Roderick

I stand rooted where Thedra left me, flying away with her skirts fluttering behind her like the wings of some rare black butterfly, my heart knocking fiercely in my chest.

It’s the second time our eyes have met, but I found the effect of her beauty no less overwhelming, nor in any way diminished by her red, slightly running nose, nor the perspiration on her forehead. She stole my heart all over again in the space of such a brief conversation; I already know I will never be the same.

But is it really possible that all this time, she’d never once stolen a glance at my face? Her reaction certainly seemed genuine. She looked at me as though I were a stranger. But she did not recoil at her first sight of me, as many have. Her eyes showed neither disgust nor pity. In fact, if anything, she almost looked at me as though—

“Don’t get any funny ideas, Rod,” I chide myself, unable to conceal my idiotic grin. “You might have a lot to offer her, but nothing in the looks department.”

Still I am sure no woman has ever looked at me like that before. At least not since the knife fight.

“Ah, I’m glad I came out here,” I sigh as I lean back to look up at the gray sky. It feels good to get some exercise after so many days of non-stop desk work. It feels good to be home again.

I finish shoveling the last of the driveway then take our shovels back to the garden shed, heading for the house in a fine mood. My feet are cold but my heart is warm and bubbling with delight. I feel so happy I even start to whistle, then I remember I’m tone deaf and I cut myself off with a short, happy bark of laughter. God, I’m a fool.

I pass servants in the main hall busily setting up a Christmas tree, and my thoughts return to a little package I brought from town sitting upstairs in my safe.

I bought it on an impulse, a leaf patterned gold bracelet where every forth leaf is a glittering ruby. Really, I don’t know what possessed me to make such a purchase. I’m well aware it’s far too early to give that kind of present to a girl like Thedra, even if she were aware of my feelings. She’s so modest she’d probably faint at the sight of it, I think with a chuckle. Even so, the moment I saw the piece all I could think was how lovely it would look on her wrist, and I ended up forking out a tidy sum to bring it home with me.

I suppose I shall have to set it aside for a future date— perhaps for an engagement present, I think, well aware I’m getting ahead of myself again. But I can’t help it. Every time I see that girl, the desire to make her mine grows stronger and stronger.

I really don’t know how much longer I can wait.

Thedra

After a good cry I slowly return to my senses. I realize it’s nearly midday and I’m way behind on my chores. With many of the staff already gone for the holiday and more preparing to leave later today, I am a part of the skeleton crew remaining behind to tend the master over break.

Of course I never had any intention of returning home for Christmas. Mother would only nag me and make my vacation miserable. I thought I’d be much more happy staying here and tending to Mr. Bentham, though now I wonder how I’ll get through the holiday without crying every day…

That’s no good, I tell myself. I must put my personal feelings aside and work even harder so that he may continue to live comfortably and worry free. It is the only way I know to show my gratitude to him. And my love… 

Rising from bed I scrub my tear streaked face with water and retie my hair. Then I suck a few centering breaths and head out to work.

My first duty is to dust the light fixtures; the sconces, the chandeliers, and each humble candlestick. I move quickly but thoroughly, working my way through each room, great and small. Some maids joke about skipping the guestrooms since they’re never used, but not me. I take too much pride in Mr. Bentham’s home, and in myself, to cut corners.

Quietly I let myself into the last guestroom, and stop short at what I witness.

At first, Evelyn does not see me. She is transfixed, holding her wrist up to the window’s light which plays across the winking red jewels of her bracelet. Then she senses me, and she covers her wrist, looking to me with absolute panic. For a change I do not look away from her gaze, and her eyes narrow on me viciously. I’m filled with sudden and inexplicable dread. I fear a beating, or worse. But seconds pass, and nothing happens. Instead, she addresses me abruptly.

“What are you staring at, girl?”

“Nothing, Ma’am.”

“Good. Go out to the garden shed and bring me a box of nails. The skirting’s pulling away from the walls in this room. Now!” she barks when I hesitate. “If you’re not back in three minutes—”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

I hurry downstairs and through the kitchens which stand eerily quiet with so many of the staff gone. I slip a pair of boots on and hurry outside without bothering to go for my coat. The shed is a good way from the house; it’ll take me a minute just to reach it in the snow. I must hurry and fetch the nails if I don’t want to earn Evelyn’s ire.

It’s cold. When I reach the shed my fingers are numb, and it hurts to lift the heavy wooden latch. It’s dark inside, and I leave the door open for light to see by.

“Nails,” I say through chattering teeth. Just nails? Wouldn’t she need a hammer as well? Better find one and bring it with, just to be safe.

I hear a sound behind me then, wheezing at the door. I turn, surprised to see Evelyn standing there. She moves fast, I think with bewilderment. She doesn’t even have her cane.

“What are you—” before I can finish my question she swings the door shut, plunging the shed into darkness. Too late, I realize her intent. I lunge to stop her, but I hear the heavy wooden latch clunk into place. My heart sinks with dread.

“Evelyn!” I shout. “What are you doing? Let me out!”

“You,” she wheezes on the other side of the door, “stay here, nice and quiet like a good girl— and die.”

“Why?” I ask her, pounding the door, choking on my tears. “What have I ever done to you?”

But there is no answer. Only the crunch of her retreating footsteps in the snow, and the deep abiding silence of winter.