Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Seventy-One

Seventy-One

Saying goodbye to John wasn’t easy. I kept wondering if that would be the last time I ever saw him. I couldn’t believe that it was happening. If he did return, would he be the same person? Would he have to have limbs amputated? Would he have shell-shock? I was rather pessimistic, but I had spent the whole night crying over it, fists curled, shaking. I couldn’t believe he was leaving me so soon.

“What if something bad happens?”

“Nothing bad will happen.” John looked at me sternly, then we threw our arms around each other as my body quivered with sobs once again.

“Please don’t leave me. Please come back, John, I need you.” I looked up at his face.

“I will come back. I will write to you every week.” He gave me one, last, lingering kiss full of hope and promise and sadness, before moving down the steps of the Knowlbodye House to bid farewell his parents. The three of us watched him drive away, Jacqueline’s arm around me as we pressed kerchiefs to our cheeks.

“What if he never comes back, what if that’s the last time I saw him, my boy, my precious boy, my only heir?” Jacqueline sobbed, voicing my own thoughts.

*****

Something rather puzzling happened on my way home. As I turned a corner, a tram did as well. I heard a rather large gasp. I pivoted as a cry filled my ears. Our eyes connected before she fell off the side of the tram and into the road.

“Beatrice!” I yelled, running over to the shaking girl, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“You scared me…”

“You were scared of me?” I cried in disbelief, helping her up by the elbow. She had changed since I had last seen her; she was taller, slimmer. No, much too thinner. Her beady little eyes darted from side to side, and she tried to pull away.

“Are you scared because you think I still blame you for trying to hurt me, so you could have Bobby?” Susanna has Bobby now.

“No, no. I should have told you ages ago. The whisky. She told me to steal it. She offered me money, so that she could get my position. She told me not to ever tell you.” Beatrice hadn’t stolen Rose’s whisky! She had been innocent all along? I stared at her.

“Is that why Father hates Aunt Rose?” I frowned. I couldn’t comprehend what she had just told me.

“Your Aunt Rose? She has nothing to do with the whisky, even though it was hers. It was that little girl Susanna that blackmailed me.”

*****

The driveway was empty as I ran up to the house; Father being in London to receive his knighthood. Mother was too ill to go with him, and I was too shaken up from John’s sudden news.

Emma, ever the courteous housekeeper, opened the door. Her eyes followed me as I sprinted to Mother’s bedroom. I had to know about Susanna’s employment, and she would know best. Had Susanna, my best friend, blackmailed Beatrice so she could get her position? How had she known Beatrice?  But why, why would she want to be my maid? Was it so she could have her affair with Bobby? How would she know about Bobby and I? My head hurt from all these questions. Why had Beatrice only told me now?

“Mother!” I cried. She turned her head. Her eyes were red, and her chest heaved as she sobbed, clutching her large belly.

“What’s happened?” I gasped, rushing over, “Are you going into labour?”

“Sit down, Elsie. I have something to tell you.”

*****

I sat down in the spare chair. My heart was racing and I felt all flushed and clammy. What did Mother have to tell me? Why did she look so horrified? I pushed Susanna and Beatrice out of my head, and she took a deep breath.

“Do you remember, all the way back in February, when your father said Rose’s mother was filthy?” I nodded slowly, throat suddenly growing dry.

“Well, I begged your father for answers. He finally told me his real mother was called Anastasia, like John told you. She was thrown into Bedlam because she kept saying Albert was the son of a king.” I frowned. Where was this going?

“Then Samuel told me something last month. He spent five years trying to get back to England after his ship was blown off course. His wife and son had disappeared when he returned to his home. Are you following?” I just nodded, wanting Mother to get to her point. Who was Samuel?

“Albert told me that years later, as a grown man, he had returned to Ingoldisthorpe, his birth town. His mother, Anastasia, was still insisting he was the son of a king, and Kingston has ‘king’ in it.” Mother paused, pressing her lips together as more tears slid down her pink face. Ingoldisthorpe. Kingston and King. I tried to link the thoughts together, remembering how I had thought it was odd that my great uncle was King and we were Kingstons, even though Mary had reminded me that he was named that after his mother, Elsa King.

“Thomas Kingston was only too happy to announce Albert was his son from a previous marriage.”

“What?” I cried, jaw dropping down. Thomas Kingston wasn't my father's real father?

“Let me continue.” I felt like all the breath being drawn out of my open mouth. What did Mother mean?

“Thomas didn’t want his daughter Rose to receive the inheritance. Rose and Alice had killed Thomas’ brother and his brother’s wife, so the inheritance would be passed to Thomas, and would then pass to Rose, as Thomas’ only heir. Albert suddenly realised what he had told me, and he forced me to become pregnant, to secure his claim, to try and get a son.” Slowly, I took this all in, clutching my chest. Bile rose in my throat. This can’t be true…

“Albert said that his name before was Albert… Albert… Albert Maxwell.” I let out a gasp. I pressed my hand to my mouth, doubling over, shaking.

“King,” I gasped between retches, “His real father is King? Samuel King Maxwell?” My eyes widened. Mother nodded, her hand to her mouth now too.

“I’m so sorry, Elsie. It’s true.”

“Mother, this means… this means… this means that I’m not the Kingston Heiress.”

“No!”

I whipped around to see Mary and Emma standing in the doorway. Emma was swaying, face white, looking faint, and Mary’s mouth had dropped open too.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” she whispered. A look of disbelief crossed my face. I couldn’t understand. How could this be true? I felt so dizzy, and my body temperature seemed to have risen dramatically.

“I’m not the Kingston Heiress,” I repeated dumbly, throat dry, heart racing, knuckles white as I gripped the chair for support. The last thing I heard was Emma’s bloodcurdling scream before I blanked out.