In the name of saint

Memories arise

My mother's servant, George, opens the door of the mansion, disrupting calm shine of the silver moon in glass panes of the door as we step out of the carriage; Victor first, helping me. Our coachman then spurs the horses again, leading them to small stables near the mansion. George bows, taking our luggage and greeting us. He was always reserved, so his greeting it's no exception right now.

 I'm pretty glad, that after a short while he just turns and goes with us to my mother's house, the night's pretty cold and I don't have any cape on my shoulders. The intimately familiar stars shine in the reflextion of my eyes, air smells like summer evening and flowers. Somwhere in the darkness cow moos, I can feel some emotion in me really satisfied. I'm really home.

 I dont have the time to really explore my feelings, smells and things I hear, because we're already coming to long hallway. The tiles are royal blue and white, I remember the pattern clearly. Then we turn left, aiming to the livingroom. Viktor catches my arm, so we step into the salon together. 

"Well well well, look who finaly decided to come to visit her own old mother." I hear the firm, a bit creaking voice of my mother.

I smile, hopefully it doesn't look like a nervous one, because I am really nervous right now. "Oh mama, how glad am I to see you after such a long time... I hope your health's good." 

I hurry to hug her, but second before hugging her I see her usual, judging stare. I exhale, the old feeling of hopelesness arives. Then she looks at Viktor, he hadven't moved since her hand was lightly kissed by him before. 

He talks with her about the way here, his work and responsibility that he has. That's the reason we haven't come sooner, or at least it sounds believable. Actually, I don't know anyone, who'd really enjoy the company of my birthgiver. George stays here due to his duty, and I belive that his salary is more than good. And my father passed away years ago, I was just ten years old. Hopefully he's redeemed form the earthly suffering caused by my mother. 

I sit on a tabouret, listening to their conversation, sipping the warm herbal tea. I'm really tired, or leastwise I try to look like it, I'm actually carefully controlling what I hear, what isn't said and how I sit, breathe and look. 

"So, how about Your house? Do You have servants to do everything, or does my daughter also help?" my mother asks. Trick question, you have to reply in the most neutral way or you'll definetly meet with criticism. Viktor's eyes light a bit thinking about the sentence, indicating the trick question. 

I've told him about them for million times, and he married me with the blessing of my mother, so his years of experience in speaking with my mother or fraudsters are useful in situations like this. 

"She is the lady of the house, so helping others is her decision, and as we all can see, the house is in the best order, so she's doing her job perfectly." 

My mother nods, thinking about it. I yawn, covering my mouth with hand, she sees it. "Perhaps you all are tired after the journey, so I won't need your company for this evening anymore, go and get a good rest." 

"Thank you, mother." I respond and kiss her on a cheek as a sign of gratitude. Then we both stand up, wish her good night and go back to the cold hallway. 

Chandelier lighted our way to bedroom. I dressed to my nightgown, after cleaning myself with sponge and water. Oh, how I love the smell of rose oil in the water. Then I pray, concentrating on the words. What will tomorrow bring me? Only the divine providence knows... 

Good night.

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The sun alternates with the moon, new day is born, different options appear and the stars are still fading away, watching our sins from above. I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. 

Yawning, I wish good morning to Viktor. Then I dress myself with Margareta's help, my gown is blank white with ruffles. It looks a bit boring, so i tie it with red ribbon. The dress looks modest yet elegant, that means perfect for today.

I do my hair, step outside if our bedroom, go down the stairs, past the salon and head to the kitchen. 

My mother's kitchen is a true countryside one: Full of light, with a view to our beautiful garden, the white furniture shines in the morning sun. There's also an enormous dining room with a huge wooden table. Chairs and tabourets standing next to it. At the head of the table my mother usualy sits, and this morning after all the years isn't an exception.

"Good morning mama!" I say. My voice still sounds kind of muffled from sleep. 

"Glad to see you, Lucienne. Want some tea? For breakfast we're going to have some pastries from Matylda's bakery as normally." She smiles and offers me a bun. 

"Thank you..." Oh, did I almost forget about the magical countryside? "I missed the mornings and atmosphere here." I contentedly sit on a nearby chair, enjoying the mood and eating the bun. 

It's still warm, and I have to think about the hands that made it. How's Matylda doing? Have anything changed in her life? I belive yes, yet still I wish I know more about her. And how's my dear Julietta? I miss them both, and now even more than before. 

Viktor steps in, interrupting my thoughts and memories. 

"Good morning Madame" He wishes to my mother kindheartedly. 

His slender body stretches, his dark brown hair messy from sleeping. My mother smiles and offers him a bun too. 

"Viktor, do you have any plans for this day?" I ask my husband and continue: "I was thinking about visiting my old friends" 

My mother judgementaly eyes me, so I add: "I hope that Julietta and Matylda would welcome me happily." She looks less concerned, knowing that I won't meet Christian. 

Viktor nodds, agreeing with my today's plan. "I plan joining them for my brunch, after all we haven't seen eachother for months. 

"Very well, then do as you think." Victor agrees. 

I finish my breakfast, give Margareta a break for this forenoon and pack with me some biscuits. After these short preparatuons I step out of the mansion and head closer to Greyford, my friend and future itself.