Page 11 of A Fierce Wind

“Here,” Zoé said, handing him a small vial of liquid she retrieved from the bedside table, “for the pain.”

Anxious to end the throbbing in his shoulder, Freddie downed the bitter liquid and returned the bottle to her. “My thanks.”

She rose from the chair, her gaze sliding to his bandaged shoulder. Or was it that part of his chest that was bare that had drawn her attention? As she turned toward the door, she said under her breath, “Hopefully, you can get some rest.”

Zoé ushered Éloise through the door, closing it behind her. “Freddie is the brother of my Tante Joanna.”

“Je suppose that explains M’sieur West’s hair. ’Tis much like Madame Donet’s and that of her son, only darker.” The maidservant breathed out a sigh. “His eyes are the same enchanting color, like a rich brandy. M’sieur West est si beau.”

Zoé didn’t much like the pretty honeyed-hair woman sighing over her friend and speaking of his good looks. Why the compliment annoyed her she did not stop to consider. He was, after all, only Freddie, her friend for a decade.

Finding a more suitable topic, she turned to the subject of Joanna’s son. “You have met Jack?”

Éloise laughed. “Oh, oui, I have. So full of life, that one. And such a charmer. I left him explaining l’histoire of Guernsey to madame’s children.”

“Jack quite enjoys doing that. He sees himself as a guide for all those coming to the island. Oncle Jean indulges him terribly.”

Seven years ago, after three years of marriage, Joanna had given Zoé’s uncle a son. They named Jean-Jacques Henri after his father and uncle, Zoé’s father, who had died when she was ten. In deference to his mother’s country, the boy insisted everyone call him “Jack” because, he claimed, it sounded more English. As he was quite serious about the whole thing, the family complied.

“You should see Jack wield a knife,” Zoé said.

Éloise’s eyes widened.

“Oh, it is not what you think. Oncle Jean taught us both, notwithstanding Tante Joanna’s objections. I have some aptitude with a blade but Jack’s skill will exceed mine in time.”

Éloise nodded. “As a man, that one will be formidable. A bit like his cousin, M’sieur West, non? The eyes that sparkle, the séduisant smile.”

Zoé had heard enough of the maidservant’s effervescing over Freddie’s virtues for one day. She turned and headed down the corridor, the maid following. “I imagine Tante Joanna is with your mistress. Does she have plans for today?”

“Oui. Madame Donet is taking the princesse into town where she intends to sell some of her jewelry. Then she and the children will visit the modiste. I am to go with them. We came away with only what we were wearing when you met us and those were not even our clothes.”

Zoé paused and turned, a wave of pity for the young woman washing over her. “That is often the case for the ones we help. Most are fortunate to flee with their lives. The princesse can be glad she still has her jewels.”

“She had me carefully sew them into a pouch she wore beneath her clothing. Your aunt has been gracious to lend us proper attire until my mistress can acquire other clothing for us.”

Struck with a pang of guilt for being angered at the maidservant’s fondness for Freddie, she thought to make pleasant conversation. “Your speech is that of an educated woman, Éloise. How did you come to work for Madame de Montconseil?”

“My father died unexpectedly some time ago, which meant I had to work. A friend recommended me to the palace, which is how I met the princesse.”

“Did you leave family behind?”

“Oui and I worry for them. My mother remains in Paris with my brother. She is an excellent seamstress kept busy meeting the needs of the women close to the revolution’s leaders. My brother is… how you say… a clerk for the government. For the time being, he and my mother are safe unless a connection is made to my service in Versailles.”

Zoé bit back the comment she was about to make about Paris being a very dangerous place. Anyone living there would be well aware of the escalation of the Terror, the prisons full to overflowing and the guillotine’s blade dropping in a steady succession of executions. But she thought it best not to remind the woman of the horrors her mother and brother still faced.

They arrived at the end of the corridor and Éloise looked toward the top of the stairs where the nursery was located. “Peut-être I should check on the children. I need to make sure they are ready to leave when my mistress calls.”

“Very well,” replied Zoé.

Éloise turned to climb up the narrow servants’ stairs.

Zoé descended the main stairs to the parlor, her favorite room in the house. Decorated in the warm colors of the gardens and filled with sunlight, spending time there always brightened her mood.

“Good morning,” she said to her aunt and the princesse as she entered.

“Come join us,” said her aunt, looking very pretty in a lemon yellow gown that complemented her auburn hair and reminded Zoé of the flowers blooming just outside the double glass doors. “I was about to pour some tea for Madame de Montconseil.”

Joanna was her aunt only by marriage. But to the ten-year-old orphan Zoé had been when she first met her uncle’s future wife, Joanna had been more of a mother. They often took tea together in Saintonge when Joanna had first arrived, bringing into Zoé’s life a woman to guide her.