“I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, fear.”
Chapter Four
My mother died eighteen months later.
The funeral was held outdoors like my grandfather’s was. My mother was buried along side the deceased former members of the House of Usher with only her children and husband attending the service. Both of my mother’s parents had long since been dead, and she had not a single sibling. We were what remained of her short life.
Whatever it was that ailed her in life, whether real or imagined, killed her in the end. I suppressed every feeling in my body the day of her funeral. I couldn’t even cry, too angry at my father and the physicians for not seeing what I saw, and angry at myself for not speaking my fears.
Roderick held my hand while the reverend tried to console us with passages from the Bible. I didn’t hear a word the reverend said. His voice droned endlessly. All I felt was Roderick’s fierce pulse in the hand that held mine. The few times I looked at my brother, he stared resolutely at our mother’s casket. I think his expression was one of the few that we shared at that moment.
I was afraid to look at my father—afraid that my resolve would crack.
I remember going to my bedroom after the service. Tears still had not come to me, and I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me for feeling this way. I lay down on my bed, fully dressed, as the light faded from the walls. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the birds and the sounds of the house.
The door opened as the last of the light subsided to darkness. I was so withdrawn that I couldn’t even move my eyes to the side to see who had entered. The bed shifted with the added weight.
“Maddy.”
Roderick’s voice stirred me back into existence. I didn’t respond.
“You missed dinner.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to answer.
I let Roderick roll me onto my side. I let him put his arms around me as he held me against his chest. He stroked my hair. We lay side by side in mutual silence.
I allowed myself to cry.
The family curse did not spare my mother. I began to wonder which one of us the curse would destroy next. How much longer did we have? I was determined that if the curse did strike again, I would be ready.
* * *
After the death of my mother, my father didn’t know what to do with me. I was now the only member of the family that could stay permanently at the manor. But my father was concerned for my safety.
“There are plenty of servants in this house to protect me, Father,” I told him, annoyed that he thought I couldn’t run the entire house.
“What if there are robbers?” my father retorted.
“We live in the middle of nowhere!”
“Exactly.”
I wanted to laugh at the conversation. It was beginning to sound absurd.
“I think Madeline can handle things by herself,” Roderick said, rising to my defense.
“She’s a twelve year old girl!” my father exclaimed with a wild throwing of his hands. “She should be playing with her dolls and…and…”
“Sewing?” I offered sarcastically.
“Yes!”
It was decided, much to my brother’s annoyance, that Roderick would stay with me for the time being while our father continued to work at the firm.
There was a growing tension between Roderick and our father. They hardly spoke to each other. Sometimes I’d be treated like a messenger bird, relaying messages back and forth between them. But Roderick never talked back, never challenged our father. I was confused by the sudden change between them.
I’m not sure if Roderick’s sudden power of the household was a good thing. After our mother’s death, his mood became unreadable. One moment he’d be happy. Then another moment he’d suddenly look gloomy. I felt like there was something he wanted to tell me, but didn’t know how. Every time I looked into his eyes I was suspicious by what I saw there.
He became almost tyrannical, and if a servant upset him, his temper flared. One day, his Richard knocked over a vase in the hallway outside his room and Roderick nearly beat the man. I had to throw myself in front of Richard, knowing that Roderick wouldn’t harm me to get to Richard. I’d never seen him furious with Richard before, considering that they were only a few years apart in age, and Roderick had always seemed to get along quite nicely with his manservant in the past.
I was the only person Roderick would allow in to his room most days. I’d spend a lot of my time trying to calm him down. I developed a habit of reading to Roderick as he would lay in bed listening to my soothing voice. I think he secretly despised me for holding him back from returning to the city with our father.
* * *
We had a surprise visit from Mr. Kennedy one weekend.
My bedroom looked out onto the gravel walkway that led to the main door and I saw a coach approaching. I ran from my room, down the stairs, and to the door before a servant heard the knock. I opened the door, thinking it was our father, only to be surprised that it was Mr. Kennedy.
“Lady Madeline, I was hoping you’d answer the door.” From behind his back he presented me with a red rose. “Roderick said you love the smell of roses.”
I took the rose, feeling my cheeks burn. “Thank you, Mr. Kennedy.” Once I got over my initial embarrassment, I asked, “What brings you here?”
He shrugged nonchalantly as I allowed him into the main hall. “Bachelor of the man that I am, I was bored. Where’s your brother?”
“Upstairs. Sulking.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
I shook my head. “Father has not returned for over a month now. I’m worried about him. And Roderick is getting fidgety staying cooped up in the house. I think he’s still upset that Father didn’t take him with him, nor has he written us a letter.”
“You’re father is doing fine. Stressed, but fine.” He paused, scratching at his face. “If I may say, Lady Madeline, I don’t think your father should have returned to the city so quickly after your mother’s untimely death. I think he is still grief stricken.”
“I believe so, too.”
“He’s very…temperamental most days. Some days he’ll spend all day in his office. I came in one morning and discovered him asleep at his desk. He hadn’t even gone home the previous night.”
“That doesn’t sound like him,” I said.
“That’s why I came today. He’s not given me much to do recently. He tries to take everything upon himself and grows frustrated when someone tries to help.”
“Sounds like Roderick,” I mumbled.
“Your brother really needs to come back and let your father stay here for a little while I think.”
I took a breath. Staying in this house was the last thing my father needed. “That sounds like a great idea.” I felt like such a terrible liar.
There was silence. I didn’t know what else to say to him other than, “Would you like me to tell Roderick you’re here?”
“Yes. Thank you, Lady Madeline.”
I smiled, feeling my cheeks redden for no apparent reason. I was glad I was walking up the stairs, my back to Mr. Kennedy, so he wouldn’t see my face.
* * *
One evening, Mr. Kennedy was determined to cheer us up.
“This house is too damn quiet,” he announced as all three of us sat in the parlor. “You two sit around in this house as if life has no meaning.”
Roderick slammed his book shut. “We are still grieving, Matthew.”
“I understand that. But is it such a shame to laugh for one evening? Do you honestly think your mother would want to see you two like this?”
“No,” I answer strongly. “What do you suggest me do?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat. I was eager to do just about anything.
Mr. Kennedy jumped up from his seat. “Do you like dancing, Lady Madeline?”
I frowned. “I’ve never been to any ballrooms. I fear I’d be a horrible dancer.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“I don’t think Madeline should be dancing,” Roderick mumbled.
I looked haughtily over at Roderick, then back at Mr. Kennedy. “My mother did teach me the waltz once.”
Mr. Kennedy clapped his hands. “Then I’ll waltz with you!”
I sunk into my chair, suddenly embarrassed. “With you?”
Mr. Kennedy looked around the room. “Who else?” He laughed. “Roderick doesn’t want to have any fun apparently.”
“Ha, ha,” Roderick said in an emotionless voice.
I took Mr. Kennedy’s hand as he pulled me from the seat. We took our positions. I felt odd holding to his shoulder and hand. I tried to stay focused, attempting to ignore the feel of his hand at my waist. We began to twirl around the room while Mr. Kennedy hummed out a tune to keep us in sync.
The few times I glanced over at Roderick, he looked as though some type of mutiny had been committed.
Mr. Kennedy began to improvise with the dance, twirling me around in circles. It felt wonderful to laugh. And for that moment I was beginning to feel like the world hadn’t collapsed.
“Roderick!” I called over during one of the spins. “Dance with me!”
Mr. Kennedy had hold of my waist again and we twirled around the room, forgetting the steps of the dance.
“Yes, put down that book!” Mr. Kennedy said breathlessly.
With a roll of his eyes, Roderick placed the book in his seat and got up, adjusting his clothes.
Mr. Kennedy released me and I spun right over to Roderick who grunted when I stepped on his toes. Mr. Kennedy continued to hum out a made up tune while Roderick and I waltzed around the room. I still felt warm from being held by Mr. Kennedy and hoped that Roderick wouldn’t notice.
After a few minutes, Roderick decided to follow Mr. Kennedy’s example and makes up his own dance moves, twirling me into a spin. And then finally, I heard Roderick laugh.
“See, dancing’s not so bad?” I teased.
He continued to smile, and for once we had a pleasant evening, the death of our mother hidden away if only for a little while.
* * *
Mr. Kennedy’s appearance seemed to revive something in my brother. He was still moody, but he seemed to have relaxed with the servants. I continued to read to him whenever he got headaches.
“This damn light,” Roderick said while I was in the middle of reading a paragraph from Dante’s Inferno.
His words struck a cord within my soul. I instantly thought of my mother. “What?”
“This damn light,” he repeated, lying on his back on the bed, covering an arm over his eyes.
I remained silent, frozen in my seat. It was starting again, I knew it. The one joyful evening we had was just a temporary reprieve.
He uncovered his eyes just enough to glare over at me. “Will you close the curtains?”
“Yes,” I said, perhaps too quickly, jumping up to close the heavy, dark drapes. The room was in blackness now and I had to light a few candles in order to see what I was reading.
I kept my calm. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with Roderick. No matter how many times I told myself that there was nothing wrong with him, the thought would push to the fore of my brain. I dreaded if the curse had hit my brother.
* * *
Father returned to us a few weeks later. He instantly took to bed, too exhausted to even speak to me or Roderick. He continued to run the firm from his bed, though. Every morning he’d hand Richard a sealed envelope of some sort, telling him to give it to the messenger whenever he arrived. I didn’t dare ask my father about his business, out of fear that he’d talk roughly back.
Roderick and I often sat together in silence for hours. The library one day, the dining room another. We were worried about losing our father now so soon after our mother.
As we ate dinner one night, I decided to speak my mind. “I think the curse has hit our father.”
With a fork raised to his mouth, Roderick stopped to stare at me. I thought he was going to yell, but instead he slowly put the fork down, and in a lifeless voice, he said, “What did I tell you about that, Madeline?”
I didn’t answer. I could tell that I had unnerved him already.
“What did I tell you, Madeline?” he said once more, his voice deeper than usual.
I sat frozen. Mrs. Franklin entered the room, not aware that we were in the midst of an argument. She laid down a dessert in the middle of the table, smiling the whole time.
“Be careful with this, it’s still a bit hot,” she said in her usual chirpy voice.
Roderick suddenly jumped up, throwing his napkin on the table. “Answer me!”
Both I and Mrs. Franklin shook where we were.
With a hand raised to her mouth in shock, Mrs. Franklin looked back and forth between us.
“Leave!” Roderick shouted at the poor woman.
“Stay!” I found myself shouting back to Mrs. Franklin, jumping up from my seat. I was worried to be alone with Roderick.
Mrs. Franklin paused where she was, confused by which one of us to obey. “Lady Madeline—” she squeaked.
“I said leave!” Roderick roared once again.
Mrs. Franklin took off in a light run and let the door close silently behind her.
I fell roughly back into my seat as Roderick walked over to my side of the table and sat in the chair next to me. He was far too close. I found myself sucking in a gulp of air and not exhaling it back out. “What did I say, Madeline?” he demanded again in a cold voice.
I couldn’t force myself to look at him, afraid that I’d start crying. I finally exhaled. “You told me that the curse wasn’t real.”
“And?”
I gave a small whimper.
“Say it, Madeline,” he hissed, causing me to shake involuntarily.
“That it was just idle gossip.”
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Was that so hard?”
I shook my head.
Roderick ran a hand tenderly down the side of my face before returning to his seat.
That was the last time I ever dared mention the curse to my brother.