Bridgette’s Room. – A Fallen Mansion.

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Bedroom of Bridgette the french baker.

Her soft footfalls sounded as she ran the corridor to her room. Bridgette’s sanctuary within this mad house – the mansion you could never leave. The young french maiden had lived in the house for some time, but due to her nature she had barely gotten to know anyone. That was until this day.

Entering her room, she closed it behind her with a soft click. She lent against the timber door and let out a huge sigh of relief. What had happened this day was so extreme. From the raging curses and manhandling by Zero the vampire butler, to then sitting with him in the library and repairing the damaged cookery book that had caused all the drama. Holding the book close to her still, she finally released her hold and then walked into her room further to set down the book on her chest of drawers. Her fingers danced lightly over the embossed cover as she was filled with the images of Zero’s face. What was it about that man that had made her so fearful, and yet now she felt nothing but a warmth within her bosom at the very memory of the few words that they had shared.

Turning to look at her self in her long mirror, Bridgette noticed the fine splatter of blood across her crisp apron. She had totally forgotten that it was not just the book that had gotten blood upon it. Reaching around to her back, she untied the large bow that held the apron in place, and brought the neck tie over her head to remove the apron. This would definitely need to be soaked.

Bridgette had a small bathroom just off her bedroom and in there she went to soak her soiled apron. Filling a silver pale with cold water, she dipped the apron in, then added soap flakes to the mix. She stirred the water with a wooden spatula before letting it rest. The apron would take a few days of soaking to get the stain out properly.

The young baker slowly removed her white hat and then her hair net which allowed her dark brown curls to cascade down her back like a torrent. Keeping her hair up whilst cooking was a necessity in the kitchen, but in the solitude of her room she was really able to let her hair down. Stepping out of her long skirt and petticoat, she removed her daily shirt and hung both up on wooden hangers on her door. It was too late to take them down to the Mansion laundry and she would deal with that in the morning after baking.

A hot bath and a good book were on the agenda for the rest of her eve. The moon was now high in the sky, and shone its light down through the arch windows that graced the far end of her room.

Coming out of the bathroom, in a floor length night gown, she went to touch the cook book once more. Placing her hand on it, she closed her eyes and in her mind the vision of Zero’s face appeared. His ember eyes haunting her very thoughts. Bridgette chewed her lip as she removed her hand from the book, and then smiled softly unto herself in the hopes that they would cross paths once again.

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The small golden clock upon Bridgette’s bedside table started to ring, which caused the young french baker to stir beneath her covers. A small hand appeared out from beneath the silk and cotton and felt about to tap the top of the clock. Bridgette let out a small groan as she really could have used some more sleep, but the longer she lay in, the less time she had to herself in the kitchen. Propping herself up, she took off her lace sleeping mask and rubbed her eyes. Bridgette had slept soundly and her dreams were filled with that of the haunting ember eyes of Zero. Would she come across him this day? Only time would tell.

Sliding out from beneath her covers, she wiggled her feet into some white fluffy slippers, and shuffled off to her bathroom to brush her teeth and comb through her dark auburn locks. Happily humming to herself, she checked on the blood stained apron which needed longer to soak in the pail. Thoughts again turned to Zero and she almost shivered as she felt herself becoming more and more fascinated with the his memory. There was this dangerous appeal, and yet behind those eyes she felt he must be very passionate. Such feelings made her blush all the more. He was a very handsome and proud gentleman, and would hardly be interested in a simple baker. So many other beauties lived within the mansion’s walls -girls with skin like alabaster and smiles that would melt the darkest heart.

Bridgette stepped out of the bathroom, turning off the light with a flick of her fingers, and went to her cupboard to find suitable attire for the day. A fresh pale pink skirt with matching blouse that had a high collar with lace trim. Over the top a long white apron and her hair she skillfully tied up into a loose bun but made sure to capture it in a hair net and topped it off with a white frilly hat. Only wisps of her fringe were seen from the front. The darkness of her curls accentuating the lily white complexion. Truth was Bridgette rarely went out into the sun, even though she welcomed the dawn each day from the windows of the kitchen.

Dressed properly with matching white boots, Bridgette fetched her prized cook book, and then headed out the door to start her day’s work in the kitchen.

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{Thread change – Kitchen)