So, as they walked along, Alexandra consciously realised how close she was to the man she adored, and, unconsciously this time, her feelings took over the sense of behaving in a hierarchy and keeping her actions to herself. Although Alexandra knew little of what ‘being conscious’ was in itself, it still startled her when she realised that she wanted to be one of Christophe’s dearest possessions, whilst still having some of the self-life to be a guide to the righteousness of his soul.
After a while, she gently brushed the tips of her left fingers against Christophe’s right hand, felt his fingers twitch, but relax into hers, and soon the two were clasping hands.
It’s only for support, Alexandra told herself, as though he is a brother or even a father.
She did not know what she herself had meant by such things towards her senior. She could not even say if it was a romantically inclined gesture. Yet, there they were: walking along softly holding hands.
They were nearing the house, when Christophe stopped suddenly and turned to Alexandra. His cheeks were coloured but his eyes were shining.
“You’re beautiful, you should know that, Ally.”
“Christophe,” Alexandra blushed a deep red too. “You… um… you don’t have to say that.”
“But you are.” Alexandra watched as his bright eyes scanned over her expression, deep and caring despite their excited drive.
“I know how you feel, Ally; I can see it in your eyes. Don’t try to deny it; we both know you won’t be able to,” he whispered, gently lifting a gloved hand to caress her cheek. “And I know how it feels.”
“What are you saying, Sir?” she whispered back, already knowing the truth, so deeply scaring her even when the possibility thrilled her soul, but she still resolved to keep her demeanour within the expected staff hierarchy.
“I love you, Alexandra,” was Christophe’s declaration.
The maid was shocked that he would admit such a thing, and blushed an even darker red, but inside herself she knew that his words were true.
“I think (because no-one can be certain what they truly feel) that I may very well love you back.”
She gazed into his caring eyes and the soft contours of his face, the pointed cupid’s bow of his upper lip and the rough stubble of his almost-moustache above it.
Christophe was gentle. He leant in and placed his lips upon hers. Soon they both had their arms around each other and were kissing warmly with a pure happiness deep in existence. Alexandra was freed; it was the first time she had kissed anyone. To her, it was as though the kiss lasted a lifetime, a lifetime of souring on blissful nothingness, but of course, the actual kiss barely lasted a couple of seconds. The feeling of joy, though, was in her mind forever after the incident, the most happiness she’d had in a long time.
Finally, the butler pulled away.
“My dear,” said he. “The mistress awaits. We should make our way over to the task at hand.”