Chapter Six:

A Visit

Nine months later...

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It had been nine months since Clara moved into the attic. Nine months of fights, crying, screeching, and numerous pranks played on Linette by Harriet and Amelia. Nine months of her father turning the other way when Linette did something terrible or said something unkind to the maids. Nine months of Clara wishing that Linette would choke on her afternoon tea to save everyone else the trouble, but alas, that never happened.

Clara shivered and pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter, her breath crystallizing in the air in tiny white clouds as she attempted to read. A lot of things had changed in nine months, and unfortunately, the weather had been one of them.

It was now in the midst of winter and the drafty attic was only marginally better than standing outside. Every day for the past two months Clara had woken up to find her hands and lips blue from the cold, but there was little to be done except cover herself in more blankets.

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the door to the attic and Clara jumped in her seat, knocking the book to the ground with a thud.

"Clara, get down here! Your father wishes to speak to you!" Linette shouted, her voice ringing through the attic like the sound of a bell, a very loud and annoying bell.

"Coming, stepmother!" Clara called in answer, doing her best not to grimace as she stood up. Her back ached, and she was pretty sure her feet were frozen, but all the same, she made her way down the attic stairs.

"Good lord, I'm hobbling like an old woman," she muttered to herself as she reached the foot of the stairs. She opened the door slowly, making sure to straighten her posture before she came into view of her stepmother. Linette was standing on the other side of the door, her arms crossed and facial expression severe.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry up! Your father doesn't have all day!" Linette said, pulling Clara into the warm and well-lit upstairs hallway. Clara was confused for a moment before she remembered. Her father was leaving on a trip to meet with a duke from a neighboring kingdom that morning. In fact, she had thought he had already left.

"I thought he was supposed to leave at seven?"

"He didn't," Linette snapped, sounding far too aggravated over the subject. Weren't wives supposed to be happy when their husbands were around? But then again, Linette had never been the cheeriest of wives.

"Why not?" Clara dared to ask, earning herself a glare from Linette. Heaven forbid she ask questions!

"Get your head out of the clouds and actually look at them! It's been snowing since last night, and the roads are impassable unless you want to ride a horse and freeze to death." Clara looked at Linette in surprise. Had it been snowing? That at least explained why the attic had colder than usual overnight.

"What are you waiting for? Go on!" Linette said, giving her a shove in the direction of Clara's father's study. Stumbling, Clara moved to the study door, doing her best to right herself before knocking.

"Come in."

"Father?"

"Oh good, Clara. Just who I needed to see." Clara's father bustled around the room throwing odds and ends into a box that sat on his desk. It looked like he wouldn't have been ready to leave at seven that morning anyway, if the quickly accumulating pile on his desk was any indication.

"What do you need, Father?"

"As I'm sure you know, I'm going on a trip in just a moment. In fact, I'll be leaving as soon as Mr. Landon, Mr. Jones, and young Mr. Thomas have cleared the paths enough to get a horse through."

"You're going on horseback?"

"Yes, of course. It's the only thing that can get through the snow fast enough. A carriage would take days." Clara pursed her lips. Didn't her stepmother just say it was dangerous to ride on a horse in this?

"Isn't it a little cold for horseback?"

"My word, you're even starting to sound like Linette," her father said with a chuckle, not noticing Clara crinkle her nose in disgust. "It's too cold for everything at the moment dear, but that's not why I called you here. You see, with the men already busy with clearing away the snow, there's no one left to run errands except Mrs. Landon, and she's already out."

"You want me to run an errand?"

"Yes. You see, just down the road further into the woods there's a little cottage, an old woman lives there. Normally on the first snow we send her supplies and such, but with no one around to do it, I'm afraid it will have to be you who takes it."

"I thought we were the only ones this far from the village?"

"We're the only ones of noble birth this far from the village. The woman is not of noble birth," he said, and Clara watched his hurried packing with some trepidation. Mrs. Landon often took Clara with her to do errands with her when Clara was younger and they would always visit the families and people nearby. She would've heard of someone who lived out farther than them... wouldn't she?

"Where are the supplies I have to take?"

"In the kitchen, according to Mrs. Landon. She made the basket herself this morning," her father answered, shutting the lid of his trunk with a slam. "Now, we both need to be on our way!" He said cheerily, and Clara nodded in answer, idling awkwardly by the door. Was that a dismissal or something else? It didn't look like it. Her father leaned against his desk, watching her with a strange expression on his face. Clara shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"You look so much like your mother," he finally said, his voice coming out softer than normal. Stepping towards her, he took one of her hands in his own, squeezing it lightly. Clara could feel every individual wrinkle and crease, and she was shocked to find his grasp that was once firm and strong was now weak and light.

"Except the hair," Clara said, and her father gave her a small smile, nodding.

"You have no idea how glad I am you and Linette are getting along." Clara did her best not to betray her thoughts with her facial expressions, but she doubted he would've noticed as he was now looking at their hands.

"It is my greatest regret, you know, how I acted after your mother passed. I should've acted like the father you and your siblings needed me to be, but instead, I shut myself in here, too aggrieved to look at faces that reminded me so much of her. That's why I am so happy you have Linette now. She can be the parent I haven't been to you in such a long time."

"Father, you're not going to be gone that long, you still are and still can be my father. Plus it's not Linette's hair color I share, it's yours."

"Yes, yes. My apologies, Clara. You must forgive an old man his mutterings," her father said, sighing. "We both do need to go. Try to hurry, you need to stay warm on the way." He pressed a light kiss to the top of Clara's head and like that he was out the door, leaving Clara standing alone in his study.

He'd been a lot better since he married, Linette, but he still was as unobservant as ever. Shutting the door quietly behind her, Clara left the study, heading towards the kitchen to grab her cloak and the basket.

Once she had reached the kitchen, she put on her cloak and grabbed a hat from over the fireplace, not particularly caring that it wasn't a bonnet so, therefore, meant for a male. Picking up the basket filled to the brim with baked bread and homemade jams, she made her way for the door.

"Clara!" Suddenly, she was hit in the legs by a small body, nearly knocking her over. She swung her arms wildly to keep balance, just missing hitting Amelia in the head with the basket.

"Amelia? What are you doing?"

"Are you going outside? Oh please, can I come with you?" Harriet asked coming down the stairs and clutching onto Clara's cloak.

"No, you need to stay inside. It's cold out there."

"You're going outside."

"Only because Father asked me to run an errand for him, if I didn't have to, I would be happily curled up nice and warm with a book as my only company."

"You mean nice and cold and only the mice for company."

"Harriet!"

"What it's true! It's freezing in the attic! I don't know how you can handle it by yourself. Which is why we should come with you. So you don't have to bare the cold alone."

"If you come with me, I would be spending half the time convincing you not to run off, and the other half listening to you complaining of the consequences after you ran off," Clara quipped, gently unfolding Amelia's arms from around her body. "I need to go quickly in case the snow gets any worse."

"Alright," Harriet said, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing a piece of curly red hair out of her face. "But can you play with us when you get back?"

"Yes, I can. Now I must be going, please stay inside," Clara urged and both girls nodded. With that Clara went out the front door, trying not to stiffen when she was met by the blistering cold winds.

Outside it may have looked like a winter wonderland, but it was anything but. Almost an hour after trudging through much snow, Clara was still unsure of where the house was. That was one of the faults in her Father's request. He'd never actually told her where to look.

"I wish I could actually know where I'm going," she muttered to herself, looking down briefly as she stepped over a fallen tree branch. As she looked back up Clara came to a quick halt. Where there was only snow seconds ago, was now a path. Following the path with her eyes, she saw that not so far away was a little cottage nestled in what probably was an open meadow in the summertime.

She hesitated and then started on her way to the cottage. It was strange. Wouldn't she have seen the house before hand? As she got closer, she noticed smoke was coming out of the chimney and the windows glowed, bringing yellow light into the very white and gray world.

Reaching the front door, she knocked on it, taking in everything. This didn't seem like the house of a peasant woman. Sure, it was a cottage, but the paint of the door was a deep red, a crimson she'd only seen in the innermost petals of roses. In fact, the paint on the windows and the walls looked brand new, like they were only painted yesterday.

The door swung open, and Clara did a small jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was a wizened old woman with hair as white as the freshly fallen snow and eyes the color of robin's eggs.

"And who might you be?" The woman asked, her voice hoarse.

"Clara Corden. I'm the daughter of-"

"Katherine Corden, yes, yes, I can see it now. You look just like your mother. Except for the hair and eyes of course," the woman peered at the basket in Clara's hands. "I see you've brought the basket. I was wondering when someone would be on their way," the woman stepped back from the doorway and walked farther into the house. "Please do come in."

Clara followed the woman into the house, closing the door behind her. Inside the house was interesting, to say the least. Everywhere she turned there were stuffed birds of all kinds, and the colors of the decorating scheme were lime green and a bright yellow. Looking at the walls almost made her eyes hurt.

"Oh, come, take a seat. You're in luck, I'd just made tea," the woman said, motioning with a withered hand towards one of the plump pea-soup green armchairs. "Now tell me about yourself. You must be how old now?"

"Thank you," Clara said as she took the cup of tea, noticing that it had pictures of little hummingbirds on the china. "I'm fifteen but I'll be sixteen within a month."

"Good, good! I remember your mother at that age. Such a sweetheart she was. Always so kind and helpful. She was the one who insisted on the basket delivery, you know."

"You knew my mother?" Clara asked, taking a sip of her tea. She almost couldn't swallow it. It was a terrible herbal blend that reminded her of the time she'd eaten grass on a bet from one of the village children.

"Why, yes, I'd known her since she was a little girl, younger than you are now actually." The woman paused to take a sip of her own tea, seeming to enjoy it far more than Clara was. "I was the one who taught your mother how to sew actually." Clara raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"You must have known her very well."

"Yes, I did. I was so upset when I heard she had passed. She was like a daughter to me." The woman's face turned sour. "I was a different kind of upset when I heard of your father's remarriage." The woman gave Clara a knowing look, her blue eyes hard and insightful. "Is she a nice woman?" Clara paused, trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth.

"She can be." That at least wasn't a lie. The woman nodded sagely, and Clara glanced towards one of the windows, startled to see that it was darker outside than before. "I'm terribly sorry, but I really must be going. It's going to be dark soon and I don't want to be stranded in the woods." Clara rose to her feet, and the woman stood up as well.

"Don't worry, you won't get lost," the woman responded, leading the way to the door. "It was wonderful to meet you, Clara."

"It was wonderful to meet you as well,-oh, I ah, never learned your name," Clara admitted feeling embarrassed.

"Your father didn't tell you." The way the woman said it didn't sound like a question. "My name is Gardenia Hedgworth."

"Nice to meet you," Clara said, inclining her head slightly. "Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime," Gardenia answered, "Try to get home safely!" Clara nodded, turning towards the forest. The next thing she knew she was standing in the middle of a clearing, neither the house nor Gardenia anywhere in sight.

"What? Where did it go?" Clara murmured, spinning around to see if she could find the house, but all she was met with were more snow covered pine trees. Even the path she had followed to the house was gone. This was all very strange... Looking up at the sky, she noticed it was darker than it was before she had left Gardenia's house, and she frowned. It didn't take less than five minutes for it to get this dark. It normally took hours.

Taking in the forest around her, Clara had a moment of panic. She didn't know which direction her house was in! Just as she was about to start searching, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a path, made from footprints that looked very much like her own. Relief bubbled up inside her. All she had to do was follow the footprints.

Soon she was trudging along, and within less than half an hour she had reached her backyard, but something didn't make sense. Turning to look at the path she had just came through she realized that it looked wholly unfamiliar. She had taken a different path into the woods, on the other side of the backyard, so how had her footprints gotten here?

"Clara, you're back!" Harriet called, and Clara turned to see her waving from the back steps. "That took forever! You were gone seven hours! You completely missed lunch!"

"What?" Clara said, and Harriet nodded as Clara walked up the steps, stepping into the house after Harriet.

"You were gone ages! Me and Amelia were about to ask Linette if we could go looking for you. Anyway, now that you're back you can come play with us-"

"Miss Clara, there is a messenger in the foyer for you." It was Mrs. Landon and both Harriet and Clara stopped.

"I'll go see what it is," she said moving towards the foyer. Once she walked into the room she was met by the sight of a young man clutching his hat nervously, his hair sweat soaked and stringy. His cheeks were still red from being outside.

"Are you Miss Clara Corden?"

"I am. Do you have a message for me?"

"Yes." The man handed her a piece of parchment. "It's from the Duke of Haverford. It's about your father, miss. He fell off of his horse not halfway through his journey. 'He's in pretty bad shape."

Just like that all thoughts of her mysterious morning and the strange paths flew out of her head.

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Comment and Vote! Any guesses on what's up with this Gardenia woman? Let me know in the comments below!