Fatal Oath

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Chapter 36

“Fear of something is at the root of hate for others, and hate within will eventually destroy the hater.” ---George Washington Carver

Fatal Oath

After staying in the dark, dingy hunting shed for so long, a bath in the luxurious chateau suite felt like heaven. Once she’d finished bathing and drying, Alana put on the nightgown Cerise had left for her, since her own had been torn to bits. She crawled into the impossibly soft, warm bed and tried to relax as she waited for the physician to arrive. Without realizing it, she must have dozed off, because she found herself waking to the sound of the door slamming shut.

“The doctor’s coming!” Cerise said breathlessly as she sank into an armchair. “I’ve packed all my things in my room, so I’ll be ready to leave as soon as you are.”

Alana yawned. “All right. Now, what are my symptoms again? I was feverish, sick to my stomach, my head still aches a little…”

“And you had a bad cough, but it’s nearly gone now,” her cousin reminded her.

Alana laughed and gave a faint cough, and just moments later there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” Cerise called, as Alana feigned a cough again.

The doctor entered the room with his black bag in hand, and after a few pleasantries, began inquiring as to Alana’s symptoms. She recited the list of false problems, and the doctor felt her head, and examined her throat, continuing to ask her more questions.

“I have been feeling much better though, doctor,” she said, seeing the slight annoyance on the man’s face as he realized after further examination that there was nothing wrong with her.

“Yes…it seems whatever plagued you before is a thing of the past.” The physician packed his bag again. “You’re in excellent health, all right to get out of bed and go about your daily business. The master of the house has already paid the fee for this examination, so I take my leave of you now, mademoiselles. Good day to you both.” And with that, he left.

“I’m going downstairs to tell Damien that you’re better and ready to return home. While I’m gone, you hurry up and pack your things. Don’t get too comfortable in that bed!” she said with a laugh as she too left the room.

Alana groaned. She was too comfortable, but reluctantly she dragged herself up out of bed and started to pack. Her stomach fluttered with anxiety, as it had ever since the night she followed Christine to the awful scene where she’d found Erik. Soon, it would all be over…or so she hoped.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Ah, Mademoiselle Cerise,” said Damien as she approached him, grinning. “I trust from the smile on your face that your cousin’s received a clean bill of health?”

Cerise nodded. “Yes, she’s feeling much better, and we’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Very well. I’ll call a carriage for you straightaway.”

Cerise hesitated at first, but then dared to ask, “Have you seen Monsieur Erik around at all? We haven’t seen him since the ball, and we have to return to Paris as soon as possible so my parents don’t worry about Alana and me...”

Damien shook his head. “No I haven’t; however, earlier this morning a note with an urgent message was sent up to Monsieur Erik’s room, and I did see a carriage leave the estate shortly thereafter. I can only guess that your friend was suddenly called away on important business.”

He spoke the lie in such a calm voice, with such ease that it made Cerise feel sick to her stomach. Maybe Alana was right to be angry with him…

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