“I’m shocked.”
Ben ignored him. “Let’s get some rest.” He stood, grabbed the envelope from the table, and tucked it into the pocket of his vest.
Jacques stretched his arms in reply.
“Tomorrow, we send my father off to his final rest.”
“And as to the other matter?” Jacques pushed out his chair and stood. “Regarding your sister?”
“It will have to wait.” Ben stepped out of the dining room and into the foyer. “At least until everything with my father and Madame is settled.”
“Shall I investigate while you’re busy?” Jacques asked as they climbed the stairs.
The creaking hardwood steps echoed loudly underfoot. When Ben was a boy, wandering the halls during sleepless nights, he often trod carefully, afraid to wake anyone. But he was too grown to be stealthy anymore, and his boots were made much finer than a boy's slippers. If he woke anything up now, he wanted it to find him.
“You’re welcome to. Be careful, though,” Ben said as he stopped at his door. Already cracked, he could see the fire inside and the shift of a shadow. A play of the light? Despite himself, a cold sweat broke out along his forehead.
“Of the Madame?” Jacques asked.
“No.” Ben swallowed. “The ghosts.”
MOTHS & MAUSOLEUMS
REMI
APRIL, 1898
Following their nuptials, Remi was escorted to the second floor after the end of the short reception. Their exchange of vows lasted longer than the supper that followed. It was an awkward affair with minimal conversation, only a few quiet congratulations on their marriage. Remi was beside herself with disappointment but pushed herself to thank everyone for coming. Even if she wished she was anywhere but there, with the weight of her family’s expectations bearing down on her.
Once Lamotte excused himself from the reception, the rest followed him eagerly. For that, she was grateful.
“Here we are.” Edgar’s gentle voice brought her back to the present. They had stopped at the end of a hallway with a single door. “I hope it’s to your liking.”
Dubious, she asked, “You hope what is to my liking?”
“The room.” He gestured to the door again, and her heart thrummed uncomfortably in her chest.
Of course, she thought, swallowing as she reached for the brass. Pull yourself together, girl. It is only natural that we would share a room.
As the door opened, she gasped.
The spacious room was fully furnished and decorated in the classic style. The floors were a deep shade of mahogany, with a finely crafted fireplace of embellished marble with a carved floral mantle. Lively flames crackled in the hearth. From the wardrobe to the escritoire, everything matched, including the four-poster bed, which was draped in delicate shantung—the same fabric as her wedding gown.
“It is yours,” he said happily.
“Curious,” she muttered after a silent beat.
“What is?”
Remi licked her lips nervously, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes. “When you say mine, I wonder if you mean that I will have my own room, apart from yours.”
Edgar chuckled his reply, unbothered by her timidity. Instead, he ushered her forward with a wave of his hand. Remi took a steadying breath and towed her way in. With its round windows and cozy seats inlaid with plush cushions, she felt she could stay there for the rest of her days and be content. The finery decorating the room was made for royalty.
And perhaps she was royalty now. Becoming Madame Leone meant a great deal to those on the Isle, even if the inflection when speaking the family name implied death.
“I asked for much help. I’m afraid that home-making is not my forte,” Edgar said from the hallway, a respectable space between him and the door.
“I’m grateful,” she said, though her question remained unanswered.
“Then I shall leave you in Sylvie’s care.”
“Edgar?” Remi managed before he was gone.
He stopped. “Yes?”
“I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but my mind is somewhat addled. Will you not…” she paused, willing her uneasiness to subside. “Are we not to share a room?”
Edgar was silent for a moment, his face unreadable, before he finally smiled. “I thought you might like your own private space. Are you not pleased?”
“No,” she said a little too loudly, earning a short laugh from Edgar. “I couldn’t ask for more if I’m honest. Thank you.”
“Excellent.” He turned into the hall and gestured to someone unseen. “Sylvie, if you please? I leave Madame's care to you now.”
A young woman appeared then, the look of awe in her eyes the same as Remi’s. They were both new, Remi could tell, and it comforted her in a way to know they would learn about the manor together.
“Bonsoir, Madame Leone. My name is Sylvie.”
“Bonsoir, Sylvie.”
