Chapter Three
"Oh shi-I mean, oh my." Mable quickly changed her swear into something more decent. "W-where did you come from?"
The girl gave Mable a friendly smile. "I came in through the door, of course." She said cheerfully.
Mable laughed. "I guess that was a dumb question." She admitted. "You were so quiet. I didn't even hear you come in."
"You busy looking out the window. I can hardly blame you, it's quite a view." the girl drew her knee up and rested her chin on it. She was a spritely thing around nine or ten, with thick, chestnut hair that came down to her shoulders in soft waves. Her face was spattered with freckles, as if she had been lightly dusted with cocoa. Inquisitive brown eyes framed with long lashes studied Mable as curiously as Mable studied her. She was dressed far more casually than the other people Mable had met so far, in a bulky gray sweater that hung to her knees and black leggings. It was quite a difference from the prim Madame Cecile and proper Monsieur Lune.
"It is quite a view." Mable said, settling herself next to the girl on the bed. "How many floors does this place have, anyway?"
"Six, not including the lookout towers." She answered automatically. The girl puffed up importantly. "It was my idea to put you in this room." Like the others Mable had met, this girl's voice also had a hint of a French accent.
Mable smiled, amused. "Was it, now? Well, thank you very much. I do love the view, and the bed is incredible. I don't think I've slept that well in years."
The girl flushed at the compliments. "My name is Madeleine." She offered. "But you can call me Maddie. Everyone around here does."
"I'm Mable, Mable Lawrence." Mable held her hand out, and the girl shook it firmly. "So, Maddie, whereabouts do you think I can get breakfast? I'm pretty hungry."
Maddie jumped up from the bed. "Oh, that's perfect." She suddenly looked embarrassed. "Sorry, it's not perfect that you are hungry, of course. But it's perfect because Papa sent me up here to escort you down to breakfast in the first place."
"Who's your Papa?" Mable asked.
"Monsieur Lune."
"Monsieur Lune is your father?" Mable squeaked. She wasn't sure why she was so surprised. He had looked old enough to be a parent, and now that she looked closer she could see the likeness of him in Maddie's face.
"Yes, he's the House Seneschal." Maddie stretched lazily. "He was quite worried about you. He told me to apologize that he couldn't come escort you himself, but he has a daily meeting with the staff every morning, and we weren't sure when you would wake up."
"What is a Seneschal? He told me that last night but I have no idea what it is." Mable asked, confused.
Maddie shrugged. "All it means is he's the head of the male servants, the footmen and such. He's their boss."
"Ah." Well, that made sense, she supposed. She had never been in a place that needed a boss to control the male quotient of the staff before.
"So, are you hungry?" Maddie asked enthusiastically. "It's almost lunchtime, but I'm sure if we ask nice the cooks will still make you breakfast."
"Almost noon?" Mable looked out the window frantically. "I slept that long?"
Maddie peered at her in mild concern. "Well, you found the castle late last night, so it makes sense that you slept that long. Is something wrong, Mable?"
Mable took a few moments to collect her thoughts. Miss Carol probably would have spent the night, and by now the roads would be cleaned enough so that Jeanne or Colette, who most certainly knew she was missing by now, would have started the drive to Berkshire. She had some time before she had to be home, and there was no point in leaving on an empty stomach. She didn't even have her old clothes back yet.
"No, no. Everything is fine. Let me just get something to put up my hair with and we can be on our way." She told Maddie, who was watching her anxiously.
Mable went over to the vanity table and explored. She was greeted with the ghastly view of herself in the mirror, but once she picked up a silver-handled hairbrush and ran it through her hair for a few strokes, she appeared slightly more put together. She rummaged through the silver jars and the drawers, looking for an elastic band. The jars held various make-ups, none of which Mable wanted. The drawers held combs, some ribbons, and oddly, a pair of white silk gloves. There were no hair ties to be found, though.
Mable turned to her guest. "Do you know where I can find some elastic bands or something?" she asked, exasperated. It figured. A huge, ornate castle didn't have one measly hair tie.
Maddie shook her head, but got up and snatched a ribbon from one of the drawers. Imperiously, she beckoned Mable to sit on the stout, padded chair and turned her to face the mirror. "I don't see why you want your hair up." She commented, her slim fingers running expertly through Mable's reddish-gold waves. "It looks so much nicer when it is down."
"It's just easier to keep it up." Mable replied. It was odd having someone so young do her hair. Not that she did much with it, but when she did it was usually Colette or Jeanne who fixed it for her. She didn't get to see her nieces often, so Mable never got to experience the "beauty-shop" game they liked to play with their mother.
Maddie patted her shoulder to indicate she was done. Mable turned her head to admire the elaborate braid the girl had woven down her neck.
"Very nice." She said approvingly. "Where did you learn to braid like this?"
Maddie smiled, a little sad. "My mother died right after I was born. For years Papa tried to put up my hair, but could never seem to get it to stay in place. So I had to learn how to do it myself."
Mable swung around so she was at eye-level with the girl. "I'm sorry." She said gently. "I know how it feels. I lost my mother when I was young. I was four when she died."
Maddie shrugged, but said, "I don't remember her, so I can't really miss her. It's always been just my Papa and me." Then, curiously; "Do you miss your mother?"
"A little" Mable admitted. She was so young when her mother had died, Mable really only had a few scant memories of a golden-haired woman with Jeanne's warm smile. "I was usually more jealous of my two sisters, who were older than I was when she died. They had all these great memories of her, and I didn't have as many since I was so little. My oldest sister, Jeanne, she always told me stories about her, though. She was twelve when our mother died." Mable had always suspected their mother's death had played some part in Jeanne's desire to be a stay-at-home mom. Their mother had died in a car accident with a drunk driver on her way home from work.
Maddie smiled. "My Papa always tells me stories about my mother too." She frowned after a moment. "What about your Papa? Didn't he tell you stories?"
Mable laughed quietly. "Oh, he told us plenty of stories about my mother." In her mind's eye Mable saw images of her father, young and widowed, telling three little girls bedtime stories with their late mother as the main character. She saw him in his frilly apron in the kitchen, making them special pancakes on snow days; hosting family movie days with their favorite movies; taking them ice skating on the small pond down the street. All those moments they had with him seemed to get lost under the weight of the Alzheimer's.
Mable was starting to get way too emotional, but luckily for both of them her stomach chose then to give a loud gurgle.
They both giggled. "Now, I remember distinctly you telling me there was breakfast somewhere." Mable said, standing up.
The two of them walked out into the corridor. Mable enjoyed looking around as Maddie scooted ahead, occasionally whirling around to walk backwards to see if Mable was still following.
The corridors were simple enough, with gleaming marble walls like in the foyer, and thick crimson carpeting leading down each corridor. Gilded lamps flickered on the walls, not electric ones, but real oil and wick lamps. Paintings were placed lovingly in well-chosen areas, pictures of forests and gardens so well drawn it was like looking through a window. Mable got tugged more than once, all because she had to stop and give each painting a good look.
"I thought you said you were hungry!" Maddie asked laughingly as she pulled Mable away from a painting of a rose garden.
"I am, but these are just so beautiful. Do you know who painted these?"
"Lady Liana painted a lot, but some are from artists who used to spend time in the castle. We have an extensive library, and the gardens are magnificent in summertime, so we used to have a lot of guests back in the old days." Maddie explained, sounding more than a bit proud.
Mable asked, as she was prodded down another hallway, "Who is Lady Liana?" Thankfully Maddie was keeping a firm grip on Mable's arm, because by now Mable was completely lost. She couldn't remember a lot from last night, but she was pretty sure that she had not gone up this many stairs the night before.
"Lady Liana was Master's Theo's mother. She died a long time ago." Maddie said, thoroughly confusing Mable.
"Who is Master Theo? And do you know where you are going?"
"Of course I do!" was the indignant reply, "I'm taking a shortcut." Maddie pulled Mable over to another set of stairs, and they started the long trek down. Mable was starting to feel winded.
"Master Theo is the owner of the castle." Maddie continued hesitantly. She stopped on the bottom step and looked back up at Mable, eyes narrowed in thought. "Maybe we should wait until later to talk about Master Theo more." She suggested. "His story is long, and my Papa tells it best."
Mable met the girl at the bottom of the stairs, huffing out a tired breath. "Fine. At this point, I just want to be alive when we make it to breakfast."
"It's not much further."
As they continued down yet another corridor, Mable thought of something else.
"Hey, shouldn't this place have maids or something? You said your dad was the House Seneschal; why aren't there more people working?"
"Oh, they all have different assignments. They usually start with the top floors and work their way down, but Papa told them to stay out of sight until you were up. He thought you might get upset, you see, because you haven't been here very long and only just got here last night. He thought too many new people gawking at you would only disturb you, and we want you to feel as comfortable as possible." Maddie turned to give Mable a bright smile. "He chose me to come get you because he knew I'd get you to the kitchens faster than anyone else."
Mable chewed on that as they reached what was hopefully the first floor. The lack of people in her proximity made her nervous. Why would they stop working because she might become distressed? She had never been treated with this amount of graciousness, and it was starting to make her suspicious. She didn't even know anyone here that well. She barely knew Monsieur Lune or Madame Cecile, and had only just met Maddie. Why were these people treating her so kindly?
The most worrisome part was that these people didn't seem dangerous at all. When finding a strange castle in the middle of the woods, Mable had wondered if she was walking into her own version of a horror movie. But everyone was so thoughtful; she just couldn't see any of them turning out to be monsters.
"We're here!" chirped Maddie. Mable shook herself out of her reverie, realizing they had come to a door without her realizing. Mable caught a quick glimpse of the gold nameplate on the door, which read Kitchens in romantic, swooping letters. That was all she saw before she was pulled into a hot, steamy room. Marvelous smells engulfed her, making her mouth water and her stomach gave a high pitched gurgle. Shouts rang in her ears as the two of them entered further into the kitchen.
"Maddie! Have you come down for a snack already, ma cherie? It has not even been an hour since you last ate." A voice boomed over the cacophony of pots and pans being thrown about. Mable watched as Maddie was snatched from in front of her and thrown high in the air by a lean man in a stained apron. Maddie laughed as the man swung her around, and Mable got a chance to investigate the kitchen of a castle.
The kitchen was huge, far larger than her kitchen at home, filled with gleaming counters and three muscular ovens that made hers look like a pretentious microwave. Several stoves were already covered with pans and pots, bubbling deliciously and sending thick, creamy scents into the air.
Mable counted four men and one woman, all dressed in similarly stained aprons as the man in front of her. All were working industriously at the stoves; stirring, frying or rolling various ingredients. All the while they talked with their neighbors, voices barely heard over the crackling of the fire in a gigantic hearth over to her left and the shrieks of steam. Mable was highly impressed by the amount of concentration they managed to put into their conversations. She certainly couldn't do three or four things at once and still talk to someone, but she saw many of the chefs doing just that. She shuffled over a bit to get a look in one of the pots, where there was a most wonderful smell, and blinked when she saw all the chefs had halted their task to stare at her.
"Bon Dieu! Must I keep my eyes on you every second?" the man had put Maddie down and was now glaring in their direction. "Is a woman so rare you cannot work, you must ogle her like animals? Dinner is in a few hours, do you expect it to cook itself? Back to work!" The staff immediately jumped back to what they were doing, and Mable was tugged gently over to a small bistro table huddled in the corner.
"Pardon, my dear lady, I am terribly sorry for that. We rarely get guests in the kitchen, so it is easy for them to forget their manners. Come, sit down, you must be hungry." The man ushered her into a chair, Maddie grabbing the seat across from her.
"Now, what can I get for you?" the man beamed at her. He was good-looking in a boyish way, with a cheerfully round face. His hair might have been blonde, but was dusted with so much flour it was hard for her to tell. Clear blue eyes were set under thin brows. His nose was beak-like and crooked, and he had a mouth that naturally tilted upwards at the sides making him look like he was smiling.
A soon as she thought that, he whirled to shout at one of the chefs.
"Margot, make sure you put plenty of onions in that soup. You know how Master Theo likes it. And stir more vigorously woman, do you want to burn it?" the lone woman of the chefs mere shook her head, not seeming the least bit intimidated, and did as she was ordered.
The man turned back to her. "Now, my dear. We have a lovely pot of oatmeal, still hot from this morning's breakfast. Or would you like something for lunch?"
"Um, well, I…" Mable was still trying to reconcile this friendly man with the one who had just bellowed. "I'm sorry…who are you?"
The man let out a laugh. "Apologies, Mademoiselle. You may call me Monsieur Carnier. I am the head chef here, in charge of these louts." He waved an airy hand at the chefs behind him, all of whom rolled their eyes and exchanged laughing glances with each other.
"Oh. Ok." Mable returned the man's gracious smile. "I'm Mable."
"A pleasure, my lady." He grabbed Mable's hand and kissed it, making her turn crimson.
"Give her some of the oatmeal, Carnier. And one of those jelly rolls; those were great too." Maddie piped up from the opposite side of the table.
"It seems my cooks are not the only ones to forget their manners in front of a lady." Monsieur Carnier reproached, "Let the poor things speak for herself, Maddie."
"Actually, oatmeal sounds wonderful. Could I also get some of the juice you sent up last night? That tasted amazing." She was rewarded with a gracious smile from Monsieur Carnier.
"Of course, my lady, whatever you wish." He gave a flamboyant bow and sauntered away.
Mable rubbed her warm cheeks, grateful that the smoky kitchen blurred her features enough so no one would suspect how flustered she was. "Is he always like that?" she asked Maddie.
"Oh, yes, most of the time. Though he added a lot more 'my lady's' with you." Maddie replied. She grinned when Carnier stopped to bellow at one of the male chefs. "He never means it when he yells. He just does it to be heard over the noise. I'm going to tell Margot to get you a jelly roll; she always heats them up in the oven and they taste so much better warm." She slid out of her chair and hurried over to the female chef.
Mable smiled as she watched the girl trot away. She liked the little girl. Maddie was a lot like Mable's nieces, about the same age as Mable's oldest niece Rose. Maybe when she got home she could talk Jeanne into taking a trip up here. She bet that Maddie and Rose would hit it off in no time.
Mable gave Monsieur Carnier a grateful smile when he set down a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. It was still rather unsettling to get all this special treatment, but Mable would be lying if she said she hated it. At home, she was the one doing the majority of the cooking and cleaning. It was nice to be waited on for once.
"Thank you, Monsieur Co-Carnier." She said, stumbling a bit over the foreign name. "This looks delicious." She took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring. She was not a huge fan of oatmeal, and ate it sparingly. However, this oatmeal tasted rich and flavorful, the product of fresh grains and fruit, instead of the packaged kind.
"This is wonderful." She said when she had swallowed. Maddie came over and placed a steaming, glazed jelly bun on a plate next to the oatmeal. She also placed a small jar of golden honey next to Mable's bowl, and Mable was happy to add it to the hot cereal. "I should have known it would taste great," she told Monsieur Carnier, who was gracefully pouring her a glass of the red fruit juice she had asked for. "Your stew last night was amazing, so I can't imagine why I would think breakfast would be any different."
The head chef smiled at her winningly. "Yes, stew is one of my better dishes." He tried to look humble and failed. "I am glad you enjoyed it, Lady Mable."
Mable took a sip of her juice and eyed him thoughtfully. "You don't have to keep calling me 'lady'." She told him.
Monsieur Carnier thought about it for a moment, and then bent down to give her hand another kiss. Mable felt her cheeks burn.
"Whatever you wish, Lady Mable." He said, giving her an insolent wink. Off he trotted, yelling at another chef to start washing dishes, did he think they would wash themselves?
"That was not what I meant." grumbled Mable. She went to take another bite of oatmeal and saw that Maddie had brought her a mug. Mable lifted it to her nose, and detected the dark scent of coffee. "I don't suppose you have any cream and sugar?" she asked the girl, eyeing the beverage warily. It smelled richer and stronger than the coffee she made at home.
The girl placed a small bowl of sugar on the table, along with a crock of fresh cream. Mable poured ample quantities of both into her mug, and blinked when she saw Maddie doing the same to a similar mug.
"Are you allowed to drink that?"
Maddie stirred the contents of the mug and took a dainty sip. "I'm mature for my age." She told Mable loftily.
Mable shrugged and returned to her breakfast. If her father didn't have a problem with his nine-year-old drinking coffee, then she could hardly say anything otherwise. She wasn't the girl's mother.
Maddie traded friendly chatter with the nearby chefs as Mable finished her oatmeal and juice. She had a few sips of the coffee, but even with cream and sugar it was strong enough to make her nerves itch. It also had enough caffeine in it that she could probably jog the mile it would take to get back to her car and not feel winded.
Maddie's attention returned to her when Mable scraped the last of oatmeal from her bowl. "All done?" she asked cheerfully. "I was wondering if you would like a tour of the castle. You haven't seen any of the goods parts; the library, the art gallery, the stables…"
Mable smiled at the girl. "Maybe some other time. I really ought to be getting home now. My family doesn't know where I am, and they are probably worried."
Maddie's face fell. "Oh, you're leaving already?"
Mable felt guilt coil in her belly at the look on the girl's face. She would have liked a tour. After all, how many people got the chance to tour a castle freely? Exploring all the hidden hidey-holes and passageways that came naturally to hidden, isolated castles would have been a wonderful escape from the monotony that was her life. Besides, Maddie was so sweet and friendly. Mable felt sorry for her; she hadn't seen any other children, and Mable could tell that the child was lonely.
But there was her father to think about, and Jeanne and Colette, who were surely on the road by now.
"I'm sorry." She told the girl kindly. "I would have loved to have a tour, but I really should be getting home."
"B-but you can't leave!" Maddie protested. She seemed panicked "You're supposed to be here."
Mable frowned. "No, Maddie." She said, trying to be firm. "Ending up here was a mistake, just a combination of bad weather and a stupid fall. Now, I really have to be going." She noticed that as she and Maddie argued, the chefs had all stopped working and were now peering in their direction. "Look, you don't understand. My father is sick, and my sisters are probably worried. I need to let them know I'm ok."
Maddie was biting her lip, eyes blurry with tears. Monsieur Carnier came hurrying over, and placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Your father, Lady? He is ill?" Carnier asked, a little sharply.
Mable's patience was starting to wear thin. "Yes. He'll be worried, and so will my sisters. They'll come looking for me." She didn't know him well enough to want to expand on her father's illness. These people didn't need to know he had Alzheimer's, and probably couldn't function well enough to tell people where she might have gone.
She did feel bad for leaving them after such a friendly welcome, and it hurt to see the disappointment in Maddie's face, but the residents of this castle were not her top priority.
"Please," she softened her voice. "If there is any way I can just get my stuff back, like my clothes and my cell phone, I would really like to leave as soon as I can. Before dark, if possible."
Monsieur Carnier cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm terribly sorry, my lady but…"
"But what?" Mable interrupted. She wished they would stop stalling. "Look, if you don't have my stuff, fine. I can always come back for it. I just need a jacket. That would be fine. I can find the way back on my own, if someone points out the direction of the road." Maybe once she was closer to the road she could get reception on her phone and get someone to give her a ride.
"It's not that, Lady. You see-" he went over to a door near the back of the kitchen and wrenched it open. "It would be impossible for you to go home in this weather."
Mable stood up at the sound of howling wind, and went to the door. She groaned when she saw that it had started to snow again, and she couldn't see an inch past the cold, white curtain that led to the only way home.