The Mordarski Daughters

Chapter Four - A Discussion

"What happened Margaret?" Claude hissed. "What is going on?" He tightened his grip on her wrist.

"What is there to tell?" She laughed nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about. If you're asking after Agnes' bizarre behaviour, it is simply because I tried to explain that I was her sister, but she was offended and said I was a murderer! That woman is mad." She stated, tugging her hand away.

"No. You know I overheard your argument - that is not what I'm talking about. Gladstone is hurt, and I want to know why. And while you're here, why were you so conveniently in the area, and what exactly did you mean about Gladstone would still be being held hostage by a couple of brutes? I demand an answer to this madness!" He raged, still in a low whisper. Margaret hung her head, and scuffed her feet on the ground alike a mischievous child.

"I cannot tell you. It's a secret!" She said leaning over to utter into his ear. She smirked then turned and left the house.

"That blasted woman!" Claude uttered under his breath. I only know of this as Claude had carelessly left the door ajar. I had only drifted off for about 10 minutes, when I was awoken by the sound of shouting, and clambering down the stairs. I wanted to investigate, but when I tried to lift my head higher, a dizziness consumed me, and I had to resume my slumped position. Claude turned on his heal and cursed under his breath. I stared at the ceiling, until a while later Claude came and sat beside me.

"What happened? Surely you can remember a little?" He urged, concern crumpling his brow. I lightly shook my head, and sighed.

"I can only remember being attacked, brought to Mortellaro and then awaking in a carriage with Miss Kingfisher, or Mordarski... Oh I do not know..." I lamented, and then proceeded to recount all that I could remember, including my talk with Margaret.

"Well," he mused, finger tips together, "I cannot understand. I do not trust her. Yet, I do want to believe her story... It might explain a few things..."

"Explain what?" I interrupted. "Doesn't it confuse this whole matter further?"

"No... It explains my past engagements with her. She always would ask after you and Agnes, or let out some knowing remark of fondness about the two of you. She was the one who told your friend to set up a flat share, all those years ago! She has been meddling in our affairs for quite a while now."

"I know this is a personal question, but what exactly happened between you and her?"

"Ah," he breathed, a smile dancing upon his lips, "we were great friends. Sometimes, I think we may have been more than friends, almost partners. She's beautiful, clever, cultured... There is a lot I cannot remember though; she had a habit of drugging her friends, and quite often that meant you could forget a week of your life at a time."

"Then how can you know the children aren't yours!?"

"It would be out of character for me, and they aren't the right ages, there's a three year gap between them, and I never knew her when she was pregnant, or when she had a child! They aren't my offspring!" He concluded, offended and grumpy.

"I think they are your children, you know. A case can take you a long time - you could have been so busy you didn't notice she was pregnant! Also, if she knows how to concoct various drugs and potions, she could easily have... Well... you know..." I implied bashfully.

"Maybe I did once, but not twice! And what are the chances they are mine! The number of people she was friendly with could mean that those children might have one hundred potential fathers! Why me? They cannot be mine!" He got up momentarily, throwing his hands in the air. Settling back down again, he shook his head wearily. "There's no point denying it I suppose... She told me she was pregnant the first time, I didn't understand that she was implying it was my child. The second, she asked if I had ever wanted to be a father. I said no, and she quietly left me alone for years after that conversation. I never understood what exactly she meant... What I had done. But now, I suppose it is the only logical conclusion that meets all the facts..." He hung his head, ashamed.

Silence settled in on the room, like a thick, choking smog. The predicament was rather uncomfortable... I had never seen my friend so helplessly embarassed.

"She got married though... Why would she get married if they were my children?" He whispered, half to himself.

Time passed and he left the room, telling me to rest, as it was late. I smiled and said goodnight. I still couldn't move, so the armchair was a good a place as any to pass the night. I was drifting off just as I heard the clock strike twelve.