Ophelia Night - Almost Gone

“Perhaps you can ask the children themselves,” Marnie suggested. “Antoinette will know if there is anything arranged. I would advise waiting till she has finished playing the piano, though. She does not like her concentration disturbed.”

Was it her imagination or did Marnie roll her eyes at those words? Encouraged, Cassie wondered if they might become friends. She needed an ally in this house.

But there was no time to forge a friendship now. Marnie was clearly in a hurry, collecting empty plates and dirty dishes while she asked Cassie if there were any problems with her room. Cassie quickly explained the issues, and after promising to change the bedcovers and replace the light bulb before lunch, the housekeeper left.

The sound of the piano had stopped, so Cassie headed to the music room near the hallway.

Antoinette was putting the music away. She turned and faced Cassie warily when she walked in. She was immaculately dressed in a royal blue frock. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her shoes were perfectly shined.

“You look beautiful, Antoinette, that dress is such a pretty color,” Cassie said, hoping compliments would endear her to the hostile girl. “Is there anything you have planned for today? Any activities or other things arranged?”

Antoinette paused thoughtfully before shaking her head.

“Nothing today,” she said decisively.

“And Marc and Ella, do they need to go anywhere?”

“No. Tomorrow, Marc has soccer practice.” Antoinette closed the piano lid.

“Well, is there anything you would like to do now?” Perhaps allowing Antoinette to choose would help them bond.

“We could go for a walk in the woods. We all enjoy doing that.”

“Where are the woods?”

“A mile or two down the road.” The dark-haired girl gestured vaguely. “We can leave immediately. I will show you the way. I just have to change my clothes.”

Cassie had assumed the woods were within the estate and was taken aback by Antoinette’s reply. But a walk in the woods—that sounded like a nice, healthy outdoor activity. Cassie was sure that Pierre would approve.

Twenty minutes later, they were ready to leave. Cassie looked into every room as she escorted the children downstairs, hoping she would see Marnie or one of the other housekeeping staff, so she could tell them where she was going.

She didn’t see anybody and had no idea where to start looking. Antoinette was impatient to leave, jumping from foot to foot with excitement, so Cassie decided that humoring her good mood was more important, especially seeing they weren’t going to be gone for too long. They headed down the gravel drive and out, with Antoinette leading the way.

Behind a huge oak tree, Cassie saw a block of five stables—she’d noticed them when she arrived the previous day. She walked over to have a closer look and found they were empty and dark, the doors standing open. The field beyond was unoccupied, the wooden railings broken in parts, the gate hanging off its hinges and the grass growing long and wild.

“Do you have horses here?” she asked Antoinette.

“We used to, many years ago, but there have been none for a long time,” she replied. “None of us ride anymore.”

Cassie stood staring at the deserted stables while she absorbed this bombshell.

Maureen had given her incorrect and seriously outdated information.

The horses had played a part in her decision to come here. They had been an incentive. Hearing about them had made the place sound better, more appealing, more alive. But they were long gone.

During the interview, Maureen had stated that there would be an actual opportunity for her to learn to ride. Why had she misrepresented things, and what else might she have said that wasn’t true?

“Come on!” Antoinette tugged her sleeve impatiently. “We need to go!”

As Cassie turned away, it occurred to her that there was no reason for Maureen to falsify information. The rest of her description about the house and the family had been fairly accurate and as an agent, she could only pass on the facts provided.

If so, that meant it must have been Pierre who had lied. And that, she realized, was even more troubling.

Once they had rounded a bend and the chateau was out of sight, Antoinette slowed her pace, none too soon for Ella, who was complaining that her shoes hurt.

“Stop whining,” Antoinette advised. “Remember, Papa always says you mustn’t whine.”

Cassie picked Ella up and carried her, feeling her chubby weight increase with every step. She was already carrying the backpack crammed with everyone’s jackets, and her last few euros in the side pocket.

Marc capered ahead, breaking branches from the hedges and throwing them into the road like spears. Cassie had to remind him constantly to keep off the tarmac. He was so inattentive and unaware, he could easily jump into the path of an oncoming car.

“I’m hungry!” Ella complained.

Exasperated, Cassie thought of her untouched plate of breakfast.

“There’s a shop around the next corner,” Antoinette told her. They sell cold drinks and snacks.” She seemed strangely cheerful this morning, although Cassie had no idea why. She was just glad that Antoinette appeared to be warming to her.

She’d hoped the shop might sell cheap watches, because without a phone, she had no means of telling the time. But it proved to be a nursery, stocked with seedlings, baby trees, and fertilizer. The kiosk at the till sold only soft drinks and snacks—the elderly shopkeeper, perched on a barstool next to a gas heater, explained there was nothing else. The prices were freakishly high and she was filled with stress as she counted out her meager stash of money, purchasing chocolate and a can of juice for each child.

While she paid, the three children rushed across the road to take a closer look at a donkey. Cassie shouted for them to come back, but they ignored her.

The gray-haired man shrugged sympathetically. “Children will be children. They look familiar. Do you live nearby?”

“Yes, we do. They are the Dubois children. I’m their new au pair and this is my first day of work,” Cassie explained.

She had hoped for some neighborly recognition, but instead, the shopkeeper’s eyes widened in alarm.

“That family? You are working for them?”

“Yes.” Cassie’s fears surged back. “Why? Do you know them?”

He nodded.

“We all know of them here. And Diane, Pierre’s wife, used to buy plants from me sometimes.”

He saw her puzzled face.

“The children’s mother,” he elaborated. “She passed away last year.”

Cassie stared at him, her mind whirling. She was unable to believe what she’d just heard.

The children’s mother had died, and as recently as last year. Why had nobody said anything about this? Maureen hadn’t even mentioned it. Cassie had assumed Margot was their mother, but now realized her naivety; Margot was far too young to be the mother of a twelve-year-old.

This was a family that had recently suffered bereavement, been ripped apart by a major tragedy. Maureen should have briefed her on this.

But Maureen hadn’t known about the horses being gone, because she hadn’t been told. With a stab of fear, Cassie wondered if Maureen had even known about this.

What had happened to Diane? How had her loss affected Pierre, and the children, and the entire family dynamic? How did they feel about Margot’s arrival in the home so soon afterward? No wonder she could feel tension, taut as a wire, in just about every interaction within those walls.

“That’s—that’s really sad,” she stammered, realizing that the shopkeeper was regarding her curiously. “I didn’t know she’d died so recently. I guess her death must have been traumatic for everyone.”