A Servant's Security

Chapter 9

The next morning the skies were dark, threatening rain, as Isabel carried a bucket of water into the kitchen, placing it down on the counter. Miss Elizabeth gave her a sharp look.

"Are you feeling okay? Your eyes are puffed up as though bees have stung you." 

"I am well." Isabel turned her face away, not wanting to confess the true reason why her eyes were all puffy.

Miss Elizabeth sighed heavily and wiped her face with her apron. "I have to start preparing lunch. I need you to clean the upper halls and rooms."

The upper hall was completely deserted. Isabel started  cleaning all the dirt tracts from the workers who came in earlier that morning for breakfast. She cleaned all the halls and rooms except the room where Lord Goodwin slept.

She hesitated. Should she find Miss Elizabeth and ask if she was allowed to clean his room? She would waste time going to the kitchen to speak with her. Besides, she wanted to show Elizabeth she was capable and eager to do her job. Lord Goodwin had been outside for hours, but he could come back at any time. What would he say if he caught her in his room? Isabel glanced at the front door and shook her head. She would leave the door open and could run away before he saw her.

Determined, Isabel went into the room. She swept around the bed and tried not to look at anything. She intended to finish sweeping and leave the room, but her gaze went to three paintings that were propped up against the wall. They were similar enough that she guessed they were all painted by the same artist. She continued sweeping and tried to keep her eyes trained on the floor, but her eyes kept looking back to the paintings. She couldn't take it anymore. She stopped sweeping and went to examine them.

The first painting showed a dead woman lying in a wooden coffin. Around her stood many people, but they weren't looking at her, they were staring at a baby lying in a similar, smaller coffin. The baby was swaddled in a blanket and its eyes were closed, its tiny fists resting against its chest.

The next one showed a group of skeletons smiling creepily, holding up glasses as if they were toasting something. Behind the skeletons stood several people weeping into their hands.

Isabel's heart ached for the person who had painted these paintings. The artist's hurt and sorrow showed in each character, each color choice, each line. Her mind went back to what she saw last night. Perhaps these paintings held the answer to why Lord Goodwin was in so much agony.

The third picture was a wolf snarling at a young woman who, from her plain, ragged dress, was either a poor villager or servant. A young, dark-haired man stood between her and the wolf with his arm raised high, bracing for the wolf's attack.

Isabel leaned closer. This last painting was somehow familiar, and she gasped as she remembered the story from last night about the wolf attacks causing Lord Goodwin's scars.

The sound of footsteps made her realize someone else had entered the room and was walking towards her. She had been so engaged in the painting, she didn't notice that the front door opened.

"What are you doing in here?" a voice said behind her. 

Isabel spun around. Her heart dropped when she saw the anger in Lord Goodwin's eyes. His jaw muscles twitched as he clenched her teeth. Would he hit her? She shrank back.

"Answer me!" he commanded. "What are you doing? No one is allowed in the room. No one.  Do you understand?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, but no sound came out.

"Go."

"Forgive me, I didn't know," she mumbled as she stumbled away from him, broom still clutched in her hand.

Isabel hurried out of his room and rushed to a different hallway and leaned against the wall. She should never have gone into his room, should never have had the audacity to examine his private things, those paintings. The memory of his angry face felt forever embedded in her mind.

Would she be punished? She'd only wanted to do her job and avoid Lord Goodwin. Instead she angered him, the last thing she ever wanted to do.