Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 150

Jacques words rattled around Gilbert’s mind for well over an hour before he finally admitted the boy had a point. None of them truly knew Miss Vivian as a person. They knew what she showed them, but there was more beneath the surface, more she kept hidden.

As for them underestimating her, Gilbert wasn’t sure how to know one way or another. 

He decided to stop waiting; he would ask her outright what she was willing to share. Gilbert had never been one to beat around the bush, anyway, and preferred this method. So he’d gone to check on her, to see if she was still awake, only to find her asleep next to the cracked door.

*That’s what he meant by underestimating he*r, Gilbert realized with a frown. Jacques must have seen her set up and decided to say nothing. She’d most likely been listening to their conversation. He couldn’t help but sigh. Of course she’d been eavesdropping; she hadn’t asked any questions, hadn’t demanded any answers, because she must have known he wouldn’t have told her much in response. Instead, she’d decided to find out what she could in her own way.

Gilbert glanced at his bed and debated on whether he should move her or not, then remembered she’d sounded rather adamant about not wanting sleep there. He hadn’t bothered asking why; he’d taken the time to change the sheets while she showered, so it was clean, meaning there was no reason for her to refuse. Yet she’d still made a bed by the door.

Careful not to wake her, Gilbert picked her up, wincing a bit from the added weight on his leg, and carried her to the couch — the place she’d chosen as her bed before he’d stepped in and forced the switch. Once she was settled, he retreated to his spot at the table, and debated how to approach the topics he wanted to discuss with the young miss.

He watched her as she slept, hearing her mutter unintelligible words now and then, before she suddenly shot up, gasping for air as she clutched at her chest with both hands.

Once she calmed, he decided it was now or never, and moved his chair so he could sit across from her.

Now the problem became not knowing how to start the conversation. He didn’t want to just come out and say it, not after she’d woken from what had to be a nightmare, but he didn’t know how to do it in a gentle manner.

As if sensing his internal battle, Miss Vivian had spoken first, asking about his son.

The truth was, Gilbert didn’t feel anything for the boy, and treated him like any other person. Jacques had wanted some kind of familial relationship in the beginning, but settled for an odd sort of acquaintanceship between them. Putting all that into words wasn’t something he wanted to do, and when he’d told the young miss about being a father but not a dad, she’d immediately understood and stopped digging.

Unlike most people he met, Gilbert’s respect for the young miss had been almost immediate. She was quiet, watchful, and preferred doing things herself instead of relying on others; not once had she turned away his company — even before she’d found out he was more than just her chauffeur — and simply let him do his job. She even went out of her way to acknowledge his presence. Whether this was her being conscientious, or something else, he couldn’t say, and didn’t bother asking.

This final interaction solidified his choice to be direct with the young miss. She deserved to be treated like the person she was: strong, resourceful, and understanding. “Miss Vivian… What are you willing to tell me about your childhood?”

Gilbert had expected her to tense at his question but, instead, she frowned. Patience would be key to getting anything out of her, so he waited.

“That depends,” she began, hesitating as she spoke, “on what you want to know.”

She hadn’t shut him down. It took him a moment to rein in his surprise that she’d answered at all, let alone opened the conversation up for more questions. Gilbert had expected silence, followed by a change of topic, or her retreating back to the bedroom. He had to tread carefully now. If he asked, or worded, a question incorrectly there was still a chance she’d clam up, and that would be the end of it.

It didn’t take long for him to decide on how to proceed. “You were raised by your mother, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. There’d been no hesitation in her response, but she’d divulged as much to her family already. If she’d already told them something, she had no issue repeating herself.

“Was it just the two of you?”

There was slight hesitation this time, but she eventually answered, “…no.”

Gilbert nodded a little; he’d expected that much. Mr Devreaux had told him the young miss had said ‘he killed her because I wasn’t his kid.’ That in itself meant there would need to be a third person involved in her life at that time. “Did your mother love him?”

“No.” Her answer was immediate, almost sharp, surprising him. He’d been worried that Mrs Devreaux had left to be with another man, passing Miss Vivian off as his child instead of her husband’s. When this other man learned the truth, he’d snapped. Now it seemed this wasn’t the case. It gave him a small sense of relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to report that his boss’ wife had willingly left him.

“Did your mother ever try to leave?”

Hesitation again, but it was different than the last time. Miss Vivian was frowning again, as though she was trying to figure out the answer. “I’m… not sure.”

“Okay,” he nodded again, not wanting to push too much. There were questions he could ask that would force her to elaborate, but now wasn’t the time. He wanted to stick to broad questions, to get a feel for how things had been for the girl.

“Did she want to stay?”

Miss Vivian fidgeted a bit, and Gilbert worried he’d gotten too close to a topic best left for another time. “Yes, and no?”

“Would you be willing to elaborate?” He couldn’t help but to ask, knowing it was a risky move.

More fidgeting as she stared at the ground. Her brows furrowed, her mouth in a grim line… he’d definitely struck a topic he should’ve avoided, but it was too late to take it back now.

“… she wouldn’t leave me behind,” Miss Vivian eventually said, voice cracking, as though the pain she felt was physical.

“I see…” he trailed off, mulling this over. *Even if Mrs Devreaux had wanted to escape, or could escape, she’d have never left the young miss behind. Escaping with a child… that would be difficult. And if she wasn’t successful, the child would also pay the price for the attempt.*

It was time to change his approach. “Do you know where you lived?”

Silence. She didn’t look up from the ground, and showed no signs of needing to think about the answer. Dead end.

“Last question,” he told her, drawing her attention from the floor back to his face. “Did you ever try and find your family, after getting away?”

Miss Vivian’s eyes flicked away and down as she shook her head.

This response gave Gilbert pause. What would have caused her to avoid reaching out to her family? From what he’d been told, she knew they existed through the stories Mrs Devreaux had spun over the years. Had she no other information? Had she even known their names? Why hadn’t she ever mentioned their existence to someone? Social Services and Child Welfare would have actively helped her locate any family; so why hadn’t she said anything?

Now he had a hundred more questions, but he couldn’t go back on his word of that one being his last. For now.

It did make him wonder about her two friends. Mr McCullough had said Miss Wilson was somehow in danger and, by extension, himself. Did it have anything to do with the young miss’ past, or just something going on at school? Or was it because she was a Devreaux?

The boy hadn’t been any help, deferring them to Miss Vivian for answers, and the girl hadn’t even been aware of the possible threats until she’d been told about the situation during her visit. To her credit, Miss Wilson hadn’t made much of a fuss about it, her focus on the young miss instead, but that didn’t stop Mr Devreaux from sending out a couple security teams to keep an eye on the two of them.

Already dealing with enough as it was, the last thing Miss Vivian needed was to lose her friends, especially not when her family had the ability to keep them safe.

Gilbert just wished she would ask for help every once in a while, instead of shouldering the burden alone.