Hey guys! Last chapter before we speed up a bit in time. I'd like to thank everyone who reviews, makes me want to keep writing!
Special shout out to Castellorizon for always having something nice to say, thank you so much :)
Enjoy!
XVII: Moving On
This house had been Javert's…Aimée thought, looking over the emptiness. The letter with his key had arrived nearly months ago, but she couldn't bring herself to finally go to his home. She was warmed that he felt like he could trust her with his key, trust her to walk through his home and see how he lived, or how he had lived. She found her hand resting on the small table that sat in his dark entryway, the snow from her sleeve melting into the wool.
The large room with the fireplace was empty, save for two chairs and a bookshelf. She quickly stepped over to it and read the spines. They were moving in exactly two weeks, and she had received no letter in quite some time. Aimée told herself that he must've been busy, too busy to write. The heavy brass key was clutched in her hand and she found that she enjoyed the weight of it as she stood.
His books were mostly military. Battle strategies, weapons throughout history, famous generals. She squinted her eyes and shook her head as she bent close to the worn spines, struggling to read in the gloom. There, at the last end of the row, she finally found something that had peaked her interest. It was a rather large book, dusty and brown as she pulled it from the shelf.
"Transatlantic Travels to the Exotic East" she murmured, flipping it open and scanning the thick pages. She smiled, gathered the book up into her arms, and quickly left the room towards the door. She found that the house unsettled her, made her think of the strict friend that had left her here, all alone. The door locked with a quiet click behind her as she stepped back out into the snow.
Two days later, Aimée stood in her room, now bare and desolate, much like she was. Snow was lightly flitting to the ground and clumped on her windowsill. The white of the winter day blanched her empty room, sucked the color out of the cream walls and brown bedposts. The rug on her floor, once a red and navy design, looked washed out and dull. Her treasures, the ribbons, pictures, dried flowers, had been gently packed away in a box and strapped to the carriage outside, along with her clothes. She clutched a small wooden box to her chest, filled with Javert's letters and the heavy book she had taken from his house. He hadn't returned her post in over two months, yet she still clung to them desperately, trying to convince herself that the man was away searching, or too busy to write. Soon, he'll get some free time and send her a letter. Or respond to hers, considering he did not know the Lamenté's new address.
The brass key sat heavily at her throat, a thin chain strung through the hole at the end. It felt cool and strong against her skin.
Sighing, Aimée, now turned seventeen in the oncoming winter, turned and headed towards the door of her childhood safety. Looking over her shoulder, she stared at the windowsill that held her when she thought or when she would gaze up at the stars. Murmuring a little prayer, she closed the door behind her gently. The hallway whispered memories to her as she padded to the foot of the staircase that led to the attic. She stood at the bottom step, her one hand on the bannister, the other cradling her treasured letters. Her feet were confident as she climbed the first few steps, but as she neared the top door, she froze. Aimée had not been upstairs since that fateful night so long ago. She still smelled the copper tang of blood and saw the stains behind her lids.
I'm sorry, Mama. But I can't go up there to pray. I miss you so much…and I'll always miss you.
Bowing her head, she turned and went back down the stairs, not strong enough to continue. Her heart beat against the light cedar of her treasure box and she met Anna at the foot of the stairs. Gérard was outside, arguing with the driver of the ox cart that was supposed to be driving behind the carriage, their trunks and heirlooms piled high and covered with burlap.
"You want your shawl, Aimée?" Anna asked, handing Aimée her winter cloak, a thick wool wrap lined in the softest of rabbit fur. A parting gift that Beaudet had sent to their home before the small family left for Montreuil.
The young woman nodded and wrapped the soft warmth around her shoulders. The wool of her dress and thick petticoat was keeping her warm and the snow was light, sure to melt whenever a dash of sun peeked through.
Anna sat next to her after the two climbed into the carriage. The maid clasped Aimée's hand in both of hers, trying to comfort her friend as they changed worlds, changed lives. Gérard dusted the snow from the brim of his hat before he stepped into the carriage.
"Are we all set?" he asked, his eyes glancing to Aimée, then to the red-headed maid. "All ready to go?"
"I think so, Monsieur Lamenté," Anna answered, glancing as Aimée kept her head bowed, her thumb running along the edge of her box.
"Very well," Gérard turned and tapped the front of the carriage with his knuckle, the ring there softly clicking against the wood. There was the muffled snap of reigns and the horses started down the road, their clopping footsteps slightly muffled from the light snow. The carriage swayed and Aimée craned her neck to try and watch the shape of their house disappearing behind them. Feeling her memories and past start to grow into a lump in her throat, she looked away just as her eyes began to sting. She felt the rectangle of her letters, and she felt some sort of comfort. Aimée began to plan out a letter in her mind.
"Aren't you excited for our new life, Aimée?" Gérard asked her as the carriage lurched over a hold in the road.
"Yes, Father," she answered, her voice flat.
"We'll be living in wealth. Wealth and business, and Montreuil is so much better than this hovel on the sea!" he exclaimed.
Aimée noticed that he insulted Toulon just as the carriage passed the cemetery…as they passed her mother. Her eyes darkened, but she kept them to the floor. Anna, sensing her discomfort, gave her hand a squeeze. Aimée wished that she had some of that brandy tea that the maid was so fond of.
The hours passed in silence. Gérard, as usual, nodded off before they really even left the city, and the women stayed silent, hoping not to wake him up. They preferred sitting in quiet over his chatter. Wintery dusk had started to settle when they finally rolled up to their new home. The tall form of Arthur Monpedite waited for them, his shoulders dusted with the white flakes of wintertime. He gave her his hand as he helped her from the carriage.
"Welcome back, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, helping Anna down as well. The maid blushed uncomfortably, not used to the kindness of the wealth. She glanced at him, amazed by his height "I trust your travels went swimmingly?"
"Yes, sir, they did," Aimée said, watching as servants came and untied the burlap from their things on the wagon. Gérard followed them, bossing them about, making sure they put items where he felt they belonged.
Aimée felt a light hand at her back, "Come, inside the factory," Monpedite said, leaning over and gesturing across street to the finished factory. It looked ten times larger than what Aimée had remembered. "There's warm tea and a fireplace for you both inside. I shall help your father move."
"Oh, don't trouble yourself," Aimée said, shocked that Gérard's new supervisor would offer such a thing. "I'm sure he will be fine, he has enough people helping him, monsieur."
"Nonsense, I insist!" Arthur exclaimed, giving the two women a dazzling smile as white as the surrounding snow, "Now hurry yourselves over there, mademoiselles, before your tea chills."
Anna and Aimée looked at each other, shrugged under their shawls, and made their way over to the factory. The door opened with a creak and warmth flooded them like a comforting tide. Aimée assumed that the tea he set out would be in his office, so she climbed the stairs and walked through the door, Anna at her heels. Inside, there were two chairs facing a fireplace, two cups of steaming tea sitting on the end table between them.
"Accommodating," Anna said, her eyebrows raised as they settled in.
"Quite...however I still don't know what to think about him," Aimée said, sipping at the tea. It was almost too sweat to drink, but she was grateful for the liquid warmth. "He's all smiles and laughter, almost too nice."
"And rather tall, isn't he?" Anna said, "Lord, I've never seen anyone as close to the clouds as him. He does seem sincere though, not like that sly little fox of a nephew that Beaudet had."
Aimée agreed quietly, sipping at the sweet drink. She hadn't told Anna the truth behind her rescue that night. As if reading her mind, Anna looked over at her, her lips quirked by the sweetness of her tea.
"I heard that Javert was the one who brought you back to the house that night," the maid said, watching as Aimée's cheeks grew rosy. "Don't be bashful."
"Apparently he did, I don't remember much…just that I was carried. I felt safe."
"You're better than a romance novel," Anna teased, running her finger along the rim of her cup, sticky from the sugar in the tea.
The look that was shot from Aimée's ocean was annoyed, but when she saw Anna laughing, she couldn't help but give a sad smile. "As much as you wish it, Anna, I highly doubt any of what you say will be true."
Anna's chuckle died away and she watched her younger friend, "Why's that?"
"He hasn't been returning my letters," Aimée admitted, running her hand over the box that sat in her lap. "Not for months."
For once, Anna didn't know what to say. She sipped against the clogging sweetness of her tea and glanced to the floor. "The man is probably just busy, Aimée, he'll return post soon."
"Yes…maybe he will." She couldn't help but notice how desperate her words sounded to her own ears. The fire in Monpedite's office snapped and popped as it fought of the winter chill.
"They say this city is going to be quite busy once the factory officially opens tomorrow," Anna said, relaying the gossip she had overheard. "There will be people everywhere, and we're going to be the upper class." Anna paused for a moment, "Well, you're going to be the upper class, Miss."
"Oh hush, you're barely a maid any more, Anna," Aimée said, looking at the box that sat in her lap. "More like part of the family now."
The maid gave a happy hum at her words. The two sat as the warmth curled away from their tea, they both had had enough of the sugariness in their cups. They waited by the fire until a servant in a white coat opened the door with a bow.
"Mademoiselle, Lamenté," he said, his mustache sleek and dark along his lip, "Your father requests you return to your home now. Might I carry your package?"
She felt her hands tighten around the box as she stood. "No…ah, no thank you. I've got it."
The servant shrugged and smoothly walked past them to clean up the tea dishes. "Right this way, mademoiselle," he said, striding past them. Aimée didn't like the way he blatantly ignored Anna.
Stepping into her new home, she was amazed to find that it was larger on the inside than what it had appeared to be out on the street. A towering entryway, with sleek wood floors, polished to a glistening shine. The floors of her own home had been dusty and uninteresting, worn and tired from use. A chandelier made of twinkling glass crystals shone above her head and a wide staircase wound its way upwards in front of her, a balcony like landing at the top, a dark wood carved banister running along its edge. Too her right was a grand dining room, a massive table lined with nearly ten chairs, the wood almost as dark as the night. Tall-backed chairs sat close to the edge of the table, already set with fine china. It seemed that the house was already nearly furnished for them, cupboards, furniture, clocks, and paintings decorated the home. Through the dining room, Aimée was led to a kitchen, ten times the size of anything she had seen before. She heard Anna's breath catch in her throat.
"Isn't this fantastic!" Gérard exclaimed, coming up and surprising the two women. His face was nearly split in two by the size of his grin. "Anna, if you go to your right, you'll see the pantry. Spices, preserves, anything you need will be right here! You'll only have to go to the market once a week!"
"Oh my," the maid said, looking about.
"Aimée, come this way," her father instructed, leading her by the arm. They left Anna staring wide-eyed at her new kitchen. "This is the library," her father said, ushering her across the massive entryway and into a smaller room with shelves lining the walls and stretching all the way to the ceiling. The rug was a plush wine color with exotic golden designs spread out intricately along its length. Oil lamps burned at the walls, casting the library in a warm glow that enveloped her.
"Monpedite heard you were doing a lot of reading, so he donated these books to us, free of charge!" Gérard watched his daughter for approval. When she didn't speak, he was unworried because he saw the way her eyes widened in disbelief.
"And now to your room," Gérard said, snapping her from her trance. He led her up the stairs to the large balcony. It turned into a hall and her father brought her down the left side and to the first door they came too. "Your very own powder room," Gérard said, showing off the large mirror and vanity with a flourish.
The next room was a guest room, just as grand as her parent's bedroom back in Toulon, and finally, they reached Aimée's new door. As Gérard opened it, Aimée found herself nervous, still clutching the box of Javert's letters close to her chest. Her room was a deep lavender color, edged in white trim. The four-poster was hung with deep cream curtains of thick velvet that would surely block the sun from two massive paned windows that took up nearly the entire wall opposite the footboard of the bed. A desk sat in the corner, and two reading chairs in front of her very own fireplace, a broad expanse of white marble. The floor was covered with her own Persian rug and her trunks were already stacked at the center, her clothes waiting to be unpacked and put away in the massive oak wardrobe. Pictures of flowers and birds hung on the walls, making it feel like spring, even though snow lightly drifted from the sky outside.
"Oh my," Aimée heard herself breathe as she looked at the plump pillows and comforter that draped themselves on her bed.
"Those windows can open," Gérard explained, "and in the spring there will be window boxes full of flowers. And you have two of your own chairs, so Anna can come visit, after she finishes with her duties, of course."
Aimée walked into her room, her shoes clicking on the polished wood floor, she quickly bent over and removed them, not wanting to get snowy sludge on her new rug. "It's so…so huge," she exclaimed, her fingers tight around the box. She swallowed past Javert's key.
"I knew you'd like it. My quarters are down the other side of the hall. We're separated." For some reason, he sounded relieved. "I'll leave you to get moved in, shall I send Anna up?"
"Um…I-" but she didn't answer quickly enough he was already out the door and calling down the massive staircase.
Aimée was alone in her new room, large, lavish and empty. She stepped over to her bed and sat down, noticing how the mattress sagged with downy comfort. Placing the box next to her, she opened the lid and pulled out the bundle of letters. Bringing a hand to the base of her neck, she ran her fingers over the cool metal of the key as she read Javert's words. Her heart ached for a moment as she looked over his slanted hand.
Well and safe and happy…
She wasn't…not here. Not in this new room, this new home, or in this new city. A stirring little hole of loneliness started to churn in her gut. It had been over two months with no letter…. Her head fell into her hands and a sob wracked her body as she realized there would be no more letters. Javert had left, he wouldn't write her again. Aimée Lamenté was alone once more.
Anna found her like that, hunched over and crying, her tears leaking through her fingers and dripping on the ink of the envelope. She quickly removed the letters, placed them in the box, and calmly reached on her tiptoes to place them high atop the wardrobe. Then, in the calm sense of sisterhood, sat next to Aimée and pulled her into her arms.
"Shhh…" Anna cooed, rubbing her hands along Aimée's back as the young heart cracked and shattered.
"I don't know what I did," Aimée choked, her eyes red-rimmed and ugly from tears. "He promised he'd write."
"Oh, honey," Anna sighed, holding the crying girl closer. "Sometimes it's not our fault and things are unknown. People break promises…"
Aimée hiccupped from tears and clenched her eyes shut. "And now I'm here, away from my mother and all alone in this city."
Anna hushed her gently. "It's alright...your mother will always be near you, she loves you too much not to watch over you, Aimée. And you're not alone…I'm here for you." Anna felt a warmth bud in her chest that she hadn't felt in years. Loyalty to her broke friend. "I won't leave you, I can promise you that."
Her words comforted Aimée, yet she still felt the crushing sadness press down on her shoulders.
"I think I loved him."
"I know…I know," Anna said, holding Aimée's arms and gently pushing her away so the maid could meet her eyes. "And it hurts…I know that ache, Aimée. We are together in that. But, if he leaves you like this, the man doesn't deserve your love, or even your attention, understand?"
Aimée didn't nod, she merely sniffed and tears continued to flow down her face.
"Aimée, listen to me," Anna's tone turned serious, "You must be strong now. Be stone." She reached up and wiped the tears away from the crying woman's face. "He may have meant the world to you, everything you knew, but we've moved on. We must adapt and overcome. Those letters? Strength while they lasted, but now he's gone and we must use that strength now."
"What?" Aimée asked, the tip of her nose red from sniffing back her sobs. Her breath was ragged as she tried to catch it.
"Me and you, we are two people in this whole new place. We have each other, got it?" Anna lifted Aimée's chin and her eyes shined like Irish fire. "I will keep you safe here."
Aimée was quiet as she felt the weight of the key around her neck. It felt uncomfortable, pressing against the soft skin of her throat, seeping hurt into her bloodstream. Yet, the girl couldn't bring herself to reach up and break the chain, couldn't bring herself to throw it away from her. She wiped at her own eyes, removing the last of her tears from her puffy lids. "We will keep each other safe," Aimée finally answered, her ocean roiling behind her lids. Anna dared a smile.
"There we go…that's better. Now, let's unpack your things, alright?"
"Alright."
The two unpacked in silence, the heaviness of their interaction had not yet left the room. Dresses fit easily into the wardrobe along with underclothes, bonnets, sashes, and shoes. There was a still lot of room left over. Neither of them looked at the box that sat atop the wardrobe. After her clothes, the two unpacked her little treasures, placing them on shelves and in corners, fearing to mark up the pristine lavender walls.
Then, the two sat on the bed passing Anna's flask between them. "I've never seen a more appropriate occasion," Anna had said as she closed Aimée's bedroom door for the night. The flask had been filled with brandy, and it quickly rushed to their heads.
"I just…I just don't know why,' Aimée slurred, craning her neck back and staring at the cloth ceiling of her four-poster.
"Why what? Why he stopped writing?" Anna asked unceremoniously, her voice equally as thick.
"No, why I fell for him in the first place," Aimée groaned as her stomach bloomed with alcoholic warmth.
"Because he was kind to you," Anna answered. "and I honestly believed he cared about you, Miss."
"And he was handsome." Aimée finally admitted the words out loud. "I liked his eyes and his beard," she snorted as she took another drink.
"I will admit the chap looked good in a uniform, regardless of his age," the maid agreed.
Aimée flopped backwards, her hair splayed and wild after she had freed it from her braided bun. "Now that I finally admitted, I feel foolish. Childless, like a little girl," she hiccupped, "but..but now I think- I think that I'll be ok. I just won't waste my time anymore."
Anna flopped down next to her, her eyes glazed, "We'll be fine here…just you see. We'll both find some young- young and handsome – men. We'll both be the talk of the town!"
The two friends burst into drunken titters and giggles. Aimée actually snorted, which made them just laugh harder, and soon their guts started to ache from happiness.
"Do, do you think my father'll be mad? That I'm drinking?" Aimée whispered suddenly.
"You mean that you're drunk?" Anna corrected.
"Yes."
"Nah…I don't think so," Anna said, expelling a short burst of air and waving her hand. "We'll be fine. Pass the-pass the thing."
"Ok."
Anna took a swig. "It's because I'm Irish," she slurred for no reason in particular.
"What is?" Aimée asked, turning her head and looking at her friend.
Anna paused a moment, her eyebrow furrowed in thought. Finally, she blurted "I don't know, it just is." They both snickered.
"That Monpedite is going to be interesting," Aimée said, remembering how sickly sweet the tea had been.
"Mmm…interesting indeed!" the Irish woman giggled, "he's already got my full attention."
Aimée gasped, "Anna! Shut your mouth!"
"I can say what I want!" she shouted.
"Shhh…shhh, someone'll hear us!" Aimée whispered earnestly, grabbing a pillow and flinging it over Anna's face.
"That wasn't very nice…now how am I supposed to drink!" her voice was muffled from under the down.
Aimée giggled. "I'm tired…let's go to sleep."
"I have-I have to go back to my room," Anna said, removing the pillow and groaning as she tried to stand.
"Stay here!" Aimée pleaded, grabbing a hold of Anna's porcelain arm and tugging her back down to the bed. She toppled over quite inelegantly with a surprised squeak, her flask clutched tightly in her hand.
"What are you trying to do, break my neck?" she whispered.
"Just stay!" Aimée replied. "This bed is huge!"
Anna groaned, "Fine, but only because I don't want your father to see me stumbling around his hallway, drunk."
"Yay!" Aimée quietly exclaimed, giving a little clap. "Help me with the lamps."
The two managed to stagger their way around her large room, dousing the lamps and filling the room with darkness.
"I feel like we didn't think this through, Aimée," Anna called from the dark, her feet shuffling around the floor.
"We'll find it," Aimée said, her arms extended in the dark. They both tripped over the side of the bed and flopped back down onto the mattress. They lay on their backs, side by side, blonde hair sprawled out and meeting red.
"Do you think we'll be happy here?" Aimée asked in the darkness as her eyes started to droop.
"I hope so, Aimée…I really do."