Goddess Curse

by RaShelle Workman

  Gwen interrupted her. “Harry, why must you be such a chicken?”

  “Those were my thoughts,” Lucy said after she swallowed. She winked at Harriet, then faced Sabrina. “What my scaredy-maid said is true. As long as you are honest,” she gave Ava a quick look.

  “Sorry, Miss.” Ava gazed down at her hands apologetically.

  Lucy nodded, then continued to Sabrina, “I consider you family.”

  Sabrina glanced at Harriet and then Gwen. They both nodded. A large smile crept across Sabrina’s overly freckled face and reached all the way to her hazel eyes.

  “Give it a try.” Lucy held out the tart again.

  Sabrina took it and did as she saw Lucy do. She set it on the tip of her tongue. Then closed her eyes.

  Harriet and Ava started to laugh.

  Tears fell down Sabrina’s cheeks.

  Concerned, Lucy asked, “Do you hate it? If you don’t like it, spit it out.”

  Sabrina shook her head, chewing. When she finally swallowed, she opened her eyes and said, “Miss, thank you. It was wonderful. But more than that, thank you for being kind.” She cried harder.

  Lucy glanced at Harriet who shrugged. Gwen smiled. Lucy took Sabrina in her arms, hugging the tall girl. “You’re welcome.”

  6

  ODD LOCKET

  After two more tarts and some hot chocolate, Lucy said goodnight, left the kitchen and climbed the steps. Every creak sounded like banging pans in the quiet house. She tiptoed to her grandmother Agatha’s room, knocked and then pushed the door open. Her grandmother was asleep, her jaw slightly open.

  The room was decorated to her grandmother’s tastes, with lots of purple and lace. Peppermint, a scent unique to her grandmother permeated the room.

  Lucy wanted to turn around and walk out. Her grandmother looked so peaceful sleeping in her oversized bed, but Lucy had promised. Taking a few steps forward, she said, “Grandmother.”

  The woman stirred, her eyes blinking open. Then she smiled. “Lucy, so good of you to come.” Her grandmother threw back her covers and swung her bare feet over the side of the bed as she sat. She wore a white nightdress and her long dark hair was down, cascading around her shoulders. The effect made her look much younger.

  “Why don’t you stay in bed? I’ll retrieve whatever you need.”

  Her grandmother waved the comment away. Her cane was next to her bed, but she didn’t take it. She went over to her desk where silk scarves draped over the mirror, covering most of it. The table was covered in powders, salts, cosmetics, and perfumes.

  The locket her grandmother wore swung back and forth as she walked. It seemed she even wore the locket to bed.

  “Is there something I can help you find?” Lucy asked, worried her grandmother might fall over and Lucy wouldn’t be able to help her up.

  “You needn’t worry about me, dear.” Her grandmother sat and pulled open a drawer. Inside was a leather journal. The leather was light, and a matching strap tied it closed. Her grandmother took it out and handed it to Lucy. “Happy birthday. You’re going to need this.”

  “Oh?” Lucy pressed it to her nose. She loved the smell of leather. “Thank you so much. I love it. But, why will I need it?”

  Her grandmother stood. “Trust me. After what I’m about to tell you, you’ll know why.” She shuffled toward her bed. Lucy followed close behind lest her grandmother lost her balance.

  “Lucy, dear, would you bring my smelling salts? I’m feeling a little dizzy. They will help.”

  Lucy turned to get the jar of salts. She picked it up and heard a thud from behind. Turning, she saw her grandmother was on the floor. “Grandmother!” She hastily put down the salts and the leather journal, then ran to grandmother’s side. Her grandmother lay slumped with her face buried beneath her hair. Lucy gently pushed the hair off her face. “Grandmother,” she said softly.

  Her grandmother moaned.

  “I’m going to get help.”

  Before she could get to her feet, her grandmother grabbed her hand.

  “Don’t bother, dear. Just help me into bed.”

  Lucy hesitated.

  “Please. I’m an old woman and should’ve grabbed my cane. Nothing is broken.”

  “Yes, Grandmother.” Lucy took her grandmother’s outstretched hands and helped her to her feet. Then she wrapped an arm around the old woman’s waist and led her to the bed. Grandmother Agatha leaned forward, getting in and Lucy pulled the covers over her. “Thank you, Lucy.” Her grandmother smiled but closed her eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” Lucy was unsure what to do next. “Did you still want the salts?”

  “No, I’d better rest. I’m very tired. We’ll finish our talk on the morrow.”

  Lucy bent over her grandmother and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight.”

  Her grandmother mumbled something incoherent.

  Lucy snuffed the light and carefully made her way to her room. Harriet was there, waiting. “Sorry to keep you up so late,” Lucy said, sitting in front of her mirror.

  Harriet came over. “Glad t’ be o’ service.” She began removing the daisies from Lucy’s hair and set them on the table. “Is Lady Agatha well?”

  “I think so,” Lucy answered, worried.

  “Tis my hope she is.” Harriet took the final daisy from Lucy’s hair. “After you left the kitchen Sabrina tol’ us tonight was the first time she tasted a sweet. It was also the first time an employer treated her like more than a mangy dog.” Harriet’s face was full of adoration.

  “Well I hope she gets to try many more,” Lucy said.

  “You realize what’s happened, don’ you?”

  “What?” Lucy asked, watching Harriet’s face in the mirror.

  Harriet brushed out her long hair. “Tis obvious she worships you.”

  “Well isn’t that how you feel too?” Lucy teased.

  Harriet smiled. “Sometimes I think of you as the sister I had before she died. She was strong willed, arrogant, but had a heart of gold. That is you, Miss.”

  “Thank you, Harriet.” Occasionally, Lucy forgot Harriet had a life outside of the Channing household. Even though Lucy’s siblings were much younger, she couldn’t imagine one of them dying.

  Her maid lowered her head. “Have I offended you?”

  Lucy came around the chair and hugged her. “No. Not at all. And I hope you know how grateful I am for all you do.”

  “Yes’m.” She curtsied, then spun Lucy so she could help her out of her dress and into her nightclothes. When Lucy was ready, Harriet turned down her covers. “Would you like a brick tonight?”

  Lucy situated herself and pulled the covers under her arms. “No, thank you.”

  “Very well. Good night.” Harriet snuffed the lights.

  “See you in the morning.”

  Lucy woke to the sounds of shouting. Harriet rushed into the room and pulled open the thick drapes. “It’s your grandmother, Lucy. Get up.” Harriet ran to the closet and pulled out a primrose day dress.

  Lucy put it on as quickly as possible.

  Harriet hooked it up and then grabbed the matching shoes.

  Lucy ran to the door.

  “Wait, your hair!”

  “Not now.” Lucy sprinted to her grandmother’s bedroom. Inside the family doctor was talking to Lucy’s mother and father quietly. Ellen and Beaufort were on the other side of the room holding each other. Lucy went over to her grandmother’s bed. She looked peaceful; her hair fanned out around her. Her face soft. She looked asleep. Lucy reached out and touched her grandmother’s forehead, but her grandmother was cold. So cold.

  “She’s dead, Lucy. Granny died,” Ellen said through her tears. Beaufort, trying to be brave, just nodded. His lips were pinched tight as if he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t cry if he opened his mouth.

  Lucy sank to the floor. “What happened?”

  “Get off the floor, Lucy. It is unbecoming of a lady,” her mother said, sounding annoyed.

  Lucy heard her mother, but she
couldn’t move. Her grandmother was the most important person in her life and now she was gone. Lucy’s heart hurt. Ached like someone reached inside her chest and squeezed. How was it possible her grandmother died? Why did it happened? Her grandmother told her not to get help last night. Did she know she was going to die? The pain inside Lucy’s body escalated. The squeezing got stronger. If the invisible hands gripped any tighter, her heart would surely burst. Grandmother. Grandmother. Grandmother.

  “I’ll help her.” Dashel came over and lifted Lucy into his arms.

  Lucy knew she was crying. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. Taste the saltiness on her lips.

  “Shhhh, I’ve got you.” Dashel carried her over to the chaise and lay her down.

  “What’s Dashel doing here?” Kathryn asked.

  “I sent Patrick to fetch him, mother,” Ellen said, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I had a feeling Lucy would need him.” A sob escaped her throat.

  “The woman was old. It was her time to die,” Lucy’s mother quipped.

  That snapped Lucy out of her sorrow. “Shut up, Mother. How dare you speak about Grandmother that way?” The instant of anger quickly transformed back into sadness. “She was wonderful, kind, and caring.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that everyone dies. No one can escape time,” her mother said, but her face softened. “But you are right. She was those things to you.”

  The sentiment surprised Lucy and she took her mother’s hand. “I miss her already.”

  Dashel took Lucy’s other hand and patted it. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

  “It’ll be alright, child,” her mother added.

  7

  COUNTESS OF VEGA

  It was the perfect day for a funeral. Thick clouds covered the sky. The air was chilly, and a slight drizzle fell, as though the whole of the Earth cried over the death of Lady Agatha too.

  The clergyman, Grant Miller officiated the services, which were held in the small church on the Sothersby estate two weeks after Agatha’s death.

  The church was originally built in the mid-seventeen hundreds and rebuilt after a fire two decades ago using thick stone and mortar created from a mixture of mud, rock and hay. Inside the ground was hard-packed dirt. Twenty rows of pews, ten on each side with a throughway down the middle, took up most of the space. The pews were made of oak that had been sanded and covered in lacquer to make them shine. A stained glass window shaped like a cross let in some of the somber afternoon light. Candles burned in candelabras beneath the window and lined the wall behind the pulpit. Huge sprays of flowers stood on either side of the deep cherry wood casket while a spray of hothouse roses covered the top.

  After a prayer, Ellen and Beaufort sang a haunting hymn. His tenor combined with her soprano melded together beautifully. The song brought the entire congregation to tears. Seth, Lucy’s uncle said a few words. Lucy had only met him once. He spoke softly about when he was younger, and it struck Lucy how different he looked from her mother. His hair was the color of the setting sun, a red-orange. Freckles covered his face and hands. Lucy guessed the freckles were everywhere.

  No one from her deceased husband’s side of the family came. It was strange. How could they not come? Lucy didn’t even know whether Agatha’s husband had siblings.

  After Seth finished the priest spoke about life and death and the afterlife. He told the congregation that Agatha watched over her family.

  Lucy wanted to believe him, but she didn’t.

  When the service ended, the casket containing the remains of Agatha Polenska, the Countess of Vega was taken to the family’s cemetery and placed in the ground.

  Lucy couldn’t stop crying. She was grateful Dashel was there.

  Once the last guest left, Dashel took Lucy’s hand. “Why don’t you come back to the house? It’ll be dark soon and you’re wet-through.”

  Lucy used a handkerchief Dashel gave her to dab at her swollen eyes. Her cloak and mourning dress were indeed soaked through and damp. Her feet were numb with cold, but she wasn’t ready to leave. “Go ahead. I want a few moments alone with my grandmother. Then I’ll be along shortly.”

  Dashel kissed her hand before taking his leave.

  She nodded, releasing his hand.

  As the sun set a thick mist rolled through the gravestones. It swirled around her feet like ghosts.

  “Grandmother?” she whispered. The mist seemed to respond to her voice and grew thicker, moving up past her waist. The sound of a bird calling made her skin prickle. There was a crack, like someone stepped on an old stick. She turned toward the sound as a figure rose out of the mist and came toward her. “Is that you?” Lucy asked.

  She wasn’t afraid. The idea of ghosts never terrified her. While in school she heard plenty of ghost stories, but they weren’t frightening, just sad. “Talk to me. You said you had so much to tell me.”

  The apparition came closer and Lucy squinted against the darkening sky. She couldn’t tell whether it was a man or woman.

  “I’m here, Grandmother,” she called, raising a hand.

  As the form grew closer, she realized it was much too tall to be her grandmother. It also walked after the manner of a confident man. A big man. Bigger than any she ever saw. As it moved, the form appeared to steal the light, bringing an impenetrable darkness.

  When the figure was ten feet away, it stopped and looked around as though searching for something. Lucy could make out fingers, definition on its shoulders and chest. It turned again to face her. Twin lights of blood red flashed in the otherwise empty eye sockets.

  Lucy began to tremble, her feet frozen in place.

  It lifted one arm, pointing at her and she feared her terror would drive her mad.

  The figure opened its mouth and darkness flew out like blackbirds, heading toward her. Lucy was never a fainter, but now seemed like an appropriate time. Her knees dropped to the ground. A sob broke through the stillness. Her hands clenched the mud and her hair fell into her eyes.

  “Leave her, Apep,” a being said as it grew from the ground.

  Lucy raised her head. Wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve she saw a woman hovering off the ground. She was dressed in a spring green dress that tied at the waist and had long auburn hair that danced like sunlight.

  “Hathor,” the dark being responded.

  “Who are you?” Lucy tried to ask, but she felt her body falling.

  In the distance someone called her name.

  “I’m here,” Lucy said.

  Arms surrounded her body and she was being lifted. “I’ve got you.”

  8

  GRANDMOTHER’S JOURNALS

  Lucy woke in her bed. The wet clothes she wore to the funeral were gone and she had on a clean nightdress. Her hair, which she wore up in a tight bun yesterday now rested around her head in soft brown curls.

  “Miss, you’re awake?” Harriet came over to Lucy’s bed, her hands clasped in front of her, worry scrunching her face.

  “It would seem so,” Lucy said, rolling onto her side, toward Harriet.

  Her maid wore her normal dowdy flower print with her hair tucked under a cap. But her face was pretty and had a sweet quality. “Patrick told me your horse is due to give birth anytime now,” Harriet said as she busied herself organizing Lucy’s room.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, Mother says she’s going to help Patrick deliver the foal.”

  “That would be a sight,” Lucy said softly. It was months since she rode.

  “Would you like something to eat? Perhaps some hot chocolate and toast?” When Lucy didn’t respond right away, she continued, “Your family is down to supper. I can help you dress if’n you should like to join them. I believe Mother prepared pheasant with new—”

  “I’ll stay here.” The thought of going down and socializing made Lucy’s already sour stomach turn downright sickly.

  “Toast and hot chocolate would be lovely, thank you Harriet.”

  Her maid curts
ied and started for the door, then stopped. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Your mother dropped off this wooden box while you slept. Would you like to take a look?” Harriet waited.

  “What’s in it?” Lucy asked.

  “It’s tied so I didn’t open it.” She lifted the box. “But there’s a note from your grandmother.” She raised her hazel eyes hopefully.

  “Really?” That perked her up.

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Lucy sat up and smoothed the covers on her lap. “Then yes, I would like to see it.”

  Harriet brought the box over and set it on the bed in front of Lucy. “I’ll be back shortly with your breakfast.”

  “Thank you, Harriet.”

  “Course.” She curtsied and left.

  Lucy took a deep breath. The wooden box was tied closed with a burlap string. On a piece of ivory colored paper hanging from the string were the words: From Your Grandmother.

  Lucy’s hands shook as she untied it. What could her grandmother have left for her? She lifted the lid. Inside were at least a dozen leather bound books. She carefully picked up the one lying horizontally across the others and opened it. The ink on the first page was smeared in places, like her grandmother wrote the words in a hurry. Despite the smudges, the words across the top were easy to read.

  Dearest Lucy,

  If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m gone. Please don’t be sad. My death was inevitable. Even the most highly trained doctors advised there was nothing to be done. I’ve accepted my fate, as should you. Please know my darling, I’ve lived not just one but two big lives. I’ve loved deeply, travelled extensively, and seen more than you could possibly imagine. My life has been more than full. There were even times when I believed I didn’t deserve so much.

  If you wish to understand what I’m talking about, who I truly was, and how I lived, read my journals. Perhaps you’ll even follow in my footsteps. You have the temperament for it. Whatever you decide, find a way to love wholly. And most importantly, know I’m always with you.