Tea Time.

Let Us Feast. ; Prologue.

        We stood in silence. Dim rays of sunlight filled the West Sun Room and illuminated our figures as we surrounded the table in the centre of the room. We joined hands and closed our eyes. The wind danced through the balcony doors, prancing around us and giving life to the ladies’ dresses. The air around us was stiff, cold. The sombre atmosphere infiltrated my veins, freezing my already still body.

        We opened our eyes, released our hands, and took our seats. Placed on crisp white doilies, in the middle of the table, as our centrepiece, were the heads of my parents. My mother looked ever so beautiful with her flushed rouge cheeks, carefully charcoaled eyes, and pink delicate lips. Her shining curls flowed down her face. My father, with his neatly brushed hair and clean-shaven, looked like his usual, charming, and handsome self.

        My heart was overwhelmed with emotion. It was a very touching moment, seeing my parents like this. They looked so beautiful, graceful, and – most of all – peaceful. My eyes started to tingle; warm liquid escaped from my tear ducts and created a dark, watery trail down my frozen cheeks. Monsieur Gilles turned to me with distressed eyes and told me he was sorry for my loss.

        I took his hand, looked at him, and smiled sadly.

        “Monsieur, it is your loss just as much as it is mine. Papa loved you like a brother. He did not see you as a mere servant. He saw you as family. Papa loved you dearly, and you know that.”

        Monsieur Gilles smiled as a stray tear fell from his eye. I looked around at the rest of the servants. They, like Monsieur Gilles, had chosen to stay with me after the death of my beloved family. They were my new family.

        Mademoiselle Victorie looked at me. I nodded. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the table’s occupants.

        “Are we ready?” she asked. I, along with Monsieur Gilles and Mademoiselle Cecilia, nodded softly.

        “Let us feast, in honour of our beloved. Let us consume their spirits and let them live long within us. Let us rejoice and remember the wondrous time we had with them,” I said gravely. “Let us rebirth them in ourselves.”

        We picked up our knives and forks. That night, we feasted on the most delicious yet mournful meal that we ever had the pleasure of tasting.

        We feasted on our beloved so that they may continue to breathe.