Roderick

I knew coming into this new day that it would be a long and grim ordeal taking Evelyn to the police, but I was not prepared for the news that met me just a few minutes after Thedra left my room.

When the other servants woke they found Evelyn gone from her room via the window. Following her tracks, it didn’t take them long to find her. She only made it a hundred yards from the house before she collapsed, dying where she fell.

It’s hardly surprising; everyone knew she had several health issues, including a weak heart. Why she ever thought she could escape in such weather on her athleticism alone is a mystery to me, but then perhaps I’ve failed to understand her desperation. The humiliation of knowing she would stand trial, and that Thedra herself would give testimony to all the shameful deeds she committed, I guess it was all too much for her. Not that I feel sorry for the old woman. Not in the least. As far as I’m concerned, her cruel end was not cruel enough. But I already know Thedra will be saddened by the news.

By necessity I spend a long day in the police chief’s office answering questions about the circumstances leading up to Evelyn’s death. With all that happened, it takes some time to convince the chief she died of natural causes, but Dr. Della’s assurance that her death was due to heart failure finally satisfies the authorities. Of course it probably helps that the chief is an old acquaintance of mine.

I cooperate with them from the first to the last to aid their investigation, but on the chief’s suggestion they bring Thedra in for questioning, I draw the line.

“What bearing could her testimony possibly have upon the case at this stage?” I am stubborn in my refusal to let them send for her, unrelenting as an alpha wolf protecting his mate.

“She’s been through enough.”

In the end I get him to admit he needs no further testimony, and the case is dismissed. I linger in the cemetery and help them dig Evelyn’s grave. She had no family to anyone’s knowledge, and she’s laid to rest quietly, without ceremony, with nothing but a wooden cross staked in the ground to mark her resting place inscribed with her initials and the year of her passing.

Feeling grim, I take my final leave of my head housekeeper, and make my way back home.

It’s my intention to rest a while and spend a quiet evening talking with Thedra, but upon arriving at the house I’m met with unexpected visitors. Four of my old army buddies made an impromptu visit with the intent of spending Christmas with me in the country. Knowing me to be a sporting bachelor they were sure I wouldn’t mind, and they didn’t even bother writing first. Ordinarily I would have welcomed them without question, but right now, my concern is for Thedra.

Privately, I pull her aside.

“I’m sure Mrs. Agate has told you the news by now.”

She nods, her neck bent. I notice the little C shaped scar at the base of her hairline is particularly white.

“I would understand if you needed some time off to recover from this ordeal.”

She shakes her head no.

“Having four extra guests to tend with a skeleton crew will be too hard on you. I’ll send for more servants.”

“Please don’t trouble them. They should be with their families for Christmas. I don’t mind having extra work. It’s better to work. It gets my mind off of… everything.”

I hear a warble in her voice and an awful feeling grips me.

“Have you been crying?”

She shakes her head.

“Look at me.”

She shakes her head again. “I should get back to work,” she answers lowly.

“Thedra—”

I watch her go with a dreadful ache in my chest. I wish I knew how to comfort her. Even now all I want to do is go after her and wrap her in my arms. But I’m sure such a gesture would only alarm her.

I must respect the boundaries she’s set— and her wishes. If she would feel better working then I’ll let her work. I understand very well what torture idleness can be when one’s thoughts are troubled. I only hope she isn’t over-doing it.

I return to the company of merry makers. At first it is difficult to match their carefree, energetic pace, but slowly their jokes and laughter begin to penetrate the somber cloud that’s settled over me. Before long I find my spirits lifted, and I’m glad for their company.

We make plans for snowshoeing out to the lake tomorrow and trying our hands at ice fishing. Then over a hearty supper of ham and beans we reminisce about our younger days in the army.

Usually I think of that time as a dark period in my life, but these fellows remind me it was not all sadness and misery. There are happy memories from that time too, memories I would not wish to forget. After all, it was all those things, the good along with the bad, that made me the man I am today.

Dinner is cleared away and Thedra comes in on quiet footsteps to serve us coffee and crème brûlée. I note with sudden and burning jealousy the way certain of the boys watch her go out of the room.

“I’m looking forward to fun tomorrow, but I could sure go for some fun of a different kind tonight.”

Laughter courses around the room but my face is stone.

“How about you stay the hell away from my staff while you’re here— then I won’t have to break anyone’s teeth and we’ll all have a good time, hm?”

They laugh again, until they see I’m not smiling, and the room falls into heavy silence. I watch their nervous figures meaningfully over the rim of my coffee cup while I take a long sip. Then I set my drink down and take up a spoon.

“I trust I’ve made myself clear, gentlemen?”

They all murmur their understanding and I flash them what I know to be a most unsettling smile from the ruined side of my face.

“Then might I recommend the crème brûlée? Mrs. Agate always does it so well.”

Thedra

I told Mr. Bentham I was glad for the extra work and I meant it. I would much rather tend to his rowdy guests than be alone with my thoughts at a time like this. This way when I finally fall into bed at the end of the long day, I don’t have any energy left to cry for poor Evelyn’s sad fate.

Mrs. Agate says it’s good riddance she’s gone, and mostly I agree with her. It’s my first time since coming to this house that I’ve been able to work without looking over my shoulder in fear every time I hear a floorboard squeak.

Even so, for all her cruelty, even for trying to murder me, I would not have wished for Evelyn to die like that. Cold and alone, hurting and scared. It’s all so horrible when I think of it, and I tear up every time the picture enters my mind. The other members of staff have learned not to gossip about it, knowing it upsets me. They are unusually kind recently, I note, and no longer talk down to me, or whisper at me behind my back.

Mrs. Agate notices it too, and says to me with her usual crassness, “They’re afraid to get on your bad side, since you’ll be mistress of this manor soon.”

I can’t understand how she can say such things so casually! It’s so embarrassing, so incredibly presumptuous to imagine myself as the master’s wife. Each time I catch myself doing it I slap my cheeks and pinch my thighs until I return to my senses, and lately I’ve amassed quite a collection of bruises for my trouble.

As for Mr. Bentham, he laughs a good deal more than usual now his friends are here; a big, happy sound that fills the house and my heart at the same time. Each time I hear it I think a part of me grows to love him even more, though I know such thoughts are foolishness.

Then one sunny morning just after New Year as the guests are preparing to take their leave, I find myself outside feeding treats to a wolf hound they brought along with them. He’s a big, scary looking creature who stands taller than me when he gets up on his back legs, but I’ve found him to be about as mean as a marshmallow. 

“I’ll miss you, you know,” I confess to him when I’ve run out of sausage bits to feed him. “You’re the first friend I’ve made since coming to this place. Besides Mr. Bentham…”

I blush when I realize what I’ve just said. Quickly I stammer to explain to the dog that I wouldn’t dare presume to call the master my friend, only that he’s been very kind to me and I’m quite fond of him. The dog listens for a while with a bored expression, then startles me with a big lick to my face.

I am momentarily stunned by the gesture, and I wipe the dog slobber on my sleeve. I stare at him in bewilderment, and he licks me again. His kisses are relentless and affectionate, and he knocks me over with them. I push him away but he nuzzles me playfully; I can’t stop laughing.

At last the animal relents and pulls back, letting me up. I wipe my face, still laughing, faintly conscious of another figure in my peripheral vision. Without really thinking I turn to find Mr. Bentham standing there.

For a few moments our eyes are locked, smile still on my face while he stands with his mouth gaping slightly as though he’s just been struck.

What a funny expression, I think, and I almost want to laugh again. Why is he looking at me like that?

Then all at once my senses return to me. I shoot up in an instant and curtsey respectfully, murmuring my apologies. He stammers back at me, some unintelligible phrase.

I’ve upset him, I realize, ears blazing with shame. I’m playing with a dog when I’m meant to be working! He must be so disappointed in me!

Not wishing to waste another moment, I curtsey again and scurry back inside, only to be stopped abruptly by one of the servants.

“Letter for you.”

How curious. I wasn’t expecting anything of the kind. Perhaps a holiday greeting? But no, I have no one in my life who’d send me such a thing. Then what…

I turn it over to read the address, and a familiar scrawl meets my eyes, the sight of which turns me sick to my stomach.

A letter from Mother.