When we all came back to our senses, I was sure Ralph was in for it.
Elaina had worked so diligently on that painting, had worked on it for a good four weeks now, not stopping for any other projects. I didn't even know how she managed to keep it a secret from Ralph all that time. All I knew was how careful she was with it; she was even cautious with me around it, telling me to stand back when I looked over her shoudler and barking at me to leave when I got too close. I was usually always welcome to watch her paint. We'd even sing while she painted sometimes; during this painting, we didn't even hum.
Right now, her eyes were concentrated on us, like she was trying to set us on fire with her stare. She really had no choice but to glare at both of us, it was kind of both our faults. Ralph put it on the table. I bumped the table.
Still, she liked me much better than Ralph, and she put most of the blame on him. After all my apologies and trying to help her pick it all up and such, she practicially forgot that I was the one who made it fall; all she barked out was towards Ralph.
Scowling and yelling aside, us three were still pretty preoccupied with what happened earlier. Seeing mother leave like that, it was terrifying. Her knitting was still sitting on her chair, the most recent knot only halfway finished. She even left her candle lit. I brought Clara up to my face, gracing her soft forehead with my lips for comfort; my comfort. The three of us scoured our house, searching for anyone to talk to. The terror kicked in when the last door was opened, and still no servant was found. We had been left alone in the house.
Ralph paced the floor, Elaina picked at Mum's unfinished blanket, and I kept kissing Clara's head and stroking her soft baby hair. It wasn't until that evening when, finally, our personal servants showed up.
Ralph's was the oldest of all three, his having almost no hair and always had a tired smile; he really reminded me of Dr. Watson from those new books I got last birthday. Elaina's was, of course, a woman who stood straight as a post and spoke with her lips pursed; the way she wore that long forest green dress made her look like a Christmas tree. Mine, strangely enough, was the largest, strongest, roughest looking man I had ever seen aside seamen; he had an eyepatch over his right eye and he wore his tux on days like these, but I always would remember him wearing overalls as he chopped wood in the backyard.
"I thought we had other servants do that," I would say to Ralph as I watched my new personal servant hacking away at the wood.
Ralph would snort, "That's because you got a leftover. Mum must've just run outta money and can't afford to hire more for you." He would laugh heartily, acting like it was a misfortune that I got the one who probably worked for us in the fields, though I always knew he was jealous; my guy was ripped. It was a wonder that we didn't switch; in the beginning, I most definately prefferred the Watson looking man to this big, looming hulk of a servant.
Now, I stood in front of him, still having to look up to him since he was twice my size, though not nearly as frightened of him as before; he may have made his eye softer just for me. As my siblings barked at their servants to get answers, I tugged at his huge sleeve.
"Abel. What happened to Mum? Isn't she coming home yet?"
The man looked down with his single, deep brown eye at me with deep softness. He reached a hand out and set it on my head, stroking my hair with as much gentleness as a three hundred pound man could. "I am sorry," he spoke in that slightly German accented speech, one that I, in fact, liked very much. "Your mother vill not be coming home very soon."
My shoulders drooped and my eyes fell to the floor. All three of us knew in the back of our minds that it might come to this, though we never imagined it coming soon.
Abel seemed to see my disappointed expression and somehow knew what I was thinking. "Ah, no little one, I do not think you are thinking of right reason." My eyes went back up to his, finding his eye to be quite calming. "Your mother has, eh, business elsevhere." I watched him search for words, english being his second language. "Very important. She did not vant to leave you. But I assure you, she vill be back." His huge hand went to my shoulder and squeezed it a bit. "And until then, I vill be here."
For once all day, I smiled. I had always wanted to hug this man, for he got kinder and kinder to me as the days passed, yet I never had found the courage; he still stood twice my height and four times my body mass. My smile would do for now. He returned the look and sent me on my way with my siblings.
Ralph and Elaina didn't seem to have gotten the same message as I had, for they were still quite irritable. Soon, they started bickering about the painting again. Sighing, I shook my head and started up the stairs to my room. At least there I might be able to read in peace.
"'Now, Vatson,' said Holmes, rubbing 'iz hands, 'we have half an hour to ourselfes. Let us make goot use of it."
I sat next to Abel, both of us calm and quiet in movements. I smiled, whispering, "good," when Abel spoke.
Abel nodded, whispering back, "Right, good," before continuing.
I always did love tea time and sitting next to Abel as he read me my new books. He probably liked it too, what with the way he smiled and picked up my books gently every day, never missing a session. I used to sit next to him, feet fidgeting and chair too far away to see the words. Whenever he said a weird word back then, I had to guess what he really meant.
Now, though, I nearly snuggled up to him, my head on his bulky arm and eyes following the page with him.
"Simple as ze case zeems now, there may be somesing deeper un... unter..."
"Underlying," I whispered.
"Right, unterlaying it."
I smiled. It was great how he still didn't say it right. Perhaps the fact that he made mistakes too comforted me. A loud clatter outside ripped our attention away, however, and I sat up, eyes to the window. I shuffled nervously in my chair as Abel stood to see outside. His eyes locked on something and whispered something gruff before dropping the book in my hands and bursting out of the room.
I stood, staring after him with trembling hands gripping the book. Swallowing, I took tedious steps towards the windowsill, leaning into the glass. Men, dozens of them, covered the front lawn. The huge sound had been their wagon clunking open, ready to be loaded. A few men were already limbering up, as if about to load the back with... I frowned and tilted my head. There was nothing in this house they could have possibly wanted. We were sinking into bankrupcy, already beginning to sell some unwanted items and lowering the staff. We didn't have anything heavy, anyway, save our furniture. I hummed with confusion to myself and watched as Abel entered the scene, yelling at the men and shooing them away with his huge, lunky arms. I spun on my heel and trotted out the door, half expecting men to be hauling our furniture away. We had nothing else to take.
