The Eye of the Beholder (17 page)

I was still kneeling before my tools when the door opened and the maids entered with my breakfast. I must have been a sight indeed, kneeling upon the floor in my lacy white shift, my hair hanging about me in disarray, a smile upon my lips. The servants were startled, that much I could see, for they looked at one another and then at me. But something about the set of their shoulders gave me the impression that they were also happy.

"Oh, thank you. A million thanks to all of you," I said, standing and seizing the nearest maid by the hand. She was so startled that she dropped the tin bucket she had been holding in her other hand, and it fell to the floor with a clang that made all of us jump.

"I am sorry!" I cried, bending down to pick it up. "I do apologize! I tend to let my excitement run away with me. I did not mean…" My voice trailed off as I handed the bucket back to the maid. She bowed slightly to me as she took it, and I could have sworn that she was laughing at my enthusiasm.

The servants set my breakfast tray upon a small table and began moving about cleaning and setting my chambers to rights. I ate quickly, for I was eager to begin my work. When I was finished, I hurried into the dressing chamber and searched through the wardrobe.

"This will not do!" I cried.

Immediately, the maid who was cleaning the dressing chamber moved over to me and pointed her face toward mine in what I had come to realize was the servants' version of an inquisitive gaze.

"These gowns are all far too fine for me to wear whilst I am cleaning."

The maid paused and then held up one finger, indicating to me that I should wait. She practically ran from the chamber, and I sifted impatiently once more through the gowns, hoping that I had perhaps missed something plainer, something that I would not fear spoiling. Just as I was reluctantly resolving that I must ruin one of the fine gowns, the maid returned to the chamber, emanating a sense of excitement.

In her arms, she held a small stack of rough-spun garments. Taking them from her, I saw that she had brought two skirts, two plain linen shifts, and a pair of lace-up bodices. She had also brought a sturdy pair of rough leather boots.

"Perfect!" I exclaimed. With her help, I shimmied out of my night shift and into the garments that she had brought me. Because they took care of my gowns, the maids knew my measurements well, and the garments fit perfectly, save the boots, which were a bit small. As I pushed my feet into them, I saw that the servant was staring at me with her disturbing, milky eyes and I smiled reassuringly at her.

"They will do," I promised, patting her arm. She nodded and I felt that my comment had pleased her, which brought me a pleasure of my own.

When I had finished dressing, I twisted my hair into a tight knot and secured it with several pins. Gazing at myself in the looking glass, I saw that my cheeks were rather flushed with anticipation, and I smiled at my own reflection. The prospect of cleaning the castle had excited as much pleasure in me as my sisters had felt when they were invited to a ball, and I found myself shaking my head at my own reaction.

I left the dressing chamber and passed through my main chamber to select the tools I would need for the day's labors. The maids never paused in their chores, but they all looked at me as I prepared, and I could sense the happiness they felt. I smiled cheerfully at them before leaving the chamber and walking to the end of the corridor. On the far wall was a massive, arched window thickly coated with grime. I had filled one of the buckets with the water in my ewer and I added soap to it, creating a thick foam. Satisfied, I dunked one of the bristle brushes into it, smiled at the familiar sensation of soapy water running down my wrist, and attacked the window with vigorous strokes.

Time passed, but I was scarcely aware of it. The water transformed from a clean, sudsy white to black, thick with the grime I had scrubbed from the window. When it became too dirty for further use, I placed the brush on the floor and stood back , rubbing my aching lower back with my left hand. The elation I had felt was tempered by what I saw. Though the results of my labor were obvious, they were also rather meager. My back ached and my arms burned from the effort of scrubbing, but I had only managed to clear the lower quarter of the window. The grime had been much more thickly caked upon it than I had thought and, though the window certainly looked better than it had, I had a great deal of work ahead of me. The outside of the window was as grimy as the inside, so the light that filtered through my newly cleaned portion was only about half what it should have been.

I have chosen my task well indeed,
I found myself thinking, somewhat despondently.
If I am fortunate enough, I will live long enough to at least see the windows and floors in this corridor cleaned.

Wearily, I ran the back of my right wrist across my forehead, wiping away the perspiration that dampened my brow. I sighed with a combination of frustration and fatigue and then heard a noise behind me. Startled, I turned to see that one of the male servants had appeared and was picking up the bucket full of dirty water and preparing to carry it away. My disappointment must have been obvious, for he gestured toward the clean portion of the window. He put the bucket down on the floor, dipped a finger into the water and strode over to the window. His body blocked my view, and I was perplexed until he stepped away and I could see that he had used his damp finger to write the word "hope" on one of the still-grimy portions of the window.

That single word made all of my efforts seem suddenly worthwhile. It had been discouraging to say the least to see that many hours' effort had availed me nothing more than a partially cleaned window, but this man's response showed me just how much that partially cleaned window meant to him and, by extension, to his fellow servants.

"Thank you," I said, feeling tears rise to my eyes. The man shook his head and pointed toward me.

"Thank me?" I asked, trying to interpret his gesture. He nodded and bowed to me before carrying the dirty water away.

I stood in the corridor for some time, tears running down my face and falling onto my borrowed work clothes. Since the moment I had arrived in the castle, I had been consumed with thoughts of my own misery. I had never stopped to think about what the servants must feel, and I was ashamed of my own selfishness. Cleaning the castle for the sole purpose of restoring its faded grandeur was meaningless. But cleaning it to help lift the spirits of the servants was exactly the sort of meaning for which I had been searching.

"I will work until my hands bleed," I vowed. "If it takes me a year to clean this one window, I will rise eagerly each morning and apply myself to my task without complaint. I will make it my purpose to do what I can to bring some life, some small happiness to these people."

With this promise, I stooped and retrieved my brush, carrying it back with me to my chamber. I was startled to see that the daylight was waning. The servants had already brought my evening meal, and I hurried to wash my hands and face before sitting down to eat. The food had already begun to cool, evidence that it had been sitting there for some time. Even lukewarm, it was delicious, and my hard work had left me famished, so I ate with great relish.

Once I finished my meal, I went into my bathing chamber to find my tub had been filled, but the water was cold. Nevertheless, I slipped in, shivering as I scrubbed grime from my arms and neck with a brush and some lavender-scented soap. I washed my hair as well, and was just wrapping myself in a towel when two maids entered the chamber. They bowed before me and then waited patiently, and I understood that they had been sent to my chamber for a specific purpose.

"Has your master sent for me?" I asked. They nodded. "Very well, I will attend him. Is he in the library?" Once again the maids nodded. "Then I shall not delay."

I passed from the bathing chamber to the dressing chamber, the maids following closely behind. They dressed me in a lovely gown of lavender silk and brushed my hair until it gleamed before arranging it in a silver net studded with small, pale amethysts. They brought forth an amethyst necklace and matching earrings from the jewel case, but I waved them away. I had no intention of ever removing the miniature of my mother, and I had little use for jewels. I thanked them for their assistance and made my way to the library.

Lysander was indeed within and I saw, to my surprise, that he no longer concealed himself in shadow. Even though it was I who had prompted him to quit the shadows, I was unprepared for the sheer horror of seeing him so clearly. He was seated in a chair placed close to the fireplace, and a cluster of candles stood to his right, all of them lit. When he caught sight of me, he stood and swept into a courtly bow. It was such an odd sight that I forgot my terror and found myself staring directly into his eyes when he straightened.

"I have decided to attempt to temper my rudeness," he said, his tone sardonic.

I knew by his words that he had seen the fear in my face, and I found myself blushing fiercely. Silently, I cursed myself for my bold tongue the previous night. I felt ridiculous standing there, blushing and gaping at the beast. To my relief, he gestured to the chair that had been placed across from his own.

"Do be seated," he invited.

Grateful for the excuse to break eye contact with him, I dropped my gaze and moved over to the chair. As soon as I was seated, Lysander settled into his own chair, and I could feel his eyes upon me, though I refused to meet them. My mind was whirling so furiously with thoughts of my work that afternoon, of the word the servant had scrawled upon the window, and of my reaction to the sight of him, that I could not look at him for fear he would read all in my gaze.

"You wished to see me?" I asked, addressing the hands clenched tightly in my lap.

He emitted a low, rumbling noise, and it took me a moment to identify the sound as a chuckle. "So you are not so bold as your words, then. You accused me last night of rude behavior, but tonight it is you who insists upon being rude. I thought you found it difficult, your inability to address me directly."

Though his words were true, I found myself growing annoyed and I raised my eyes to his, determined not to show another moment's weakness before him. "It would seem that I also find it difficult to address you directly, would it not?"

Lysander smiled that horrible smile of his, that smile that made his deadly, sharp fangs even more noticeable and prominent. "I see that you are willing to own up to your own weaknesses."

"I am, though I cannot say the same for you."

His disturbing eyes narrowed and I could see that he struggled briefly with anger. "Perhaps I do not see them as weaknesses."

"That," I declared, "is your greatest fault, Lysander."

He appeared startled by my addressing him by the name I had given him. There was a flash of something like longing in his eyes, but that could not be right, for he had yet to show any such emotion. Since he was a beast, perhaps he did not feel complex emotions as I did. Though I had nothing upon which to base the conviction, I was certain this could not be true. He was a beast in appearance, but he spoke and thought like a man.

"This is a charming conversation," he said in a mild tone. I could see that the light words had not been spoken without effort on his part.

Inexplicably, I felt contrite. I seemed to have a special talent for initiating quarrels between the two of us, even when I did not intend to start them. "I am sorry," I said. "I am…discomposed tonight. I did not mean to be provoking."

"It would be difficult for you not to be when I give you such good reasons for speaking blunt words."

I was surprised by his graciousness. Surprised and--it must be admitted--suspicious.

"Was there something in particular about which you wished to see me?" I asked, deciding that the wisest course would be for me to change the subject.

"Indeed there is. I wonder if perhaps you might allow me to lead you on a tour of the castle."

The invitation astounded me, and I found myself staring at him incredulously. Dimly, I realized that the terror I had felt upon first laying eyes on him that evening had dissipated and that I was finding it easier to look upon him than I would have thought possible. Even so, he was hideous and frightening, and I did not trust him. This being the case, it might be wisest for me to forge some sort of relationship with him. Perhaps it would allow me to determine his intentions.

"When? Tomorrow evening?" I asked. Naturally, I assumed that the tour was to take place at night, for we had only ever met at night.

"Nay, tomorrow morning."

I was taken aback. Was he proposing to spend more time with me and, if so, why? I studied his eyes but, for once, could read nothing within their stormy depths. What had caused this sudden change of heart?