Bleeding Heart
Chapter 1 The Manor Rhythms

“You are late,” said a tall, stern looking woman with black hair and shockingly white streaks running through her taut bun as she stood on the porch of Blanchet Manor. The grounds of Blanchet Manor were being groomed and beds cleaned out in preparation for the coming spring’s plantings. Housekeeping staff could be seen scuttling about.

A young woman hastily made her way up the front steps. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pallor. My car broke down and I had to call my boyfriend for a ride.”

“Miss Henson, this is your first day on the job and already you are late. I have little patience for such nonsense.”

“But my car…”

“Is not my concern. You will be here 10 minutes early tomorrow. We have much to do. Now go inside and get to your work.”

Mrs. Petra Pallor was a woman in her 60s but worked like a woman of a much younger age. She wore a black uniform with a white, laced collar. No make-up or adornments for Petra except for a large, opal ring on her left wedding ring finger. Mrs. Pallor had lost her husband many years ago. She was married to her job now. She has been the housekeeper of the new owner of the Blanchet Manor for more than half of her life. She was loyal to her boss and took no instruction from anyone but her boss. She, in turn, allowed no degree of variance on the instructions that she handed down to those under her.

Suzanne Henson was the new hire under Mrs. Pallor. Suzanne was in her mid-twenties, petite with long, dark brown hair which she was required to wear in a bun while she was on duty. She was working her way through college and had worked many waitressing jobs. This job meant better wages and a steady schedule, so she could attend college in the evening. She desperately wanted to make a good impression. She would have to do something about that car.

She was required to wear a uniform, much like Mrs. Pallor’s only hers was a deep shade of blue, almost black. She opted for a long-sleeved version to cover up her tattoos. Mrs. Pallor would not look kindly upon such frivolity. Her duties were to dust, wash floors, vacuum and polish the downstairs area only. Mrs. Pallor took charge of all things upstairs.

Mrs. Pallor’s son, Kertész or Kert for short, quickly moved passed Suzanne as he scuttled up the stairs. He made eye contact with his mother at the top of the stairs and gave her a quick nod as he entered the house.

Kert worked as a grounds keeper and went wherever his mother went. He never married. He and his mother were a package deal. Kert was in his 40s but looked much older. His wispy, unkempt hair always got in his eyes. His eyes were generally covered with thick, dark glasses and was almost never seen without them. He was a man who lived a solitary existence except for the little contact he had with his mother and his boss. He could be seen going nervously about his business, trying to stay out of his mother’s way and in the good graces of the boss. Very often, if you called him by name, he would reply under his breath, “No trouble; no trouble.”

There was much to do, indeed. The old manor needed a lot of work. There was extra staff on hand to move in the boxes and place furniture. Suzanne began by putting dishes away. She was very curious about the new owner of this old place. She thought she’d ask Mrs. Pallor when she would meet him.

“You?!” said Mrs. Pallor in her throaty accent. “You will not meet him. You are low level staff and of no significance to him. He is a very important man. Only key members of this household will speak with him. No, you will not meet him.”

Suzanne was more curious than offended. She would keep her eyes peeled for this “very important man.”

While dusting the living room, Kert came in, he was wearing a chauffeur’s cap and uniform. He looked more ashen than usual. He and his mother spoke in hushed tones, but she managed to hear him say he was going to pick up a Dr. Le Fleur. She caught sight of Mrs. Pallor’s face and distinctly saw her form the word, whore.

As soon as he left, she dusted her way over to the window and could see an elegant, mahogany colored Rolls Royce as it backed out of its’ garage bay. She tried to keep herself busy all the while keeping a close watch until she could see the car as it returned from its journey from that morning. It was now late afternoon and what light there was left behind the brooding clouds was bidding its’ farewell for the day.

Her heartbeat quickened as she saw the Rolls coming up the drive. The windows were incredibly darkly tinted, so it was difficult to see inside. The rear passenger window was cracked a bit and she could see a hand resting on what looked like a cane. On the hand was a large ring. On the ring was a large, black gem. She watched the door anxiously, hoping to get a glimpse of her boss. Ten minutes passed, then 15 then 20; no one entered the foyer.

Mrs. Pallor was seen dashing about and then completely out of sight. The last of the boxes and crates had been moved into the house and the moving staff had been dismissed. It was now Suzanne, Kert, Mrs. Pallor and “the boss” in the Manor. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Suzanne dusted the same spot of the credenza leisurely as she kept a watchful eye on the door when Mrs. Pallor seemed to appear from out of nowhere. Her usually stern face now bore an ever so slight grin. Suzanne couldn’t decide whether she looked scarier with or without the cracked smile.

“The master has arrived from his journey. You may refer to him as Mr. Cojocaru, however, I doubt you will have the necessity to meet with him. As I said, he is a very important man.”

“I’ve finished with most of my chores. Is there anything else you’d like for me to do to help you with Mr. Co-jo-ca-ru? Is there anything… in particular… he needs?”

Mrs. Pallor lost her sliver of a smile and gave Suzanne a determined stare. “I will let you know what my master wants. You will not ask such ridiculous questions of me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Pallor.”

“Good; now, if you are finished with your chores you may leave. I do not need you for anything further.”

“Alright. Good night then.”

“Yesssss,” Mrs. Pallor hissed. She turned and walked away without giving Suzanne another thought.

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