Word Count: 30,025
Summary of Events:
With Joanne feeling ill Aline felt the housework was mounting, but she managed to still have the time to guide M. LaFleur to one of the blacksmith's shops to pick up M. Cournoyer's repaired tools because the shop was on the way home. Étienne was watching the Mardeaux troops advance still nearer when 1,500 reinforcements arrived, led by Comte Everard, son of Duc Louis, who condemned Étienne for going on leave as if Étienne had known the Mardeaux were going to attack and ordered Étienne punished, which Étienne resented, but didn't argue. Aline was doing some mending when she was startled — causing her to prick her finger — by a knock at the door she presumed to be the doctor coming by to check on Joanne . . .
Excerpt of the Day:
To her surprise, it was not the doctor on the other side of the door, but M. LaFleur, wrapped in his cloak as another — lighter, for what it was worth — rain fell to the ground around him.
“M. LaFleur,” Aline said, at a loss for what more to say.
“Adrien please Aline,” M. LaFleur said.
“Please come in,” Aline said, stepping back and opening the door.
M. LaFleur stepped inside and shed his wet cloak, hanging it up himself, as well as shedding his wet and muddy overshoes.
“Why are you here?” Aline asked.
“You said that you needed help,” M. LaFleur replied. “I may not know much about housework, but I am willing to help if it is possible.”
“Oh, merci beaucoup,” Aline replied, feeling greatly relieved. “There is so much that must be done.”
“Such as?” M. LaFleur asked.
“There is sweeping, dusting, laundry washing, mending, bread, supper, cleaning chamber pots . . .” Aline replied wearily.
“You look tired just saying it,” M. LaFleur said. “What needs dusting?”
“Everywhere,” Aline replied. “It hasn’t been done since before François came home last.”
“What supplies do I need?” M. LaFleur asked.
Aline led him to the small closet where the towels were kept and gave him a small cloth, she then gave him a bucket of water to wash the cloth off when it got too dusty.
“What happened to your hand?” M. LaFleur asked.
“Your knock startled me,” Aline replied. “And I pricked myself with a needle.”
“I'm sorry, let me see,” M. LaFleur said, his whole countenance distraughtly horrified as he set the cleaning supplies aside.
Aline somewhat reluctantly removed her fingertip from the apron and let M. LaFleur cradle her hand softly in his. He squeezed gently at the fingertip, which obligingly released a little bit of blood.
Before she altogether realised what was happening he raised her hand to his mouth and took the fingertip into his mouth, sucking softly.
A strange, frightful sensation came over Aline at the thought and feel that a man was sucking on her finger, and with such tenderness and care. Although there was a portion of pleasure in the sensation, it struck Aline as highly unpleasant.
She snatched her hand away from him.
“What is wrong?” M. LaFleur asked.
“It’s not worth the fuss,” Aline replied.
“But you’re upset Aline,” M. LaFleur replied.
“It’s just a little pinprick, they always heal,” Aline replied.
“I unsettled you, didn’t I?” M. LaFleur asked.
“Oui,” Aline replied, nodding.
“I'm very sorry,” M. LaFleur replied, softly placing his hands on her shoulders. “I just feel badly for having caused you hurt.”
“It's minor,” Aline replied.
“I'm sorry nonetheless,” M. LaFleur said.
“Merci,” Aline replied quietly.
“I’ll dust now,” M. LaFleur said.
He released her and took up the bucket and cloth, leaving her alone in the kitchen, where she worked to quell the strange sensation and pull herself together, she had to go clean up the mending, that could wait until later, right now she ought to do something similarly physically intensive to what M. LaFleur was doing, it would only be fair, after all.
Pronunciations:
Comte: kohmt'
Everard: ehvrahrd
François: frahnswah
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