Celeste Colbert’s skirts swished as she rushed through the grand salon of le Chateau des Libellules, or, as their British guests often called it, the Dragonfly Chateau. Pompous, wig wearing, painted gentlemen stared down their long noses at her from ornate frames hung on the wallpapered walls. Ordinarily, she would have delighted at raising her own nose at them as she passed by, but not today. Today, her boss, Comte Claude Jean Frederic d’Arcy, was hosting dignitaries all the way from London, and she had been sent by Madame Bernadette, the head housekeeper, to fetch extra candles from the storage rooms.

She was breathless by the time she entered the hallway that led downstairs. The shadows were deeper here, where there were no windows to let in the sunlight, and no wall sconces either. The Comtesse, Danielle d’Arcy, was a ruthless miser who kept careful count of every single item that was used in the palatial residence, and found it unnecessary to illuminate rooms that were only seen by the servants.

Celeste halted in front of the heavy door. A lifelong fear of the dark waged a war with the stern face of Madame Bernadette, should she not return with the candles she’d requested. It was a no brainer, really. She opened the door. She could see the first six stairs, but the rest were hidden in the gloom. She turned around, right into a chest. She screeched and started to tumble backwards, but strong arms reached for her and pulled her upright.

“Forgive me, ma cherie. Did I scare you?”

“What do you think?” Celeste scowled at Luc. Luc Devereux was a groundskeeper, and quite handsome. She had suspected for quite some time that he was taken with her, but that knowledge was actually disturbing; she desperately needed to keep her job, and she’d been warned by other domestiques that the Comtesse had been known to let anyone go that had taken up with another servant.

Luc looked past her and let out a low whistle, “It’s mighty dark down there.”

“You don’t say,” Celeste, feeling braver with his presence, started down the stairs, “Nevertheless, I must go down there.”

“At least let me accompany you, Mademoiselle …”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

Together, they moved slowly down the winding staircase until it began to grow a bit lighter. At the far back of the vast room were two small windows that let in the meagerest of light, but it was enough to make out the rows of shelves full of wooden boxes that were filled with all manner of things.

“Candles,” Celeste said, “I need candles. Can you help me find them?”

“Oui, Celeste,” Luc smiled rakishly at her, “It will be my pleasure to assist you in any way.”

They moved down the first row of shelves, finding extra silverware, linens, even an entire box full of masquerade masks, but no candles.

When they reached the end, Luc went around the corner to the right, and Celeste went around the corner to the left. She wandered quickly down the aisle that had been made by the shelves, stopping occasionally to raise up on her tip toes to peek into a box, but was always disappointed with its contents. She was well aware that time was ticking. If she didn’t find the candles soon, Madame Bernadette would be so furious with her that she might well lose her position.

“Anything?” she called to Luc.

He didn’t answer.

The silence felt heavy as she shrugged and continued around to the next row. There were rows of crystal glasses, gleaming golden candelabra, but no candles still. She raised up to peer into another box when she heard what sounded like a moan. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she looked both ways down the aisle.

“Luc?” she called out.

Eerie quiet was her answer.

Celeste wavered. Perhaps she hadn’t really heard anything at all. She scurried around the corner and continued her search. When she reached the end of the row, she was just about to step around the corner when she heard a low, grunting sound. It was closer this time. Closer, and unmistakable. With her heart in her throat, Celeste poked her head around the corner and peered into the deep shadows. There was something back there, moving.

“Sacre bleu! I have found them, Celeste! Celeste?”

Celeste lifted her skirts and ran towards his voice, only stopping when she reached him. She could have hugged him, she was that relieved. She grabbed the box of creamy taper candles right out of his hands, “Come on,” she exclaimed, as she moved for the stairs, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Thank you, Luc, for helping me,” Celeste’s words trailed behind her as she reached the top of the staircase and rushed quickly down the hallway, “I must hurry or Madame Bernadette will have my head.”

Celeste found her in the exquisitely appointed dining room, overseeing the finishing touches to the magnificent table that stretched endlessly down the length of the room.

“The candles you requested, Madame.” Celeste announced.

Madame Bernadette’s tiny mouth formed into an O of surprise as she took the box from Celeste’s hands, “Well,” she said, “It certainly took you long enough. Now, go change into a fresh uniform. You’ll be helping serve at the banquet tonight.”

“Oui, Madame.” Celeste’s own mouth settled into a disappointed frown. There would be no sleep for her tonight. The Comte and Comtesse d’Arcy were known to host galas that lasted until dawn.

********************************************************

Four hours later, Celeste moved through the groups of gorgeously attired guests, her tray perched precariously on her outstretched fingers the way that she’d been taught. A foppish, wigged man laughed and stepped backwards right in front of her, and as she braced herself, the burgundy liquid sloshed at the sides of the wine glasses, threatening to spill over onto the circle of white lace that covered her tray.

“Do watch the servant girl, mon cheri,” a woman caught the man by his arm as her glacial expression settled on Celeste, “They can be dreadfully incompetent, you know.”

Celeste’s eyes swept over the woman. Her sky blue dress was heavily embroidered with gleaming silver butterflies and swirling vines, and it was so low cut that most of her massive breasts were on display. To be fair, though, the immense sapphire necklace that she wore did offer a bit of coverage. A bit.

“Would you care for a glass of the Comte’s finest?” Celeste offered, as she spotted Madame Bernadette staring at them from across the room. Unfortunately, the infernal woman had been watching her like a circling hawk all evening, forcing her to keep on her toes when all she really wanted was to find a nice settee to rest upon.

As the midnight hour approached, the laughter of the guests, coupled with the infernal orchestral music, gave Celeste the most awful, throbbing headache. She desperately needed a break. As a man swept his fingers beneath a wine goblet from her tray, she darted her eyes around the ballroom. Madame Bernadette was nowhere to be seen. This was her chance. She moved towards the edge of the room as swiftly as the throngs would allow.

She felt flushed as she sat her tray down on a nearby marble table. Several couples were kissing on a set of stairs that led outside. Actually, now that she looked at them, they were most likely doing more than kissing. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice if she took a quick step outside for some fresh air. She made her move and flew down the stairs. The refreshing air made her feel better instantly. She looked around. She was standing on a wide veranda. There were two stone staircases that led down to an expansive lawn with an elaborate hedge maze. People were still milling about, even with only the light of the moon to guide them. As a cool breeze blew across her hot cheeks, Celeste could certainly understand the draw.

A man and woman suddenly stepped out onto the patio. The man was whispering sweet nothings to the giggling woman as he urged her down the stairs and into the maze.

Celeste took a deep breath of clean air. It was time to return to her duties. She was nearly to the door when a deafening scream rent the air. She turned back towards the maze as another horrified scream shook her to her core. She grabbed a rush light from the side of the building and ran down the stairs. By now, the couples who had been locked in flagrante just a few moments before, were pulling at their clothes as they rushed into the maze. Celeste followed.

The hedges were much taller than they had looked from up on the veranda, and the light from the moon was muted once they moved further into the maze. Celeste, being the one carrying the only light, was thrust out in front. They followed the sound of a woman crying shakily, and a man crooning words of comfort.

The scene that met them when they finally worked their way to the back of the maze was one that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Celeste gasped as she recognized the sky blue dress instantly. The woman who wore it was lying still on the grass. She had been stabbed. The sapphire necklace that had once adorned her magnificent cleavage was gone, leaving only streaks and smears of blood.

The woman’s foppish companion, the one who had nearly caused Celeste to spill her tray of wine, was breathing so quickly that Celeste feared he might pass out, “You must calm down,” she stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder, “Take a deep breath.”

His female companion gave her a haughty look as she ran her eyes up and down Celeste’s uniform.

Celeste removed her hand.

One of the men stepped out of the group, “Forgive me, but isn’t that la dame, Angelique?”

“Oui,” the haughty woman replied, as she fanned herself with her enormous folding fan, “Her brother, Vicomte Lagoste, was accompanying us through the maze when Angelique grew weary of waiting for us and moved ahead. When we heard her scream, we ran to see what had happened, of course, but unfortunately, we found her like this.”

“Did you see her murderer?”

Several women gasped at the ominous word.

“Oui,” she whispered, “But only the back of him. He ran right through the hedge there, and was gone into the darkness.”

**************************************************

It took weeks for the dust to settle on that night. The D’Arcy’s were the talk of the French aristocracy, and all were scheduling visits so that they, too, could tour the maze and shudder their delicate shoulders upon seeing the scene of the murder.

For her part, Celeste was grateful when the King reconvened the court, sending all of them back to Versailles to keep in his good graces. Of course, she knew it wouldn’t last long, but it gave her and the rest of the domestiques of the mansion a chance to relax and sort themselves out. After all, it wasn’t like the death hadn’t affected them, as well.

Madame Bernadette continued piling chores on her, seeming to take great pleasure in doing so. Most of the time, Celeste didn’t mind, but sometimes she really, really resented not being able to say no.

Now was one of those times. The market that she usually went to was just a few blocks over, but this afternoon, Madame Bernadette had instructed her to go to the market in the neighboring district just to see if they had a particular type of mushroom. The problem was that she had to walk, and the evenings were growing shorter.

The cloth covered basket bounced against her hip as she walked briskly down the cobblestone walkway. People were hurrying about their business, occasionally bumping into her, but she didn’t mind so much. What she minded were the horse drawn carriages that hurtled down the street, kicking up dust and scaring her out of her wits when the pages screamed at their recalcitrant horses. She reached the regular market and zipped through rows of offerings, hoping against hope that she would find the mushrooms that Madame wanted, but was out of luck. She glanced up at the sky, dismayed to find the sun already low in the sky.

She was breathing heavy by the time she reached the second market. Many of the vendors were already packing up their offerings, it was so late in the afternoon. Celeste scurried up and down the aisles, dodging men and women lugging boxes of their wares back to their wagons for the long ride home to their farms. Suddenly, she spied a tiny, graying woman gathering her baskets of foraged herbs and mushrooms. She stopped and pulled the sketch that Madame Bernadette had drawn for her out of her apron pocket, and marched over to the woman.

“Excusez moi, Madame,” Celeste offered the woman the drawing, “But do you have any of these?”

The woman glanced at the sketch and bent down. When she stood up, she was holding a basket filled with the large capped fungi.

“Tres bien! I’ll take all that you have.”

A few minutes later, Celeste set off for the mansion with her basket filled to the brim. With a quick look at the sky, she estimated that if she walked as fast as she could, she would make it back before nightfall. Just.

Half way back, she paused. Her feet were throbbing. The thin soled shoes provided by her employer were ill suited for the rough cobblestones, not to mention the quick pace that she’d been keeping. She hopped up on a low stone wall and let out a moan of relief. She plucked a mushroom from the basket, buffed the dirt off with her apron, sniffed it, and took a little nibble. It wasn’t bad.

While she finished it, she took a glance down the road from where she’d come. There was a man standing half hidden behind a massive elm tree. She looked up the road and frowned. She was coming to the stretch of town that was mostly businesses, and, at this time of day all of the shops were closed.

Celeste slid down to the ground and began walking briskly. She took comfort in seeing a few people still out on the streets. If she kept up this pace, she’d be in the more affluent area before too long. Up ahead, a man was lighting the street lamps, and, for the first time, she realized that the purple of twilight was fast overtaking the daylight. She silently cursed Madame Bernadette.

Head down, Celeste hurried past the lamp lighter and finally dared a quick look over her shoulder; a man, the same one that had been hiding behind the tree, she suspected, was several lengths behind her. At this rate, he would catch up to her in minutes. A vision of him overtaking her and pulling her down a dark alley clouded her mind. She started running, ignoring the pain that shot through her feet.

As her lungs filled with fire, she heard the sound of horse hooves and then the animal appeared out of the shadows ahead of her.

“Celeste! Celeste, I have found you!”

Luc pulled up on the horse’s reins and slid off, as she stopped and stared at him in confusion.

He reached her and pulled her gently towards the horse, “You need to come with me. I will take you back to the mansion.”

“I don’t understand,” she exclaimed, “Did Madame send you?”

Luc snorted, “Of course not,” he paused beside the horse and helped her onto its back, “Celeste, another woman was found murdered this afternoon …”

Celeste gasped, “Who? And where?”

Luc slid up behind her and guided the horse to turn around, “Esme, the Vicomtesse of Laurmonne had come by for a visit with the Comtesse.”

Celeste immediately knew who he was talking about. Esme lived in the mansion next door to the D’Arcy’s, and was well known among the domestiques for being one of the kindest people, especially to their kind. Unlike the vast majority of the aristocracy, Esme eschewed putting all of the work on the servants, preferring to do things herself, even forgoing the use of her carriage and drivers when she made her frequent visits with the Comtesse.

“My friend, Henri, he does the odd jobs around the chateau, he’s the one that found her.”

“Dead?” Celeste squeaked.

“Oui. He was up on the roof fixing some loose tiles when he saw something laying out on the sidewalk between our place and Esme’s. When he finished up, he ran over to see what it was. It was a shoe. A fancy one. He didn’t know what to make of it, and he was looking around, and that’s when he saw what he thought was a pile of clothes laying up against her house. It was in the shade, so he couldn’t tell until he was directly upon it that it was her. It was Esme. She had been murdered just like the woman in the maze, Celeste. Her face had been stabbed so much that she was almost unrecognizable.”

Celeste didn’t even realize that she was crying until Luc reached up and caught her tears on his finger, “How awful, Luc,” she cried, “How very awful. She was so kind. Who would do such a thing?”

“When Marie told me that you’d been sent to the market alone, I knew that I had to make sure you were safe. That’s why I convinced Marcell, the groomsman, to let me borrow one of the horses to come take you home.”

Overcome with grief, and a good dose of fear, as well, Celeste continued to cry as she settled back against Luc’s chest as the horse galloped back to the mansion. She would miss the wrinkled, smiling face of Vicomtesse Esme. Why anyone would choose to kill a sweet old woman like her, was beyond sense.

*************************************************

The grim news had everyone, nobility and domestiques alike, in a frenzy of fear. A murderer lived among them, and nowhere was safe. Of course, that didn’t stop the parties, though. In fact, Comtesse D’Arcy immediately decided that it would be a perfect time to host a late fall soiree in order to cheer her genteel friends up.

Celeste, of course, was tasked with duties above and beyond her usual responsibilities. She spent days helping to decorate the ballroom with swags of black and gold fabric, and helped Cook prepare what seemed like a hundred meat pies, all of this on top of her regular duties. Every night she dropped like a rock in her bed, and slept like the dead.

On the night of the soiree, the nobles arrived, stepping out of their elaborate carriages swathed in satins and velvets, and dripping in glittering jewels.

Decked out in her long sleeved black dress, white apron, and white cap, Celeste moved about the ballroom offering up canapes, and listening in on the conversations. The predominant theme of the evening, of course, was the murders, and it seemed a right of passage for the bravest among them to go have a walk through the maze, which, of course, seemed astoundingly stupid to Celeste. Perhaps they had a death wish?

At half past one in the morning, Serena, another maid, approached her and told her that Madame Bernadette had asked her to go down to the basement and bring up some extra platters for the kitchen.

“Would you please go with me, Celeste?” Serena pleaded, “I’m too scared to go by myself and I’ve heard that you’ve been down there before?”

Celeste didn’t relish going back down there, but she was dying to get away from the crush of bodies and clamor of the music, so she agreed to go. On the way, though, she grabbed two lit candles and handed one to Serena. No way was she going down there without a light.

When they arrived at the entrance, Celeste noted that it was quiet as a crypt this far away from the ballroom. All of the people were back in the ballroom, or the kitchen. In this part of the chateau, no one was around to hear their cries if something bad were to happen.

She sighed, long and hard, and then opened the door, staring down into the shadows.

“Ready?” she asked Serena.

“Non, but I have no choice.” Serena muttered with a shrug.

They carefully worked their way down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Celeste said, “I think I remember seeing platters down that way, but I might be wrong. Do you want to come with me, or …”

“I’ll come with you.” Serena said, quickly, as her shoulders quivered with nerves.

Celeste led them to the left, wishing that Luc was down there with them. She was beginning to think about him a few hours more each day than she was comfortable with, but what could she do. He was funny, and caring, and then there were those dimples that she found irresistible.

“There,” she spotted a stack of platters on one of the shelves, “That’s them. Grab them and let’s get out of here.”

Serena bent down and pulled out one of the platters, “Non,” she frowned, “These won’t work. They’re too small. Madame wanted big ones.” She used her arms to show a size that was big enough to rest a turkey on.

Annoyed, Celeste rolled her eyes. Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. She waited for Serena to slide the platter back on the stack and they continued their search. A few moments later, another stack of plates gave them pause, but they, too, were too small.

As they worked their way further down the rows, Celeste saw a door that she hadn’t noticed before. It was open a crack and she stepped over to it and shoved against it. The door opened into an outdoor stairwell that led up into the garden on the side of the mansion. She was closing the door when a low grunting sound echoed through the cavernous room.

The women’s eyes met in alarm. Another grunt came. They both heard it. And then a sniffing sound. An animal?

“What is that?” Serena whispered.

A metallic rattling sound was the final straw. They abandoned their mission, and ran for the stairs that took them back up to the main floor of the mansion, Madame Bernadette and the platters be damned.

Celeste melded back into the crowd of nobles, but she no longer cared about listening in on their inane conversations. All she thought about was what was down below them. A rabid animal was on the top of her list, but there had been something almost human about the sounds that she had heard. She was certain that she should alert someone, but who?

“Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I’m quite parched,” an elderly man, British, judging from his accent, interrupted her musings, “Would you happen to know where I might find refreshment?”

“Oui, of course. I will return with some wine,” Celeste scurried off towards the kitchen to load her tray with goblets of wine. She walked as quickly as she dared back to the ballroom, but as she approached, a great, heaving crowd was moving out into the hallway straight towards her. With a squeak of alarm, she braced herself against the wall, praying that no one would bump into her tray. From their alarmed expressions and frightened whispers, Celeste could tell that something had happened, but it wasn’t until she spotted the English gentleman at the tail end of the crowd that she could ask him, “Where is everyone going?”

The man lifted a glass of wine from her tray and took a lusty sip before answering, “Well, my dear, I’m afraid that a body was found out on the grounds. Quite dreadful, really,” he took the tray from her hands, looked quickly around for a suitable place to put it, sat it down on a glossy, walnut sideboard, and turned back to her with his elbow crooked for her, “Shall we go have a look for ourselves?”

She was certain that she wasn’t supposed to leave her duties, but Celeste reasoned that if a guest asked her to accompany him, she could hardly say no, so she placed her hand on his arm and followed the others outside. This time, the unfortunate victim was a man. He’d been found in the garden by his wife, who was now sobbing over his body. It was apparent that the man’s throat had been slashed and the ungodly amount of blood spilled was making a number of people turn away from the scene with roiling stomachs.

Suddenly, a familiar face in the multitudes that hovered around the body drew Celeste’s attention. Madame Bernadette was across the way. Her pallor and grief stricken expression wasn’t out of place, considering the circumstances, but when she turned away quickly and marched back inside, Celeste noticed.

With one last sorrowful glance at the poor man whose life had ended in such a tragic way, Celeste turned to go back inside. There was nothing to be done for him now, and Madame would be expecting her staff to carry on with their duties.

*************************************************

Celeste tied her apron strings with her eyes half shut. She was bone weary after only three hours of sleep, and now she was expected to put in another full day. She splashed cold water on her face and that seemed to help, marginally. It wasn’t until she was standing with a broom in her hand, with the prospect of sweeping the entire ballroom, that a niggling thought pressed her into action.

She placed the broom against the wall. After making sure that no one was about, Celeste hurried down the stairs and out the side door that the crush of party goers had went out just hours ago. She was in the garden again. The body had been removed, and she knew from listening to the gossip in the kitchen that the gendarmes were expected back later that morning to inspect the area in daylight.

Avoiding the area where the body had been found, Celeste walked the garden. It boasted a wall of carefully trimmed hedges, graceful statuary, small, rock lined ponds, and several, enchanting, hidden grottoes. As she searched for what she was looking for, Celeste imagined herself enjoying the garden with Luc, maybe sitting under the hanging trees, shoes off, the grass tickling their bare feet and the soft breezes sending the heady scent of roses beneath their noses.

She turned the corner around a hedge and there it was, just as she expected; the staircase that led down to the cellar, whose door she had found last night. She moved towards it, not realizing that she was holding her breath until she had to gasp for it as she stared down at the concrete steps. Droplets of blood led down to the door. Whomever had murdered the man last night had most likely used these very stairs to make a hasty retreat. A shiver rolled up her spine at the chilling thought.

Retracing her steps, Celeste went back inside the mansion, found her broom, and swept as quickly as she was able. As soon as she was done, she rushed around searching for Luc. She finally found him in the kitchen, charming Cook into letting him have a pastry, just to make sure it was her best work, wink, wink.

“Luc, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” Celeste grabbed his arm.

Luc jammed the flaky pastry in his mouth as he allowed himself to be swept off to a corner by Celeste.

“Would you be willing to go back down into the cellar with me?” she whispered.

Luc grinned rakishly, “I have only been waiting for you to ask, ma cherie.”

Celeste gave him a pointed look, “Good. Let’s go.”

They stopped to grab a candlestick and descended into the darkened cellar.

“Something tells me you did not bring me here to ravish me, ma cherie.” Luc pouted, as Celeste led them quickly past the rows of shelves.

Celeste stopped, turning to face him, “Luc, I think the murderer is here.”

“Here?” Luc’s eyes widened in alarm.

A plaintive moan came from behind them. It was unmistakable that someone was in the cellar with them.

Luc grabbed a rolling pin from the nearest shelf, “Go,” he hissed, harshly, “Go save yourself. I will fend him off.”

“Non. I will not run, Luc,” she reached up for an ancient looking fire poker, “We will fight, oui?”

Luc’s mouth broke into an admiring grin, “How could I say non, when you are so brave, ma tresor?”

Another sound, almost as if someone were shaking something metallic, gave them pause, but not for long. Celeste was too determined to find out what was in the cellar to stop now. She moved ahead, resolutely. And then the rows of shelves stopped, and what they saw was not what they were prepared to see.

There was a cage that stretched from one end of the cellar to the opposite side, with bars and a locked door. A young man was inside, standing at the door, periodically shaking the door, but not determinedly. Celeste could tell right away that he was not mentally like her, or Luc.

“Mon Dieu!” Luc muttered, as Celeste moved carefully closer. He grabbed Celeste’s arm as she started to step closer, “Non! Celeste, we don’t know what he might do.”

Celeste brushed his hand away, “Luc, it’s fine. I won’t get close enough for him to reach me through the bars.”

She approached slowly, especially when she realized that the man had turned his head and was watching her intently.

“Hello,” she said, softly, “My name is Celeste. What is your name?”

“He can’t answer you.” Madame Bernadette’s voice made both Luc, and, Celeste, jump and cry out in surprised shock. They had been so focused on the man behind the bars that they hadn’t heard her approach.

Celeste whirled to face the older woman as she tried to calm her pounding heart, “Madame, I, I, uh …”

Madame Bernadette ignored her stammering as she crossed the room and went over to the cage. She reached her hand through the bars and gently ran her hands over the man’s hair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head against her hand in return, obviously enjoying the connection. Madame pulled her hand back and faced them again, “His name is Ronan, though, since you asked.”

“Why is he down here, caged up like this?”

“Why are you down here?” Madame Bernadette’s nostrils flared, angrily.

Celeste pulled herself up, determined not to be cowed by Madame’s imperious persona, “I found blood outside, on the stairs that lead up to the garden. The same garden where the murder victim was found last night.”

Suddenly, Madame seemed to collapse under an enormous burden. Her haughty expression quivered, and was quickly replaced with one of sheer agony. Tears flowed from her eyes and she bent over, clutching her chest as she fought for breath.

Stunned, Celeste and Luc raced over to her and helped her to an upturned crate where they gently sat her down. The man, Ronan, grew agitated and started pacing back and forth, moaning and yanking at his hair. His movements seemed to shake Madame Bernadette out of her own misery, and she began speaking calmly to him, soothing him until he sank down beside the bars.

Only when she was sure that he was settled down, did she look up at Celeste and Luc, “He’s being set up. I know it. He’s not a murderer, you must believe me. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s gentle, my sweet boy. He always has been.”

Celeste glanced askance at Luc. What in the world was going on?

Luc knelt down in front of Madame, “You need to start at the beginning, I think.”

Madame Bernadette sighed as she leaned her head wearily back against the wall.

Celeste and Luc waited impatiently while she gathered herself.

Finally, she opened her eyes and, in almost a whisper, said, “He’s my son. His full name is Ronan Jean-Claude d’Arcy.”

Both, Celeste, and Luc, gasped with comprehension.

“Yes, he is the Comte’s son. Twenty years ago, I was a newly hired scullery maid. My parents were both dead, and I had no other family. The Comte forced himself on me and I became pregnant. I knew that he would never acknowledge his son, and he didn’t. He married the Comtesse soon after. At first, I was allowed to keep him in my room, but as he grew older, the Comte began fretting about him. Finally, the Comte told me that he had prepared a special place for Ronan, and that if I wanted to stay in his employ, I would accept it. I didn’t want to keep my son down here. Of course I didn’t, but what choice did I have. He’s been down here ever since, locked in that cage.”

“Being locked up like that would drive anyone to …” Luc asked.

“He’s no murderer!” Madame hissed.

Celeste scowled at Luc. She took Madame’s hand in hers, “I believe you.”

Madame raised her tear filled eyes, and, for the first time, Celeste saw the inner turmoil that had probably lived inside of the older woman for a long, long time. How could it not?

“He’s being set up, I tell you. Someone is trying to pin the murders on him. I’m sure of it.”

“Luc, look at him,” Celeste nodded towards the cage, where Ronan was rocking back and forth, crooning softly to himself, “I don’t think he’s capable of murder.”

Luc sighed. Finally, he nodded in agreement, “So, if he’s not the murderer, who is?”

“That’s what we need to find out, and I have an idea,” Celeste went over to the door, “But first, we need to make sure the blood is cleaned up before the gendarmes arrive.”

*******************************************************

Just two evenings later, Celeste was, yet again, serving drinks to the throng of revelers that had assembled in the Comte and Comtesse’ grand ballroom. It seemed to her that the recent murders were only serving to draw the aristocrats into more frequent debauchery rather than less.

As a giggling, obviously soused woman snagged a drink off her tray, Celeste glanced over at the ornate clock. It was time to go. She moved as quickly as was possible through the crowd and sat her tray on the sideboard before grabbing a candle. Once down in the cellar, she paused to check on Ronan, who seemed happy to see her, and then searched for and found a place to hide. She snuffed out the light and settled into the darkness, waiting.

Celeste knew that Luc was supposed to be waiting just outside the door that led up to the garden. Now that she thought about it, she probably should have checked to make sure that he’d shown up, but it was too late now. She would just have to hope for the best.

The minutes ticked by. Ronan was growing restless; she could hear him running his hands against the bars and muttering softly to himself.

Eventually, Celeste had to stand up and settle into another position because her feet went numb. And then, just before she was about to give up, Celeste heard the unmistakable sound of feet moving down the stairs. She tensed. Was she ready for this? Was Luc? She wished that she had a way to alert him.

The flickering glow of candlelight grew brighter as the person moved down the rows of shelves. Celeste waited, her nerves jumping in anticipation. Suddenly, a cloaked figure walked past her and stopped to put the candle down on the floor right in front of the cage.

Ronan grew highly agitated as the figure reached out a gloved hand through the bars and pinched him repeatedly, causing him to cry out in pain.

Celeste’s face grew hot in anger as she watched Ronan escape the pain by slinking to the far side of the cage, out of reach of his torturer. The figure unlocked the cage door and pushed it open, then moved towards the door that led outside.

Celeste had seen enough. She stood up and lunged out of the shadows, throwing herself on the unsuspecting figure with as much momentum as she could gather, trying to stop them from leaving the cellar.

The figure grunted in alarm, but quickly heaved their shoulders backwards, throwing Celeste to the floor.

As her head hit the hard concrete, Celeste watched in horror as a sharp, gleaming blade was drawn out of the cloak and the figure loomed above her.

Suddenly, the outside door was flung open and Luc stepped inside.

“Luc, watch out!” Celeste cried out in warning, as the figure whirled around to confront him.

Luc evaded the arcing sweep of the blade, but just barely. The figure grunted in frustration and lunged again. Luc sidestepped out of reach, but tripped on a pail and stumbled to the ground.

The cloaked figure rushed him, but Celeste managed to leap forward. Her shoulder made contact with their knee, bringing them down. The blade flew out of their hand as Luc jumped up and helped Celeste to constrain them. He yanked the hooded cloak back, revealing a face that neither of them ever expected to see.

“Comtesse!” Celeste exclaimed, as she took a step backwards in shock.

“Merde!” Luc, too, was stunned at finding that their murderer was none other than Comtesse Danielle d’Arcy.

“Unhand me!” the Comtesse demanded, angrily.

Luc seemed to gather himself just in time. He held her tighter, instead, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“If you don’t unhand me this instant, I shall have you both thrown out of this house. You’ll never find work again. I’ll see to it.”

Celeste, who was now pacing back and forth, started talking, “It was you. I get it now. You could easily come and go. No one would ever suspect you, and when you found a victim, they wouldn’t run from you, because you’re the Comtesse, of course.”

“That’s right, you stupid girl,” The Comtesse snarled, “And no one will suspect me now, either. Do you honestly believe that anyone will believe you? That I, the Comtesse d’Arcy, am a murderer. Non! Of course not! I will tell them that you and this, this lowly groundskeeper kidnapped me and brought me down here against my will. They will believe me, of course. The Comte will most likely insist that you be imprisoned, and I will agree most heartily.”

Celeste stopped pacing, “How long have you known? How long have you known about the Comte’s son?”

The Comtesse’ eyes hardened and she spat in Ronan’s direction, “Claude thought he was so clever hiding that, that abomination from me down here. But I had to be clever, didn’t I? After all, if his indiscretion were to be made public, I would be the laughingstock of all of our friends, and I can’t have that. Non. So the murders will be blamed on that monster over there, and once the monster is gone, no one will ever know.”

“So you murdered innocent people and hoped to blame another innocent person in order to rid yourself of the proof that your husband cheated on you? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Of course,” The Comtesse grinned, gleefully, “And I will get away with it because no one will ever believe you.”

“Au contraire,” a gendarme stepped out of the shadows, “I believe them, and you, Comtesse d’Arcy, are under arrest for murder.”

Celeste rather enjoyed watching all the blood drain from the Comtesse’s face. She stepped close, and, as the officer yanked the woman to her feet, Celeste whispered to her, “You have it all wrong. It’s not Ronan that’s the monster, it is you.”

************************************************

“Bonjour, Ronan, how are you this fine morning?” Celeste asked, as she entered the bright, sun filled room that Madame had chosen for her son.

Ronan gifted her with a sweet grin as he proudly showed off his latest painting.

“Oh, that is tres magnifique, Ronan,” Celeste gushed. Ronan was quite a talented artist, and he was making up for lost time, now that he could. After the Comtesse d’Arcy’s arrest, the Comte, shamed by his fellow aristocrats, had decamped to his country estate, leaving Madame Bernadette in charge. She, of course, had immediately brought her son up from his imprisonment, and to his mother’s delight, Ronan had charmed everyone who met him with his sweet and loving nature, “But when are you going to do a portrait of me, huhm?”

The door opened behind them, “I thought I would find you here,” Luc exclaimed as he swept into the room. He gave Ronan a playful scowl, “You’re trying to steal my lady, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?” he teased.

Ronan smiled and Celeste cocked her head and asked, “Who said that I was your lady?”

Luc pulled her into his arms, “I did, and you are, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” Celeste smiled as she settled against him, “Oui, mon amour, I am.”