Rosalind - Amby Awards 2023 TOP PICK

18- An Aberration of God

When the figure broke through the dim of the ghastly shadows, Rosalind let out a sigh in relief. A plump maid in the September of her years stood before the girl. The woman wore a long gray dress, a crisp white apron and matching white bonnet. The only bit of attire the old woman wore to protect herself from the eternal winter's chill was a knitted gray shawl draped around her shoulders. Though dressed inappropriately for this sort of weather, the maid looked like it did not matter. She was not shivering. Her teeth were not chattering.

Rosalind pulled her bag up protectively towards her body and took a small step back.

"Do not fear me, my lady." Rosalind noticed the woman's voice was firm yet comforting, accommodating both children and masters alike. Soft, soothing tones were cocooned in matronly law. "My name is Agnes Vauclain, if you please." The maid curtsied. "I am the good lord of the manor's maidservant and cook." Agnes nearly choked on the word good. There was nothing good about the lord. Only rot and malice. But Agnes had to make sure their visitor felt at ease. After all, the young lady standing before her had the misfortune of being Caspian's guest for a whole month. Agnes drew in a small breath. If she could live with the monster for one hundred years, then maybe this fine lady here might be able to put up with him for a month. Maybe.

"Maidservant and cook?" Rosalind asked.

"I am the only help the lord keeps, my lady. There is a reason things are as they are," Agnes said firmly not wanting to peruse the matter further. Certainly, it must sound odd to a lady that any lord would only keep one person upon their property as help. It was common for a fine home to be run by a handful of servants. The maid pursed her lips and reached for Rosalind's bag. "If you please." Agnes gestured towards the fog. "It is but a short walk."

But Rosalind remained motionless.

"The good lord of the manor would have come to welcome you himself, but alas," Agnes could not lie. She looked to the sky. Though fog rolled around the woods, the sun above struck through the mist brightly, like a bolt of lightning. It did not make it any easier to see, but it did make it brighter.

"What is it, good maid?" Rosalind asked softly when she noticed Agnes' hesitation.

"He cannot--" Agnes bit her lip. She shook her head swiftly. "We must get to the manor before nightfall." Agnes took Rosalind by the hand and led her through the veil of fog, leading her like a child until they reached the grand house.

Snowflakes swirled before Rosalind's face like a thousand tiny butterfly brides all dressed in white, little maidens heading towards their groom. But in the pit of Rosalind's stomach, the sort of butterflies residing there were ones dressed in fear and uncertainty.

What if he was to be unkind to her? Her father swore that the lord would treat her like an honored guest and that she would have a pleasant stay, not wanting for anything. But what if it was a lie? Rosalind trembled as they neared the house. She knew a man's word was a man's law, but this thing was not a man, he was a monster.

What would he look like? Would he be terrifying in ways that could chill her insides? Would he even resemble a man?

As the two women walked through the woods, tears escaped Rosalind's eyes and turned into tiny icy diamonds as they hit the ground. Rosalind hid her face from Agnes and wiped the tears away.

"We have arrived, my lady."

The stone manor loomed like a dark shadow against the thick fog. In the forest, bolts of light had shown through the mist sending splinters of light in, yet near the manor, it was dark as night from the ominous clouds resting on the roof of the house. Rosalind gasped at the sight of the twin gargoyles glaring down at her from the crow's nest balcony over the front entrance. The statues' onyx eyes appeared to glow. When the maid and Rosalind hurried to the doors, the young woman could have sworn the statue's gaze was following her in.

The interior of the house must have once been lovely but it now looked bleak and unloved. The old paintings hanging on the walls were covered in fine lattice patterns created by spider's webs. The grand tapestries which once must have been alive with color hung drab and pale. The tapestries reminded Rosalind of a childish work of art she had once made for her father upon his birthday when she was nine years old. It was a painting of a cluster of flowers surrounding an elk. The painting was made of watercolors. Rosalind's artwork was hung by a window and the sun had faded it to nearly nothing. The brown and gray stone floor of the estate looked cold and uninviting. Though there were spider's webs on many of the paintings, the manor looked otherwise clean. Rosalind wondered why the webs had been left but it was impolite for a guest to be asking questions as such so she held her tongue.

"Please, follow me to your chambers," Agnes spoke pulling Rosalind out of her thoughts. The old maid led the girl up a flight of wooden stairs. Agnes held onto Rosalind's bag in one hand yet made no use of the banister for balance. Rosalind placed her hand on the wood and felt the carved material under her palm. When she looked down, she saw it had been etched with an intricate design of roses.

"Make haste, my lady," Agnes called from the top of the steps at the drawling woman.

Silently, Rosalind hurried her step. Roses, she thought. How can a beast like things of beauty such as roses?

"My good maid," Rosalind uttered timidly as she followed after Agnes with hesitant steps. "Is the lord of the manor..."

Agnes paused and looked over her shoulder. Her face was creased with concern. "What my lady?"

Rosalind hurried up the three steps separating them. She leaned into Agnes and whispered, "As horrible a beast as they say?"

Agnes' eyes darted around the grand staircase, horrified lord Caspian may be lurking and listening.

"My lady," Agnes hissed, "I beg of you to watch your tongue for the walls have ears."

Taken aback by Agnes' tone, Rosalind flinched. "But--"

The girl has a right to know, Agnes' inner voice said matter-of-facially. The old maid kept her tone low and prayed Caspian was nowhere near. "Some of us are made rotten, some are born. I do not know where he sits but if being an aberration of God's good name was a throne, he would be king."

Before Rosalind could react or utter another word, Agnes took the young woman's arm and pulled her upstairs and into the chamber that would be Rosalind's for the next full month.