Harelda L'Ebène slowly walked down the wide, curving staircase, her eyes fixed on Barbara Allen.
“You’re not my usual girl.” Harelda hissed.
“No, Ma’am.” Barbara shook her head.
“What are you?” Heralda smirked.
“Pardon me?” Barbara asked.
“Are you some kind of octoroon?”
“No.” Barbara shook her head.
“Marie’s got a white girl working for her?”
Barbara nodded.
“Well, then, aren’t we high-tone?” Heralda sighed. “Where are you from? You’re not from here.”
“No, Ma’am.” Barbara answered. “I’m from England.”
“How’d you come to work for Marie Laveau?”
Barbara blushed, looking over her shoulder at Charles who stood nearby watching the entire exchange.
“No need to say anymore.” Heralda laughed.
“Miss,” Barbara responded in a controlled manner, “you have no need to worry. I’m quite skilled with hair, and I’m sure I can make you even more beautiful than you already are.”
“Aren’t you full of flattery?” Heralda cackled.
“I simply speak of the things which strike me as true.” Barbara smiled confidently.
“Charles!” Heralda barked.
“Yes, Miss.” Charles responded flatly.
“Have one of the girls make up my room, and, then, take Miss…”
“Allen.” Barbara responded.
“Take Miss Allen to the conservatory.” Heralda said. “She and I will chat before we get to our business. I shall come down forthwith.”
With that, Harelda L'Ebène turned and walked back up the stairs.
Charles shook his head with resignation and reached for a bell pull in the corner of the front hall.
Within seconds, a fluttery maid appeared from a low archway beneath the stairs.
“Meg,” Charles whispered. “It’s time to make up the beast’s room.”
Meg nodded, glancing at Barbara.
“Never you mind. Just go on about your work.” Charlies harrumphed.
Meg flitted off to do as she was told.
“Come this way,” Charles sighed.
“You’re very kind,” Barbara smiled as sweetly as she could.
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Allen,” Charles responded.
“It must be difficult,” Barbara said.
“Whatever do you mean?” Charles frowned.
“Well, it seems to me that, perhaps—and I mean no offense—perhaps your employer could be a little difficult at times.”
“Perhaps. What’s it to you?”
“Well, it’s just that I’ve been employed by a difficult family.”
“You don’t strike me as having been employed by anyone.” Charles’ face brightened. “Seems to me that you’re some kind of lady out of her place.”
“I have a long and interesting story.” Barbara chuckled softly.
“I’d like to hear it.” Charles winked.
“Well,” Barbara nodded. “That could be possible. You know, your life could be easier.”
“How do you figure?” Charles asked. “I know of a man who’s in need of a valet.”
“Who’s this?”
“The Duke of Fallbridge,” Barbara smiled.
Meanwhile, at their borrowed house on Royal Street, Robert helped Mr. Punch change his bandages and slip into a fresh nightshirt.
“Coo!” Mr. Punch grunted. “These little things shouldn’t make me so tired.”
“You’ve got quite a recovery ahead of you.” Robert smiled encouragingly.
“I hate to think that you’re gonna have to take care of me.” Mr. Punch said softly.
“That’s what I’m here for, dear Punch.” Robert smiled.
“But, you got other things to do.” Punch shook his head. “You and Marjani can’t just look after me. Ya both got to take care of Gamilla what’s not better yet, and Marjani’s got Columbia what needs tendin’ to. ‘Sides, you’re me Chum, I don’t like the idea that you’d be helpin’ me like you was some kind of servant.”
“But, I’m here to serve you. Remember, we’re a team.”
“I know.” Mr. Punch smiled.
“I do understand how you feel.” Robert nodded. “Mr. Punch, I’ve hesitated to bring this up, considering that Naasir has only just…”
Mr. Punch nodded.
“But, we might consider securing a new valet—someone who could assist both of us.”
“Who?” Mr. Punch shrugged painfully.
“It’d have to be someone with discretion and who is unflappable in…well, unusual situations.”
“Ain’t gonna be nobody like that.” Mr. Punch sighed. “Not unless one just drops out of the sky.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-170? If so, you can read them here.
2 comments:
By now, I'm sure, Punch knows that anything that drops out of the sky on them is likely to be an anvil.
It's good to see him/them gaining back strength.
Yes, Dashwood. They do seem to have Wile E. Coyote style luck in that department. Thanks for reading!
Post a Comment