on fireplaces and candles for light could have a chandelier in the foyer. This place didn't seem to have any form of electricity, or even plumbing, that she could see. She puzzled about the chandelier, but her sleep-deprived mind would not focus for long, and she decided to let the question go unanswered. She resigned herself to thinking about less confusing subjects, since her eyes were getting heavy. She was just about to doze off when a gentle knock at the door caused her to sit up straight.
Unsure of whether to answer or get up and open the door herself, Mable compromised, by getting out of bed and calling, "Who's there?"
"It is only me, mademoiselle. I have your dinner." The pleasant, male voice was familiar, and Mable went to open the door. However, before she could reach it, the door was opened and the man she met in the foyer came in bearing a tray. He smiled down at her, his expression so sympathetic it instantly made Mable feel embarrassed.
"Sorry, I wasn't sure whether to open the door or… you're in now, so I guess it doesn't matter, does it?" She babbled nervously, humiliated to be seen in a nightgown. On top of that, she didn't even know how to treat a butler, or servant, whatever he was. She relaxed when his smile softened, and he tipped his head towards the bed.
"It is quite all right, my lady. Go sit down, and I'll prepare this tray so you can eat. Do try to eat it all, the cooks made it especially for you. It would hurt their feelings if it came back half full." He followed her at a nerve-wracking distance, but the smell of food made her mouth water so she put up with it. She jumped into bed and settled herself, ridiculously pleased when the man tucked her in firmly and fussed with the tray.
"It smells delicious!" She exclaimed, her spoon halfway to her mouth as she spoke. She took a bite and sighed. It was a wonderful stew filled with bits of beef and vegetables that sent heat into her frozen bones. "Oh, this is good!" she shoveled it down, becoming less aware of her companion by the second. She took a small sip from the cup next to her bowl, rolling the taste on her tongue. It was some sort of juice, cool and sweet. She ate and drank until she felt she was going to burst. She sat back, and looked guiltily up at the man, who had patiently stood next to her while she wolfed down food like a barbarian.
"Sorry about that. I totally forgot my manners. I can't believe I was so hungry, I guess it has been a long time since I last ate. Thanks for dinner…um." She blinked stupidly. She hadn't ever asked this man his name either.
Thankfully he wasn't offended. He just chuckled and said sincerely, "Monsieur Lune, my lady. I am the House Seneschal." Mable had no idea what that was.
"If you need anything at all, just ask." He started to gather up the tray, and Mable sat back so he wouldn't knock into her and spill anything.
"Monsieur Lune. Thank you for the meal…oh, and thank the cooks too." She smiled brightly at him, feeling triumphant. She finally knew someone's name!
Monsieur Lune beamed down at her once more, the tray finally ready to go. "You are quite welcome, my lady. I will be sure to give the cooks your thanks. They will be quite pleased to know you enjoyed it. Now please, get some sleep. You had a long day." Still smiling, Monsieur Lune headed for the door.
He stopped abruptly when the woman who led Mable to the bedroom reappeared in the doorway. Mable blinked; it had looked like she had appeared out of thin air. It could not possibly have happened though, because the woman walked gracefully into the room like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She spotted Mable, and a smile lit her face.
"Good, you have had dinner. I will just say good night then, and blow out the candles so you can get some rest." She nodded politely to Monsieur Lune, who bowed awkwardly back.
"Good night, Monsieur Lune." Mable called, having a sudden urge to call out to him as she would her own father. Like her father, Monsieur Lune turned around and smiled warmly, almost affectionately.
"Bonne nuit, my lady. Sweet dreams." He said with feeling, and left the room.
The woman fussily plucked the pillows behind Mable's head, and pushed her gently so she would lie down.
"You sleep now, mademoiselle. It has been a long day." The woman proceeded to blow out the candles around the room.
Mable yawned, feeling sleep overcome her. She watched blearily as the woman finished her work and picked up the last candle. The woman was getting ready to leave the room, when Mable suddenly shot up in bed, remembering the question she had wanted to ask. Perhaps she could have asked later, but her tired mind made the question seem more important than it probably was, so she ended up almost shouting, "What's your name?" in a panicked voice.
The woman started at the tone, and stared at her. It was obvious that she thought Mable had fallen asleep already. Her lips curved in a smile after a moment, the candlelight making her face look eerie in the dark.
"I am Madame Cecile. I will be your personal servant while you stay here. What is your name?"
"Mable Lawrence" Mable saw the woman give her a quick nod to indicate that she heard, and felt the fear and panic fade away, As the woman left, Mable slowly slipped into darkness, her mind echoing the name Madame Cecile.
Mable awoke to the sounds of birds chirping joyfully outside the window. Not quite ready to get up yet, Mable rolled over and put a pillow over her head. She could sense the chilly atmosphere outside her bed, and was not willing to get up and walk around in the cold. She snuggled under the covers, enjoying the feel of warm cotton against her skin. The birds continued to twitter cheerily, alerting her to the sun's reappearance in the sky. The snow must have stopped, for a little while. She had lived in northern Vermont long enough to know that more was probably on the way. It was going to be a couple of days before anyone could get out of their houses again. Well, there was plenty of food in the house; they could survive on that for a few days. She groaned inwardly, remembering that she would have to shovel the walk in an hour or so, after she had gotten her father up…except she wasn't at home.
Mable shot up in bed, the memories of last night finally coming back to her. She was not at home; she was in some strange castle in the middle of the woods. Not only that, but she was in a castle with a bunch of strangers. People she had only met last night. She remembered Madame Cecile, and the butler, Monsieur Lune. Everything that had been lost in sleep came back to her, in one painful moment. She had sort of been hoping it had all been a horrible nightmare. Mable threw off the covers, ignoring the cold air stinging her legs. Above all else, she needed to use the bathroom and take a shower.
Mable noticed a gray robe gracefully placed on one of the chairs, and swiftly put it one, and was pleased to find it fit her perfectly. She glanced around, biting her lower lip. She could see only two doors that were in the room, the one that led to the hallway and the closet. There was no bathroom, as far as she could tell. Furthermore, there didn't seem to be any plumbing here, though she wasn't entirely certain about that.
Resigned, Mable opted to pick out clothes instead. Perhaps Madame Cecile would return and tell her where the bathroom was. Thinking wistfully of her bathroom back home, where everything was where she wanted it, Mable went to open the door to the closet. As her hand touched the doorknob, a jolt went straight up her arm, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It felt like static electricity, a small shock that made her jump. The jolt vanished as soon as it had come, and Mable was free to open the door.
"Oh shit."
She had stepped into the bathroom at home.
Mable swung around in a circle, completely flabbergasted. This room had been a closet only last night, but now it was her bathroom. It was exactly like the one at her house, from the mint green wallpaper all the way to the cracked showerhead. Her toothbrush was sitting on the counter, with her favorite brand of toothpaste. Her towel was flung over the rack, just like normal. The radiator whistled as it started its early routine.
A little cautious, since there was a possibility that all this would disappear any minute, Mable crept over to the shower. She gently turned the knob, and water streaked out of the showerhead, causing her to jump back. It was just like the one at her house.
"Well, I'll be damned." Mable breathed, and tested the water with her fingertips. It was already steaming hot. She adjusted the temperature, and waited as it cooled down enough to be hot, but not scorching. She wasn't quite sure how this had all happened, but she wasn't about to let some magic phenomena ruin her shower. She found her shampoo and conditioner right where she normally left it.
After she had cleaned up, Mable went back out into the bedroom, shivering slightly in the cold air. Despite that, she felt better, and a little more at home here. Being able to do take a shower without worrying about her father was a new and relaxing experience. She made her bed, then went back to the closet door. If there was a bathroom behind there now, where had the closet gone?
She opened the door again, and felt the jolt of electricity race up her arm once more. The door swung open to reveal the closet, just as it was last night.
"Now hold on just a goddamn second!" She snapped, and slammed the door. Thinking about her bathroom again, she yanked the door back open. This time, it was the bathroom, the windows still steamed up from her shower. She closed it. She thought about the closet. She opened again. There it was, the closet, just as it was earlier. She did this several times, opening and closing the door, always feeling that little spark of electricity race up her arm. The spark was not as sharp now that she had done it a few times, and soon she wasn't able to feel the spark at all. Finally, her curiosity spent, she thought of the closet, and reopened the door. Mumbling under her breath, she slammed through the drawers and racks for clothes.
After finding some underwear which, once again, fit her perfectly, Mable searched through the clothes to find something comfortable, like jeans. Instead, she found a pretty blue blouse that she immediately loved, and a pair of gray slacks that would do for a while. She couldn't find any jeans, but the garments she picked were comfy enough. She found a pair of slip-on shoes that were almost like slippers, they were so soft. A little calmer now that she was dressed, she shuffled through the drawer with jewelry, then decided against it. Most of the pieces were too extravagant for her tastes, and certainly not appropriate for just wandering around.
She closed the drawer sadly. It wasn't often she got to wear jewelry. However, she did not want to wear anything that didn't belong to her. The clothes were all right, since she was just borrowing them, but wearing the jewelry made it seem like she just helped herself. It wasn't polite, and probably unsafe. She didn't know enough people around here to have defenders in case she got into trouble. She had better keep a low profile until the snow ceased and she could go home.
Forlornly, Mable stepped out of the closet, but laughed quietly when she heard her stomach growl. She wondered briefly if Madame Cecile or Monsieur Lune would come back soon enough to lead her to wherever she could get food. Either person would be good right now. It was rather odd, but she seemed to trust them even though she had not known them for more than one night. Perhaps it was their warm smiles, or their kind eyes that made her feel safe. It may have even been the parental air about them. She oddly felt at home here, fantastical as that sounded.
Lost in thought, Mable absently unfastened the curtains that hid the morning sunlight. She sighed blissfully when she felt the sun on her face, and had to give her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden light before she studied the world outside. She realized she was far up, at least five stories. She let her eyes feast on the landscape, appreciating the beauty and the novelty of this fantasy land.
The forest was covered under a blanket of snow, glittering in the sunlight like a thin layer of diamonds on the ground. Mable looked just below her, away from the forest. She saw what looked like giant garden, filled with benches and little archways. She could bet that during the summer it was full of flowers and shrubs, blooming vibrantly to celebrate the last few months of sun before being covered in snow once again. Now, though, it was one big region of snow and ice. Closer to the castle was a courtyard with some more benches. This area was larger and probably used for elegant dances and parties when the weather was right. Now, under the snow, the courtyard was empty, except for some feathered guests. Bird gathered in clusters on the benches, their twittering and chirping making Mable smile. Someone had put seed outside, so the birds could gain enough energy to keep warm through the storm that was bound to come. Already Mable could see gray clouds rolling through the sky, ready to bequeath another night's worth of snow upon them.
She focused her attention on a little pond set away from the garden and courtyard. It was the only thing not covered in snow, and she could see that it had been brushed off. She could guess why. The whole pond was covered in a thick layer of ice that she could see from her window, even this high up.
Sighing she turned from the window, preparing to find her way downstairs, or anywhere that would lead her to food. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a small girl sitting on her bed, watching her.