A DEAL OF CONJUNCTION

❝

SEVEN DAYS had passed since the maid of the House Grimoard made a horrifying discovery in the study room; Lucien, the intriguing Lord of the House, lay unconscious at his desk, his palm, mouth, and shirt stained with his own blood.

Until now, he still remained unconscious, which surprised even Madame Dorothea when she learned about his condition. Having only recently returned from Normaine, she was baffled and concerned about Lucien's predicament.

"What is actually happening? Why is he covered with his own blood?" Charlotte inquired of Miranda, her tone and expression reflecting her confusion and concern. "Well, M'Lord had not been feeling well since he departed to Normaine," Miranda explained, her visage filled with concern. 

"We attempted to discourage him from travelling, but he did not heed our advice. Now look at what had happened," she continued, her tone heavy with worry.

Charlotte felt troubled and unable to understand the situation, her cup of tea untouched as she sat in the living room with Miranda. Suddenly, a middle-aged man entered the room with grayish hair and a mustache accompanied by spectacles, generating an air of authority and expertise. "Doctor McCarthy, how is My Lord doing now?" the doctor was addressed, but sadly, he shook his head.

"He hasn't gained consciousness," the doctor informed Miranda, his manner, professional and forthright. "I have instructed Her Grace to monitor him closely. Hopefully on my 10th visit, he shall have recovered. 

However, I do have a new prescription that I am hopeful will assist his recovery," he informed her, a tinge of hope pervading his tone. Miranda, meanwhile, uttered a query of her own, eager to learn more. "Is there a new prescription, doctor?" her question was clear and crisp, a reflection of her concern.

Charlotte listened intently to the exchange between the doctor and Miranda, her teacup lifted gently to her lips as she sipped her tea. "The prescription remains unchanged from before; however, I have added a new herb to enhance the healing of his wound," the doctor elaborated after a pause. "Which herb is that?" 

Charlotte inquired, her curiosity piqued, and her face lit up with anticipation as she leaned in to hear his response. Miranda, however, remained silent and observed the conversation with a thoughtful expression, her eyebrows raised slightly as she awaited the doctor's answer.

The doctor turned to Charlotte, his gaze meeting hers directly. "The herb is known as Calendula, if you are familiar with it," he stated, his tone matter of fact and calm. Charlotte nodded her head, her expression betraying a hint of understanding and recognition at the mention of the herb. Miranda, meanwhile, ventured a comment of her own, her input adding a personal touch to the dialogue. "We have Calendula in the garden, but they have not yet sprouted," she informed the doctor.

Charlotte placed her teacup down with a slight thud and then raised her eyebrows as a thoughtful idea dawned in her mind. "Perhaps I may know of a spot close by where we could find some Calendula," she declared, her voice calm and determined. Miranda, who was listening intently to her remarks, responded with curiosity and interest. 

"Do you know where we may obtain M'Lady?" she inquired, her face bearing an expression of anticipation at the prospect of finding a potential solution to Lucien's baffling condition.

Charlotte, still in a state of thoughtfulness, expressed her knowledge of a distant destination that could offer a potentially useful solution to their dilemma. "If my readings are correct, in the village of Hestonia, located within the land of Albiana, there are plenty of Calendula blooming in that vast area. However, I'm not sure when they will bloom." She divulged, her words tinged with a sense of urgency and purpose. She was unsure, however, if the flowering plants would be present at that precise moment in time, leaving her with an uncertainty that only further fueled the suspense and anticipation surrounding Lucien's condition.

The doctor suddenly contributed to the conversation, providing much-needed information to the ladies with an air of confidence and authority. "In essence, the Calendula flowers typically bloom from May to July or June to September," he stated. Charlotte seemed disappointed upon hearing this, but the doctor immediately offered a glimpse of hope, stating: 

"However, you could be considered fortunate if the village of Hestonia has gathered and preserved some of these herbs." The doctor's revelation restored a sense of hope and relief within the ladies, as they prepared to undertake a journey to obtain the elusive herb.

Charlotte stood with determination; her mind set on the plan they had decided to carry out. "Well, it appears we are left with little choice but to travel to Hestonia in search of the healing herb," she stated resolutely, her voice dripping with determination. Miranda swiftly responded, voicing her concerns about the dangers awaiting them. 

"My Lady, it will be a difficult task if you journey alone to the village of Hestonia. The journey is bound to take hours, making it a lengthy undertaking," she warned, her tone reflective of her worry and uncertainty regarding the situation.

Suddenly, the presence of another maid drew the attention of both Charlotte and Miranda, the former responding with an appreciative nod of appreciation following the maid's bow. "Lady Charlotte, Madame Dorothea beckons your presence in her study room," the maid informed Charlotte. Hearing this, Miranda nodded her head in approval.

Charlotte traversed the dimly lit corridors of the grand manor, the faint glow of candlelight flickered against the ornate walls, casting long shadows upon the polished floors. Each step she took echoed softly, mingling with the distant whispers of the evening breeze that seeped through the high windows. 

At last, she reached the heavy wooden door of the Countess's study. Pausing for a moment, she lifted her hand and rapped gently upon the panel before pushing it open with measured grace.

Within, the chamber was bathed in the soft golden hue of the lamps, lending a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool night beyond the window. Madame Dorothea stood near a glass-fronted cabinet, her delicate fingers brushing absently against the edge of a framed portrait. Her gaze, though fixed upon the image, seemed distant, as if lost in the echoes of time. The lines upon her face, softened by the candlelight, bore the weight of quiet contemplation.

Upon hearing Charlotte's entrance, the Countess turned, her expression shifting from wistful remembrance to one of quiet warmth. A faint, knowing smile graced her lips.

"You summoned me, Madame?" Charlotte inquired, her voice measured yet laced with curiosity.

The Countess inclined her head in acknowledgment, her piercing gaze settling upon the young woman before her. "Indeed, I did," she began, moving away from the cabinet with a slow, deliberate step. "You are already aware of Lucien's present condition, I presume?"

"I am," Charlotte confirmed, her brow knitting slightly. "But why do you ask?"

Madame Dorothea clasped her hands before her, her expression growing grave. "Because," she said, her tone carrying both weight and conviction, "I need you in this matter."

Charlotte's eyes flickered with intrigue. "In what regard, Madame?"

The Countess did not waver. "Since you are already acquainted with the details of the case I seek to uncover, I wish for you to pursue it further—this time, not alone."

"To work in conjunction with another?" Charlotte repeated, her words carefully measured, though a note of surprise tinged her voice. "And with whom, might I ask?"

A pause lingered between them before Madame Dorothea answered. "Lucien," she declared with certainty.

Charlotte regarded the Countess with an expression of quiet contemplation. "But why?" she pressed, her mind already turning over the implications of such an arrangement.

The Countess exhaled softly, as though burdened by the weight of the past. "Because it cannot be otherwise. The Calestinia case was abandoned nearly three decades ago—left to decay in obscurity, justice never served. The mastermind behind it remains concealed in the shadows, their identity unknown. It is not a task one can undertake alone, nor would I ask you to do so."

With that, she moved toward the great mahogany desk at the heart of the study. Upon its polished surface rested a single, unassuming folder. She lifted it carefully, as if handling something fragile, before extending it toward Charlotte.

"These are the findings Lucien has gathered thus far," she explained. "Pieces of a puzzle yet unsolved."

Charlotte took the folder with steady hands, her gaze flickering over the yellowing papers within. The contents revealed Lucien's meticulous documentation—the history of the Calestinia family, the string of assassinations that had left them extinct, and the lingering question of why justice had never been served.

The pages bore his notes, carefully inscribed in dark ink, tracing every lead, every unanswered question. It was evident that this case was no mere curiosity for him, but a pursuit that had consumed his thoughts.

Charlotte turned a page, her fingers brushing over his careful handwriting. "How am I to continue this investigation without his guidance?" she murmured, her expression thoughtful. "Without knowing the full extent of what he has uncovered?"

A shadow passed across Madame Dorothea's face as she turned her gaze toward the window. The faint reflection of candlelight danced upon the glass, mirroring the turmoil within her. "Then the first task remains clear," she said quietly. "He must recover."

Silence settled between them, heavy and resolute.

Charlotte closed the folder with a soft rustle of parchment. "And if he does not wake soon?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.The Countess turned to her, her features composed yet unyielding. "Then I must place my trust in you, Charlotte," she said. "Not only to continue what he has begun—but to see to it that he returns to us. We must have herbal medication as soon as possible."

Charlotte straightened, sensing the unspoken plea within the Countess's words. It was more than an investigation now; it was a responsibility entrusted to her by the very woman who had taken her into this household.

With a slow breath, she met Madame Dorothea's gaze and gave a firm nod.

"I understand. I will do what you pleased Madame Dorothea."