Between

Between Chapter 4

The feather bed cradled me in its soft embrace and I nuzzled my face into the pillow, afloat in the sensation of waking. Yawning, I rolled over and my gaze settled on a full-length cheval mirror, its reflective surface sending rays of sunlight dancing across the room. A hand-woven rug covered most of the hardwood floor, and a golden railing disappeared behind a green chaise lounge. Leather bound books lined one wall from floor to ceiling, their spines perfectly straight like soldiers in formation. A nobleman on a majestic white horse looked down his nose at me from a tapestry on the wall. An empty pallet with a blanket and a flat pillow lay tucked under the window.

As my mind dimly struggled to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings, I suddenly remembered Aiden and panic seized my throat.

“Bon matin. Good morning, Lindsey.”

Aiden came through the door, carrying a breakfast tray piled high with fruit, cheese and biscuits. Relief flooded through me.

“Good morning to you, too. Where are we?”

He set the tray down next to me. “Would you like some breakfast, ma chérie?” The smell of warm honey wafted through the air and my stomach growled in appreciation. I mumbled a thank you as I tore off the corner of a biscuit and popped it in my mouth. Aiden took an apple slice and sat next to me. “I was thinking you might like to go someplace new, and this is the most beautiful place I remember, aside from home.”

Above the fireplace hung a large, ornately framed portrait of a beautiful woman and her two young sons. Curly wisps of blonde hair escaped from her bonnet, softly framing her face, and her eyes shone with a serene smile as she sat with one hand draped over her youngest child. The boys wore stern expressions and looked very serious in their fancy outfits. I couldn’t help but smile as I imagined the painter trying to capture the scene before the kids got bored and became completely unmanageable.

“She’s lovely, no?” he asked in a wistful tone.

Nodding, I helped myself to a cluster of grapes from the tray and picked them off the stem, one by one. “Who is she?” I asked.

“My mother.”

“So this little boy in the front, that’s you?” I walked over and reached out as if to touch the child, though the painting was out of my reach, high up on the wall.

“’Tis me and my brother Duncan. I don’t remember it well, just that the clothes she made us wear were bloody uncomfortable.” He winked at me. “My uncle Alex Fraser had it painted as a gift to my Mam. This is his château in Versailles,” he explained.

“Versailles? France?”

“Aye. I spent three years here as a lad, studying under my uncle, learning how to be a proper gentleman and taking care of his horses.” My eyes welled up with tears and he looked at me quizzically.

“I’m sorry… It’s just… I always…” I sputtered. He pulled a handkerchief out of the sporran around his waist and handed it to me as I stammered nonsensically. “I took French classes in high school and was still taking them in college when I…” I took a deep breath and gave him a brave smile. “I always meant to go to France someday, and I thought my ‘somedays’ were over. And now here we are, and it just… it just means a lot to me. Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, but nodded as if he understood. I remembered that I’d heard him speaking French earlier, though it hadn’t registered before. “You speak French? Parlez-vous français?” I asked. He bowed deeply in response, sweeping his arm out and down.

"Oui, mademoiselle. Je parle français très bien. I think, milady, that you might like to see the grounds. Perhaps we’ll go for a ride on one of Uncle’s prized horses. But you cannot go outside in your shift.”