Indicator of a Curse

by Lesley A Meldrum

  It was clear to Beatty that Lady Bennet missed Beatty’s mother. Cordelia Clarke had broken all contact with the Bennets due to their unkindness towards her daughter. She despised what the girls were doing to Beatty. She couldn’t forgive Mr and Mrs Bennet for allowing it to happen. She disputed the allegations the girls made against her daughter, and she mourned their outcome. She had already predicted Beatty’s end. It was only a matter of time.

  As far as Cordelia was concerned, it was the two little missies who had started everything. She would never forgive them. The day her daughter dangled from the rope, she would swear revenge.

  In recent days, Beatty too had come to accept her fate. Her only regret was she was entering her passing full of malice and desire for revenge. These were not good feelings to carry into the next life.

  Though Beatty hid it well, she was consumed with hatred for everyone but her ma. She despised the children—and their parents for allowing the mistreatment. She despised her father for being weak and she despised the whole community who were all against her.

  Her mother was the only one who was there for her. Her mother’s love kept a spark inside her that would have fizzled out long ago. Cordelia made her feel worthy when the whole world was down on her.

  Despite her mother’s love, Beatty refused to let go of her hatred. Her putrid hatred acted as her most precious item. Cordelia could smell its sulphur around her, taste it. She could no longer see colour around her daughter. Where once her colours changed to suit her altered vibrations, her aura was now black. Even her presence felt black. Whatever it was that possessed her daughter, Cordelia could see it moving around. It made strange noises that only her ears were tuned to.

  Beatty had no idea her mother was aware, but bit by bit it revealed itself.

  On the sly, Cordelia had tried to release the attachment, but it was too strong. Her daughter’s intense emotions were feeding it.

  Throughout the experiment, Beatty had never turned nasty. She had hidden her feelings well. Many times, she tried her best to reason with herself because she did not want to think negative thoughts, especially towards Mr and Mrs Bennet.

  On her strongest days, she tried to see the girls’ point of view. She tried to reason that their behaviour was not coming from them; they were being manipulated by something malevolent. She knew they were going through a hell of an ordeal, but one outburst from the girls was all it took to make her blood boil again.

  Cordelia sensed there was still a good person in her daughter. She hoped the good would carry through to her next lives, trusting her soft nature would keep what was possessing her from evil acts. The spirit was inextricably attached to her daughter. It would travel with her through the times. Cordelia hoped one day Beatty would come to be rid of it, but it would not be in this lifetime, for she had tried. My, had she tried.

  Beatty had once appreciated the help she was getting from the Squire and his wife. They claimed they were trying to save her life, yet they had let everyone abuse her, especially their girls. She no longer cared for their deceits. In the end, she knew she was going to end up in the gallows regardless of the master’s attempts.

  At least the experiment gave her time. Time she could spend with her ma.

  She wanted to appreciate her last days. Her life was not going to be in vain. She was going to find things to appreciate before her departure. She had loved. She had married. She was sad she had born no children, but she had formed a beautiful relationship with her mother.

  There was one thing she was glad for lately concerning the Bennet household. While the Bennet family were glad for their peace and quiet after banning the crowds, Beatty of course had her own preferential reprieves. She found Freya’s absence liberating. Understandably, the Bennet family did not share in her joy, or so she thought. Apparently, their frazzled nerves needed a break too.

  They were too guilty to admit such a betrayal to their neediest child, but the evidence clearly showed in their everyday pursuits. They were rested, relieved, and even upbeat.

  As anticipated, Antonia was exceptionally quiet without her sister. She was the more reserved and introverted of the two. Antonia had completely withdrawn into herself without Freya for courage. The household hardly heard a peep from her.

  Without the antagonistic sister, Beatty wasn’t hassled as much. Her scars were finally healing. Not that it mattered, considering what fate had in store for her.

  The family were anxiously awaiting news about Freya. Since Margot’s passing, their niece Tessa had been responsible for writing all the correspondence, being older and in charge. There were no prohibitions against Lady Bennet corresponding directly with her daughter, but sadly, the family would die of old age before receiving a letter from Freya. She was a lazy child in many ways and she was sick more often than not.

  Over the last couple of months, Lady Bennet had received two more letters from Tessa. The first letter revealed a vast improvement in Freya. She was eating like a horse and had put on weight. The next letter was a complete turnaround. Freya’s fits had returned and were worse than ever. The Cornwall’s doctor said she probably wouldn’t see twelve months through.

  Mr Bennet was the one to fetch her. While he was away, Lady Bennet sunk into a deep depression. He was her rock, the strength through all the darkness that had usurped them of late. Without him she was too weak and exhausted to handle anything. Antonia’s fits were growing worse and heaven forbid her son wasn’t without his usual upsets. And then there was Freya.

  As pleased as Lady Bennet was her daughter was coming home, she dreaded the extra interruptions to the household. Freya was the worst case out of all her children. Lady Bennet knew she should be more concerned for her daughter, especially with her being the sickliest, but she was tired.

  At this rate, Lady Bennet felt she would be the first to go. Sometimes, she wanted to. Not even her husband was aware she had reached a point of wanting to end it all.

  Nevertheless, for her family’s sake she kept going. She told herself there must be a light at the end at the tunnel.

  The days slipped by regardless and thankfully without too much of a hitch. Lady Bennet fared well enough and the day came for her husband’s return.

  The light was back in her life. She raced out the door, not knowing who to run for: her husband or her long-absent daughter. Instinctively, she ran into her daughter’s arms and burst into happy tears.

  Lady Bennet was excited to be at long last reunited with her youngest daughter, but the shock she received when she discovered what was lying beneath all those loose-fitting clothes left her bereaved. The little imp of a child wrapped in her arms was nothing but skin and bones. She wanted to cry mournful tears, but for Freya’s sake she did her best to hold them back. The few that escaped she pretended were joyous.

  After every tear was shed, she let go of her daughter and greeted her husband with a light peck on the lips.

  While they slowly made their way to the house, Antonia came out the door with little George. She was holding his hand, leading him along. As soon as she spied her sister she let go of her brother and ran. She almost knocked her sister down when she threw herself into Freya’s arms and hugged her tight. Antonia cried with joy, provoking her sister to tears again.

  Their little brother George stood in the distance. He mindfully observed them before dropping his eyes. Lady Bennet was convinced he recognised his absent sister.

  Freya ran up to her little brother and gave him a huge hug. To everyone’s surprise, he let her.

  Lady Bennet was pleased to have the family back together. On such a bonny day, surrounded by all her loved ones, she could believe there was light at the end of the tunnel after all. Yet, there was no denying what was to come. The following days and weeks were going to be treacherous, particularly with Freya back in their midst.

  As foretold, the days were havoc. The girls’ episodes were back in full force, with them taking turns with their fits. To top it off, little George was going throug
h new stages. He was banging his head on the walls and floors and shoving his fist down his throat. They had to constantly protect him from gagging or concussing himself.

  As of late, he was on constant watch. They had to be mindful of everything that went into his mouth. For some reason, he was always hungry or thirsty. He chewed on everything and sculled bottles of whatever he could get his hands on. He had survived a few poisons already. The household was exhausted in their surveillance.

  Meanwhile, the girls could only be alleviated from their sickness by having Beatty in their presence. Whether she wished it or not, she was constantly at the house. Many a night, the poor girl was awakened from her bed and ushered across the street. A noticeably beaten track from the farmhouse led to the abbey from her regular visits.

  Twelve

  Come day or night, no matter what ungodly hour, Beatty was in the Bennets’ presence. She sipped their finest tea and ate their food. The cosiest spot in front of the crackling fireplace was reserved for her so she could warm her crisp hands.

  Lady Bennet felt the need to thrust these offerings upon her neighbour to compensate for their unfair demands. It was her way of alleviating her guilt. She gathered by now Beatty was sick of coming to their aid and she couldn’t blame her.

  Every day, Beatty was fetched. No sooner had she gotten home, the Squire or one of his servants would trudge across the road and escort her back to the abbey. During the cold nights, they often disturbed her from her warm bed. In Beatty’s eyes that was an abomination.

  To avoid the displeasure of being coerced from her bed, she often attempted to stay up as late as she possibly could. However, usually in the wee hours, the sleepy eye got the better of her. Hence, in the coldest part of the night, she would be answering to a heavy beating on the door.

  How she hated it. How they all hated it. She was not the only one leaving her warm bed and stepping out into the cold air. The routine was getting monotonous for everyone concerned.

  Therefore, it made perfect sense for Beatty to move into the abbey.

  She could see how the change would benefit everyone, including her. She would be close by whenever there was an emergency. During the night, the Bennets’ staff would only have to fetch her from her room, saving them from braving the outdoors.

  What troubled Beatty was leaving her mother behind, though Beatty was welcome to visit her at any spare moment. In addition, Cordelia was welcome to visit the abbey anytime, which Lady Bennet would love.

  If Beatty was worried her mother was losing the extra income she had nothing to worry about. Mr Bennet would see to it that Cordelia was looked after. He was aware of their financial situation. In honour of Beatty’s full-time services, he would grant the family an allowance more sufficient than they were used to.

  On Beatty’s return home, he planned to issue them an endowment that was enough to sustain them for a lifetime. After putting them through so much, he owed them a comfortable living.

  There would be terms and conditions, of course. Cordelia’s husband would not be allowed to waste the money on drinking and gambling. The Clarke women were not to enable him. Thomas Clarke could find his own means to support his filthy habits.

  The deal sounded good, but Beatty was not taken in by all the lures. Nothing would entice her to live under the Bennets’ roof, not even all the luxuries in the world. The evil awaiting inside the abbey walls frightened her too much. Plus, Beatty balked from moving in because she was utterly over the whole affair and the Bennet family. She wished they would go away.

  Beatty was beyond frustrated about how Mr Bennet could not see what was right under his nose. No one should be living under the abbey roof.

  When Mr Bennet first approached Beatty about moving in, he offered her time to think before giving her answer. He knew it would be a big step for her. She had failed to give him an answer.

  Her lack of response no longer mattered, for she had lost her say in the matter.

  Something drastic happened to make Mr Bennet lose his fairmindedness: his son fell to the sickness. Nobody had seen it coming.

  As soon as his son fell ill, Mr Bennet was a changed man. His heart had broken anew with each child, but this was the last straw.

  His heightened sense of urgency was obvious to all. No one was going to hinder the process of the investigation, which meant for the children’s welfare Beatty had to be accessible and on hand twenty-four hours a day. By his order, she was to move in straight away, no arguments.

  The day that forced Mr Bennet’s hand started out calmly, until both Antonia and Freya collapsed at the same time into full-fledged seizures.

  When all hell erupted, the poor maid who was assigned as the messenger charged into the parlour room unannounced, where the mistress sat embroidering a remnant of material. Lady Bennet was not angry at the interruption, for she knew the reason. She had been around this same old mountain many times.

  As always, her heart began to race.

  ‘What is it, Jane?’ she asked, out of habit.

  ‘This time it’s both together, ma’am. It’s bad. They’re hypin’ each other up with their antics.’

  ‘Thank you, Jane. Get one of the men to fetch Beatty.’ The poor girl was being beckoned again. How she must tire of it, Lady Bennet lamented.

  ‘Aye, ma’am,’ Jane curtsied and left the room.

  Lady Bennet moved across the room like a trained dancer, light on her feet. She hurried down the corridor leading to the playroom. She wondered if rushing to her girls’ aid was going to be a lifelong pattern. She certainly hoped not.

  George was with them when she peered into the room. Luckily, he was totally oblivious to all the drama. They were making quite a racket. Lady Bennet was thankful the nurse had made sure George was out of harm’s way. It was one less problem she had to deal with.

  The maid was right about her girls stirring each other up. They seemed to be having a face off, growling at each other and hunched in attack mode. They had never done this before. Their teeth were bared. Lady Bennet questioned when their teeth had become so sharp.

  ‘Jane,’ she called out, desperate. Instantly, the maid entered the room. Lady Bennet was amazed at her quick response, attributing her eagerness to spying.

  ‘Jane, go fetch my husband and hurry. I want him here before anything gets out of hand. This is not looking good.’

  ‘Aye, ma’am,’ she squeaked. In a mad dash, she was gone.

  The girls went for each other. Freya slashed at Antonia’s throat, but Antonia fainted to the side. Antonia used the momentum to tackle Freya, knocking her into an antique table, causing a vase to smash on the floor. The girls rolled around, oblivious to the shards of glass wedging into their bare skin.

  Lady Bennet was terrified. She stood back with the nurse and yelled for her husband. They huddled together like scared rabbits.

  When Lady Bennet and the nurse walled George against their trembling bodies, he seemed to sense the danger. He buried himself further into their skirts, attempting to use his mother’s clothing to hide himself. He turned his head away from the scene and leaned heavily against his mother. He stayed there until his father entered the room.

  Mr Bennet stopped in his tracks to investigate the calamity taking place. The first thing he saw was Freya ripping chunks of hair from Antonia’s scalp with her hands. He spied his wife and son in a huddle with the nurse. When he looked back, Antonia had sunk her razor-sharp teeth into her sister’s neck and locked on.

  Rather than splitting the girls apart, Mr Bennet joined his wife. As he stood by their side, the party was brave enough to unwrap themselves. Straight away, George broke away from the women and threw himself at his father. He wrapped himself around his father’s waist and hung on for dear life.

  Taken aback by his son’s reaction, his father gently laid his hands on the boy’s back. It was so unlike him to be intuiting any sense of danger. Provided he was left alone, George was usually unresponsive to drama.

  Lady Bennet, seei
ng her husband perplexed, responded to his incomprehension. ‘I am afraid we instilled some panic in George. We behaved hysterically and handled him as if something bad was going to happen to him. I am sensing that through our actions he ascertained his life is in danger.’

  ‘I see,’ he said, recalling how sometimes his son would, out of the blue, switch on.

  They all stood back and watched as the girls tumbled together on the floor, ravaging each other with fury. Lady Bennet hoped her husband would do something, terrified they were seriously hurting each other, but he did nothing. He refused to break up their crazed dog fight.

  What seemed like forever was only minutes. Jane entered with three strong men, Mr Lucas being one of them.

  Mr Bennet then considered it appropriate to intervene.

  It took two men to hold each girl. Freya and Antonia put up a mighty struggle. They were too strong.

  ‘Where’s Beatty?’ Mr Bennet groaned.

  ‘She’s coming,’ his wife answered. ‘Jane sent someone to fetch her.’

  Beatty entered the room, as if their conversation had invoked her there. As soon as she came into their presence the girls calmed. Their muscles went lax, but as a precaution, the men left it awhile before releasing them.

  Beatty had again noticed the dark shadows on the walls. When they left, the girls came out of their delirium and wondered what had happened. Antonia was missing hair from her scalp and both were covered in blood. They were in a lot of pain, their skin splintered with shards of glass, and in some places their bodies were overcome with open wounds from scratches and bites. Both of them possessed bruising and swelling that no doubt would produce hues of purple later on.

  As they were getting up from the floor and taking their seats, their father explained to them what they had been through. There had been a time at university when his friends had pressured him into getting drunk; he woke up the next day not knowing where he was or what he had done. He fretted for weeks, until his friends finally told him everything. He hated not knowing, which is why he had always felt it his duty to fill his children in.