As I started to relax, and release the anxiety that had crept up, a knock at my door caused me to curse under my breath. I couldn't believe it. Why couldn't he just back off for a minute? Had a minute even gone by? I continued cursing as I grabbed both door knobs at once, and flung them open. Sun Paw flinched backward when she saw my face in a half snarl.
“Oh, Sun Paw, it’s you. I thought you were… someone else.” I said, to my chagrin. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” I started to giggle out of embarrassment as she walked into the sitting room.
I stuck my head into the hallway, peering to see if Evan was still around. The hall was dim and vacant. I closed the doors, and faced Sun Paw, who looked at me strangely. I was a little tired of everyone's odd facial expressions every time I did anything.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked, thoroughly annoyed, again. I wasn’t annoyed with poor Sun Paw, but she would have to be the recipient of my pissedoff mood for the moment.
“No, Miss Cordelia, I have come to deliver this.” She handed me a small sealed envelope with just my name addressed on the front of it.
“Thank you, Sun Paw. Is there anything else?” I asked, dismissing her as I practically snatched the thin envelope, and cupped it into my hand. I was prepared to guard it with my life.
“No, Miss.” Sun Paw said, backing away and making a quick exit.
The drum beating in my chest seemed loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house. Hastily, I locked my doors, sat on the chaise, and tore open the envelope. I yanked the note out and began to read.
Dearest Cordelia,
I request the pleasure of your company tomorrow afternoon at 1’oclock. I look forward to meeting with you.
Fondly,
Gerald Bergnum III
I read the note over and over, tracing the perfect penmanship with my index finger. Finally, I would meet Gerald.
TwentyOne
Old Acquaintances
“Ouch!” I shouted, and then marveled at how quickly the pain subsided.
“Just stay still.” Bethany scolded, as Miss Cuttwright, the seamstress, mistook me for a pin cushion.
Miss Cuttwright, had a very plain exterior, and appeared to be in her midthirties. She was considered a spinster because she had never married. In the future she would be considered a career woman. I thought her name was perfectly fitting for her profession. I had to giggle a bit when Bethany first introduced us. She was in the process of fitting me for my Masquerade Ball gown.
“Ouch.” I yelped again, and turned around to face Miss Cuttwright. “Do you mind?” Even though the pain subsided quickly, initially it hurt like hell.
“Please forgive me Miss Tieron, but you must stay still.”
“I’m not moving.” I said, correcting her through clenched teeth.
“Stop fidgeting.” Bethany reprimanded me again, as she sat in one of the velvet tufted chairs, working on a piece of needle point. If someone had told me, that Bethany could needle point two weeks ago, I would have laughed pretty damn loudly in their face. Even now it seemed strange although, this was the Victorian era where needle point, I suppose, was the craze. It was rather odd really. Bethany, a demigod, who I’d seen do some incredibly amazing things was sitting, and gracefully stitching an intricate floral pattern into a piece of fabric about the size of a handkerchief.
“I’m not fidgeting” I said over my shoulder. “I’m not moving at all. She just keeps sticking me.” Miss Cuttwright was really pissing me off. She was acting more like a witch doctor than a seamstress, and inflicting pain on her life sized voodoo doll.
“Ouch! Are we done?” I practically yelled. That time I was sure she drew blood. I really needed some powers to block the initial pain.
Bethany sighed. “Miss Cuttwright, are you about finished?
“Yes, Miss Capius,” Miss Cuttwright said, packing up her tools and supplies into her carpetbag. She slipped the muslin dress, a stiff linen prototype of my dress which she will use as a guide when making my actual gown, over my head. I quickly stepped down from the foot stool, and threw my day dress back on. I had to make a quick exit or I would be late for my visit with Gerald. I slipped out of Bethany’s sitting room while she handed Miss Cuttwright four heavy bolts of carefully chosen fabric, before she noticed me escaping. I bolted down the stairs.
Finally out of the house, and slightly out of breath, I stood in front of the Bergnum’s front door. The knocker on the door appeared larger since the last time I had stood on their front porch. The head of the lion looked ferocious and sinister; like a forewarning of what may be looming behind the door.
With trepidation, I knocked on the door then took a quick look behind me to check if anyone was spying on me. I stared at my house across the street while I waited. I thought about what happened there that night and shuddered at the memory of how the vampire had burst into flames then turned into cinders.
Suddenly, in my peripheral, a figure emerged from the west side of my house and stood in the front garden. He was dressed in all black with skin paler than the ivory handkerchief I had chosen to carry along with me in my drawstring purse. He looked directly at me, actually through me as he stood in the weeds that seemed to climb up his legs. The intensity of his eyes reminded me of the way Victor had glared at me when I waited for the light to change on the main street, wild but contained.
He began to move closer to the entrance gates as if he was trying to get a better look at me, moving in static as if he were made of currents. The dark clothing he wore, a gentleman’s suit – all black including the button down shirt, led me to believe that he was one of Victor’s disciples. They all seemed to share the same penchant for wearing clothing better suited for mourning. It was as if they wanted to disappear into the shadows; what they actually should avoid at all costs.
But this man came across as unusual and sinister. He was as chalky as a ghost where Victor’s disciples always appeared to be… alive. His movements were jumpy, not footsteps. He appeared closer to the gates of my house now, and his intense stare burrowed into my face like the sun. I wasn’t sure that I’d be keeping my appointment with Gerald. I was unsure that I could even make it out the Bergnum’s entrance gates before it was upon me; my first instinct was to run. Then I heard the door creak open behind me, and an ice cold chill filled the air, it literally felt like the temperature dropped fifty degrees from the warm eighty. I spun around to see a young man, probably a few years older than I, impeccably dressed as the sons of the aristocracy usually were these days. He had golden blond hair the color of corn silk, and stared down at me with strange vacant eyes. I felt like I’d been caught trespassing on sacred ground or something.
I turned to see if the darkly attired man came out of the vine encrusted gates, but to my surprise he was gone as if the door being opened had scared him away. I turned back around, and goose bumps rose on my skin. The goose bumps weren’t from the appearance of the man across the street, or from his quick departure. The hairs on the back of my neck had risen from that enlightenment. I was freezing in my three quarter sleeve, linen and lace dress, and it was all due to the arctic blast that came with the Bergnum’s door being opened. The cold air was coming from inside the Bergnum estate.
I did my best to shake off the image of the disappearing phantom, and tried to focus on the boy standing right in front of me, the boy who I hoped would help me to remember who I was.
For a few seconds, we both stood there, motionless, staring at each other. I couldn’t help but wonder if he too had seen the man gawking at me from the deserted garden. I was about to speak but he spoke first. “Well...well... well..., hello Cordelia. It’s good of you to visit.” An impish smile spread across his face. It wasn’t exactly the greeting I had been expecting.
“Hello Gerald.” I said, cheerfully not wanting to show any indication of how nervous I was. I watched as a peculiar look washed over his handsome face.
Even though I had only seen Gerald once from across the length of two hug
e yards, Gerald looked less angelic than I had expected. There was a mischievous look to him as if he should be watched carefully, or you’d run the risk of ending up with a strategically placed rattlesnake or frog in your pocket.
“Gerald? Dear girl, has it been that long? Do you not recognize me?” He said leaning his head to one side, raising an eyebrow in a sharp arc.
As he spoke, another young man suddenly appeared beside him in the door way. The realization hit me like a thud on the head. The second boy was definitely younger with brighter, gentler brown eyes. His hair was a paler shade of corn silk. He was Gerald and he was standing in the doorway beside his older brother, Winston – his dead older brother. Gerald gave no indication that he knew that his brother was standing right next to him. He couldn’t see Winston. The remarkable thing was that I could. The morbidity of this revelation nearly sent me sprinting from the Bergnum’s property. Winston watched me closely with a smirk surfacing across his face.
Winston looked only a couple years older than Gerald. Even though Gerald was a couple inches taller than Winston, the brothers resembled each other so much that they could possibly pass for twins. They both towered a few inches over six feet. But unlike his younger brother's honest eyes, his were bleak with no spark, and without depth. I remembered why Winston was dead. He had been a laudanum junkie, and after a couple of years of abusing the serum, he died tragically of an overdose.
“Cordelia.” Gerald’s voice was crisp yet boyish, sounding much softer than Winston’s. “I’m the only one here and I didn't hear anyone knock at the door.”
“Oh… ” I didn't know what to say as Gerald wondered how I was standing in his doorway with the door wide open. I eyed Winston who was stifling a wicked chuckle, obviously amused by his brother’s lack of understanding of the tricks of the dead. “I knocked a couple of times. When no one answered, I tried the doorknob, and found the door open.” I lied, as my voice quivered a bit from the icy air that Gerald didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.” I added looking over at Winston, who lost it and threw his head back and laughed out load. I couldn’t help but stare at him.
Gerald followed my eyes to where his brother was standing, and saw nothing but the oaken door, and then looked back at me oddly.
“Strange.” Gerald mused, while he stood appraising me for a long moment. “How rude of me, please come in, Cordelia. May I take your parasol?” Gerald said, realizing that this was poor behavior for a host. Luckily, he seemed too distracted by my presence to care much about doors being left open.
“Yes, thank you.” I handed Gerald my parasol, and we locked eyes for a short, awkward, yet bizarrely familiar moment. Gerald and I stood about a foot apart and I could actually remember the smoothness of his cheek – the warmth of it. It was a tender feeling, and it was dear to my heart; a genuine memory. Gerald finally broke the stare.
“Although it is a rather warm day, Rutherford has driven my grandmother into town, therefore I’m home alone. You do recall how grandmother enjoys her trips into town, at least once a week, to watch the less fortunate mill around.” A nervous chortle escaped his lips. I nodded a ‘yes’ but didn’t remember Gerald’s grandmother at all.
“Please, shall we go into the parlor? There is tea waiting.” Gerald ushered me into the spacious room. It was a lovely room, full of pretty much the same Victorian style furnishing, and a variety of gilt framed paintings and photographs. I was as if the Bergnum’s and the Capius’ shared the same interior decorator – one with a flair for velvet, doilies, and ferns.
I stopped at a table which was displayed with numerous gilt framed photographs, which I guessed to be Gerald's family tree. I spotted a photo of him where he appeared to be close to the age he was now. The picture was of course in black and white but you could still see the warm color in his cheeks and the softness of his eyes. He was extremely handsome in a very boyish way. I also spotted a photo of Winston. In the photo he looked to be in his early teens. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes seemed distracted, but he looked pleasant enough, handsome but rougher around the edges. It must have been the prelaudanum and prefloozy chasing years.
“You'll notice that not very much has changed.” Gerald said, motioning for me to take a seat on the large crimson, patterned, velvet sofa. I could hear Winston's feet shuffling behind us. I refused to look at him. I didn't want to be distracted. He was freaking me out at this point, and I couldn’t let Gerald think that something was wrong.
I sat down on one of the sofas while Gerald poured freshly brewed tea. Normally the idea of sipping steaming hot tea in this weather, with only the comfort of my fancy hand fan and no air conditioning, would have been insufferable, but it was the perfect choice with the frigid air that seemed to only exist in this house.
Finally, Gerald sat down on the sofa, just a few inches from where I was sitting. Winston stood tall and lean in a gray suit in front of the large bay windows as if he was spying on the house directly across the street – my house. I eagerly sipped the tasteless tea hoping that it would assist in calming my nerves. The tea scorched the tip of my tongue. I stifled the urge to swear, and tried to disguise my pain with a dab of my handkerchief to the corners of my mouth, all while Gerald observed me on the sly, blowing into his teacup. Ah, yes, the pain subsided, thankfully.
“Are you cold?” Gerald asked, eyeing me closely with his head cocked to one side, as I rubbed my upper arms with my hands. Gerald couldn't feel the arctic chill of his deceased brother's presence. Then it hit me. It made perfect sense. It had been him. It was the back of Winston’s pale blond head that I had glimpsed heading out of my sitting room and out onto my balcony, my first night at the Capius’ mansion. I remembered how the room’s temperature had plummeted while I read through my journals. The arctic blast was the same now.
“No. I'm fine.”
“Really? It is rather chilly in this room right now, but the chill seems to come and go in this drafty house. It hasn’t always been this way. We can move into another room if you like, but I’m afraid the draft moves along with me sometimes. I can’t seem to escape it at times.”
“No, I mean yes, I’m fine, and the chill doesn’t bother me that much.”
“My grandmother, who wasn’t always the superstitious type, actually believes it’s a ghost, my father or perhaps, my older brother.” Gerald chuckled. “I believe it’s her old age, and possibly the fear of dying.” Gerald should listen to his grandmother more, I thought. Her inkling was dead on, no pun intended.
“Gerald doesn't know where you’ve really been. Dare you tell him?” Winston challenged, while he still held his pose by the window. “He actually believes that you have been living in Paris. I pity my gullible baby brother, but, then again, how could he know?” I was shocked by Winston's interjection concerning my make believe trip to France. I was more so astounded by how much he knew about me. It’s startling to say the least. What else does he know? I turned around to face him, but his eyes were still fixed on my house.
“My brother doesn't know that you have absolutely no recollection of him, although he has not for one single moment, of every day since you have been away, stopped pining for you.” Winston sneered.
I turned my gaze back to Gerald. He stared at the spot where Winston stood. I almost thought for a second that he had heard his dead brother’s comments. But he hadn’t, thankfully.
“Since your house has been put up for sale, does this mean your parents don’t plan to return to Nickel City? Will you be staying with the Capius family permanently?” Gerald asked, as Winston grunted obscenely.
Sale? Why was my house up for sale?
Even though my parents were dead, I couldn’t imagine why my house had been put up for sale, if I was expected to return. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t want to appear unaware of this new information, so I decided to answer his second question instead. At this point I didn't know what I’d find out about myself by visiting Gerald. It would take forever to find anything
out with the conversation continuing down this route.
“My parents love France. They plan to visit as much as they can. Father has a lot of work there. I'm with the Capius' for now. They are my family. I like it there. I have my own room.” What the heck was that all about? Why was I rambling?
“I see.” Gerald said, looking uneasy. His face fell when I mentioned that I would be staying with the Capius’. He looked crushed. It was totally understandable. Evan was the competition, and I just announced that the competition and I were living under the same roof. This wasn’t going well.
Then Gerald decided to change the subject.
“Tell me about your stay in Paris? I had kind of hoped to hear from you… at some point or another,” he said, taking a sip from his teacup. I noticed that Gerald’s hands were trembling. His tan face was turning a reddish rose, and he wasn’t making any eye contact with me as he spoke. He wasn’t wasting any time with laying on the guilt trip.
“I enjoyed my time there, but it wasn’t anything special. I’m sorry that I didn’t keep in touch. I lost track of time, I guess. How were things here while I was away?” I asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation, and hoping he wouldn't require more details about my fake trip. I didn’t want to have to keep lying. But Gerald wasn’t going to be steered away that easily.
“I'm sorry to hear that your stay wasn’t special. I would have expected it to be worth your while being that you disappeared that night without as much as a goodbye. I would think that it was something quite special that took you there and kept you there without any correspondence or so much as a word for two entire years.” Gerald’s tone was somewhat icy, and chilled me to the core, more so than his brother’s morbid presence.
I couldn't think of anything to say. Everything wasn’t as it seemed. Gerald thought I hadn’t kept in touch on purpose. If I could only tell him the truth, that I was brainwashed, sent into the future to live for the last two years, and have returned now feeling like an amnesiac. If only I could explain, and then maybe he would understand and not hate me right now.
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