She was right about one thing, Cassandra realized in the weeks that followed: there was no going back from what she’d done the night she intruded upon Estelle.
The other woman hardly spoke a word to her since that night. The silence in the manor was as stifling as the humid summer air outside, and just as impossible to escape. Any attempt she made to speak to Estelle was met with a swift turn and a hasty, wordless retreat by the servant from whatever room the two both occupied. With each day that passed without a word, Cassandra felt a little bit of sense slip away from her.
Anymore, her evenings were spent locked in her library, her chair pulled up close to the fire as she plunged her way into novel after novel lined up upon the shelves. The finished volumes were accumulating in a pile to one side of her seat, and the upholstery was already starting to smell of her sweat from night after night of falling asleep in front of the slowly smoldering fireplace. She was slowly forgetting the feel of her bed, which she assured herself was for the better. Laying on it only made her dream her twisted fantasies of Estelle, made it easier to imagine laying on her servant’s tongue, staring ahead at her throat opening up before her. Sleeping in the chair at least left her too uncomfortable, too knotted up on herself to fall into a deep sleep.
Which was hardly a state to be in, most especially with her first appointments approaching. Cassandra leaned her head against one of the plaster walls in the library and groaned. It was Violette that would be coming in a matter of days. Why did it have to be her? She was in no state to receive her in her home, either physically or mentally. Why did that stuck-up, peacock of a woman have to insist on having her appointment first? It wasn’t as though she’d sell out of tins before Violette could have her chance to order. The bulk of her income came from that woman’s purse, so what point would there be to denying Violette a share of her product?
She ran a hand back through her hair and frowned as it tangled and knotted around itself. Nothing would be accomplished if she couldn’t at least bring herself into a physically decent state. Hopefully, she told herself, an improvement in her mental state would follow soon after.
Estelle was at the foot of the steps, dusting the foyer, when Cassandra finally came downstairs. Her servant looked up for a moment, watching as she descended, then turned back to her work without a word spoken.
“Estelle,” Cassandra said, pausing just before reaching the bottom of the staircase, “have you finished preparing the guest rooms for our visitors?”
The dark-haired woman turned around. Good, Cassandra thought to herself. At least she’ll look me in eye, even if we’re only speaking about professional matters. “I have, my Lady,” Estelle said, holding her feather-duster careful to keep the dirt clinging to it from sticking to her dress. “All three rooms have been cleaned, as has the living space in the servant’s quarters for their staff.”
Cassandra nodded, and descended the remainder of the stairs. “And the arboretum, as well?”
“And the arboretum, naturally. You’ve been holding your presentations there for the past several years,” Estelle frowned for a moment before her face could resume the stony, blank expression it had worn almost continuously in front of her for the past several weeks. “Why wouldn’t I see to it that it was ready for tomorrow?”
Tomorrow? Cassandra blinked and rubbed her eyes. Was the appointment already that soon? “What day even is it, Estelle? I feel like I am losing track of the time.”
“Of course.”
Estelle sighed and turned her back on Cassandra, starting down the hallway. She wrung her collected dust out into a waste bin she carried with her before dusting the woodwork beside her. “I do not have time for idle chatter, my Lady,” she said, her voice snapping against the walls and ceiling around her. “There is too much work to finish before tomorrow morning and there is only one of me to attend to all of it. Unless you wish to pick up a rag and polish the tables, or take the time to prepare the ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner, then go back to sulking in your library and leave me in peace!”
“I,” Cassandra sputtered, storming down the hall after Estelle. “I have not been sulking!”
Estelle turned on her heels, thrusting her duster out at Cassandra, who coughed at the cloud of particles that sprung forth into the air. “Then what would you call what you’ve been doing the past two weeks? Catching up on your reading?” The words were as pointed, as direct, as the jabs from the cleaning instrument in the woman’s hand.
Cassandra stopped dead, her lips trembling. “I simply... I thought it rude to intrude upon you further. To bring up what happened that night.”
“So you decided to simply ignore that it happened, and ignore me?” Estelle’s eyebrows lifted as she opened her eyes wide, her body leaning forward at the waist as though to listen carefully for Cassandra’s response. “Did you think that if you simply ignored it, that I might eventually forget that you barged into my room and thrust your fingers into my mouth to satisfy your fantasies?”
“You asked me,” Cassandra said, struggling to hold herself upright, to keep her back stiff and straight. “You asked me never to bother you with what I did, ever again. You asked me to never mention it.”
“You could have at least apologized!” Estelle’s voice was crisp, too brittle, cracking against the walls and Cassandra’s ears. “In two weeks, you haven’t even apologized for what you did!”
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but Estelle shook her head, turning her back on the Lady of the house. “Not now. There’s too much to do, and I don’t… I don’t want to dwell on this when there is so much I still need to look after. Just go and make yourself useful, with whatever it is you do. Go and prepare your show for your peers, and I will see to it that they have a clean room to sleep in and a warm meal for the nights they spend here.”
Estelle hurried down the hall, shoes clicking against the hardwood as she left Cassandra in her wake. Cassandra raised her hand to reach out after her, as though her arm could cross the length of the main hallway and prevent her servant from disappearing around the corner. “Estelle, wait!”
The other woman paused briefly at the end of the hall, waiting. Cassandra sputtered, searching for words. “I’m sorry” seemed to simple, too small, for what she’d done, for how she’d violated Estelle’s space, her body. What words were there for playing out a fantasy like that? Her lips simply moved soundlessly, the unspoken words met with a scowl from Estelle, who disappeared around a corner at the hall’s end.
What was there to do? Cassandra wrung her hands as she shuffled back up the hallway to the front of the house. Violette and her entourage of staff, as well as two other ladies— Lady Irene Milford and Lady Eveline Starling, who themselves figured prominently themselves in Ostinum society— would be at her doorstep in mere days. All of this cold air between herself and Estelle would need to be covered, well-hidden, before anyone arrived. She was already on the lips of the wealthy enough as it was, Cassandra reminded herself, and for all of the wrong reasons. A woman of her stature should hardly be associating with her maid. Once the gossips started to dig into that, there was no telling how much of her life would be dragged into the sunlight.
She sighed and shook her head, staring out the windows that stood to either side of the front door, resting a hand against the sill. What was there to be done? Menus to plan so that Estelle could begin preparations for the next few evenings’ meals. No, no, she said and shook her head. There had to be more to attend to that that. Her pitch needed to be practiced; it was a given that her customers would keep ordering from her. They were good and thoroughly hooked on her wares. It was more a matter of how much they could be manipulated into buying, how absolutely necessary a steady supply of her delights were to their well-being and happiness. She needed to browse the wine cellar to find the best vintages to serve her guests.
There was plenty to do, she assured herself. There was plenty to do that didn’t involve dwelling on Estelle.
~
The last few days came and went. At last, the first weekend of appointments arrived, and with it, Cassandra’s first guests began trundling up the driveway in steam-powered carriages. The contraptions were the latest, newest thing to come from the island nation’s factories. While they were noisy enough to be heard from at least a mile down the road, they were the prized possession of anyone wealthy enough to afford them and the object of the envy of those who could not. Cassandra owned one, one of her first grand purchases after her business started to grow, though she certainly did not own such a loud and cumbersome machine out of jealousy, she assured herself. It was simply a convenience for herself and Estelle. Managing horses to pull a carriage would simply be too much work on top of everything else that needed to be tended to in their home.
The first rumble of noise across the grounds sent her scurrying down the steps towards the front door. Estelle, of course, was already waiting, and opened the door at just the right moment to prevent Cassandra from walking face-first into it. With a deep breath of the crisp, morning air, Cassandra trotted out onto the porch and waited for the cars to reach the brick roundabout in front of her home.
The finest vehicles in the procession rattled after curving around the circumference of the roundabout until the passenger door faced the porch. Behind them, the line of larger, boxier automobiles rumbled along to make their way to the servant's entrance at the back of the house. Estelle would be sent back later to direct the personal staffs of Cassandra's guests into their proper places and quarters, but for the time being she would remain at her Lady's side and aid her guests in entering the house.
Cassandra stood straight as the drivers exited their cars, opening the door and offering their hand in assisting their passengers out. Lady Starling was first to step out onto the drive. Eveline's family hailed from the pastures and hillsides north of the capital, her broad, barrel-like frame ample reminder that in some distant century, the Starlings plowed tough soil and-- if the Lady's stories were to be believed-- wrestled wild dogs with their bare hands until they were broken in as sheep dogs. Whether it was true or not, the Starlings brute determination made them phenomenally successful landowners and traders of the raw materials harvested from the soil and beasts tended on that land. That accumulated wealth funded the lady's grand journey's throughout the world that now occupied much of Eveline's time.
Lady Starling's shoes clapped against the steps up to the porch, her soft, round face all smiles as she curtsied to Cassandra. "Lady Selby," she said, and clapped her hands together as she stood back up. "I'm so ever pleased to visit you again."
"And I am most pleased to see you," Cassandra said in her softest, most professional of tones. Eveline wasn't unpleasant company to keep, but her exuberance and delight at every imaginable thing was quick to wear thin on her nerves. "Please, make yourself at home."
"I shall! Oh, I must tell you of my trip last month to..."
"Lady Starling, would you please be so kind as to move along, so that the rest of us can enter the house, as well?"
Cassandra stepped aside to let Eveline pass her, catching view of the tall, wiry height of Irene Milford ascending the steps to the porch. Brown hair that lost more of its color every time Cassandra saw the woman framed a sour, lined face. Which was more color than the rest of her possessed. Every inch of the woman's clothing, including gloves and the sheer veil that hung from her hat, were as deep a black as the midnight sky. Lady Milford became a widow not long after Cassandra had come of age, and the elder woman showed no sign over the years of ever ending her period of mourning. The only change over time had been that her sadness gradually gave way to a festering resentment of youth that rendered every word she spoke as bitter and biting as the tonics used in medicines.
"There's hardly any hurry, Lady Milford," Cassandra said, holding more firmly to her forced smile.
"Lady Starling might not mind tromping around under the beating sun, but the rest of us would rather not spend our time roasting."
Eveline looked back from the doorway and frowned at her fellow guest. "Oh, Irene! Don't be such a sourpuss. A little sunshine would do the lot of us some good!"
"Oh, do shut up."
"Ladies," Cassandra said, the word sounding more pointed than she meant it to be as she laid a hand against Irene's back. "If we could move inside, perhaps? I'll ask my maid, Estelle, to prepare some drinks and sandwiches for us all?"
This met with words of approval from the both of them. Estelle held the door as she showed the Ladies Starling and Milford into the house. Cassandra was alone, then, chest collapsing with a sigh of relief as she turned away from the entry to her home.
Which left her with her third guest: Violette Wilemere. The Lady's shoes clicked lightly against the brick roundabout, her pink lips curled in a smile on a face as perfectly made up as the most life-like of dolls gazed upward at Cassandra. Curls of black hair bounced at her every step, her royal blue dress tailored perfectly to every curve and line of her body. She was neither too modest nor showed too much; every bachelor in Ostinum fell over themselves to win her attention, despite the fact that she was both several years Cassandra's senior, and married.
"My dear Lady Selby," she said, her words sweet as honey stirred into hot tea. "You're growing up quite finely, my friend."
Cassandra winced, but was quick to shake off her chill and offer a curtsy to the far wealthier, more socially prominent woman approaching her. "And you look as beautiful as always, Lady Wilemere."
"Cassandra, Cassandra, we've known each other for how many years?" Violette laughed as she walked up onto the porch, touching a gloved hand to Cassandra's cheek. "My parents invited your family to my coming out party. I can still remember the darling little dress they had you in for the occasion. White and pink, with a pink purse you'd stuffed one of your dolls into."
Cassandra forced a laugh through her lips, back stiffening as Violette fingers brushed against her cheek. "Your memory is better than mine, then. I can hardly remember the day."
"Perhaps. Nonetheless, we've known each other for so many years, it seems so stiff to call each other by surname."
"That may be the case, but I have invited you all here on a matter of business." Cassandra stepped back, trying to put what space she could between the two of them without being read as either rude, or intimidated. "It would be impolite for me to speak so familiarly with my customers."
"Customers!" Violette held a hand over her mouth and gave a brief, sharp laugh. She paused and shook her head before smiling back at Cassandra. "I suppose it's just as darling as that outfit you wore all those years ago that you think this little trade of yours is legitimate business. We should be frank with ourselves. We are women of means who are indulging in a bit of pleasure. There is hardly much more that is more intimate, and more familiar, than that."
Violette turned and stepped through the door into Cassandra's home, leaving her host to stew by herself on the porch. The nerve of her! Cassandra's fists dropped to her sides, squeezed tight as she stamped a foot once against the deck planks. Though, she thought, such behavior did little to improve her standing with that hated woman. At least Violette was out of sight and unaware of her aborted tantrum. Cassandra sighed and smoothed out her skirts, straightening her stance as she followed into the house after her guests. This was her domain, whatever Violette's ledgers might say, and she was not about to let Violette lord about the halls of her own home.
~
With some effort, Cassandra shepherded the three women into the arboretum. The room had been one of her father's favorite spaces. When it rained, and it often rained in southern Angliea, the space allowed him to enjoy the flowers and trees of his garden without venturing out into the cold and damp. Sunlight warmed the room through the glass tiles in the roof; with the weather as fair as it was, a few were propped open to allow in the breeze and prevent the atmosphere inside growing too heavy.
A short path wandered through the stately greenhouse until the trees parted to either side of the four of them. A pair of bistro tables were set out with chairs, plush cushions on each seat to allow a comfortable resting spot to each of Cassandra's guests.
"...I must have some of my servants speak to your girl, Estelle," Eveline said as she walked with Cassandra to one of the tables. "We were audience to one of the finest cooks in Ul-Shams, and if Estelle prepared any of the dishes that we were served that night, you would just melt at the heat and fragrance of it all! They were most exquisite, I just know you would love them."
Cassandra smiled and drew a chair out for the other woman. "I will have to try, sometime. Perhaps I can come over one evening?"
"You must!" Eveline was giddy, as though there were a hundred thoughts trying to spill out of her mouth all at once. "Oh, if our trip hadn't been a gift from Lord Tracey, I would have loved to have brought you along with us."
Cassandra showed Lady Milford and Violette to their seats, careful to keep her attention on Lady Starling's conversation with her. Estelle was already in the room, setting out tea cups and saucers, resting a platter with kettle and dish of whole-leaf tea on a stand set on the opposite side of the space where the tables were placed. "I have always wanted to travel out of the country," Cassandra said and smiled at Eveline; her sentiment was a genuine one, at least. "My affairs keep me so busy at home, though. It's hardly realistic of me to simply fly off to some distant land."
"I hardly see what you find so charming about Ul-Shams," Irene said, the grim tone of her voice dropping like a weight between Cassandra and Eveline. "From all I've heard, it's a dirty, noisy, squalid place, worse than Ostinum."
"Nonesense!" Eveline pouted and waved a dismissive hand at Irene, leaning aside so as not to bump into Estelle as she poured her tea. "Just a bunch of ignorant nonsense. Kasabla is a crowded little city, I will admit, but there's a liveliness to it that I find far preferably to our gloomy, gray capital!"
"Don't call me ignorant, Eveline." Lady Milford turned her nose up at her more well-traveled peer. "You're hardly more than a silly, little girl. Every foreign place is lively and exotic to you."
Lady Starling sputtered in search of words for a moment, until the peal of Violette tapping a teaspoon against her cup silenced the other two guests. "Whatever your opinion of the people there, Irene," she said as her gaze drifted towards Cassandra instead of the two arguing women, "There is a great deal in the Shamsi's country that posses unfathomable value."
"Most certainly! Oh, Violette, do remind me later; I found the most gorgeous necklace while I was there." Eveline looked around the still-glowering Irene. "I hope the servants remembered that I asked them to pack it. It's even more lovely than the pendant I acquired while touring the Far North."
"Please," Irene said, leaning forward to press her fingertips against her brow. "Not another story of your 'adventures'."
"Lady Starling, perhaps you can share you trip to the Norsland with us all after dinner?" As much as Eveline's company was preferable to the dower Irene or insufferable Violette, there was business to be done, and Cassandra was not about to cede the afternoon to the Lady Starling. "I believe my servant is ready to present a sampling of this year's delights for your enjoyment."
As though on cue-- of course, Cassandra thought with a smile, it was on cue-- Estelle stepped out from behind her with a small, silver tray balanced on her hand. As she approached each of Cassandra's guests, she placed a small dish down before them. A pair of dark haired, freckled bodies laid on each one, tied and bound motionless as they were offered to each woman. Hunger slowly crept into their expressions, the look of primal anticipation that made Cassandra smile every time she saw it. As much as their presence grated on her, it pleased her to bring them each to heel with so simple an offering. She was right, she reminded herself, thinking of her conversation weeks before with Estelle in the work house. They were little more than dogs in fancy dress, salivating as they waited to be offered a treat from her hand.
"This year," Cassandra said, watching as each of them looked over their delights, "I wished to present you with something intense, something fiery. I've allowed some of my delights more sunlight than normal, and accented the warmth of their skin with dark chocolate and cinnamon."
"A bold choice," Irene said, studying the delight she held in her fingers. She was careful to hold the tiny man by the thread wrapped around him to avoid staining her fingertips with chocolate melting under her own heat.
Cassandra grinned. "Does that offend, Lady Milford?"
"Not hardly." She eased the tiny figure into her mouth, lips brushing ever so lightly against its shrunken body, allowing only the slightest hint of glaze to rub off against her own skin. She closed her eyes, careful not to make a show of sampling the flavor of her delight until after she swallowed. Her eyes met Cassandra's, her lips curled in the slightest hint of a smile. "You were never one to be subtle, Lady Selby."
Cassandra soaked in the pleased look on Irene's face as she looked to the woman sitting beside her. Eveline made little effort to conceal her enjoyment. Her cheek stretched on one side of her face, then the other, as she rolled the tiny being around on the surface of her tongue. She almost coughed after swallowing, and turned a pointed stare at Irene. "Not subtle? Is your palette that dull?"
"Not nearly as much as your stories," Irene said, her voice a murmur as she reached for her tea.
"Oh, shut up, you old maid." Eveline rolled her eyes and turned back to Cassandra. "You've composed such a marvelous blend of sweetness and earthiness; a taste that tickles the tongue, then washes over it with fire. Oh, I must know what you used! It's surely more than the cinnamon that I'm tasting, but I cannot put my finger on exactly what it might be."
"Estelle," Cassandra said, looking beside herself at her servant. The young girl was already gathering used dishes on her serving tray, preparing to return the kettle and tea to the kitchen. "Do you remember what spices you used for this batch of delights?"
"The cinnamon, as you mentioned, my Lady." Estelle's voice was quiet and subdued, her eyes never rising to meet Cassandra. She paused after loading her tray, turning her attention to Eveline, who watched the two of them with an imploring expression. "As well as a blend of peppers I acquired from the dockside markets in Ostinum. These were carefully proportioned with cocoa, sugar, and the cinnamon to produce the flavor you are enjoying."
Evenline clapped, startling Irene as she prepared to sample her second delight. "What a wonder you are, then! I can't imagine what Lady Selby would do without you."
Something chill ran through Cassandra's back. She looked out the corner of her eyes at Estelle, who merely offered a slight bow to Lady Starling. "You flatter me, Lady Starling. The work is as much my Lady's as it is my own."
"I suppose, I suppose, yes." Eveline took a moment to sample the other delight on her plate; something lit up in her eyes as she played with the creature on her tongue, her attention returning to Estelle once she swallowed. "You're from Ul-Shams, aren't you? Or, at least perhaps, your family is? I remember having a dessert while I was on my trip there that was seasoned much as Lady Selby's delights are today."
Estelle became quiet, motionless. She'd started to turn to pick up her serving tray, but froze as soon as the words came out of Eveline's mouth. "I did live there," she said, her voice little louder than a whisper. "For a time, yes."
"You've certainly moved up in the world, then," Irene said as she finished her delight, washing the spice of it down with tea.
Eveline's head turned sharply, the woman frowning at her peer. "Oh, don't start that garbage again!"
Their argument faded into the background, though; Cassandra's thoughts were elsewhere. They were on Estelle, who swept out of the room without another word, without giving her the chance to say something about the conversation that just unfolded. It would have to come later, elsewhere. Right in front of her customers was hardly the place to drag their frayed relationship to light, anyway.
Then, there was Violette.
The third of her guests was quiet the whole the presentation, sitting alone at her table as she watched the others play out their little drama. She was perfectly composed and poised, easing a little of her delight into her mouth, flashes of her tongue peeking from between her lips as it curled and fit itself around the shrunken being in her grasp.
It was interesting to watch her, Cassandra thought to herself. Usually, her customers regarded her delights as merely exotic confectioneries. That they were alive, that they were ingesting a living creature was an afterthought that merely made the things a taboo that they could whisper about to their friends and feel as though they were part of something secret.
Violette, however, seemed to take pleasure in the fact that what she was consuming was alive, was likely conscious, as it entered her mouth and felt her tongue capturing it. Her eyes seemed to look down, to study the look of the delight as it slipped past her lips. Her other hand laid on her belly, as though she could feel the creatures imprisoned inside as it settled into its final resting place.
Cassandra crossed the room, taking a place beside Violette as the woman licked a taste of cinnamon from her lips. "Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Wilemere?"
Violette swallowed, and brushed aside a lock of dark brown hair as she looked up at her host. "Quite so, my dear Cassandra. Thank you."
Something again shivered in Cassandra. It took everything to wait a moment before stepping away from Violette and turn her attention to all of her guests. "Well, if we're all finished, shall we have a walk about the gardens? I would love to hear your thoughts on this years flavors as we get a bit of fresh air."
~
The manor's kitchen was in the servant's quarters, connected to the house by a covered walkway to prevent the periodic Angliean rains from soaking dinner while it was brought into the dining room. It prevented the house from growing too stuffy, too hot; the pungency of cut onions and simmering stew broth was contained to this space and kept from filtering through the entirety of the house.
With her guests reclining after their afternoon walk, making themselves comfortable and likely chattering about her presentation earlier. Their attention was elsewhere, and it was what she needed to slip away from the group and move to the kitchen, where Estelle was at work preparing their dinner banquet.
She could already smell the roast ham being prepared, the thick flavor of stew and the crisp watery scent of vegetables being chopped under a knife's edge. She paused, though, at the door, hesitating before taking hold of the doorknob. Her every attempt to speak to her servant since the night in Estelle's bedroom had ended in failure. Estelle simply turned her back and moved to some other task, some other business, leaving Cassandra in her wake. Her present task would keep her from slipping away from Cassandra again, but that offered no guarantee that Estelle would actually speak to her.
The need to talk gnawed at her, though. Steeling herself, she twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.
Estelle's back was to the door, adding potatoes, celery and carrots into the stewpot as they were chopped apart. It surprised her just how clear the air was; Cassandra understood now why Estelle insisted upon the installation of a gas stove and ovens, despite her Lady's fears of an explosion. "How many gaslights have you heard exploding in the past many years, my Lady?" Estelle had asked, and proceeded off with paperwork affirming Cassandra's credit into Ostinum when the aristocrat failed to produce more than sputtered sounds of protest.
The stone floor was warm, heated by the oven cooking the main course of their dinner. Her footsteps were loud on the hard surface, and finally prompted Estelle's attention. She slowly set down her knife, hands resting on the counter as Cassandra stopped in the middle of the floor. "My Lady," Estelle said, her voice quiet and almost lost among the crackle of the burning stove top and the bubbling stew pot. "Is something the matter?"
Cassandra breathed deep, thinking of pleasant things, thinking of dinners she's enjoyed with Estelle as her company, her only company, of evenings strolled through the garden with her servant beside her. "I think we are both aware of what is the matter between us, Estelle."
"And I think I've made it perfectly clear that I do not wish to discuss it."
"What is it that you want?" Cassandra's voice cracked; it felt as thought something had reached into her chest and was squeezing around her heart. "You yell at me and tell me not to speak about what I've done, but then you express outrage when I don't offer an apology for my actions. So what is it you want, Estelle? What is it you want from me?!"
"I don't know what I wanted, Cassandra!" Estelle leaned over the counter, pressing her hands against the wooden surface. "I didn't even know what I wanted to feel about you! You confessed your love for me and I was ready, open, to accepting that love, and then because you were a coward, because you couldn't let go of all of that..." She spun on her heels, thrusting her arm out towards the manor as she turned to face Cassandra. "Instead of accepting my offer to love me as your equal, as your friend, as your partner, you instead... you chose to sneak into my room like a thief and force something upon me that I did not want! Do not make this about what I was thinking, what I was feeling! The problem is your choice, your fear, not my reaction to your behavior!"
"I just want to fix what I've done, Estelle!" Cassandra looked down at her hands, held out towards Estelle; they were shaking right before her eyes. "I just want to have the life we had together, the way things were."
"But they're not going to be, my Lady." Estelle crossed the room, standing before Cassandra, taking her mistress's wrists in her hands and pushing them back at the other woman. "They will never be, not anymore. What could have been between us cannot be any longer, so we must now become different people, and build something new."
She let go, turning back from Cassandra to return to her work, the stew pot rolling to a hard boil. "Now, go, my Lady. Your guests will begin to wonder where you've gone off to. It's not becoming of a Lady to be seen dawdling about in her servant's quarters."
Cassandra nodded and stepped backward, moving towards the door. Halfway there, she paused, something sticking in her mind. "Estelle," she said, rolling words around in her head to phrase what she wanted to say. "Something is bothering me about Violette."
"Something invariably bothers you about Lady Wilemere, no matter the day, or time of year."
"I know that," Cassandra said, and frowned. "But there is something that feels predatory. Like she smells blood."
Estelle shook her head. "I think you are reading too much into things. Lady Wilemere is predatory by her nature; such is the way of the business she looks after. But I do not think that is a sign, necessarily, that she is up to anything in particular on this visit."
"I will see, then." Cassandra shook her head and continued towards the door. She paused again at the exit, her hand resting on the doorknob as she looked back at Estelle. "And Estelle?"
Her servant did not bother to look up, focusing instead of chopping onions. "Yes, my Lady?"
Cassandra frowned, but shook it off and stood up straight. "I will make things right again."
Estelle shook her head, and focused on keeping her fingers away from the sharpened blade. "We shall see, my Lady."
~
The benefit of having company over, Estelle told herself as she stepped out into the garden, was that there were plenty of others around the servants' quarters to take on much of the house work. Thus, it was one of the few opportunities where she had much time to enjoy herself.
She breathed deep at the cooling summer air, hands in the pockets of her sweater, her feet bare and exposed to the grass and cobblestone pathways that meandered among the flowers and shrubbery. Sometimes, late at night, she would slip out of her bed when she had trouble sleeping and walk through the garden until her mind and heart were enough at ease to drift back into slumber again. It had been a practice of hers for some years, one that Cassandra never seemed to notice. Her mistress largely slept sound in her bedroom, which finally left Estelle to some peace until the sun rose once again and conferred new responsibilities, new tasks to complete, upon her.
Given what transpired in her room a few weeks before, the occasions she spent walking the garden became more frequent, to the point that she began to worry that the impact on her sleep would start to seem obvious even to someone as wrapped up on themselves as Cassandra Selby.
The sound of another pair of footsteps, however, startled Estelle out of her thoughts. She stepped back, turning about in the direction of the oncoming footsteps, and fought back a shout of surprise at the sight of Violette Wilemere standing across from her on the cobblestones. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear," Violette said, drawing a hand up to her lips in embarrassment. "I don't mean to startle you. I hadn't expected anyone else to be out here so late at night."
Calm came back over Estelle, her back muscles easing and relaxing as she took a step away from the bushes and smoothed out her nightgown. "I walk through the garden at times when I have trouble sleeping. The flowers, their colors and fragrances; they help put my mind at ease when I am upset, or concerned."
Violette raised an eyebrow. "What would bother you though? You and Lady Selby have made quite a little life for yourselves out here in the country. She's the talk of nearly every drawing room, her name whispered from one lady to another." She smiled and took another step towards Estelle, resting a hand gently on the other woman's shoulder. "And as long as she remains successful in her little venture, neither of you have anything to fear."
Estelle bit her lip. How much should she say? It would be rude, disrespectful, for her to speak of the intimate details of her and Cassandra's relationship to someone from outside their lives; especially someone Cassandra despised as much as Violette. The brown-haired, elegant financial baroness was no saint, and the last thing Cassandra would want her to do is air their dirty laundry to someone who might use it for leverage against her mistress.
Then again, the last thing she wanted Cassandra to do to her was force-feed her delight after delight.
"We've encountered a bit of difficulty. Between the two of us," Estelle said, her gaze wandering from Violette, looking out towards the flowers, the trees, the gazebo that stood deeper towards the center of the gardens.
"Oh?" Violette tapped a finger against her lips, and moved alongside Estelle. "In your working relationship, I take it?"
"In our relationship," Estelle said, adding no more, or no less.
Violette seemed to blush, staring with curiosity at Estelle, who would not meet the aristocrat's gaze. Her attention remained at some point in the distance past Violette, on nothing in particular, but also not on her companion this night. "Oh my," Violette said, her voice hushed. "Oh my. That's quite improper of Cassandra, isn't it?"
How it was, Estelle thought to herself. One woman wished to love the other; the other both lusted for the one, and longed for oblivion within her body. Both wielded arcane, forbidden powers to doom creatures that were once human to serve as sweet foods for women of Cassandra and Violette's class. There were things that they concealed from one another, and things that were concealed and hidden from them. "This is, though," she said as she finally turned to look at Violette, "a house of improper things."
Violette smiled, and offered her hand to Estelle. "That being said, we are each proper women. Let's allow the night to ease our minds. I remember Lady Selby mentioning she grew lilies in her garden. Would you be kind enough to show them to me, Estelle?"
Estelle smiled, and took the hand offered to her. "As you wish, my Lady."
~
Eveline had kept her late in her library; it was only the tolling of the grandfather clock in the hallway that reminded them both of the hour. Once the chimes subsided, Cassandra became quite aware of her exhaustion and suggested that the two of them part for the evening and continue their discussion of her peer's journey to Norsland after breakfast.
She yawned as she moved down the hallway, covering her mouth. Moonlight streamed in through the window ahead, painting the floor with pale white and blue that reached toward the balcony over the foyer and the way to her bedroom. The window ran the height of the wall, and afforded her a grand vantage point with which the view the grounds behind the manor.
Smoke rose from the chimneys of the servants' house, thinner than it had earlier. The fires in the kitchen were long-since put out, her guests' staffs gradually dampening the fires that burned in the small, cast-iron stoves in some of their rooms. The lights on the far end of them manor were still on; surely, it was just Lady Starling just reaching her room and undressing for the night before going off to sleep.
There were figures moving about in the garden, though. She blinked, and stepped closer to the window. She thought it was simply an illusion, or just birds nesting in the shrubbery. No, she told herself after rubbing her eyes. No, those were people.
Two people.
The more she stared, the more the distant, shadowed figures came into focus. They were two women. One had a hand gesturing towards the flowers, drawing one upward with a gentle pull on its bloom, one that drew the flower closer without injuring its stem. The other leaned down, curls of dark brown cascading around her head, before rising again to nod at her companion.
They stood close, Cassandra thought to herself. Very close together.
And the more she looked, the more her blood started to boil.
Brown, curly hair. The one figure stepped around her companion, her shapely figure evident even from a distance, even in her sleeping gown. The other, with long, straight hair as black as the evening sky above them, nodding and offering to show her guest another flower. And how close they stood together! There was hardly a space between them for more than a moment or two.
No, Cassandra hissed between tightly clenched teeth. She would not.
And yet, she knew who both of them were. And she knew Estelle never walked with her like that, anymore.
Cassandra's fingernails dug into her palms as her hands clenched, every muscle within her body vibrating like a cello's strings. Despite the blue of the moonlight, she felt like everything she looked at was turning red. Particularly the woman with curling hair, walking so closely, so intimately with Estelle. Her Estelle.
Something cold cut through her heart, and she threw the curtain shut over the window and turned her back on it, her footsteps heavy as she retreated to her bedroom. This would not do, she told herself. This would not to at all.