tw: death of a child

The doors slid open to reveal three carriages across the courtyard, one neatly parked, while the other two looked as if they were on the verge of crashing into one another.

The former carriage was crafted using polished, black wood and embellished with gold, and the sun in splendour crest of House Chauvelot could be seen very clearly at the side of the carriage. I smiled, anticipating greatly to see my mother-in-law. The carriage doors swung open, and the first to exit was my husband, and two little children quickly followed suit. 

Anna-Maria had grown quite considerably, and she now stood by my elbow, which is quite a feat considering her young age. Her personality however, remained the same. Disinterested black eyes gazed around the estate, and even if she did feel awe upon seeing the vast Winterbourne Castle, she surely hid it well. Standing next to her was little Edgar, and unlike his younger sister, he actually showed enthusiasm, albeit a bit too much. He smiled widely, grinning nonstop, but his eyes were blank and empty. 

         "Lady Anne," Anna-Maria greeted courteously, although her cold countenance remained. 

        "I trust you have been well, Maria ?" I said warmly in return. Somehow, I felt inclined to treat this little girl nicely, maybe due to the fact that both she and I had been resurrected using the same method, and this similarity drew me closer to her.

        "Not quite," she answered blatantly. "Mother has forced me to take embroidery and painting lessons, but I am very certain that I would never have the use for that."

        "That is quite unfortunate," I said to her. "Well, what do you want to learn, Maria ?"

        "Accounting," she replied, much to my surprise. "When I am older, I shall open ten businesses under my name, and what is the use for embroidery and painting then ? I keep telling this to Mother but she would not listen."

         "Enough Maria !" I heard a sharp voice reprimand, and the little girl immediately went silent, albeit reluctantly. I turned around to see Anna-Claudia, hands folded arrogantly as strutted over and very unwillingly greeted me, her head barely bowed as she did so. 

This was Rhyland, and she is a nobody here but a simple Alice Durant, and how could she outrank the Duchess of Cindertrappe ? I relished in this realisation as I simply nodded at her, not even bothering to speak.

I noticed my mother-in-law stepping down from the carriage, and I hastily walked over to her. Her face lit up when she saw me, and a wide smile bloomed on her lips.

       "Oh, my dear Anne !" she exclaimed as her pulled me into a hug. "Have you been well ? Did you drink the medicine that I sent to you ?"

       "I did, Mother," I replied, savouring her embrace. During the months I spent here in Rhyland, I realised that all throughout my life, I had been deprived of the love of a mother, and now I missed her greatly.

        "Let us go inside, Anne. This blaring heat isn't good for you," she said, grabbing my hand and hastily led me back into the hall. 

Meanwhile, Gilbert had to deal with our Moreau cousins, and along with them were the provincial McCarthy's. As he conversed about the military with our uncle, Cecily stood beside him, pale as a ghost as she stared at our cousin, Benedict. Her eyes slowly became red and teary, and her balled up fists trembled at her sides.

       "Excuse me for a moment, Mother," I quickly said as I rushed towards Cecily, who looked as if she were about to burst into tears any moment now. 

       "And which one is your wife ?" I heard Gilbert awkwardly ask as he looked at the two sweetfaced blonde haired women that stood on either sides of Benedict. Our cousin smiled smugly as he wrapped his arms around both of the women, and they immediately let out squeals of delight as he did so. 

       "Edith is my lawful wife, while Rachel is my mistress, but I love them equally," he said, almost drunkenly. "If Rachel is mad at me, I can go to Edith, and if Edith is mad at me, to Rachel I go ! Life is good this way, Bertie."

My brother frowned deeply as he shook his head. "If my wife is angry, I will ask for her forgiveness instead of seeking other women. But to each their own, I guess."

Benedict howled with laughter. "Don't jest, Bertie. Why deprive yourself of such pleasure ? If she were beautiful it would be a different story though, that is..." The last part was said very slowly, almost like a whisper, but judging on Gilbert's mortified expression, I suppose he did hear it.

Cecily inhaled sharply, and the tiniest of sobs escaped through her lips. She had ensured that her long hair would cover the birthmark completely, but of course everyone knew what she looked like. Even if they never saw her in person, word of how hideous she was had spread throughout the entire nation. It was a popular tale to tell-- a tyrannical prince killed off his blood brother in other to become king, and his daughter is subsequently born disfigured. People say that the gods above were disgusted by King Edward's crimes, and Cecily's disfigurement was a divine retribution for him. 

I was ready to tell Benedict off, but my brother stepped in much earlier. "Whether my wife is beautiful or not doesn't concern you, Benedict. Us being cousins does not give you the right to question or judge her. Now, will you excuse us."

Gilbert turned around, Cecily's little wrist clutched between his fingers. Looking at them side-by-side, the difference was indeed too great. My brother, so tall that he was a giant among men, with skin darkened from years under the sun, while Cecily looked like she just emerged from an icy lake, with cold blue eyes and whitish hair to match. They differed from each other greatly, but they were a perfect match in my eyes.

My brother quickly led her away, his eyes still glaring at Benedict furiously. I had thought that he would not bother to defend her, but indeed I had thought wrongly.

Later that afternoon, we were all seated at the long dining table, all waiting for the dishes to be brought out. The Moreaus had brought gooseberry pie, which we would later serve along with our own apple pie, while my mother-in-law had brought raspberry preserves, which looked a bit too unnaturally red.

        "Did you add anything into it, Mother ?" I asked suspiciously as I peered into the glass jar, and she smiled cheekily.

        "Only a bit of mellicansus root extract. It's good for replenishing blood."

Meanwhile, the McCarthy's had hauled over a barrel of red wine, and it sat silently at the end of the dining table, fading into obscurity. Baroness McCarthy had brought her many children along too, one of them being an adolescent girl who has taken a liking to my brother Gabriel. However, she was not as half as annoying as her little brother, who screamed at the top of his lungs constantly and stomped his feet like a brat.

Thankfully, the McCarthy's sat on the other end of the table, and I would not need to deal with any of those children. Cecily came over a bit later, her face flushed but her tears gone, and she slipped into the seat next to my mother-in-law, while Gilbert sat opposite her.

My mother-in-law turned around and glanced at the newcomer, and as she did, her eyes became as wide as saucepans, but they soon melted into a different emotion, which seemed almost like sympathy. 

        "Mother, this is my sister-in-law, the Lady Cecily," I quickly interjected. My mother-in-law nodded and smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness in her smile, which I found odd. I thought that she would treat Cecily coldly, but luckily she did not. 

       "How old are you this year, dear ?" she suddenly asked, and Cecily's cheeks instantly became red as she replied "Sixteen," in a very low voice. The dowager princess consort let out a sigh and frowned, but she did not say a word.

The feast began on a peaceful note, only occasionally interrupted by the Baron's little brat. Halfway through the main courses, the question was finally brought up.

       "Aunt, where is Lisbeth ?" 

It was Corinne who asked, and my mother's face darkened upon hearing the question. "Lisbeth is in confinement," she sputtered hastily. "I'm afraid she would not be joining us today."

       "Can't I go and see her ? It's been quite a while since I last saw her," Corinne negotiated, only to be shot down by my mother in a heartbeat.

       "You can't !" she exclaimed, a tad too loudly, and now all eyes were on her. My mother let out an awkward chuckle, saying, "It's not that I don't want you to see her, but she has been quite unwell lately. She wouldn't want you to catch a cold from her."

From across the table, Gilbert and I shared knowing glances. Physically, Lisbeth was perfectly healthy, but mentally she was not. However, the last conversation I shared with her did chill me to the bone. She sounded so sane, so calm, unlike her current self, who needed to be constantly sedated just to put her to sleep.

Corinne grudgingly silenced herself, and the feast continued in a state of pressure and unease. I was just about to put a spoonful of pudding into my mouth when I heard a loud slap, followed by a loud, echoing scream.

In an instant, chaos ensued, and all the attendees rushed to see what the commotion was. At the corner of the hall, I saw the little McCarthy girl from earlier, with a bright red handprint branding her pale skin. And right next to her was Anna-Maria, her face stoic and cold, her gaze unforgiving.

          "How dare you hit my daughter! Look, it has even left a mark!" the Baroness shrieked, running hastily on her short pudgy legs to examine her little baby's great injury. Shaking with fury, she discarded her daughter aside and focused all her rage on Anna-Maria, clamping both of her wrists tightly and rattling her little body like a ragdoll.

         "Who are your parents ? Do they know how rude and disrespectful you are ?" she shouted. A moment later however, her anger transformed into contempt, and she said, "Oh, you must not have parents! That's why you behave like a rabid animal, hitting at others as you please !"

The look on Anna-Maria's face was eerily calm however, and she stared at the Baroness, completely unfazed. Shocked by her indifference, the old crone immediately went silent, and her grip loosened. Anna-Maria quickly pulled her hands away while others onlooked in awe, and before the Baroness could recover from her shock, she delivered a loud, resounding slap on the older woman's face. 

I knew that Anna-Maria was a bold girl, but I never knew that she was this brash. The second her hands hit the Baroness's face, the older woman was instantly reawakened from her reverie, and she lunged out for the little girl, aiming for her throat.

          "This is the second time you've acted unseemly under the roofs of my home, Baroness !" my father's voice thundered, and the older woman shuddered simultaneously, but her grip on Anna-Maria's collar remained strong.

         "This insolent peasant girl just slapped my daughter, milord, and you reprimand me for acting unseemly? Perhaps you should have taught this girl how to behave towards those of higher rank than her." The baroness's words were slick and sharp, and I watched as Anna-Maria's face darken in rage. It was the very first time I ever saw her showing even a glimpse of emotion.

          "I am not a peasant girl !" she exclaimed loudly, face scrunched up in fury. Beside me, my mother-in-law let out a concerned gasp, but she could only watch on the sidelines, since at the moment, she was only Sofia Durant, the daughter of my grandfather, Henrik Winterbourne's cousin. Claudia too watched helplessly, wanting to step forward but not daring to do so.

         "Then who are you ?" the Baroness ridiculed. "Who are your parents ?"

She sneered venomously, relishing in Anna-Maria's inability to answer. The Baroness must be a very sad and lonely person, since picking fights with little girls seem to be enjoyable for her.

Anna-Maria's lip quivered and her eyes flickered over to her mother, then back to the Baroness's condescending smile. "I am Elaine," she eventually said. "Elaine Durant."

The Baroness and her many children erupted with laughter, my cousin Benedict chuckled with amusement, as if he were watching an animal on display, and Corinne was silently giggling to herself.

      "Durant ? I have never heard that name ! From which slum did you come from ?" my cousin Benedict's wife, Edith, mocked light heartedly. 

Edmund, who stood beside my father was tensing up, and he eventually said, "Is this the conduct of a noble family ? Finding joy in harassing a little girl !"

Embarassed, Benedict quieted down and reprimanded his wife, and Corinne concealed her reddened face behind a folding fan, but the Baroness was not satisfied. 

        "Your Grace, this little girl has injured a noble blooded girl ! She deserves to be punished heavily !" she cried. 

        "Why don't you ask your girl if she had hurt Elaine in the first place ? Perhaps Elaine's reaction was out of self defense!" my father interjected sharply.

        "That does not matter!" the Baroness retorted hotly. "She is a lowly peasant, and she should have never raised her hand against my Jillianne, no matter what the circumstances are. Even if Jillianne did hurt her, then she should have just endured it!"

It was at this point that I have had enough. Not caring about feelings or conduct, I walked straight towards the Baroness and smacked her right in the face, and while she was still in a state of shock, I pried her hands off of Anna-Maria's collar and roughly pushed her away.

I led Anna-Maria back to her grandmother, while the McCarthy's stared at me with disgust and disdain. The Baroness stood up slowly, one hand dramatically placed on her reddened cheek, eyes slowly welling up with tears.

        "Your Grace !" she cried out in disbelief. "You dare to hit me, the matriarch of a centuries old-"

        "Of course I dare," I sneered back, not giving her a chance to finish her sentence. "Am I not of higher rank than you, Baroness ?"

The Baron McCarthy, grey and weathered, finally stood up and shakily said, "The Duchess is abusing her position !"

My husband immediately stood up to my defense, and stepped forward to confront the Baron. "Be wary of what you say, Lord McCarthy. If I remember correctly, your wife said that a person with lower rank should just endure it if a person of higher rank mistreats them."

       "It is not the same !" he tried to argue.

       "Why is it not the same ?" Edmund retorted hotly. "Just because this little girl has no way to defend herself, because she has no one to stand up for her ? You want her to stand still like a statue while your precious daughter mistreats her ?"

I glanced at Anna-Maria, who silently stood beside her grandmother, face downcast and gloomy. Then, I looked at the belligerent Baroness and the spineless Baron, along with the wailing little Jillianne in the corner.

        "This entire matter could have been resolved as a quarrel between children, but you just had to bring up about ranks. Why Baroness, does it kill you if you don't remind others about your centuries old noble lineage everyday ?" my father said mockingly, eyes filled with ridicule.

Both husband and wife looked down at the floor in embarrassment, and the McCarthy children glanced around bewilderedly, confused as to why Mommy and Daddy were so ashamed. The loud, annoying little boy from earlier stopped running in circles around the hall and rushed towards his mother, saying, "Mommy, I want water! Now, Mommy, now!"

Everyone was silent, and the little boy's whines were all I could hear. Eventually, my father let out a tired sigh and said, "Well, it seems like he would dry up and shrivel if he does not get water soon. Let us return to the table now, lest young master McCarthy would suffer, and we surely would not want that."

I returned to the table calmly, blissfully ignoring the glowering Baroness McCarthy. Although I knew that slapping the Baroness would put me at the same level as her, I could not help it. Besides, occasionally stooping low to prove a point does not seem to be that bad to me. 

The red-faced Baron had ordered the servants to crack the wine barrel open, and immediately the smell of fine, aged wine began to permeat the hall. However, I was never too keen on alcohol, and the strong stench made my stomach turn. When a maidservant offered to pour some for me, I refused. 

She went ahead and poured some into Cecily's silver goblet, and when everyone raised their cups for a toast, I lifted my goblet full of water. Beside me, Cecily put the goblet's rim close to her lips, but she had not taken a single sip yet. She frowned, anxiously watching as everyone around her gulped down their drinks.

        "What's wrong ?" I asked.

Cecily turned to face me, her expression marred with fear and suspicion. "It smells odd, sister. Should I put it away ?"

Indeed, I noticed a slight discolouration on the silver goblet, and it had turned into the colour of brass, spreading from the rim and making its way into the wine. "Set it aside, Cecily," I whispered back.

Then, I heard the boy whining again, screaming and shouting at his pride-wounded mother. "I don't want this ! I want that wine !"

          "You can't have that Barty !" his sister Rachel retorted hastily, pulling away her goblet from the golden haired boy's pudgy hair. 

           "I want it !" the boy shrieked, his round features morphing into one of pure fury, and the hall fell into a state of chaos again as little Bartholomew began to assault every adult in the room, trying to take away their goblets of wine.

It was amusing to see, and I nonchalantly resumed eating the pudding that I had rudely left behind earlier. Little Bartholomew had rounded the long table twice by now, and I thought that he would eventually tire.

However, he did not. He finally noticed the fallen princess, the newcomer to the Winterbourne family. Of course, none of these mattered to little Bartholomew, but there was a goblet of wine just in from of her, filled to the brim with dark red liquid. Seemingly small and vulnerable, he was certain that she would not be able to fight. After all, she was already struggling to crack open the claw of a boiled crab, and he doubted that she would notice.

         "Mine !" he giggled ecstatically as he seized the wine goblet when Cecily was not looking, licking his lips in anticipation.

I turned around, mortified to see him downing the goblet's contents in a single gulp, his small lips pressed tightly against the rim. The Baroness waddled over to her son, grabbed the goblet and chucked it at the wall, laughing awkwardly at her son's behaviour, and everyone excused it as a little boy being naughty.

        "Oh, as a little boy I sneaked into my father's cellar all the time, as did you sister !" my uncle joked with my mother, and the mood inside the hall began to light up. I shook my head, breathing heavily as I watched little Bartholomew licking his lips triumphantly, and then I glanced at the goblet lying on the ground. It was completely empty. 

It was at this time that Cecily finally looked up from her plate and noticed that the goblet was gone, its contents gone down the throat of little Bartholomew. Her face immediately turned completely white as she abruptly stood up, turned around to see the grinning boy, his lips stained red from the wine. 

      "No !" she shouted, her voice full of anguish, her hands shaking uncontrollably. All eyes were on her, many of which were stares of confusion.

      "Calm down Cecily !" I hissed, tugging at her hands, but she shook her head, her gaze directed at the little boy.

      "Oh, sit down you insolent girl! Disrupting a meal like that, what lack of manners !" my mother spat, and at that moment, I finally saw it. My cousin Corinne, her face pale as a sheet, her lips quivering in anticipation. She kept stealing glances at Cecily, then back at the little boy. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and her hands were trembling.

        "No please ! Call a physician !" Cecily cried, her voice cracking as sobs began to travel up her throat, tears now freely rolling down her cheeks.

        "I said sit back down you wench !" my mother hissed, but Cecily blatantly ignored her.

        "He needs help! There was-"

She had not finished her sentence yet when a horrific, guttural sound of pure pain was released from the little boy's mouth, followed by several abrupt, hasty gasps for air before his throat was completely flooded with blood. Thick, warm blood leaked from every orifice of his body-- his eyes, ears, nostrils and anus. 

I felt Edmund's hands grabbing mine, ushering me further away from all the commotion, but I could still see it. Furthermore, I could still hear it. The Baroness's wails, the Baron screaming at his butler, asking when the physician would arrive.

Blood, as red as fine wine had pooled all over the little boy's body, soaking through his expensive new clothes. His more level-headed sister, Rachel, quickly tore away the clothing, afraid that her brother was probably bitten by a venomous asp or spider. 

         "I see no marking ! Oh poor Barty, what has happened to you ?" she wept, shaking pathetically as she cradled her baby brother, whose mouth was bubbling with blood. 

Unfortunately, bleeding profusely was not the poison's only effect. In Rachel's embrace, little Bartholomew became to convulse, his little arms and legs flailing around him like a scarecrow during windy summer months. His body was shaking like a catterpillar, his light brown eyes staring blankly ahead.

        "Someone restrain the poor boy !" my father shouted, and then he barked at the butler to go get some linen to gag the boy's mouth, fearing he would bite his tongue. 

The stunned Baroness could only comfort herself at the moment, so my aunt and his sister Rachel were the ones to restrain him, and at that exact moment, the butler arrived with the strips of linen. 

However, little Bartholomew stopped convulsing before they could wrap the linen around his lips, and he let out an anguished wail, which sounded like gurgling blood. He abruptly sat up, and as he did, he vomited out all the contents of his stomach onto his sister's gown. All sorts of chewed up pastries showered down onto Rachel McCarthy, spotted with pitch black bits of clotted blood. 

         "Barty!" Rachel screeched, eyes wide in horror as she watched the thick, black blood flow down her brother's chin like hot liquorice. 

        "It's so painful, Rachel," the little boy croaked out, staring at his sister with blood filled eyes. Not a second later, he let out another cry as he collapsed onto the floor, smearing black stool all over the white marble.

        "Where is this goddamned physician ?" I hissed at Edmund, craning my neck for any signs of Mister Henley, our family's physician. 

        "Annie, we should go. You really mustn't be here, seeing all of this. Come, Annie," he said concernedly, beckoning me to come with him. I shook my head hastily, leaning in to him and whispering in his ear, "There was poison in the goblet that boy drank from, which was originally meant for Cecily."

        "So this person intended for Cecily to go through all that ?" Edmund murmured, horror lacing his tone. He glanced at the writhing boy on the floor, and quickly shut his eyes, shaking his head swiftly. "I can't bear to think of it, Annie."

Another grunt echoed through the hall, and this time it was followed by a series of screams and shrieks. Out of curiosity, I stepped forward to look, and I immediately regretted it. The young master McCarthy was now completely still in his sister's arms, his chest no longer heaving up and down. However, right below his legs were his large and small intestines which he had excreted out, slimy and stained with blood. 

My stomach turned and I felt bile rise up in my throat. Never had I ever seen such a horrifying thing, and without realizing it, I was crying. "Edmund..." I sobbed, clutching my head pathetically, but no matter what I did, I could not get that image out of my mind.

         "Let us leave, Annie," my husband whispered as he grabbed onto my hands and shoulders, afraid that I would fall. The Baroness's howls and wails of grief and the little boy's corpse would forever be engraved in my mind. I could never forget his guttural cries of pain and dead brown eyes, even until the day I die.

Hi! If you liked this story, try checking out my other story, which is set in the early 1700s, Catarina and The Prince ! And please vote and comment, it means a lot to me 🥰