Page 32 of House of Roots and Ruin
“Technically, you’re not my host at all,” I said, scurrying after him. The wheelchair was so much faster than me. “Your mother wrote, asking me to come. She’s the host…ess.”
He laughed. “You people from Salann do get hung up on the most peculiar details. Take the right there,” he said, stopping at another turn and gesturing down a hall.
“Verity, Alexander? Is that you?” Dauphine called out, suddenly before us at the end of the hall. When we joined her, she was poised on the landing of the foyer’s staircases. The chandelier’s gas orbs had been lowered and the entryway below us was a wash of gray and lavender shadows.
“Alexander, I’ll take Miss Thaumas to her rooms. She looks as though she might fall asleep right here and now.”
“We were just on our way—”
“I’ll take it from here,” she said, her voice and smile pleasant yet inflexible.
“Of course,” Alexander said, giving us a little bow. “Good night, Mother, Verity. I hope you both have pleasant dreams.”
We murmured similar platitudes and he turned himself around, rolling away down a hall I’d not noticed before.
Dauphine watched after him until he turned a corner and was out of sight. “He’s a dear boy,” she said, placing a hand on my back, prompting me into motion. “Always so kind, considerate. I do hope your portrait can capture that.”
“I will try my very best.”
“Of course you will. I apologize for the…unpleasantness at dinner. Gerard and Alexander…they remind me of those woolly rams, high up in the mountains, butting heads, knocking into one another. They’ve always been so dissimilar, the two of them. Alexander has so many ideas on things he wants for the future of the estate, for the duchy, for the Laurent name…. It’s hard for Gerard to see all the ways they differ.”
I startled as she stopped walking. Somehow, we’d already reached the doorway decorated with the wisteria reliefs. The candles flickered and danced, as if offering out a welcome.
“Well, here we are.”
“Thank you, Dauphine. You’ve been so kind and gracious.”
She smiled. “We’re happy to have you here. I like to take my breakfast in the Begonia Room—it has the loveliest stained-glass windows, facing east. We can discuss the portrait more then.”
I nodded, reddening as I stifled a sudden yawn. Every moment of the past week seemed to crash over me all at once, leaving me spent.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Good night, then,” she said, squeezing my arm before leaving.
“Good night,” I called after her.
When I stepped into the parlor, the scent of the burning pink candles overwhelmed me, coating my tongue with their sickly sweet perfume.
I opened the crate from Annaleigh and quietly replaced all the candles with her salted sage ones. Truthfully, they weren’t much better, but at least it made the room smell a little more familiar, a little more like home.
A maid must have returned during my absence. My suitcases had been stored away, out of sight. When I checked the armoire, all of my clothing hung in a neat row, pressed fresh and free of wrinkles.
I spied my nightdress and pulled it out, having every intention of shimmying free of my evening gown. But when I sat on the edge of the bed to remove my stockings, my tired mind took over. I sank back into the decadent pile of pillows, limbs heavy, closed my eyes, and knew no more.
Dear Sister,
My dearest Camille,
I wanted to write you to
To her grand majesty, the all-mighty Duchess of Salann:
Camille—
I know that you’re unlikely to ever read this letter so I suppose it doesn’t matter how I begin it. I can already picture you tearing the paper to bits by now.
But.
