Chapter 8 — The Woman Beside His Chair

By the second week, the house had learned to knock before entering my room.

It had also learned to go quiet when I approached.

I preferred the knocking.

That morning, I found Vanessa waiting near the stairs with a folded towel she didn’t appear to need.

“Matilda.”

I stopped.

“How’s your hand?”

“Better.”

“I’m glad.”

She looked toward the guard outside Gabriel’s study.

“Could we talk somewhere?”

I took her into the small sitting room near the landing. I had cleaned it often enough to know the door could remain open without our conversation carrying down the hall.

Vanessa perched on the edge of a chair.

“I wanted to apologize.”

I sat opposite her.

“For what?”

She blinked.

“The things I said.”

I waited.

Her fingers tightened around the towel.

“About your weight. And the work. I know we weren’t always fair about the assignments.”

“No.”

“I was awful.”

Her eyes filled.

I felt the old urge to help her escape the discomfort. To say it was fine, that I had forgotten, that none of it mattered.

I pressed my uninjured hand flat against my knee.

“It hurt.”

“I know.”

“I’m not sure you did at the time.”

She looked down.

For a moment, I thought that might be the whole conversation.

Then she said, “There’s something else.”

I could hear the reason she had been waiting for me.

“Dominic’s asking everyone about that night.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Rossi told us to collect the staff key rings. He said nobody could be allowed into private rooms.”

I remembered her leaving the kitchen with an empty silver bowl.

“What did you give him?”

“The rings from the housekeeping office. The spare study key was on one.”

I sat back.

“You took Mrs. Bell’s keys?”

“He said he was in charge.”

“Did she know?”

“No.”

Vanessa wiped beneath one eye.

“Could you tell Dominic I didn’t understand what was happening?”

“Did you tell him about the keys?”

She shook her head.

“I thought it would make me look guilty.”

I looked at the towel in her hands.

“So you haven’t answered his questions truthfully.”

“I was scared.”

“I believe you.”

She lifted her face hopefully.

“But I can’t tell him you had nothing to do with something you haven’t told him about.”

Her mouth tightened.

“You know I’m not a criminal.”

“I know you’re a maid who took keys because an armed man told you to. Tell Dominic that.”

“What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“I’ll sit with you.”

She stared.

“You would?”

“Yes. But you have to tell him everything.”

Half an hour later, Dominic listened without interrupting while Vanessa explained.

I sat beside her.

He asked where Rossi had put the keys, whether he had named any rooms, and whether she had seen someone use them.

When she finished, he called Mrs. Bell and compared their accounts.

Then he told Vanessa she could return to work.

Her shoulders dropped.

Outside the study, she caught my hand.

“Thank you.”

I eased my injured palm from her grip.

“Please don’t hide things because you think I can make them disappear.”

She looked ashamed.

“I won’t.”

I hoped she meant it.

Inside, Gabriel sat behind his desk for the first time since the shooting.

The sight stopped me.

He wore a dark shirt instead of sleep clothes. His sleeves were rolled to the forearms, and a cane rested against the desk.

He looked more like himself.

That ought to have reassured me.

Instead, I became aware of the distance between the man in the bed and the man behind that desk.

“Come in,” he said.

I closed the door.

“Dominic told me about Vanessa.”

“She did what Rossi ordered.”

“She also lied.”

“Then let there be a consequence for lying. Don’t confuse it with opening a warehouse door.”

He leaned back carefully.

“What consequence would you choose?”

“I’m not her supervisor.”

“You understood the distinction.”

I moved closer.

“I think people are afraid to tell you things.”

“That’s occasionally useful.”

“Not when you need the truth.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Then he looked toward the papers on his desk.

“Fair point.”

I hadn’t expected agreement so quickly.

He noticed.

“You can stop preparing your next argument.”

“I had a very good one.”

“I’m sure.”

I sat.

A ledger lay open beside his hand. I recognized Mrs. Bell’s handwriting, then several pages in a different script.

Household expenses.

Repairs.

Supplies.

“Lorenzo wants another security office on the grounds,” Gabriel said. “Apparently, the old laundry room would be convenient.”

“The old laundry room floods in spring.”

He looked up.

“It does?”

“Water comes beneath the rear door. We moved the spare uniforms upstairs last March.”

He reached for a pen.

“Where would you put it?”

“The unused office by the west entrance. It has a separate door, and the gardeners won’t have to walk past armed men to collect their equipment.”

He wrote that down, too.

I watched his hand.

“You’re really considering it.”

“Should I pretend not to?”

“No.”

He turned the ledger toward me.

“Mrs. Bell says you know where most things are kept.”

“Because people ask me to find them.”

“Would you look through the supply list?”

I hesitated.

“While I’m recovering?”

“Only if you want to.”

I took the ledger.

The next two hours passed without my noticing.

I found repeated orders for linen we already had, a repair marked complete that wasn’t, and a cleaning product charged at nearly twice its usual cost.

None of it was dramatic.

All of it mattered.

When Mrs. Bell joined us, she explained that Carmine had approved several changes without asking her.

Gabriel listened.

Then he asked me to propose a better process.

I looked at Mrs. Bell.

She gave a small nod.

“Orders should come through one person,” I said. “And the staff should be able to report problems without asking a man with a gun whether they’re allowed.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched.

“That specific?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Bell coughed into her hand.

I continued before I lost courage.

“There should also be a written schedule. People shouldn’t have to work through their breaks because somebody else dislikes stairs.”

Mrs. Bell lowered her gaze to the ledger.

“I should have stopped that.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She looked at me.

“I saw it. I let too much of it pass.”

The room was quiet.

“Thank you for saying that,” I answered.

Gabriel reached for a clean sheet of paper.

“Write what you need.”

I did.

When we finished, Mrs. Bell took the proposal downstairs. Gabriel had agreed to a temporary paid assignment for me, helping her review household purchasing and staff arrangements.

Temporary mattered.

So did paid.

It gave me something I could explain without mentioning a locked medical room.

At the door, I turned back.

“There’s one more thing.”

Gabriel waited.

“People don’t need to be afraid to look at me.”

His expression changed.

“Has someone said something?”

“Not everything is an insult. Some of them don’t know whether they’re allowed to speak.”

“They’re allowed to speak respectfully.”

“Then tell them that. Please don’t make ordinary conversation sound dangerous.”

He considered me.

“You don’t like the protection.”

“I like being safe. I’d also like to be able to ask for toast without making someone tremble.”

For a moment, he looked almost offended on my behalf.

Then he nodded.

“I’ll speak to Lorenzo.”

That afternoon, I helped Mrs. Bell arrange a system for supply requests.

A junior maid named Nora asked whether she could change shifts to take her father to an appointment. Normally, she would have worked herself into exhaustion before asking.

This time, Mrs. Bell opened the schedule.

They found a solution in less than five minutes.

I walked upstairs feeling useful in a way that didn’t leave my shoulders aching.

Gabriel was in the sitting room.

“How did it go?”

“We have enough pillowcases to survive a small siege.”

“I’ll tell the men.”

“And Nora got her Thursday morning.”

He nodded.

“You look pleased.”

“I am.”

He set down his glass.

“Have dinner with me on Friday.”

“We usually eat together.”

“In the dining room.”

I understood then.

“Who else will be there?”

“Lorenzo. Dominic. Two business associates.”

My pleasure faltered.

“Where would I sit?”

Gabriel looked at me as though the answer were obvious.

“Beside me.”