Gossip Read online

  “But he did.”

  Just for a moment, Claire could see a little smile crack at the corner of Countess De Leon’s lips. No matter how slight or fleeting the moment was, Claire could tell the Countess had truly enjoyed being with the Count.

  “I was standing in a secluded corner for a long time and simply wanted to go home. Then a carnation appeared over my shoulder. I was not sure what was going on at first, but when I turned, there stood Count Daughtry with his charming smile.

  “‘Loveliness of this kind should not be hidden in dark corners,’ he said to me and then kissed my hand. Even now, I can remember my face flushing red. I turned away so he would not see how embarrassed I was.

  “I used smelling the flower as a diversion so I could compose myself. I turned back to him and said, ‘Thank you for the flower,’ but he had gone.”

  “Where?” asked Claire.

  “Back to his group of fawning admirers, no doubt. I spent the rest of that evening alone, watching people enjoy themselves in a way that I could not.

  “By the time my carriage pulled up, I was thankful to be going home. Much to my surprise, when the door swung open, there was someone else in my carriage.”

  “‘Get out of my carriage at once,’ I demanded. But the figure did not move. ‘Who do you think you are? Get out of my carriage.’

  “Lord Devereaux came up behind me and asked, ‘Is everything all right here?’

  “‘Certainly not!’ I replied. ‘This man will not remove himself from my carriage.’

  “Lord Devereaux stepped closer. ‘You there, get out of the Countess's carriage. Why are you trying to stir up trouble here?’

  “‘My humblest apologies,’ came a deep voice that demanded attention at the very sound of it.

  “‘Count Daughtry. I am sorry, sir. You seemed to have startled Countess De Leon,’ said Lord Devereaux. I was speechless. How could Lord Devereaux be apologizing to the riff raff who was in my carriage? At that point I was furious. I shoved Lord Devereaux out of the way, looked in, and yelled, ‘You need to come out of there at once!’

  “I thought a great many things were going to happen but nothing could have prepared me for this.”

  Claire’s hand had stopped writing and her eyes were fixed on the Countess as she spoke.

  “He reached out his gloved hand and offered me a ride.”

  “How romantic,” Claire breathed.

  “Romantic? I was not romanced. I was irate, insulted, and what made it worse was the charming smile that accompanied his foolishness. ‘This sort of thing may work with all those girls who follow you around but it certainly will not work with me,’ I screamed at him.

  “‘My lady, I simply wish you to take a ride with me. There is no harm in that, is there?’

  “Before I had time to reject his offer, Lord Devereaux came up behind me and said, ‘Desiree, this will do you some good.’ He shoved me into the back seat and slammed the door behind me.”

  “The whole evening sounds wonderful,” Claire blurted out.

  “I am sure many young ladies found his games humorous,” Countess De Leon replied. “I personally thought him a rogue. Fooling me at the ball into believing that he was a charming man, and there he was, kidnapping me with my own carriage.”

  “Maybe he thought you would be more comfortable?”

  “I am sure he had his reasons, however sordid they were.”

  The Countess redirected her eyes from the picture on her desk up to Claire. It seemed pretty apparent that something of great importance was occupying her mind. Her lower lips began to quiver.

  “Are you all right, Countess?” Claire asked softly. “Countess?”

  “I did not know what to make of him at first. He was the most unpredictable man.”

  She reached out and picked up the picture, no longer resisting the temptation to touch it.

  “The reason I brought you here, Mademoiselle Du Bois, is to tell you of my time with Isabella. If nothing else happens during our time together, it is imperative that you understand what I went through . . . what I was faced with when I raised her.”

  Claire left the paper on the desk and leaned back in her chair. Studying the Countess's face, she could see the years of strain and torment etched in her eyes.

  “What is it you wish to tell me, Countess De Leon?”

  “Despite what lies my stepdaughter has spread about me, I cared very much for her father. As I did for her.”

  “She tells tales of you whipping her.”

  “I know.”

  “Tales of you making her clean all the house by herself and living up in the tower.”

  “I know.”

  “She had to go to town almost every day to get the food and run the errands while you relaxed at your lavish home.”

  The Countess slammed her hand down on the desk. “Mademoiselle Du Bois, you are here to correct those lies!”

  “There are even rumors that you constantly mocked her cinder-covered clothes by calling her Cinderella.”

  The Countess's head retracted, and her jaw line became distinguished as she clenched her teeth. Claire knew that she had not said anything false.

  “It happened once. But in a world such as this, that is all it takes.”

  The Countess rose from her chair and turned to the window behind her desk. Looking out at the star-covered sky, she sighed.

  Claire noticed that there was an object . . . a painting, leaning against the wall by the Countess, but when the Countess realized Claire was looking at it she immediately turned it around.

  “Do you want to know what I think of my stepdaughter?”

  Trying to decipher the Countess's odd behavior, Claire remained silently waiting for the answer.

  “She is a confused girl who wants nothing more than her mother and her father to be alive again. Because I could not give that to her, she hates me.”

  “It is not easy being a stepmother, is it?” asked Claire, caringly.

  The Countess De Leon dropped her head and struggled to speak.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, it is not.”

  “Do you wish to continue?”

  The Countess turned to Claire with a half smile. “I do, but not tonight. I am tired.”

  She grabbed a little golden bell sitting on the corner of her desk and rang it. Not a second had passed before Botley came in. The old butler bowed and gestured with his hands for Claire to follow him out.

  “What about your story?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Claire said, disappointed in having to stop so abruptly. “I will be back here first thing in the morning so that we can get an early start.”

  “You will not be coming back.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You will not need to come back because you will be staying here.”

  “I have already made arrangements to stay in town. I have some business there, you see.”

  “Maybe you do not comprehend the severity of your decision to visit me, Mademoiselle Du Bois, but you will now be considered a conspirator against the Queen of France.”

  “That is ridiculous!”

  “Is it? Everyone in town knows that you are here. After all, how many carriages do you think I receive? You will be placed in prison and probably not heard from again.”

  “That seems rather harsh, do you not think?”

  “I will be the first to attest that all it takes is one false accusation, and you will disappear like that.”

  The Countess snapped her fingers with the close of her remark. Claire’s eyes refocused on them. Her heart started to race and she could feel her stomach drop.

  “I think it safest for you to remain within these walls,” the Countess concluded.

  “Who is to say no one will come on your land to get me, or you?”

  “This land has a lot of significance to the Queen. She was raised here and all her memories of her father are here. She knows that all it would take is one little match and
everything would be destroyed.”

  “You would do that?”

  “I will do whatever it takes to survive. She has pushed me that far.”

  “I have underestimated you, Countess De Leon, and the situation you find yourself in.”

  The Countess's eyes narrowed and a slight sneer crinkled her upper lip.

  “This little misfortune you now find yourself in, Mademoiselle Du Bois, is only the beginning of the hell I have been subjected to live in for the past several years.”

  Chapter 3

  “Midnight Visitor”

  Claire moved at a slow pace as she passed through the halls towards her unwanted bedchamber. Thoughts of being hauled off to prison to never be heard from again weighed heavily on her mind.

  “She is a good woman, the Countess De Leon,” Botley said softly. “I know you might feel like she misguided you.”

  “Trapped me,” Claire corrected him.

  “She knows what she is doing,” Botley finished, keeping the same slow pace alongside her. “When the time comes for you to return to Germany, she will make sure you get there safely.”

  Claire looked over skeptically at the old butler. He didn’t return the look but instead kept his focus forward at the hall in front of him.

  “I am glad you are confident,” Claire finally said.

  “I have known the Countess for many years now. She does not do anything without thinking it through first, and if she has had anything in the last several years, it is time to think.”

  Claire’s head dropped, “I wish that could console me.”

  Botley stopped abruptly, while Claire took a few more steps past him. She thought that the wise old butler was about to give her a comforting speech about having faith that everything would work out in the end. Much to her surprise, when she turned back to him, he was creeping suspiciously to a closed door off to the side of the hall.

  “What on earth?” Claire uttered.

  Botley pressed his finger to his lips to silence her, and then put his ear to the door, listening. Claire moved next to him and leaned forward to listen too. But before her ear could connect with the wood, Botley threw the door open and leapt into the room, screaming, “Ah, ha!”

  Claire stepped backwards, startled by his odd behavior. A brief moment passed when she thought Botley had lost his mind, which would seem fitting considering that this whole family had been exiled to this house for quite some time. But the old butler was not crazy. Less than a second later she heard a heap of giggles, easing her concern.

  Claire straightened up and wiped her dress methodically, trying to regain her composure, when Botley came back out into the hall.

  “Is everything all right in there?” she asked, more composed.

  “Of course,” he said with a smirk, continuing down the hall as if nothing peculiar just happened.

  “Wait a moment,” Claire said, chasing him down. “What happened just now?”

  “Oh, that? That was only Josephine. She likes to play hide and seek a lot.”

  “And you found her?”

  “I did. She has been hiding for the better part of the day, but I heard a floorboard creak. Deductive reasoning says it was not Lady Genevieve. So, I figured I just found Josephine’s hiding spot.”

  “Very clever. Just one question: how did you reach the conclusion that it was not Lady Genevieve?”

  “Because, that room is Count Daughtry’s painting room, and Isabella spent a great deal of time in there when she was a child. Not wanting to recount old memories, Lady Genevieve stays away from there.”

  With a complex look firmly planted on her face, Claire nodded her head, trying to follow the old butler’s logic.

  “I see. Maybe you took up the wrong profession, Herr Botley. You might have made a right fine detective.”

  Botley shook his head. “I do not know about that. I still have one or two unfinished mysteries of my own that demand my attention right now.”

  “I have no doubt that you will figure it all out.”

  “I do hope so. The key to being a great inquisitor is to pay attention to details. For instance, how is it that you come from Germany but you bear a French name? It is very intriguing to me.”

  She felt her lower lip curl under her teeth while a small sigh escaped.

  “It is not an interesting story, to be honest. My mother left France just before I was born. Mother said that my father was lost on the high seas and staying in our home in France was far too painful for her to bear.”

  “I see,” said Botley, his voice much softer than before. Claire stopped and looked into his pale eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “Now, here is your room,” he said and gestured to the door off to the left of the hall. “Your lady’s maids will be in there to help ready you for bed.”

  “Thank you,” Claire said and pushed her way into the bedroom. “I wish you a goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, my dear,” Botley said with a courteous bow.

  ***

  For the time that Claire fretted her unwanted stay at the Countess's home, she didn’t seem to mind the large bed that could easily have fit a small family in it. She let her head fall unhindered onto one of the four feather pillows. Stretching her legs to their fullest extent, she was pleased that they didn’t even cover half the length of the bed.

  With one strong puff, she blew out the single candle lit on her elegant nightstand, and then buried her face deep into the comfort of her fluffy pillows.

  The stillness of night settled in. Claire had to admit that these accommodations were far superior to the small inn in town.

  Just when her eyes grew heavy and dreams were only seconds away; she heard something creak open that caused her to reawaken in alarm. She remained motionless except for her hand that she lifted to her lips to stifle her heavy breathing. The intruder could be heard, step by step, moving towards the bed.

  All of a sudden, the person was upon her. She attempted to scream but a soft, petite hand quickly covered her mouth. “Shh.”

  The candle next to the bed lit again.

  “Fräulein Genevieve?” Claire forced out of her quivering lips. “You gave me a fright.”

  The hooded figure sat with great propriety next to her on the bed. A single golden lock that rested on the jade-colored cloak was the only hint as to who the intruder was. Genevieve looked up, allowing the candlelight to catch her face properly.

  Claire sat up, resting her back against the headboard and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  “Fräulein, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I do apologize that I am not more suitably dressed for such an occasion.”

  A contented smile crossed Genevieve’s pouty lips. “I am sorry to be calling on you like this,” she finally said. “I know it is not customary to talk at such a late hour and Mother would be furious if she knew that I was bothering her guest after you traveled such a long way.”

  Claire looked past Genevieve to the painting that was turned inward into the wall and the secret passage that lay just beyond it.

  “It is no trouble. I was hoping that I would get to speak with you at some point during my unexpected stay here.”

  Genevieve pulled the hood away from her head allowing all her hair to fall freely down her back and around her face. She looked even more picturesque now that Claire was able to see her more closely. Her little button nose led up to her thin brow, and her forest-green eyes shone brightly against her fair skin.

  “I am quite aware that my mother brought you here to talk about her time with Isabella.”

  “Tricked was more like what she did,” Claire pointed out.

  “Please understand, she had no other choice.”

  “That seems to be everyone else’s opinion as well. So, let me ask you a pressing question. What is it you need that could not wait until morning?”

  Genevieve’s head cocked to one side as she studied Claire closely. The we
ighty stare allowed Claire to see the similarities between the Countess and her daughter. The same determined chin and exhaustion was present in the crevices under her eyes.

  “What I need to ask has nothing to do with Isabella, but another matter entirely.

  “All right. I am listening.”

  Genevieve’s eyes softened and she took Claire’s hand. “This tale is far too lengthy to tell you now, but I wanted to see if I could steal you away for a short time in the morning. We can meet in the garden.”

  “I do very much, wish to see the garden,” Claire said enthusiastically. Then her eyes shot back up to Genevieve. “I cannot, I am to meet with your mother in the morning.”

  “She can wait.”

  “But-”

  “She has waited this long. What is a little longer?” said Genevieve rising from the bed and placing the cloak back over her head. “Please say you will come.”

  “I will try.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, sounding relieved and almost giddy.

  Before Claire knew it, Genevieve disappeared back through the secret entranceway and restored the painting to its rightful place on the wall.

  Claire lay for a moment longer looking up at the canopy of her bed. “So, I have a Countess who wants to falsify the Queen’s story, an old butler who plays hide and seek in the most unusual ways, a young woman who wants to steal more of my time, and I might end up in prison and disappear forever,” she said, just before blowing out the candle once more. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  Chapter 4

  “Dragons, Ales, Fairies, & Tales”

  The early morning light came flooding through the bedchamber window and rested perfectly on Claire’s face, waking her. At first, she had forgotten where she was, but then the unforgettable trapped feeling rushed over her once more.

  She tried to close her eyes again, but the heat from the sun’s rays beckoned her to remain awake.

  “Ugh,” she growled.

  When her eyes fluttered open, she noticed something on the canopy that she hadn’t the night before: a picture. A classic picture of a knight riding up to a castle to rescue his fair maiden in the tower was sewn intricately into the fabric. Being that it was the same color tone as the rest of the canopy, it was understandable how she could have easily missed it the night before.