Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ida blinked.

“Well, I suppose it is our only other hope,” she considered slowly. She fumbled about in her purse, and then asked if any of us might have a few pennies to spare. A man with space on the back of his cart,  accepted our hodgepodge of halfpennies and pennies for the drive to the outskirts of Maidstone, where Ida’s parents lived.

We waved goodbye to the old house, soon trundling out of Tunbridge Wells. We were into thick countryside, where the wind whipped my hair. Ida did not have the heart to inform me it was most improper to do so!

Maidstone had a different feel to it. It did not seem so rowdy and packed, more quaint and withdrawn. Our mouths watered at the scrumptious cakes the baker’s offered, but we had not a single halfpenny between all of us. Ida worried her parents would seem taken aback she had arrived without any notice, for they apparently were very fussy on politeness.

Between us, we decided it was best for me to take on another disguise. Cordelia came up with the very fancy name ‘Elizabeth Greengage’ which I took a liking to, with my hair up in Ida’s pins.

*****

Beckwith Manor was a stately, 20-roomed little fortune found hidden amongst woodland and wildlife.

“I was born in that very room to the farthest left,” Ida pointed out to us. Charles muttered to me that it felt very odd, meeting grandparents who had hardly acknowledged him, let alone met him.

We thanked the driver of the cart and horse, who helped the Beaumonts with their luggage. Then Ida stole up the front door and rapped upon the brass knocker with a lion’s head engraved into it. We all held our breath. Of course, being what I now called a ‘posh house’, a grim-faced maid answered.

“What can I do for you, madam?”

“I would like to see my parents, because, you see, I’m… Ida.”

The house of De La Blois was covered in trophies, tapestries, and impeccable neatness. The maid lead us to the parlour where Ida’s parents were debating about the government.

“Mrs De La Blois? Your daughter wishes to see you,” the maid informed, knocking on the door, which swung open almost immediately.

“Ida, oh Ida!” My great-auntie Charlotte gushed, pulling her daughter into an awkward embrace.

“Come, do sit down my dear, and my grandchildren as well,” Charlotte (as I will call her) beckoned. We settled into the leather armchairs, face to face with the elderly De La Blois.

“Three grandchildren?” Charlotte gaped. I coughed, then corrected her:

“No madam, I assure you I am only a lady friend of your grandson Charles, Elizabeth Greengage.” 

"Ladyfriend, eh?” Lord De La Blois chuckled, sparing smoking on his pipe for a minute. I blushed.

“But why the sudden urge to visit, my dear?” Charlotte wondered, cocking her head, her lion’s mane of blonde ringlets shaking.

“Well, although this may disgrace you mother, I have been evicted and have no-where else to turn to,” Ida mumbled, shame-faced.

“I knew you’d come begging to us. What did I tell you would happen when you married that rogue?” Lord De La Blois snorted.

“Oh, don’t be too harsh on her!” Charlotte cried anxiously, seeming to fear of her husband.

“Please do not turn us into the workhouse,” Ida pleaded, quivering.

“And have the family name in disgrace? I think not! You will have to stay here until I marry you off,” Lord De La Blois snapped.

“Oh do calm down, dear.” Charlotte tried to pull her husband back down.

“Thank you,” Ida murmured, tucking her unruly hair behind her ears. She picked up her bags, sighing.

“C’mon darlings, you can fully meet your grandparents later,” Ida told us.

“Meet later?” Charlotte bit her lip, pale blue eyes darting anxiously to the pompous, bald-headed, moustached man that was her husband.

“Whoa, whoa, Ida, you’ve got the wrong idea,” Lord De La Blois laughed. We all frowned.

“We won’t be properly meeting our grandchildren; they’re not staying at all. We only offer you a home here.” We all gaped.

“Well, well, say your goodbyes,” he shooed. Ida now had a choice; accept her parents’ offer, or stay with us. She swallowed.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you? You’ll find somewhere, darlings.” I couldn’t believe she was being so selfish. She was afraid of getting slung in the workhouse. I thought I knew Ida. But I didn’t.

She and Charlotte walked us back to the front door. Charles tried to swagger, pretending he didn’t care, when really he was scared. Cordelia hardly said a word. Charlotte tapped me on the shoulder while the Beaumonts were saying their goodbyes.

“You look a sensible girl. Here’s some money, find somewhere to stay. Get some jobs to keep you afloat.” I nodded meekly. Ida hugged me as well, before they closed the door on us. We all stood, a little dumbfounded. Now it was Charles, Cordelia, and me.