No One Notices the Hired Help by YDB95

“How can we ever thank you?” Celestine asked.

“You can promise me you’ll never do something as dumb as you did this afternoon!”

Dylan and his mother both tried to prevail upon Celestine not to go home to collect her belongings, but she was insistent. “Even if you could find everything, Mother would never let you anywhere near my room,” she said.

“Quite right,” Lorelei conceded. “I just hate to think of you having to brave Troy again when you could stay safe up here.”

“Mother knows where you live,” Celestine reminded her. “If Troy wants to find me, she’ll have no qualms about leading him right there. It might even be safer for you both.” She hugged them both in turn. “Look, I’ll just pack my trunk and bribe a servant to carry it over here, and I’ll be back in time for dinner, all right?”

“See you then,” Dylan said, kissing her goodbye.

“Trust me, Dylan!”

“I do!”

Celestine felt more naked on the fully-clothed walk through the streets of Candover than she had ever felt in the Green Lake. Who among the many passers-by who smiled at her knew everything? Who had heard even worse than what had really happened? Just what had become of Jimmy Aldrich? She didn’t want to wish him dead, but she couldn’t have denied she wouldn’t be terribly sorry to hear he was. But no one made any comment to her as she made her way home, so she was left to wonder.

She was fully prepared to brave her mother’s wrath by the time she got home, reminding herself again and again that she would never even have to see her again. But upon her arrival it promptly became clear that Troy had held his tongue. He was sacked out in the parlour, reclining on Portia’s least-favourite sofa while she dabbed at his wounds with a damp cloth. “Celestine, thank God you’re home!” she said. “Troy’s had a terrible accident, he fell out of a tree while birdwatching, and I’ve sent for the doctor. Grab a cloth and help me, will you?”

“Certainly, Mother.” Celestine carefully avoided eye-contact with them both as she dipped a second cloth in the basin and wrung it out, and dabbed at Troy’s head while her mother cleaned the angry burn on his side, where what was left of his shirt was still hanging limply. “Troy, I never knew you liked birdwatching.”

“Well, it’s a lovely thing to do up around the Green Lake, you know,” he said.

“Oh, I am glad to hear someone has found something wholesome to do up there!” Portia said. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve heard the worst sort of degenerates swim in that place and do heaven-only-knows what else. Celestine always knew I’d whip her if I ever heard of her going there.”

“My mother always said the same,” Troy said. “But I figured birdwatching is acceptable. I just didn’t count on falling out of the tree while I was doing it!” he managed a laugh through his discomfort.

“I must commend you on keeping your sense of humour after what you’ve been through today,” Portia said. “Celestine, you could learn some things from your husband-to-be.”

Celestine ignored her.

When Portia realized she was getting no reply, she returned her attention to Troy. “Now then, Celestine, if you’ll take over, I’m going to order up a hot bath and a special dinner for Troy.”

“Wouldn’t it be best to just wait for the doctor at this point?” Celestine asked.

“Celestine! What a question! Take care of your husband-to-be! Have I taught you nothing?” Without another look at her daughter, she rushed out of the room.

Seeing no other option, Celestine continued dabbling at the bloody bruise on Troy’s head. He said nothing and didn’t look at her, but once it was clear Portia was not returning, he grabbed Celestine’s arm and swung out to face her. She looked back defiantly and said nothing.

She saw it coming, but was powerless to dodge it: with his free hand, Troy slapped her full-force across the face.

“Have you got anything to say for yourself?” he demanded.

Celestine couldn’t hide the tears that welled in her eyes, but she maintained her silence.

“Well, regardless, my dear, now I own your cooperation. I’m quite sure you do not want your mother knowing what really happened, do you?”

“I –”

“Oh, you don’t, whether you’re too stupid to understand that or not! Now, go to your room, and expect a visit from me after my bath! Not every part of me is injured!”

Celestine wriggled out of his grasp and stood up straight. “I will never –” Her voice broke off as the parlour door opened and Portia returned, followed by Doctor Burton.

“What will you never do?” Portia asked her daughter as they strode up to the patient.

“Leave my beloved when he is in such a state,” Celestine managed to say.

“Oh, Portia, I was just telling her I think she ought to go have a nap,” Troy said, his anger of a moment before having evaporated. “Best to leave the good doctor to his work.”

“I’d have to agree, Celestine,” Portia said. “You do look utterly agitated. Go get some rest, and I’ll call you for dinner.”

Celestine was all set to object, when it occurred to her that being alone in her room was perfect just now. “As you wish, Mother,” she said. “Doctor Burton,” she curtsied.

“Nice to see you, Celeste,” he said. Celestine paid no mind to the mistake the doctor had been making all her life, and gratefully she took her leave. “Now, Troy,” he said. “Let’s have a look at you. Fell out of a tree, did you?”

“And I seem to have burned my hand on something or other as well,” Troy said. “Not my day to go out in the woods, I suppose.”

“Oh, it’s a good job you only had a fall,” the doctor said. “We had two men with gunshot wounds this afternoon at the hospital. Something about a hunting accident, I guess. Who goes hunting in the afternoon?”

Celestine lost no time in filling her trunk with her favourite dresses, lingerie and shoes. This was but the work of a few minutes. Thinking better of it once the trunk was packed, she reopened it and folded up two days’ worth of clothing and placed it in a shoulder-bag. There was no guarantee she’d be able to get a trunk past her mother, after all. With that set, she gathered up a few cherished pieces of jewellery, a few favourite books, her diary, and the music box that had held court on her dresser for as long as she could recall. When everything was stowed discreetly in the shoulder-bag, she took one last treasure from her writing desk: the only photograph she had of her father. After kissing his cheek through the glass, she slid the frame into the shoulder-bag alongside her diary.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. She had to admit that she really could use a nap after the afternoon’s misadventures. So although it felt less than safe, she drew the curtains against the bright sunset and turned out the lamp, and lay down on her bed without pulling the covers back. Troy’s promise of a visit after his bath soon made it all too clear that she would not be getting any sleep, but Celestine decided her best course of action was to pretend to be asleep.