I have no doubts that she would be a great queen. The people would love her. She is knowledgable about much of the world and would be eager to learn what she didn't know. She is kind, caring, compassionate. And yet I am nervous. Would she be happy? Would she want to be a queen. It is such a different life than that of a servant. And yet even that would help her be a great queen. She would see details I could never think of because I do not know the lives of so many of my subjects.
My thoughts are broken by her sweet voice. "Edmond, do you know what happened to Sir Eccles? Madame has never spoken of it to me. There was a time after he disappeared when her solicitor visited frequently and there were many messages passed between them, but I never learned of their content. Was he ever found?"
I am surprised by her questions. I would have thought all the servants would know. "Several months after he disappeared, a man came into town in Sir Eccles' carriage. One of the townspeople recognized it and sent word to my father's guard."
"The carriage was sold to him by a man in Frendal. Alfred was part of the guard that my father sent to inquire. The man who sold it led them to a physician in a nearby town. The physician had tended Sir Eccles after he was found on the roadside. He had been robbed and badly wounded." A tear falls down her cheek. I want to comfort her, but I don't know what to say. Nervous and awkward. What would Father say?
Another tear falls. "He is dead, then?" She asks and I silently nod. I don't know what else to do. She sighs and wipes another tear from her eye. "I knew he must be," she continues. "When he didn't return...and then Madame changed. I knew. I just kept hoping he would somehow come back."
"He was a good man," I respond lamely. I am still surprised that this is new information to her. I cannot fathom how or why the family would keep the master's death from the servants. It was common knowledge in the town. I attended the memorial service with my father.
"Your lady never said anything?" I finally asked, perplexed. "Wasn't she upset at the death of her father? Didn't she cry? Throw a fit? Do whatever it is young girls do when they lose a parent?"
"I wasn't serving Denise then. Things were a bit different. And no, she wouldn't have. Sir Eccles wasn't Denise's father, Edmond. He was mine."
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