The Dead Silhouette

For months, Bruce Allard hadn’t seen anything of the silhouette living in his walls. But when he got up at six for his morning wine, a familiar, unnerving hunch followed him to his study.

He turned several times, yet his walls stood bare every time. He entered his study and sat by a brown, circular table, wearing a beetroot-colored coat and slippers. Light gleamed from his balcony, which from there unveiled his vineyard below.

It stretched over a hundred square kilometers, shone in bright violet, and stood straight like an army. Here in 1823 France, his economic prospects were the least of his worries.

At eight o’clock, the fifty-one-year-old lord was on his fifth glass of red wine. Two empty bottles were lying beside him in a box. They had rested comfortably there for days.

When he sipped the last drop, a third bottle joined their company.

His blackish hair stuck to the sides, with gray locks that greased like butter. Heavy bags hung underneath his brown eyes, though they were red from rising so early.

The long, sandy path to his estate mirrored skin-burning rays that forced Bruce to cover his eyes a bit.

As he reached for a fourth bottle, two knocks came from the door. It had already been two hours.

A servant in her late teens stepped in. She wore a cap, and her fingers fiddled. It was clear. Even so early in the morning, trouble had happened.

‘’My lord…?’’ she said, clamming her hands.

Bruce squinted and wiped off sweat drops from his face. ‘’…What’s… yes?’’ he said.

‘’A vase of yours… fell to the floor.’’

‘’…doesn’t… every vase in this estate belong to me?’’

‘’Well… forgive me, my lord… it’s…’’

‘’The works of my lady wife?’’

‘’…that’s…’’

‘’Was she… screaming?’’ He mumbled as he wiped off more sweat.

‘’Yes, sir… she was.’’

‘’Did she receive something from a rider passing by?’’

‘’Y-… yes, my lord.’’ The servant’s eyes widened. ‘’That’s… exactly what happened. How did you- ‘’

‘’Believe me. A marriage of ten years has enlightened me more about this pattern than I dare to admit…’’ His old head rested on his arm and stared at the balcony. ‘’It must be a letter addressed to me…. from someone she despises.’’

The servant straightened in excitement. ‘’What sort of letter, my lord?’’

His sleepy gaze turned to her; she brushed off her curiosity quicker than she blinked. Bruce never scolded any servant for sticking their noses into his business, especially her.

Somewhat awake, he lifted his head, and raised himself to a proper position.

‘’If you really… must know, I- ‘’

‘’Don’t worry, my lord.’’ she said, holding up her hands. ‘’It was a grave mistake on my par- ‘’

‘’Célestine.’’

Her hands clamped tightly by her back.

‘’You’re the youngest of my staff… yet so responsible.’’ Bruce smiled and put his wine to his lips. ‘’Your curiosity could land you in trouble with other lords. But not with me. You have my permission to behave at your heart’s content.’’

A subtle smile formed on Célestine.

‘’Thank you, my lord,’’ She slowly stepped out to close the door. ‘’I- ‘’

Her hand flew away from the knob as a woman ran in. She was fifteen years older than Célestine and dressed in a loosened white coat.

The woman’s dark-brown hair of thirty-five years stuck to the sides like her husband’s. He almost fleeted from his chair because of her explosive entrance.

She held a letter, which needed no explanation where she got it from.

Célestine stepped out the door.

‘’M-my lady, I’m sorr- ‘’

The woman kicked the door shut. Célestine hurried away, her steps echoing from the hallway. The woman stomped towards Bruce.

Though after a whole bottle of wine, he spoke up. ‘’Darling, was that really nece- ‘’

‘’What is this?’’ she said, holding the letter over his head.

‘’It’s…’’

‘’A letter from Bernard?’’

Bruce never thought he would hear his old friend’s name again. He had been his best man during Bruce’s wedding. With Fayette’s sudden mention of his name, the wine and old memories washed over his mind.

‘’I… what was that...?’’

‘’This letter,’’ she said, dangling it by her fingertips, ‘’why shouldn’t I throw it out the balcony, and force that girl to burn it.’’

Her voice hissed like a predator, which ignited Bruce more awake. Fayette and the letter were a blur before it was gone. He replied.

‘’We haven’t talked in weeks. Enough is enough, sweety.’’

Fayette strode in front of Bruce, her forehead hitting his chin. ‘’Taking the fool’s side, are we?’’

‘’…Pardon?’’ Bruce said.

She eyed him. ‘’He punched… pushed… and screamed at me… for no reason…! In front of everyone.’’

Bruce remembered she had provoked him too. ‘’Why did he do that again?’’

‘’He said I married you because I worked for you once, and that your wealth helped keep our marriage together.’’

‘’You’re sure about that take?’’

‘’Oh please, enlighten me…’’

It was debatable who started the feud. But Fayette was guilty of one thing.

‘’…you brought up Anais as a counterpoint.’’

‘’So what? I didn’t smear her name like he did our marriage.’’

‘’You’re wrong.‘’

‘’Keep that up, and your estate will be mine under my old name.’’

Bruce shook the chair to stand but remained seated. Fayette would only close in on his face. She had used this method for all their ten years of marriage. She used to be a servant like Célestine. After marrying Bruce, she had gotten friendly with the nobility.

Bernard’s and Fayette’s latest feud had the whole business talking about it, which forced the ones involved to go incognito.

Three weeks later, and no one had made a move to solve the feud. Bernard’s letter was the first contact Bruce had seen of his old friend.

Other than writing about his usual get-togethers with Bruce, Bernard likely called Fayette ‘’an obnoxious badger’’ in the letter.

‘’Do you really think they’re just going to take it all away from me?‘’

‘’You know my contacts. Don’t test it.’’

Her eyes pinned to his, like she noticed him shaking the chair in a spite.

‘’Do me a favor:’’ She eyed the bottles. ‘’quit it.’’

Bruce dotted between the bottles and his surveilling wife.

‘’Y-… bu- come on…’’

His pleads were nothing but blabber. The wine just had to overtake his speech.

‘’Are we clear?’’ She went on.

He sat up, forcing a resisting glare; it fell apart the second he tried. ‘’…yes.’’

Fayette’s hands slid off the chair, her glare piercing still. ‘’You’re forgiven for the wine,’’ She pulled the letter. ‘’but not for this.’’ She strode to the balcony and let go of the letter. ‘’I’m taking a bath, now.’’ She untied her coat a bit and walked out of the room, slamming the door.

It went as hard as when Célestine’s nose almost hit it.

Bruce tried to stand, but his legs were thin sticks. A multilegged staff would be nice right about now. He leaned on the table, stretching his legs to relieve the blood flow.

He found himself on the chair again. A sixth glass would be neat. The sweet berry taste and sour grapefruit could spark his legs’ energy back in no time, the same energy he had at twenty-one.

Reaching the tip of a bottle, the door flung open again, and he hurried back to his stuck position. What did Fayette want now?

It was Célestine who entered, sweating like she had been under the sun for hours. Her lips looked burned to a crisp, and her face was redder than blown veins.

She handed him something the dust had surely cloaked away for good. It was the letter, with a name and profession written underneath in bold, capitalized letters:

BERNARD CADIEUX

LORD OF THE CADIEUX ESTATE

‘’From Mr. Cadieux?’’ Célestine asked, only to rephrase her question the second after. ‘’I’m mean – Lord Cadieux.’’

‘’Between you and me, call him Bernard,’’ Bruce replied, giving his familiar smile that made her lower her shoulders, ‘’he’s treated you as family one way or another.’’

Her eyes lit up.

She went on, restraining a clear excitement in her voice. ‘’Like an uncle I never had.’’

‘’Don’t you… have any siblings?’’

‘’My dad had… but they’ve passed. And… I’m an only child.’’

‘’Come closer for a second.’’ He nudged to her, and she leaned forward. ‘’Lady Cadieux is a much better tea party companion than even my own wife.’’

‘’She can be… complicated.’’

Bruce chuckled. ‘’Call her difficult if you’d like.’’

Célestine threw her hand to her face. Her grin could make Fayette’s foot seem more dangerous than a cannon.

As Bruce pulled out the letter, Célestine still stood there, waiting as if the letter contained a secret that would realize her wildest dreams. With her lips curled in shy fashion, Bruce couldn’t help but ask:

‘’Should I read it out loud?’’

‘’Oh - sure, my lord.’’

The letter was dated today surprisingly. He never opened a letter as soon as it arrived, but he read it as followed:

‘’Dear Bruce,

I hope you’re sitting at your balcony, enjoying your view as I write this. It’s been too long since we’ve last sat with a glass of wine or a cup of tea.

Regarding the elephant in the room, I would like to deeply apologize for what happened between Fayette and me. I assure you from the bottom of my heart that it’s never my intention to turn to violence amidst a childish argument.

But let’s be honest: She asked for it herself. She treats others, especially you, in a way I can’t muster. She’s been a nuisance since you two married, and now she has contacts in the nobility she can utilize whenever she wishes. Out of our common interests, it would be most wise to close this meaningless charade once and for all before she instigates a conspiracy.

On top of that, I have an idea to make things right between us.

Anais has begged for it since we came back from that inexcusable party. Though she will always be a light in my void, I fear for her well-being, as this feud has taken its toll on her as well.

That is why I would like to come with a proposition, which will happen in around four days’ time. We’re going for dinner in the Mansion of Moreau, which has recently opened as a little diner for folks like us.

The place may have belonged to your late father-in-law, Jean Moreau, and I know how you feel about it. We’ve respected your wish to never mention it in conversation, but I think that, whatever may have happened between you and the Moreaus, it’s time for closure, just like for me and Fayette. I hope you will understand.

Your dearest friend, Bernard Cadieux’’

Bruce wrapped it up, giving a face of discomfort.

‘’The Mansion of Moreau?’’ Célestine said.

‘’Something he wisely keeps to himself…’’ He glared at Célestine, who had bent down to get a closer look at the letter, ‘’the same counts for you.’’

‘’But… my lord… is it that bad?’’

For once, Bruce had to get the message across. He respected Célestine and her work. But this he wouldn’t talk about, no matter the time of day. How could he get the message across without sounding like a grumpy old man?

He put down his feet and lifted himself. His legs failed him halfway, and he collapsed onto his chair with sun rays on his face.

Célestine took ahold of his hands, keeping him up as he wobbled like a tower that could collapse at any second.

‘’You don’t have to treat me like I belong in an almshouse.’’ he said, attempting to release himself from her soft grip.

‘’My lord,’’ she said, laughing, ‘’Don’t you think… because of ‘’someone’’… is an almshouse such a farfetched idea?’’

That had to be the closest call for a joke going either way, as Célestine could’ve been fired. Yet, Bruce laughed so hard he fell backwards, almost tripping his table. But Célestine held him, leaning on her heels. When he could’ve yelled at her, he laughed instead.

Given the pressure Bruce’s laughter held, his drunken gaze dozed off for a moment.

Célestine leaned back up and spoke. ‘’Not often you hear these jokes?’’

‘’No - never.’’ Bruce said, wiping his tears.

She adjusted her outfit and stood like a professional, though retaining her joyful grin. ‘’I’m going back to work. My colleagues are probably wondering what takes me so long.’’

Her feet moved an inch away before Bruce grabbed her hand.

She straightened, shocked, as if fearing she forgot something Bruce had ordered.

‘’… take the rest of the day off.’’ he said.

She raised a brow and took off her cap. ‘’Why, my lord…?’’

He reached for a bottle and gave it to her.

‘’Make a glass for your dad. Both of you need this.’’

Her fingers rubbed over the bottle as she stared like the label was worth a fortune. She continuously gazed at it, then to Bruce, then back to it again.

‘’M-e... my lord… I-we have bottles at home – there’s no way I-I could ever…’’ She set the bottle aside; her eyes seemed dreary as if Bruce had bestowed a miracle upon Célestine. ‘’T-t-there’s no way I could take this…’’

Bruce held up her chin. ‘’Take it as a gift for your family’s long service to me, especially counting your father.’’

He released her, picked up the bottle and handed it to her. She took at the speed of light, wrapping her arms around it.

‘’My lord… thank you.’’

‘’I should be thanking you.’’

As she dried her tears and smiled like a child, she closed the door in a quick swoop.