The Mordarski Daughters

Chapter Three - Secrets

I flung my arms at her, a desperate attempt to snatch it from her grasp.

"Fine! Just stop flailing around! You're going to poke my eye out! You're going to strain yourself!" She squawked, flapping her arms, batting my hands away. I settled down again. She slipped the telegram into an unseen inside pocket in her jacket. I began to protest, but she hushed me, putting a finger to my lips. "Don't talk now brother, I think now is the time for me to talk. It is quite a drive back; it's a wonder how you ended up on the other side of London. Nevertheless, this is an opportune moment for me to explain our past." She gave me an almost maternal look, sighed, then proceeded.

"Our mother ran into some trouble and married my father very young. She was impressed by his genius, and his background. His mother was Italian, and his father, Russian. He was tri-lingual. He seemed a wonderful person. However, he was not. He grew more corrupt, influenced by his terrible brother. His brother was Tristan Mortellaro's father. That side of the family was corrupt, scheming, although they had genius, they used their power for the worse. Knowledge is power." She glanced down, hesitating slightly, her hands writhing within one another.

"You see, my father died because his brother was careless. My father assumed that his brother would make him as safe as himself, that the plan kept all their risks to a minimum. However, the plan did not. He was caught and hanged. Apparently the secrets my father was smuggling out of the country were important military secrets, top security. His brother only made himself safe, and so the police rather easily tracked down my father. Our mother fled with me. When she arrived in England - as although my parents met in England, we had been living in Russia before - she met your father. However, she could not marry him. She had illegally immigrated, and so we were rushed out of the country. So we went to live with my Grandmother in Italy. I spent a few years there, but all the while our mother was working a way to get back to England; she was English after all. All our papers had been confiscated by my uncle, promising to provide us new ones, but it was too late, and we had to leave. We eventually made our way back onto English soil, although, I don't know how; I was only seven at the time. My mother settled down with your father, but then the threats came. My uncle was desperate for us to come back to Russia. I think he might have always loved her, and that lead to his carelessness with his borther's life. We had to find a compromise, and so eventually she had no choice but to send me off to live with him and Tristan. You were two years old at the time, and your sister was on the way. I adored you, for the couple of years I knew you. When I went to live with Tristan, my schooling in scheming and crime began." She paused, then asked "Do you want me to carry on? I do hope I'm not boring you!" She chuckled.

"Please, continue!" I replied, genuinely interested.

"Very well. I lived quite happily, we were the best of friends. Then I scorned him. I refused to play a trick on a friend of mine he disliked. He wanted me splash her hair with vodka, so that it would be more flammable for when he set light to it. It was a horrendous thing to do. By disobeying his order, he grew very angry and resentful of me... It did not end well. I still have scars from his fury. I found out around the same time that our mother had died. You were about four, your sister only a year old. I was sent back to England for her funeral. I took that opportunity to make my escape. I could not bear living in torment any longer.

"I may have only been eleven, but I was a resourceful little girl. I could speak six languages: my family's as well as French, German, and Spanish. I could dance beautifully. I had been educated to the highest degree. We had almost been nobility when we were in Russia.

"The day before the funeral I practiced forging my uncle's signature. By the early hours of the next morning, I had perfected it. I allowed myself a few hours sleep, then got up and raced to a girls school I had heard of. I collected the forms, promising to get my guardian to sign them. As my mother was now dead, my uncle was my guardian, as he was my only blood relative.

"I went to the funeral, cried, and then slipped off between the crowd. I came back to the school with the forms. I had an interview there and then; they were so impressed they said I didn't need to pay. I explained that I was to be a boarder, but they still insisted they pay for everything. So, my place was safe. Now I just had to ensure my uncle was drummed out of the country. I had kept a condemning piece of evidence from one of our heists in Russia, and presented it to the police. Now is not the time to go into the details of that story however. They immediately sent my cousin and uncle away to be imprisoned by the Russian authorities. It wasn't enough for a death sentence, but it was enough to keep them locked away until I was an adult.

"Then came the question of who was to care for me. It was decided that since I had enrolled in the school, they may as well care for me. The headmistress adopted me, and that was that. I spent the rest of my years at the school until adulthood. At that point I was allowed to claim the large sum of money left by my father, and the income my mother had set up. I was rather well-to-do. I invested in businesses, created my own businesses, sold them... All under a man's name, and through several male representitives of course. I travelled around. Hung out around universities, as at about twenty, I had decided that I really must find myself a husband. I couldn't bear to be married to an ignorant man, so a university seemed a good enough place to look. I met Claude there." She blushed, and looked down. The carriage suddenly jolted, and I let out a cry of pain. "Hush, hush... We are back, the rest of the story is my recent past, and not of any interest to you." 

Claude and Lawrence were waiting for us by the door. They rushed forward to help me out of the carriage. I felt rather embarrassed, needing help, but I was glad of it.  

"What happened old chap?!" Lawrence exclaimed upon seeing how badly I limped. Claude shot a look at Margaret. 

"I'm really not sure... I can't really remember..." My thoughts were cloudy, I'd obviously received a few blows to the head, and was unable to process the lengthy story that had been presented to me by my new found sister. Was it all true? How could I know, if all I had was a story? Perhaps if I told Claude about her, he may be able to draw a conclusion. 

Claude hauled me inside, and ushered me into the armchair that he usually reserved for himself. It was very large, a deep red in colour, like slightly burnt roses, and luxuriously comfortable in every way. Agnes rushed in, her eyes pricked with tears. 

"What happened? Who did this to you!?" She cried as she stroked my hand, crouching beside the chair. She turned to address Margaret. "What are you doing here? What business could possibly bring you here!?" She screeched scathingly. 

"If it were not for me, our brother would still be being held hostage by a couple of brutes, my dear sister." She added with a touch of sarcasm. At this remark, Agnes jumped to her feet, and wagged her finger as she yelled: 

"YOU ARE NO SISTER OF MINE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE! LEAVE THIS HOUSE AT ONCE!" 

Margaret cooly turned to Claude. "Am I to leave?" 

"No." He sighed. 

"WHAT?! ARE YOU UNDERMINING ME?! HOW VERY DARE YOU! SHE HAS NO RIGHT TO BE HERE!" She continued to howl. 

"She is a client of mine, calm down." He explained soothingly. She ceased her shouting.  

"Very well. Take her to another room - everyone need not be in here. It's too crowded. We need to give George some space." She tolerated after composing herself. Claude and Margaret left the room. 

"But she is in fact our sister." I commented under my breath. I don't think she heard me though. She smiled and left the room. I was so tired. I sat gazing at the warm glow of the fire until I dozed off into a peaceful sleep.