Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

I felt nausea growing in my stomach at the very thought. I shook my head. How could I think that- I was just so self-centred!

Charles’ voice brought me back to the present, telling me to knock on the neighbour’s doors and ask if anyone would help us form a search party. I nodded, running out the room with great haste. I hammered on the next door down, and a maid (presumably) answered, looking rather flustered.

“What may I do for you, miss?” she asked.

“I need to speak to anyone who lives here.” The maid looked taken aback as I brushed past her, the urgency of my task suddenly flaming before my eyes.

“Mr and Mrs Cullingham!” the maid yelled as I burst into the living room; the entire contents of it seemed to be a startling shade of purple, apart from a tall grandfather clock made out of shining dark wood.

“Who are you?” Mr Cullingham asked.

“Please, I come from the Beaumont-”

“Hetty, get her out!” Mrs Cullingham shrieked. Hetty’s strong arms wrenched me out the room.

Many times the following scene was played out, and one woman even laughed most unkindly when I told her of the bad news. I was beginning to despair, when I suddenly wondered if Lord and Lady Laytoff would help me. I hastened to their household at once.

“Why, Miss Mary-Jane, what brings you here at this time?” Mark, the butler, asked.

“May I have a few words with Lord and/or Lady Laytoff? It is a most urgent and pressing matter,” I implored. Mark gave me some curious gazes, but led me up the seemingly marble steps to the parlour where Lady Laytoff was residing. He knocked, and she replied with ‘you may enter’.

“Good evening, Miss Mary-Jane,” Lady Laytoff responded rather stiffly and curiously as I stopped in my tracks. The entire ceiling was painted gold, and the finest tapestries made of the silkiest threads hung from the walls. Rays of a setting sun streamed through the arched window bordered by ruby red satin curtains.

Redeeming myself, I asked:

“Can you help me? I reside with the Beaumonts, as you hopefully know. Well, little Cordelia Beamount is missing!” I told her.  Lady Laytoff turned to face me, putting down her cup of tea. Her hair was let loose in tumbling blonde ringlets, while her penetrating green eyes fixed on me.

“I can ask my husband to gather a search party, or contact the local constabulary.”

“Oh please, my lady, both, please, both!” I insisted. After assuring me the party would be gathered outside the Beaumont household in half an hour, she dismissed me from the room.

I went back to Charles and Ida, and told them the news, which they seemed mildly satisfied about. The skies were becoming a midnight shade when the search part arrived, made up of men armed with lanterns and wood. Ida was forced to remain at home.

“Let me come as well,” I begged.

“Goodness, no, Ath-, Mary-Jane, stay with Ida and comfort her,” Charles ordered me briskly.

“But-” I faltered at his steely glare, the door swinging to an abrupt shut in my face. I turned round, hatred at Ida swelling from the tops of my fingertips to the roots of my hair. I bit my lip, as the fear of Cordelia’s disappearance attacked my racing heart again. Reaching up to the coat pegs above me, I pulled on the cloak’s hem, wrapped it round me, threw open the door and bolted out into the blustery May evening.

Overgrown grass spiked up all around me as I crashed out of a side alleyway. I had been wondering around for ages. An owl hooted as an icy wind pulled my hair and cloak from side to side. My cries of ‘Cordelia’ were pointless. I pulled up my hood with trembling, frozen fingers; Little Red Riding Hood sprinting along the path overshadowed with trees. My feet soon became swollen with blisters from the biting cold and too-big boots. I just stood there. Helplessly.

“Cordelia!” I yelled hoarsely, looking around in every direction. Rain drummed against my body, and made my hair even more lank, knotty and greasy. I was thinking about my hair when Cordelia was missing? I scolded myself seriously. Everything I was doing was pointless; nothing was happening. The phrase ‘spoke too soon’ came into action. A shrill, piercing scream. That’s what everyone heard for miles and miles.

"Cordeliaaaaa!” My scream went on forever, mirroring hers. I was shaking with uncontrollable fear; I cared more for my cousin than I had ever realised. I saw the search party standing a little way off. Lord Laytoff’s tall, bulky figure could be made out as the leader of the group. I brushed droplets and hair out of my face, looking up at the murderous black storm clouds bordering the hills. My eyes settled on the trees swinging dangerously, and the one with two figures hiding up it. Two people, again. I knew who they were. But I wasn’t going to say.

I slowly made my way down the hill, numb with cold, following the search party into a clearing, stumbling in the growing blackness. Lord Laytoff’s arms suddenly swiped out like knives, fingers splayed out behind him.

“Stand back!” he yelled, striding forwards. My mouth bubbled with sick as I saw the ghostly white hand protruding from behind the bushes. Everyone held their breath at the pungent smell. Lord Laytoff let out a screech, and walked back, with a grim face.

“Our search has come to an end,” he said, “Miss Beaumont’s last minutes were here. However, her head is not here.” I saw Charles collapse onto his knees. And then I realised what Lord Laytoff meant.

“No-oh-oh-oh-o-o-o-.” The scream escaped from my mouth, blood-curling and horrific like a wolf’s tormented howl. Charles pulled himself up and wrapped his hands around my waist, dragging me back, as I ran forward. Cordelia couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be decapitated.

“I told you not to come out.” His voice was tired; he had lost his fight. Tears streamed down my cheeks, as I sobbed silently, slipping to the ground in a crumpled, soggy heap.

“Who’s that red-headed witch?” one man asked, pointing at me. I had so many choices on how to react to this comment. My red hair matched my temper, which is why I slapped him hard round the cheek, fuming with irrepressible anger...