The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer: My Life at Rose Red by Ellen Rimbauer Page A

face with Brian, our day butler, who had responded to my
    summons. But our timing was of such coincidence that I did
    jump back and let out a small scream, of no insigni?cance. This,
    in turn, set John and the rest of the house to motion. By the time
    I reached the Banquet Hall, and found it empty, several others
    had hurried to my assistance. Doors were thrown open, false
    panels too. It seemed that ten or more of us were immediately
    engaged in the search for our Mrs. Fauxmanteur. Yolanda and
    Fredrick hurried up the Grand Stair, believing they had heard
    someone up on the second ?oor.
    The louder we called, the more our voices echoed. Mrs.
    Fauxmanteur was nowhere to be found. I felt rather faint at the
    prospect of her disappearance, and I stumbled toward a chair,
    Brian at my elbow. As I sank into its needlepoint and oak, the
    door to the Banquet Hall sagged open, and I could see through
    the Central Hall West and to the door of the Parlor.
    There stood Sukeena, looking vexed and—dare I say it?—terri-
    ?ed. She stood by the globe, still slowly spinning. She wore the
    same red handkerchief over her head as a scarf, a long blue work
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    dress with a white apron, her blue-black skin shining in the glow
    of the gas light. She shook her head at me, left to right. She was
    crying.
    This house had claimed a soul, and Sukeena knew better than
    anyone that Connie Fauxmanteur was not coming back.
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    14 march 1909—rose red
    The police were much taken aback by the size of our home.
    Perhaps they had heard the rumors and were surprised to see it
    for themselves. (I hear tell it’s called “the palace” and “the statehouse”
    by the people of Seattle.) In terms of the way “the other
    half lives,” John and I are the “other half” and at least John makes
    no apologies for it. He was born to success, or so he says, believing
    success a matter of pocketbook, certainly not of character.
    “What do you make of the disappearance?” I ask over the ?vecourse
    lunch. (We invited the policemen, but they declined to
    join us. So we eat in the Banquet Hall—why John insisted on this
    I know not, since we usually dine in the Solarium or one of the
    smaller dining rooms at mid-day.) It is just us, and four servants
    in attendance (all white glove of course).
    “I don’t believe it for a minute,” John Rimbauer replied.
    “But, John—!”
    “No, no, Ellen. You mustn’t be taken in by it, you see? The
    Fauxmanteur woman simply chose us as her whipping boys, electing
    to stage her little getaway from our house instead of her own.
    It’s simply a case of a wife deserting her husband and responsibilities
    —three children, can you imagine?!—and we are made to suffer
    for it. We are made to bear the brunt of her irresponsibility,
    and I for one am considering bringing charges against the woman
    when they catch her. And mark my word, they will catch her.”
    “No, they won’t catch her, John. They won’t even ?nd her.
    And if they do, it shall be in this house, and by now I fear they
    shall ?nd her dead.”
    “Good God, woman! Whatever’s gotten into you?”
    “Rose Red, dear husband. It’s gotten into us all.”
    “The house? You don’t subscribe to that garbage, do you?
    Dear soul, do not fret over this, do not risk your condition in any
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    way. I am so angry at this Fauxmanteur woman, I cannot tell you!
    You are doing so well of late. Please, my dear Ellen, do not spend
    another minute thinking about it.”
    “I want this child most of all.”
    “Of course. As do I. Most of all.”
    “But I promise you, she never left this house.” I added, “Do
    you remember the guests at the inaugural? The ones who said
    how quickly they’d become lost in Rose Red? What of that? What
    do you make of that?”
    “You mean as it relates to Mrs. Fauxmanteur?”
    “Yes, exactly.”
    “I see positively no connection between the two. Besides, dear
    woman, let us not forget all of our guests at the inaugural