Shiver in the Dark (eBook)
298 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-2932-4 (ISBN)
Snuggle up with your S'mores and take a trip through nostalgic eras and childish fun turned into horror and intrigue. These tales are for adults! Some yarns are with characters from the author's book series, Sparrow Wars in the Garden of Bliss: A La Barre Family Saga, and introduce the history of the infamous La Barre Family curse and the familial link to the Bonte and Boulanger families. Genres: Paranormal, mystery, shapeshifters, sci-fi, Scouting, add some history and a little bizarre romance!
Chapter 3—Un Jour De La Fête
(Lundi Gras) Monday, February 12, 1872
Henri stomped up the steps onto the back porch, slammed the kitchen door, and announced to the busy room, “Le maître… finalement, il vient aujourd’hui. Mon Dieu!” Then, sweating heavily and nearly panting, he fell into a chair at the kitchen table. “Mon Dieu, je suis ancien…” he groaned, rubbing a knee.
The trio of girls helping Esmeralda squealed at the surprising intrusion.
Esmeralda rushed to him, “Ma Coeur! Tu es malade!” She put her arm about him and searched his face.
He held up a hand, “Non, non. Je suis fatigue,” then sighed to grumble in a mishmash of French and accented with Cajun epithets, “I am not sick, just too old to run around. That wretch. I searched everywhere between here and New Orleans and left messages for Lucien at every place I stopped yesterday and this morning. And what happens? On my sad return, I was only five miles from home, and he was on the road! If he had not been in the company of his friends, I would have given Lucien hell for it! The brat!” Henri swiped the sweat from his head and face with a kerchief, then pocketed it in his coat. “If he was a boy and his father was here, he’d suffer a red ass.” Henri gripped a fist.
“I hate running about like a crazed chicken on a fool’s errand!” He spat a foul word en Français.
Esmeralda kissed Henri’s cheek and reached for the plate on the counter, “Here, eat something. You probably never ate a thing since you left yesterday.” She passed him a fresh, warm croissant and the butter crock.
“Not true. I ate the bread and cheese you gave me yesterday and drank the cider. But then I had to pay someone to take a message at le club privé,” Henri rolled his eyes and made a derogatory gesture, “so I had no money left for supper or breakfast or any decent place to stay the night. Can you believe I slept with the damn horse on the road?! This morning, we ate the berries we found in thickets along the way.”
He held up a mud-encrusted foot, “I slipped in the muck and almost got bit by a baby gator. But I clobbered it with a stick, and Poppy and I ran away before Big Mama could get us.”
“Mon pauvre p’tit agnelet!” Esmeralda cooed and petted his curly dark hair as Henri shrugged away.
“D’accord. Ma femme! Laisse-moi! J’ai faime.” Testy Henri demanded another croissant.
Instead, Esmeralda slid a quickly prepared plate with a slab of corncake, a dry, scorched sausage, and a honey dish before her husband. “You eat. So, when is Lucien coming home?”
“Lucien could be here in minutes if he does not stop or dawdle along the way. There were twenty gaudily dressed idiots in his entourage—” he replied between bites and chewing, then slurping coffee.
“Were there women? Oh, I hope not.”
“Bien sûr. Several, mostly with husbands or such.”
“Was that woman with him? You know, Abigale?”
Henri shook his head. “Non, I did not see her like what happened last week. But there were four fancy rigs, a coach, and at least three carts. So, I am unsure what Lucien is bringing home today.”
“Did he speak to you about the party? How many guests will we have overnight? Or, the good Lord forbid, longer?”
Between bites of crumbled corn cake, Henri answered, “I only think two couples are staying tonight and one daughter and a son. So perchance we are lucky there won’t be a houseful. But, since the idiot let go two maids, your sous-chef and Valente, the houseman, we are shrinking and short-staffed. So Lucien said I would act as Le Portier tonight instead of tending the horses and carriages like usual. Il etait hurluberlu—Quel idiot.”
Esmeralda pulled Henri’s head to her chest and petted her husband to mollify his ill temper. “Don’t speak like that, my lamb. It is too bad for the fool. I am still worried, though. Will we have enough food? There have been no proper preparations for dinner, a ball, or anyone staying here.”
“Non?” Henri squinted at his wife, “But what has been going on since I was gone?”
“Rien. Nobody knows a thing. But I am cooking just in case we need it. It would be shameful if Lucien suddenly announced a feast or grand reception and I had nothing. I can only hope that the cellar is well-stocked. I do not know if we have enough wine or rum or anything since Lucien only keeps the key these days. The last time it was open, I snuck a few bottles of burgundy, sherry, and rum for my cooking.”
“Ma femme! Qu’est-ce que tu fous? You will get sacked for stealing. Or beaten!” Angry, Henri half rose from his chair with a fist. “I will beat you myself if they catch you!”
Esmeralda stepped a few paces away but did not cower at the threat. “I stole nothing. How can I cook and feed the household if I cannot do it properly? We barely had enough whiskey for the doctor yesterday.”
“I like Dr. Thomas, but I hope you didn’t give him the bottle.”
“Of course not. Only a sip for Vincent and Liliana. I am no fool; the doctor and Lucien can drink anyone under the table!”
Esmeralda took the empty plate, saying, “If you are finished here, then the girls and I have better things to do than hear your complaints. Go watch out for Lucien. Adieu!”
The cook silently watched her angry, tall, brawny husband leave and limp across the back lawn toward the horse barn. She assumed Henri had to tend the horse he took for his trip, poor old Poppy.
Turning about, she addressed the girls, “Mes filles… Eunice and Corine, you must prepare three rooms, one on the second and two on the third floor. The green room near the nursery should be fine for the children. While up there, see if Berthe or Liliana need anything. Nobody rang for breakfast today. Perhaps we can prepare a tray for their tea and supper later.”
Corine asked, “Will Madame attend the party too? We need to make only a plate for Berthe, then.”
Esmeralda shook her head. “Non. Do as I ask, lazy girl. After childbirth, La Maîtresse is too ill to dance and carouse with Lucien’s lot.”
“Oui. Pauvre Madame.” Corine replied with a bob of her capped head. She side-eyed her cousin, Eunice, then whispered, “You take the third floor, and I’ll do the rooms for le maître and the guest on the second.”
Eunice hissed, “Why must I clean the top floor? I usually have the second étage. I do not wish to bother the lady.”
“Better you than me. The lady threw her slippers at me the other day.”
“That was because you spilled tea on the coverlet.” Eunice sneered at her cousin. “Besides, the lady was in labor already. I would throw a piss-pot at you if I was in her condition.”
Eunice cast a wary eye at the cook, busily stoking the cast-iron oven. Then she whispered, “There is something wrong with the lady. She was dead, and the doctor revived her with that medicine tea. He saved the baby, too. Mama would have burned herbs to keep the devil away. Since he didn’t do that, he probably invited Satan in. We are doomed, cursed maybe—”
Corine’s lighter café au lait skin flushed hotly as she whispered, “She was dead? Truly?”
“Oui.”
Corine genuflected and kissed her tiny silver crucifix. She turned about to call the other girl washing dishes. “Psst! Allo! Sandrine!” She waited for a response. “Viens.” She rolled her eyes and jerked her head.
Cautiously eying the cook, the girl stepped away from the soapstone sink. “Oui?” She dried her hands on her apron, no longer crisply ironed but damp and stained with butter and crusted flour.
“Hey, you must trade with Eunice. She needs to stay here and help the cook. You can clean the top-floor guest rooms and bring food trays to Berthe and our mistress.”
“Non, that is your job. But, you know, I only clean the downstairs with Candice and help in the kitchen. Besides, what do I know of the Lady? I have not seen her leave her rooms in months.”
Corine gripped the girl’s thin arm. “You will do as I say.”
“But Cook said you two—” Tears sprang to her eyes, “Lâcher prise… tu me fais du mal.” Sandrine twisted away to yelp, “Madame! Esme!”
The cook spun around, one fist on a wide hip to bark, “Qu-est-que vous faites!” She glowered at the trio—Sandrine in tears, the...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 31.10.2023 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-2932-4 / 9798350929324 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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