Before Rosalind's arrival, Agnes had made a vow. To treat and protect the young woman as though she were her own child. Though in proper homes the help always knew their place, Agnes secretly promised that Rosalind would be cared for by her come what may. Agnes did not know if Lord Caspian's honor still held any value. I'll be damned, she thought, if I let him harm a hair on her head.
Agnes helped Rosalind unpack. She folded the young woman's petticoats and stockings putting them neatly in the drawers of a mahogany chest. Agnes walked to the ivory marble fireplace and soon a fire roared.
"Agnes," Rosalind called from the wardrobe. The twin doors were open and she stood before them looking through a vast variety of gowns. "I--"
"A gift from the master of the house," Agnes replied. She gave Rosalind a tight-lipped smile as she walked over. Agnes wiped her hands on her apron to make sure any soot from lighting the fireplace refrained from dirtying the lovely dresses. There were six gowns in various hues: a flowy yellow one, a blush tulle, a velvet azure, and a satin red one with a plunging neckline which Agnes never liked. Next to them was an ethereal silvery gown with a matching cape, and lastly, hanging behind all of the dresses like a mourning cloak, was a lace dress of black.
The older woman gestured to the collection. "They are yours if you choose to wear them. I am certain that if you do it will make the lord very happy." Agnes' smile did not reach her eyes. Caspian was never happy, even when he was human. Though the items were lovely, Agnes sternly thought they should have remained locked in Lady Calla's private chests and not aired out, perfumed and hung for Rosalind to wear.
Rosalind ran the tips of her fingers along the material of the gowns, her lips part slightly. She did not know how to feel nor what to think. This beast, this abomination of God is trying to make me feel welcome? Uncertainty grew within her. "They are beautiful," she uttered. "Please give the lord my thanks."
The handmaid regarded Rosalind and her long dark hair. She paid attention to Rosalind's delicate mannerisms, the soft way she spoke. Then Agnes looked at Rosalind's eyes. Green. In those dresses, she will be like a resurrection. Agnes lifted her eyes heavenward and drew in a languished breath. I should have burned them when he told me to air them.
"I will leave you to rest for an hour, my lady. Please have a gown picked out for dinner." Oh, please choose one of your own! Agnes prayed. "At six o'clock sharp I will return to take you to the bathing chambers for a relaxing bath. Dinner is served at seven."
With a curt bow, Agnes exited the room shutting the large door behind her.
All alone, the only sound was that of the cracking of the wood in the fireplace. Rosalind headed to the warmth. She extended her hands towards the heat rising from the logs and closed her eyes.
Agnes marched down the length of the hall. Through the wide arches of the windows, nightfall was approaching. The sky shifted into a gray-blue. Sparks of red exploded along the horizon. Agnes' hand rose to her collarbone. Her cross lay hidden under the fabric of her dress as it had been doing for the past hundred and fifty years. She felt the wooden cross and it gave her momentary solace.
"Is she here?" A husky growl ebbed from the walls.
With a jolt, Agnes lowered her hand and turned towards the voice. "She is. As her father promised, my lord."
"Is she..." The gruff voice paused mid-sentence.
Agnes held her breath waiting for the voice to continue. When it did not, the maid spoke up. "Is she what, my lord?"
"Beautiful?"
Agnes clenched her jaw. She did not want to tell him that the woman was lovely, that she was like a red rose sprouting amongst the eternal pale of winter. But Agnes drew in a deep breath and nodded slowly. "She is."
"Good," said the beast's voice curtly.
A flutter of wings echoed in the hall and the shadows began to quiver. Then all fell silent and still.
Rosalind could not nap. Her nerves were on edge. Soon she and the lord would meet and she would see if he was a man of his word. 'You will be his honored guest,' her father's voice echoed reassuringly in her ear. 'You will be treated well, with honor and respect.'
Rosalind spent the next hour looking over the gowns. Each one of them must have been tailored with the finest cloth and thread for she had never seen such stunning items. Where there was lace, the design looked like flowers growing in an enchanted garden. The velvet was as soft as butter, perhaps softer still. The airy yellow chiffon was certainly a perfect piece to wear were one invited to a fine ball where beautiful music played from cellos and violins and the celebration went on into the early hours of the morning.
'A gift from the master of the house.' Agnes had said.
Rosalind had brought her own beautiful gowns, but nothing she owned was quite as luxurious as the dresses hanging in the wardrobe.
He is a monster, yet his taste is exquisite, Rosalind thought.
Her eyes lingered on the ethereal yellow gown. Rosalind gently pushed the other dresses to the side and picked out the summery shade. She put the dress against her body and walked towards a full-length mirror. Though twilight had come, there was still enough light for her to regard the lovely item without the aid of a candle. Rosalind bit her lower lip. The vision of her uncertainty danced in the mirror. Somber face. Eyes clouded with a niggling fear. Nerves returning to remind her where she was. Nausea welled inside her belly. I am not at home. I am in the house of the Borgo beast. At the domain of a creature which neither lives nor is dead. At the house of one who torments and kills.
When a shadow glided over her shoulder she gasped. Rosalind clung onto the dress for dear life as she spun on her heel. "Who is there?" she whispered.
A dire silence pulsed through the chamber. Rosalind backed towards the wardrobe fearfully. Her eyes darted through the slowly growing darkness. There was no one in the room save for her.
It is but a trick of the night, she thought yet her grip on the dress did not relax.
Agnes knocked at the door at exactly six o'clock letting Rosalind know her bath was ready.
The raven-haired Rosalind, still weary from before, hung the yellow dress up and exited her room. Against her better judgment, Rosalind informed Agnes she would be wearing the yellow gown tonight for supper.
Twilight faded and night came to spread its darkness. Agnes held the brass candle-holder tightly, yet despite the glow of pale light, Rosalind did not see the maid furrow her brows and purse her lips.
"Very well, my lady," the handmaid replied as she led the woman to the bathing chamber. Behind breastbone, Agnes' heart thudded angrily. Damn you to hell, Caspian. Damn you!