Her mother's scent

She knelt at her mother's bed, her hand holding her mother's frail hand. It shouldn't be frail. She was young still. She had been strong and youthful before papa's death, not a few months before. "Mama…" She whispered. "Please Mama, don't go, don't leave us." She knew it was already too late. She wept, pleading with Elua to send her mother back to her. Jehan and she…they needed their mother still. The physician had arrived, flushed with the pace of his rush there. Philippe tried to move Jessamine out of the way. She pushed him away. "No!" She yelled at him. "Leave me be."

"She's gone, my Lady." The physician said gently, kneeling beside her after he checked her mother's body. Her mother's corpse grew cold. Superstition took over, and no one liked the idea of the new Lady of the manor clinging to the dead. He put his hand over hers, and pulled her hand off. She wept, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to let go. Rosemarie was the one the gripped her now, letting Jessamine bury herself in her warm embrace, shh'ing her gently.

"Go lay down, Jessamine. We'll take care of everything. I'll help with your mother, and then tend to you, alright?" She whispered. She nodded to one of the boys, Jessamine didn't even bother looking up to see who it was. He picked her up, but she struggled, until she had her feet under her. She turned to Philippe.

"This is your fault. I told you we should write Jehan." She said it coldly, something rarely seen in Jessamine Nouel. She had written the missive herself several times, but Philippe begged her not to send it and worry her brother.

"I take responsibility to for that, my Lady. I…truly, no one believe it was as bad as this." He said with great sadness. The Lady's health had been declining since Lord Nouel had passed into Terre d'Ange-that-lies-beyond. The physician had insisted to give her time to grieve, and Jessamine and the rest of the household had done what they could to maintain her spirits. It wasn't enough.

It had been Jessamine that discovered her mother's lifeless body that morning, after her mother failed to come down to breakfast.

Jessamine had knew something was wrong the evening previous. Mama had come to her room, the spark of life gone from her eyes. "My Jessa…" She said, her voice barely a whisper. She sat on Jessamine's bed. Jessamine smelled her scent- the perfume her mother always wore, the scent passed down from generation to generation, a hint of the bhodistan blood that flowed through their veins. The smell of sandalwood, an earthy musk, and cinnamon. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Mama?" She asked, sitting up on the bed, and taking her mother's hand into her own.

"For all you've gone through since your papa's death. For all that will come." She said quietly. "I'm sorry I've been so selfish." Jessamine only understood a little, but she shook her head.

"You loved Papa, mama. I think we all understand your grief." She gave her mother a reassuring smile, and a squeeze. "It will pass."

Her mother didn't say anything, but fixed the stray strands of Jessamine's hair. "Remember that, ok? It will pass. I wish…I wish Jehan had come home…" She said, without focus, as if she knew what would happen that night, Jessamine would reflect on later. Jessamine wished the same but said nothing. Her mother stood. "Jessa…" She gave her daughter the saddest smile Jessamine had ever seen. "I love you. Jehan too." With that, Miriame Nouel went to bed. She didn't wake the next morning.

Jessamine had started screaming when she found her mother's body cold and lifeless. The rest of the household bolted up stairs to find Jessamine cradling her mother's body. "Someone call the physician!" Footsteps, chaos all around. Philippe pulled Jessamine off to see if there was anything, anything at all he could do for his Ladyship, but it was too late. Jessamine sunk to her knees, and held her mother's hand.

She sat in her room in the bay window. She had to take care of everything. The physician came to her after her mother's body was taken care of, as well as Philippe and Rosemarie. "Broken heart, my Lady. It's the only explanation…" the physician informed her. She nodded. She had known that.

"I'll prepare our fasted courier to get word to Jehan." Philippe said, guilt writ in his voice. Jessamine shook her head.

"No. He deserves better than a note. I'll…I'll go to the city myself and bring word." She had no desire to stay here, alone without her brother, although if he wished her to return, she would.

"But, my lady…the burial…"

"I'll take care of the arrangements myself. It will take two days at the fastest courier to reach Jehan, and two days for him to get here. I'll not let my mother's body rot in the open in the meantime." Rosemarie nodded in agreement. It was a hard decision. She'd be denying Jehan a good bye, which broke her heart more than she could ever tell him. For the next few days, she played Lady of the Manor, taking care of the funeral arrangements, and any arrangement that needed to be taken care of in her absence. Quiet moments were spent in her mother's room.

She went through her mother's drawer. There was only one thing she wanted before she left. Her mother's perfume. She knew how to make it, but her mother's was held in a silver phial, decorated with etchings of jasmine flowers, a remnant of one of their ancestors who was a Jasmine adept from long ago. It was hers now. She opened it, the exotic aroma of cinnamon filling her senses. Her heart seemed to hurt at the smell, as if her mother was still there in the room with her. She replaced the stopper, and headed back to her room to finish packing. She'd leave for the city of Elua and her brother in the morning.