A Servant's Security

Chapter 11

The next night, as Isabel followed the rest of the maids down the steps to their sleeping quarters, she saw Lord Goodwin talking in the yard with someone.

"Henry!" How good it was to see a familiar face! Even though it was too dark to see his features, she recognized his form.

He shifted in her direction and raised his hand in greeting, then turned back to Lord Goodwin. Isabel lingered outside the door, hoping to speak with him, her only true friend.

When they finished their conversation, Lord Goodwin walked away. Henry began to walk towards her.

"How are you?" Isabel asked.

He gave her a smile. "I'm doing good." He lowered his voice. "I heard about you having to come here, how your mother sent you to Lord Goodwin."

"Oh, it's not like that." Of course it is. "I-I offered to come, to help Mother. How are my mother and brothers? Did they...  did they ask you to come to ask about me?" She bit her lip, wishing she hadn't asked the question but holding her breath for his answer.

"No." He winced as if he knew his answer hurt her.

"Oh... that's okay." She smiled broadly, and her voice went up in volume and pitch in her attempt to appear cheerful. "It's good to see you, Henry."

"Lord Goodwin hired me to build some furniture for him, as well as working on his new house. I'll be in charge of the doors, shutters, stair railings, stuff like that."

Isabel felt genuine joy at the look of pride on his face. "That's wonderful, Henry. Your furniture is very nice."

"I brought you something." He swung his bag off his shoulder, reached inside, and pulled out a small bundle. "Mother sent you this, her fried pastry that you like so much."

She took the food, and tears burned her eyes. Henry's mother was kind enough to send her her favorite dessert. She bit back the tears and nodded, unable to look him in the eye. After a deep breath, she was able to say, "Please tell her thank you. It's very kind of her."

"I brought you something else." He reached in his bag again and pulled out a small wooden box. "I thought you might want something to put things in. See? It has a lock." He took a key from his pocket and turned it in the tiny keyhole. The lid opened to reveal a rectangular space suitable for storing coins or other small items.

"How nice of you, Henry. There isn't another man in Glynval with such skill. Thank you." She embraced him then stared down at the beautiful wooden box. Henry was truly more like a brother than a friend, more her siblings than Thomas and Adam.

"I have to go now, Isabel. But I'll be nearby every day. If you need anything, you'll let me know, won't you?"

She nodded and gave him another quick hug. He turned around and began to walk away.

She watched him for a moment, a thickness in her throat, then turned to join the rest of the maids and find her bed. 

(John Goodwin's POV)

John walked into the house and saw that it was empty.

No, not empty. A woman stood in the corner, her back to him. She wore a beautiful deep red dress. 

His feet moved slowly as he moved to her.

She turned and John saw her face. "Jane?" he said.

A baby rested in her arms, and her lips were set in that familiar, cold smile. She held the baby out towards him, but he realized the baby was strangely pale. Dead.

Jane began to laugh a laugh that sent a chill down his back. She laughed as though mocking him. She threw the baby at him. He tried to catch the child, but his arms wouldn't move fast enough. But instead of falling to the ground, the baby disappeared into dust and blew out the open window.

His wife continued to laugh at him. "No one could ever love you. Look at you. You're hideous." She lunged toward him, her dress glimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Her hands wrapped around his neck and she began choking him, pressing hard against his throat. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't seem to lift his hands to fight her off. He was suffocating, hurting, dying.

John opened his eyes and gasped. His own hand was at his throat, and he realized he'd been dreaming.

He swallowed, his throat sore, as if Jane had truly been choking him. He could see his wife's eyes as she attacked him, bloody and animal-like, and he shuddered.

Will I ever be free from this nightmare? Free from the hold she has over me?  Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes. He flung them away angrily. Even in death, she had the power to make him feel like he was repulsive.