Douce’s stall. She buried her face against the little mare’s warm side. “Oh,
ma petite
,” she whispered, “let’s ride far away. Let us go. We have nothing to keep us here.”
Except that this was her father’s house and her mother’s rose garden, and she would be found and she would be punished.
Douce nickered and rubbed her forelocks against Rose’s arm. It was like a loving caress, the first one she’d had in months and months.
“I love you, too,” Rose told her.
“Where did you hide it?” Ombrine demanded shrilly.
She stomped into the stable with Rose’s dress in her arms. Desirée followed closely behind her, looking scandalized.
“What? My dress!” Rose cried, feigning surprise as she stepped from the stall. “So Monsieur Valmont didn’t take it? Where has it been?”
Ombrine narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think to play games with me, girl. You will always lose.”
“I play no games,” Rose said, lifting her chin. “I am dead serious in all I do:” She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but she was so angry. She had given the dress of her own accord and the Severine women did not deserve it. They deserved nothing. Not even her attempts to excuse them because of what they’d endured.
Desirée blinked. “What are you talking about? Where was it?”
“I should whip you within an inch of your life. What else have you kept back?” Ombrine demanded.
“You took an inventory of my possessions,” Rose replied. “And you took them all.”
“You are so impertinent. I don’t know why I bother feeding you:” Ombrine whirled on her heel as she spoke. “In my homeland, you’d be driven out for this.”
Desirée’s eyes were huge as she stared back at her mother. “I? But I didn’t have it!”
Ombrine huffed. “For the love of the gods, Desirée, not you.”
“You mean
she
had it? How could she have had it all this time Valmont confessed.”
The rest of their conversation was lost to Rose as she trembled, laying her hand on Douce’s back. She was surprised Ombrine
hadn’t
whipped her or at least demanded an explanation. But then, why should she bother? She had what she wanted.
Rose laid her head against Douce’s side, and wept.
The money for the dress went only so far, however. It was gone practically overnight and the family sank back into desperation. Ombrine Severine Marchand was no stranger to fair-weather friends. When her first fortune disappeared, so did the fashionable women of the region. It was no different in the Forested Land. Knowing just how desperate things were, her neighbors carted off coachloads of Marchand treasures that they’d practically stolen. Rose watched it happen, observed Ombrine ignore her humiliation as she tried to get the best deal she could on each and every treasure. Rose wondered if her mother, who had been so kind and gentle, would have done half as well. Perhaps baser instincts had their place in the world.
One evening, just before moonrise, something tugged at Rose. It was almost as if a ghostly hand wrapped around hers, urging her from her icy room into the icier night.
Outside, snowflakes stung her cheeks. Fog moved along the earth and she thought of the night she had tried to save her father’s life.
She followed her instinct to the rose garden and her heart leaped. A small square of white lay at the feet of the statue of Artemis.
She fell to her knees in the snow and grabbed it up. It was a letter. With shaking hands, she opened it. A single gold coin fell onto her lap. She closed her fist around it with a gasp.
Ma chère Rose,
I have heard of the terrible events at the château.
My mistress showed me a small cream pot she purchased from the estate for less than a sou. My heart bleeds for you, my sweet girl. I have put a little money by and I send it now to you. It is for you only. I am certain you understand.
Je te baise.
Tante Elise
Rose swallowed hard. She rather doubted Elise had taken the dress when she left and
ma petite
,” she whispered, “let’s ride far away. Let us go. We have nothing to keep us here.”
Except that this was her father’s house and her mother’s rose garden, and she would be found and she would be punished.
Douce nickered and rubbed her forelocks against Rose’s arm. It was like a loving caress, the first one she’d had in months and months.
“I love you, too,” Rose told her.
“Where did you hide it?” Ombrine demanded shrilly.
She stomped into the stable with Rose’s dress in her arms. Desirée followed closely behind her, looking scandalized.
“What? My dress!” Rose cried, feigning surprise as she stepped from the stall. “So Monsieur Valmont didn’t take it? Where has it been?”
Ombrine narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think to play games with me, girl. You will always lose.”
“I play no games,” Rose said, lifting her chin. “I am dead serious in all I do:” She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but she was so angry. She had given the dress of her own accord and the Severine women did not deserve it. They deserved nothing. Not even her attempts to excuse them because of what they’d endured.
Desirée blinked. “What are you talking about? Where was it?”
“I should whip you within an inch of your life. What else have you kept back?” Ombrine demanded.
“You took an inventory of my possessions,” Rose replied. “And you took them all.”
“You are so impertinent. I don’t know why I bother feeding you:” Ombrine whirled on her heel as she spoke. “In my homeland, you’d be driven out for this.”
Desirée’s eyes were huge as she stared back at her mother. “I? But I didn’t have it!”
Ombrine huffed. “For the love of the gods, Desirée, not you.”
“You mean
she
had it? How could she have had it all this time Valmont confessed.”
The rest of their conversation was lost to Rose as she trembled, laying her hand on Douce’s back. She was surprised Ombrine
hadn’t
whipped her or at least demanded an explanation. But then, why should she bother? She had what she wanted.
Rose laid her head against Douce’s side, and wept.
The money for the dress went only so far, however. It was gone practically overnight and the family sank back into desperation. Ombrine Severine Marchand was no stranger to fair-weather friends. When her first fortune disappeared, so did the fashionable women of the region. It was no different in the Forested Land. Knowing just how desperate things were, her neighbors carted off coachloads of Marchand treasures that they’d practically stolen. Rose watched it happen, observed Ombrine ignore her humiliation as she tried to get the best deal she could on each and every treasure. Rose wondered if her mother, who had been so kind and gentle, would have done half as well. Perhaps baser instincts had their place in the world.
One evening, just before moonrise, something tugged at Rose. It was almost as if a ghostly hand wrapped around hers, urging her from her icy room into the icier night.
Outside, snowflakes stung her cheeks. Fog moved along the earth and she thought of the night she had tried to save her father’s life.
She followed her instinct to the rose garden and her heart leaped. A small square of white lay at the feet of the statue of Artemis.
She fell to her knees in the snow and grabbed it up. It was a letter. With shaking hands, she opened it. A single gold coin fell onto her lap. She closed her fist around it with a gasp.
Ma chère Rose,
I have heard of the terrible events at the château.
My mistress showed me a small cream pot she purchased from the estate for less than a sou. My heart bleeds for you, my sweet girl. I have put a little money by and I send it now to you. It is for you only. I am certain you understand.
Je te baise.
Tante Elise
Rose swallowed hard. She rather doubted Elise had taken the dress when she left and
Similar Books
