Madeline

Part One

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"I should burn it," he muttered to himself as he sank into one of the great armchairs, "burn everything in this house." His hand traced the scar above his right temple that his dark hair did not touch. The scar given to him by our father in a rage years before.

"You should not speak of such things," I admonished him as I sat in the chair opposite. His gaze became filled with such momentary contempt that I nearly wished I had remained in London.

The door to the parlor creaked open and a cheery voice broke the silence.

"His room has been prepared sir." A young woman whom I barely recognized stepped inside. She walked in a swift manner that she had adopted years ago, burdened with a heavy tray in her hands that she quickly set down on the wooden table in front of Arthur. It was Alice.

Alice's mother had been our former governess and she had grown up with Arthur and I. She had remained at the estate as a servant once her mother had retired. Now she was the only one left. We could not afford the others and they had to be released. But Arthur had not the heart to discharge her, so she remained.

Before she could protest, I stood and embraced her fondly for it had been two years since I had last seen her. As I stepped away she smiled at me, eyes twinkling. The blonde curls that she had worn loose in our childhood were pulled back in a chignon and she adjusted her starched white apron carefully. Our mother had constantly remarked that she had had a face too pretty for her own good.

"Come now Matthew I will have no more of that," she scolded gently as she laughed.

All of the usual inquiries were made and I was glad to hear her family was doing well. I briefly recounted my adventures in London to which she listened intently. Arthur remained silent. At last she asked how long was I to say at Ashwood.

"Only a week I am afraid." I responded, watching her as she readied the tea.

"It is a shame it is not less." Arthur spoke at last with a sarcastic air.

"Now, you do not mean such a thing," Alice scolded gently with her usual soft tone as she placed a hand on his shoulder, lingering longer than what may have considered to be proper. Such familiarity was not looked well upon in most households, but she withdrew her hand and I thought nothing more it, for she meant no harm, she only wished to help.

"Yes, I do." He spoke once more unaffected by her words, "My dear brother should have remained in London. Safe and sheltered from the torments and grief of these past weeks. As I said before, let this house burn to the ground. May all the memories turn to nothing but ash."

Alice stared at him wide eyed with a look of shock. By this time, I could see that the Port was beginning to show its effects. The room remained silent.

But once more the door opened with a groan as something of great proportion with a mass of white fur, bounded into the room.

"Heathcliff!" Arthur commanded in a tone I had rarely heard him speak in, as he raised slightly from his chair. The beast came to a halt at my side and lowered its head as if ashamed of its behavior. Cobalt eyes stared up into mine as I realized what beast it was.

"Hello old boy." I rubbed his ears as he whined in acknowledgement.

Heathcliff had been only a pup the last time I had laid eyes upon him. He had been given as a gift to Arthur, but he had always had a fondness towards me, and I him. He was part wolf which accounted for his size, the rest of his ancestry remained unknown. But he had always been a loyal companion.

"I should have gotten rid of that damn animal months ago." My brother's pale skin had become flushed due to his outburst, and he abruptly fell back into the armchair as if he had become suddenly weak.

Ignoring him, I once more brought my attention back to the dog by my side. "He has grown since I saw him last." I stated to Alice.

"Of course he has grown. He's a bloody dog Matthew," Arthur spat, "That is all they do. Well that and..."

"That is enough!" As I stood, Heathcliff pandered over to a corner of the room near the fire and Alice gazed down at the rug. A rage I had never quite experienced before coursed underneath my skin. "Have you not one decent word to say?"

For a moment Arthur regarded me with a look equivalent to shock and with a shaky hand he reached for his wineglass. "I must admit, I am impressed brother. The last time you raised your voice to me was when we were children." His gloomy countenance soon reappeared and his crimson tinged eyes met mine once more, an eyebrow raised as if to challenge.

I looked away as a smile that was more of a sneer, graced his lips, "I am afraid I am too weary to argue tonight, Arthur."

"A shame. I haven't had a good fight in weeks. It has been strangely peaceful ever since she has passed." His laughter soon filled the room, but by then I knew he was intoxicated.

Madeline's death had certainly a strange effect on him. Not once had he even spoken her name aloud.

The sound of a glass shattering ended his supposed mirth. The empty wineglass that seconds before had been sitting on the table, lay in fragments on the ground. Arthur stared at the pieces and for a moment a strange look passed through his eyes. But it quickly vanished and his eyes soon turned to Alice.

"Clean this up, then get out. " His voice was cold and his eyes, even more so.

She remained still at first, as if frozen.

"I said clean this up and get out! Do you not hear me?" Once more he attempted to raise himself from the chair.

With a wounded expression, she regained herself and ran forward. Diligently she gathered the shards at his feet and placed them within her apron. Then without a second glance she left the room, Arthur's eyes following her until she was gone. His gaze soon fell upon me.

"Leave me. You are weary are you not?" His mien was stony and his mouth set in a firm line.

"Very well," I replied and slowly made my way out of the room with Heathcliff at my heels, but I paused at the doorway and turned my head, speaking loudly enough that he could still hear "Maybe I should have stayed in London."

At first he said nothing, but as I moved once more towards the door he made his reply, his voice sounding so far away that it was nearly an echo, "Perhaps you should have." Music then filled the room.

Looking once more, I saw he now stood by the fireplace, eyes trained on the music box. Her music box. I then exited.

So this is my first attempt at a short story. I actually started writing this for my English class, but there was a lot of it I had to cut out due to a page limit and for the sake of time. But I wanted to stick with it and I decided to! Reviews are greatly appreciated and crticisms are always welcome! But I do hope you enjoy!- The_Queenbee