Defying Destiny (49 page)

behind her. He stood, flicking his tail

unconcernedly.

“Actually, a Wolf killed my horse a

couple of months ago. I rented this one

from the livery in town and hoped

someone would return him for me,”

Maralee said, glancing up at Billy

hopefully.

He smiled. “I’ll take him back right

now.” Billy stepped around her to take the

horse’s reins.

“Let me give you something for your

trouble,” she offered, reaching into her

cloak pocket for her coin purse.

Billy shook his head. “It’s my

pleasure, Miss Decatur,” he told her. “It is

reward enough just to see your beautiful

face again.” When Maralee’s eyes

widened, the broad shouldered stable

master chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked,

Miss Decatur, surely you realize that I’ve

been in love with you since the first

moment I saw you.” She shook her head.

He laughed. “Well, I must have been all of

four years old at the time.”

“Billy, you shouldn’t say such things to

me,” Maralee admonished, her cheeks

flaming with embarrassment.

Billy laughed again and mounted the

rented horse. “I suppose you’re right, but

it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Gidyup!”

The horse trotted forward, hooves

clomping on the bricked floor. Billy

turned the horse towards the open stable

door and offered her a cheery salute

before directing the horse out of the

stables.

Maralee watched him leave, more than

a little out of sorts. After a moment of

staring after him completely dumbfounded,

she smiled and actually found the ability

to laugh aloud. She really was home and it

felt more wonderful than she had ever

imagined it could.

Maralee stood outside of the front door of

the main house, took a deep breath and

turned the doorknob. She stepped inside

the entry hall and was assailed by

memories of lifeless bodies and bloody

paw prints. She closed her eyes and gave

herself a mental shake. That was the past.

This was her future. Move forward, not

backward.

“Aunt Bailey,” she called cheerily,

having already decided to pretend that she

was blissfully ignorant of the entire

situation. “I’m home!”

There was the sound of breaking glass

from the parlor just ahead, the same parlor

that had an uncommonly dark crawlspace

hidden beneath it. Thumping footsteps

approached and Aunt Bailey appeared in

the doorway. Maralee couldn’t decide if

Bailey was shocked by her unexpected

appearance or truly terrified. In any case,

the woman was as pale as a ghost, which

stood in sharp contrast to the black fur

stole draped across her narrow shoulders.

“M-M-Maralee, what brings you

home?”

Maralee

smiled

warmly

and

approached her aunt, giving the waxy-

looking woman a kiss on the cheek. “Well

you told me to come home if I wanted to

see the rest of those ancient books,”

Maralee reminded her, “and well, I must

admit I was a bit homesick.”

Maralee glanced around the room and

took note of the expensive tapestries and

furnishings that filled the room to

overflowing. They seemed completely out

of place. Maralee’s mother had decorated

with sparse care. The few ornaments that

had once decorated the manor house had

each held special meaning. Now it seemed

that the manor was screaming with

possessions chosen for their sheer

monetary value.

“You should have warned me of your

homecoming in advance,” her aunt said,

lifting a hand to her throat. Maralee’s

attention fell on numerous obscenely large

gemstones bedecking each of Bailey’s

long, bony fingers. Her aunt moved her

hand to a more obscure location behind

her back. “I could have had your room

aired out and a suitable dinner prepared.”

“I’m sure we’ll make do,” Maralee

said. “Would you mind if we caught up a

little later? I’ve had a long trip and I’d

like a hot bath and a long, peaceful nap

before dinner.”

“Um…um…well, I sort of had your

room converted into a closet,” she said,

“but my old room has been converted into

a guest room which I’m sure you’ll find

comfortable.”

Maralee bit the inside of her lip so she

didn’t tear into the woman with vicious

words. After a long second, she smiled

with simpering sweetness. “So, where

then, will
you
sleep?”

“Well it seemed sort of ridiculous for

the master suite to go unused so—”

“I see,” Maralee interrupted, knowing

that she was likely to attack the woman if

she stayed in her presence any longer.

How dare her self-important aunt claim

her parents’ chambers as her own? During

her childhood, Maralee had insisted her

parents’ room remain untouched. “I’ll see

you at dinner then, Aunt Bailey.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m looking

forward to hearing what you’ve been up

to,” she said with a false smile.

“I’ll be looking forward to hearing

what you’ve been up to as well,” Maralee

said, her tone as cold and hard as her

heart felt at that moment.

Her

aunt

swallowed

hard,

but

managed to keep the false smile from

sliding off her face.

Maralee

headed

to

the

curved

staircase and made her way upstairs. She

glanced behind her to make sure her aunt

was not following and began to check the

each room on the upper floor. Her

brother’s room, just at the top of the stairs

was full of the furniture Maralee

remembered. It was stacked neatly, much

of it covered with sheets. She was glad

her aunt hadn’t sold it. The room next door

used to be hers, but she found her aunt had

not lied about its conversion into a closet.

The entire room was packed with racks of

clothes, coats and stoles, stacked with

hatboxes and shoeboxes, and lined with

small drawers that housed her aunt’s

enormous collection of unmentionables. It

was

unrecognizable

as

Maralee’s

bedroom. She didn’t open the door to her

parents’ room, certain she would become

enraged by the changes bound to have

occurred there. Their bedroom had been

like a shrine to her after their deaths. She

had spent countless hours sitting in the

center of their wide bed imagining the

blankets draped around her were their

comforting embrace.

Maralee continued to the end of the

hall where the two guest bedrooms were

located. The first was the room her aunt

had once occupied and the second had

always been used as a guest room.

She ignored her aunt’s old room,

preferring to claim the second as her own.

It was a bit stuffy, but of all the rooms she

had glimpsed thus far, this one had

changed the least. She realized she was

still clinging to her past, longing to return

to a home unchanged in her absence. But it

should be her decision to change things in

her ancestral home, not her backstabbing

aunt’s.

Maralee crossed the room and opened

both sets of tall windows. This room had

once overlooked the forests behind the

house, but now had a spectacular view of

the new gardens. Maralee sighed and

tossed her knapsack on a nearby chair.

She opened the door to the connecting

bathroom. She was surprised to find the

bathroom had been fitted with new

plumbing and after a few moments of

fumbling with knobs, she was able to start

a flow of warm water out of the bathtub

tap. She wasn’t sure how expensive such a

setup was, but she was delighted by the

effects. No more waiting for servants to

lug heavy buckets of hot water up the

stairs. Once the tub was full, she shed her

clothes and climbed into the water,

sinking beneath the surface. Now, this was

bliss. She’d forgotten how good a hot bath

felt after having spent so much time at

Nash’s cabin washing with frigid water

from a hand pump.

She also forgot how likely one’s

thoughts were to wander when soaking in

a tub of warm water. For the first time

since she’d left the Wolf village behind,

she realized how lonely she was. God, she

missed Nash’s presence in her life. By the

time she found the frame of mind

necessary to wash her body rather than

stare off into space, her bathwater had

grown chilled.

She hurried through her wash and once

finished wrapped herself in a large, fluffy

towel before returning to her room. She

dug around in her knapsack until she found

the last of her clean clothes and hurriedly

dressed. She realized the servants were

better dressed than she was, but it didn’t

matter. She hoped to do a little snooping

around while her aunt assumed she was

napping. She would start by talking with

the servants, because of all the people at

the manor, no one knew more about what

was going on than they did. She hoped she

could trust them enough to keep her aunt

from guessing she knew about her

superfluous expenditure of Maralee’s

inheritance.

Maralee opened the door and checked

to make sure the corridor was empty.

Upon finding it vacant, she took the

servant’s stairs down to the kitchen. She

peeked into the kitchen and found the cook

and his helper working on their evening

meal. She knew the cook, his name was

Jean Bastille and he had become their

cook soon after the Decatur family

massacre. The younger man, who seemed

to be an apprentice of sorts, was not

familiar to Maralee. She paused in the

stairway to listen to their conversation

unobserved.

“…has been gone for over six years.

I’m sure things would have turned out

differently if she’d been around,” Jean

was telling the younger man.

“It is probably too late for her to

recover any of her wealth now, don’t you

think?” the younger man said.

“Watch what you’re doing, David.

Your heat is too high,” Jean chastised him.

After David had corrected his error, Jean

continued. “I doubt she even realizes what

her aunt has done. I don’t want to be the

one to tell her.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell her. I’ve

never even seen her before,” David said.

“Does she really travel around killing

those gigantic Wolves?”

“She does.”

“She must be some burly, hairy woman

with forearms like hams and nerves of

steel.”

Maralee was unable to stifle a giggle.

Jean heard her and came to investigate.

“Ah, here is our burly, hairy mistress

with forearms like hams,” the cook said,

smiling down at her as she sat perched on

the second stair.

“How are you, Jean?” Maralee asked.

“Forearms like hams?” She glanced down

at her arms appraisingly. “Surely I’m not

that burly.”

Jean chuckled and tugged her to her

feet so he could give her a proper hug.

“Now just how long have you been

eavesdropping?”

“Long enough,” Maralee said.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, then let me

introduce you to my chef in training,

David Caraway.”

David flushed. He was just beginning

to show the signs of manhood. Maralee

guessed his age to be fourteen or fifteen.

His dark brown hair was long but tied

back in a neat ponytail at the nape of his

neck. Maralee couldn’t determine the

color of his eyes because he couldn’t

seem

to

meet

her

gaze

out

of

embarrassment. She suspected the flush

staining his cheeks had very little to do

with the heat in the kitchen.

“Hello, David. I’m Maralee Decatur.

It’s nice to see Jean has someone new to