Cordelia hurried to her room. She scribbled a hasty note while a maid helped her into a green walking dress.
I'm going to our secret spot. I'll see you soon.
-C
Hopefully, her co-conspirator would know what that meant.
She slipped the note under the cover of last year's Christmas gift. The book's pages still smelled of peppermint and pine, bringing back memories of the frosty morning her family had huddled in the drawing room and exchanged gifts.
Her little brother had played with a spinning top while their parents presented Ophelia with an heirloom necklace. The diamonds had glittered like fallen snow, complimenting Ophelia's new dress and matching earrings.
Cordelia had sat in a corner, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper. Her present, The Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility, had lain forgotten in her lap.
She sighed, flipping through its pages. At least the book was useful. When she wasn't hiding notes behind the cover, it made an excellent step stool.
"Would you like a hat, Miss?" the maid asked. She reached for a frilly pink bonnet with ruffled lace.
Cordelia grimaced. She thought she'd misplaced that bonnet by the stables the other day. Apparently, she wasn't so fortunate.
"Yes," Cordelia agreed, glancing at the clouds gathering outside her window. "A hat would be lovely." She scanned her small collection. "Perhaps the straw hat with the wide brim?" The maid's hand hovered over it, and Cordelia nodded. "That's perfect. Thank you, Hannah."
Hannah crossed the room, positioning the hat on Cordelia's head. She cleared her throat, catching Cordelia's eyes in the vanity mirror.
"I know it isn't my place to say this, but...." She paused. "You've always been so kind to us servants. If anything should happen, you'll always have people willing to listen."
Cordelia dipped her head. "Thank you, Hannah. Your support means a lot to me."
Hannah nodded. Her nimble fingers wove pins through Cordelia's braids, securing the straw hat.
Outside, a horse trotted past, carrying a postman in a blue uniform. Letters peeked from the postman's mail bag.
Cordelia shifted to meet Hannah's gaze again. "Actually...If it isn't too much trouble, can you set aside any letters addressed to me before Mother sees them?"
Hannah made a muffled sound of agreement, speaking around a mouthful of pins. "Of course." She leaned over, depositing the extra pins in a dish. "Although I must warn you that your mother has a knack for figuring things out on her own. Especially when something seems fishy."
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. That was an interesting choice of words. There was no way Hannah knew about her involvement in the pickled herring incident. She'd paid off the cook's assistant to keep that quiet.
She smiled. It'd been worth it, too—the incident had kept pickled herring off the menu for good. If Cordelia had known putting a fish in Mother's tea would prove so effective, she would have done it sooner.
"I can't imagine what you mean," Cordelia said, making a show of smoothing out her skirt. "I strive to embody virtues in everything I do."
Hannah kept a straight face, although her lips curled up in the corners. "Indeed." Her brown eyes flickered to the note peeking out of The Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility. "I hope you enjoy your walk. Please give my regards to the young master if you see him."
Cordelia nodded. She grabbed her leather satchel from its hiding place, slipping it over her shoulder. "I will," she promised.
Hannah held the door open for her, standing aside to let her pass.
The hallway was empty, although Cordelia hadn't expected otherwise; her mother was probably fretting over Mr. Ingram's impending arrival, and Ophelia must have been busy admiring her reflection in the mirror.
It served Cordelia just as well. It meant there'd be fewer witnesses to her secret rendezvous in the rain.
The floorboards creaked beneath Cordelia's feet. Her fingers drummed against her leather satchel, and her gaze flitted between a lifetime of landmarks. There was the purple stain on the rug from the time Ophelia dropped a blackberry tart and the scrape across the paisley wallpaper where Benny's spinning top had a crash landing. One of Cordelia's paintings covered a foot-sized hole near the staircase banister. Even the air smelled like home, fragranced with the scent of candied strawberries and summer rain.
She wondered if the streets in London smelled the same.
"Icarus died that way."
Cordelia startled.
Ophelia stood at the top of the staircase. A delicate necklace hung from her sister's throat, a priceless emerald glittering from a bed of silver crystals. Ophelia toyed with the chain, glancing between Cordelia and the door outside.
Cordelia adjusted her satchel, meeting her sister's gaze. "He did?"
"Surely you remember the Greek classics," Ophelia said, arching a perfect eyebrow. "The myth follows the story of a foolish child who tried to escape the only home he'd ever known. Icarus believed the outside world was full of wonder and excitement." Her voice fell flat. "It isn't."
Cordelia nodded. "I did pay attention during our lessons, you know."
It was mostly because she'd found the young demigods attractive. Their tutor's book had a beautiful illustration of Hercules holding a golden sword, sweat glistening along his shoulders. But Ophelia didn't need to know about that particular interest.
Her sister glided down the stairs, holding her head high. She paused on the last step, using the height difference to look down on Cordelia.
"I'm surprised to hear you listened during our lessons," she said. "Your lack of etiquette could have convinced me otherwise."
"We can't all be like you. It must be difficult being so perfect," Cordelia mused.
Ophelia's nostrils flared. "You think it's easy being the dutiful daughter?" she snapped. "To shoulder the burden of making a respectable connection through marriage?"
"I never said—"
"Of course you didn't. You only think about yourself. Did you ever consider that the accident affected the rest of our family, too? Mother and Father fight every day, my prospects are dwindling, and Benny's reputation will be tarnished by his association with you."
Cordelia frowned. The first two could hardly be considered her fault. Mother seemed determined to make their lives miserable, and Ophelia was more than capable of chasing her suitors away. If her embroidered birds weren't enough of a deterrent, then her singing ought to do the trick.
But Benny...
Cordelia did feel bad about Benny. Not because her condition impacted their brother's standing, but because she knew he blamed himself for what had happened. Worse still, he wasn't wrong.
Cordelia sighed. "I'm sorry if you think—"
"No," Ophelia interrupted, crossing her arms. "I don't believe you are sorry. If you were, you wouldn't wander through the rain in self-pity while I strive to meet Mother's impossible expectations. Did you ever wonder if I'm Mother's favorite because I actually think about our family's needs? Maybe you don't receive her love because you don't deserve it."
She said the last bit slowly, like a card player laying down a winning hand.
Cordelia gritted her teeth. It would be so easy to put Ophelia in her place, to show her sister she was wrong and Cordelia did belong in their family. But where would that leave them? Clawing at each other's throats like feral cats?
"I know my condition is difficult for our family's reputation," Cordelia said, "but I am trying to make things better." She tilted her head. "Do you remember when Father surprised Mother with a ruby bracelet? I helped him pick it out. And I suggested that Mother invite Mr. Ingram for afternoon tea so you could become acquainted. I know how important it is for you to court a respectable gentleman, and I wanted to help."
Ophelia threw up her hands. "I don't need you to look out for me, and I certainly don't want you interfering with my marriage prospects." She scowled. "Besides, that doesn't tell me anything about Benny. Do you even care about our little brother?"
Cordelia blinked. "Of course I care. Who do you think held Benny's hand when he cried himself to sleep every night?"
Ophelia flinched. "Benny cried every night? I... I didn't know."
For a moment, her face seemed to soften. Cordelia could almost imagine they were friends again, pilfering pastries from the kitchen and trading stories beneath the stars.
"I understand why you can't bear to look at me," Cordelia said quietly. "You've gotten better at hiding it, but I still see you. All this resentment—it isn't anger, it's guilt. You weren't happy living in my shadow. I was society's darling, and you were the other Williams girl. But after the accident, everything changed. Invitations with your name arrived in the mail, and suitors started calling. Now, Mother adores you. You have everything you ever wanted while my dreams are gone."
Ophelia stared at the ground. "Why are you telling me this?"
Cordelia shrugged. There were so many things she wanted to say, but it didn't matter. Mother had already started calling for her favorite daughter.
Ophelia hesitated—just for a moment—before straightening her emerald necklace. Her face hardened into its familiar mask, and she spun on her heel, leaving Cordelia alone in the hallway.
Why am I telling you this? Cordelia thought, watching her sister walk away. It's because Icarus didn't die from leaving his prison. He died because he flew too close to the sun and reached for things he shouldn't have. If you aren't careful, Ophelia, your pride may lead you to do the same.
Chapter word count: 1,597
Total word count: 2,752