Cordelia moved like a ghost. She felt like one, too—the moonlight streaming through the hallway windows painted her dress in shades of silver, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her skin had never looked so pale.
She stayed in lesser-used corridors, although it hardly mattered. If Cordelia was a ghost, then the manor was a tomb. Her parents had already retired to their rooms, and all of the servants were downstairs. Nobody was around to witness her escapade, and for that, she felt grateful.
Cordelia slipped through the hallway. Her sister hadn't said where they were meeting, but Cordelia could guess. There weren't many places with an uninterrupted view of the sky. Ophelia wouldn't want to walk through the woods at night, which ruled out Grandfather's cabin. The manor's roof was also out of the question.
She smiled. When they were children, she and Ophelia used to climb out an upstairs window and lay blankets across the roof tiles. They'd soak up the tiles' warmth and drink in the stars. The roof offered the best view of the night sky, although they'd stopped going there after Ophelia's tumble.
Cordelia had to admit: she was a little jealous. The fall had been scary at the time, but it'd gotten Ophelia out of embroidery lessons for a month. If Cordelia had known a minor wrist injury would spare her from sewing practice, she too would have taken up roof jumping as a hobby.
Then again, if Cordelia losing her entire arm wasn't enough to dissuade Mother for more than a few weeks, perhaps nothing would.
She smoothed her skirt, banishing the sticky thoughts from her mind. There would be time to reflect on things later. For now, she needed to focus on finding Benny and Ophelia.
A side entrance to the manor waited at the end of the hall. Nobody was in sight, although opening the door proved challenging in itself. The ancient wood was swollen from the summer storm. She eased it open, wincing as it creaked in protest. Cordelia held her breath, but the servants must have been busy elsewhere.
Cordelia stepped outside.
A grassy knoll spread behind the manor. Clover, chamomile, and wild thyme threaded through the tall grasses, perfuming the air. The plants looked lovely in the moonlight, but there was no denying they were empty of stargazers. Cordelia sighed. At least it narrowed her search. There was only one other place Benny and Ophelia would go.
The night air was humid, but a shiver trailed down her spine. Cordelia hadn't stepped foot in that place since a fateful conversation two years ago. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit.
She found Benny and Ophelia in Grandmother's rose garden, a plate of scones between them. A growing pile of crumbs collected on Benny's shirt, although he seemed more interested in the stars blanketing the sky than the state of his clothes. Ophelia sat with her ankles crossed and her hands tucked in her lap. She hadn't noticed Cordelia yet, and Cordelia used the rare opportunity to study her sister.
Before the accident, Mother had always described Cordelia as the prettier daughter. Looking at Ophelia, she wondered how that could be true. They shared the same hazel eyes, but Ophelia's seemed brighter, like green leaves frosted with glittering ice. Her skin was the color of pale cream, and she wore a light blue dress with white trim. She looked like a winter princess, even in the heat of summer.
Cordelia took a step forward. Her shoe brushed over a clump of rocks, scattering them.
Ophelia tilted her head, scanning the rose bushes until she found her. Ophelia rose in a flourish. "You came," she said. Her eyes raked over what she could see of Cordelia's attire, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
Cordelia gave a soft smile. "I came," she echoed.
"Lia!" Benny exclaimed. He scrambled to his feet and engulfed her in a hug. Her dress muffled his voice as he mumbled, "I knew you would find us."
Cordelia hugged him back. Benny smelled like warm strawberries and fresh rain. "Of course," she said, ruffling his hair. "I'll always find my way back to you two."
Benny wriggled out of her grasp. "Come sit with us," he said, leading her to their faded blanket. Benny waited for her to settle in before nestling against her side. "Cook made comfort scones," he said, nudging the plate toward her. "I ate a couple of them to make sure they tasted good."
"I'd expect nothing less," Cordelia teased, exchanging a knowing look with Ophelia. "What's your verdict on their flavor?"
"They're delicious. We can never let Cook retire," Benny declared, his voice solemn. He stared at the pastries like a preacher at the altar.
"In that case, I understand if you need to eat a few more. To make sure the flavor is consistent," Cordelia said. She winked.
Benny grinned and grabbed another scone.
Ophelia circled closer, eying a spot near the edge of their blanket. Cordelia patted the space beside her and Benny, but Ophelia ignored the invitation. She fluffed out her skirt and sat just beyond their reach.
"It was kind of you to suggest this outing," Cordelia ventured, blinking away the sting of her rejection. "I'm glad we can spend time together. It's a beautiful night for stargazing."
"It is?" Ophelia asked. She wrung her hands, avoiding Cordelia's gaze. "It's been so long since we snuck out; I hardly remember what to do."
"It's a perfect night for stargazing," Benny asserted. He gestured at the open sky. "It's not too cloudy, and the temperature is cool enough that we aren't in danger of overheating. I thought I'd melt when Lia and I went stargazing last week."
"Oh," Ophelia said, glancing between them. "I didn't know you two...."
Benny shrugged. "We come outside as often as we can, although it's easier when Grandfather is around. He lets us stay in the clearing around his weather cabin, and he always points out the constellations."
A bitter expression crossed Ophelia's face. "Of course he does. Grandfather always has time for his prettiest granddaughter and his aspiring astronomer."
Benny flinched. He tucked closer into Cordelia's side, looking between her and Ophelia.
Cordelia tried to catch her sister's eye, but Ophelia developed a sudden interest in the roses. She peeled petals off of the nearest one, removing any with blemishes. She didn't stop until the rose sported a perfect appearance. Then, she moved on to the next flower.
Cordelia sighed. "Ophelia, I don't want to argue about this. Grandfather and I have a connection because of our shared interests. He seeks my help with weather measurements the same way Grandmother used to ask for your opinion on flower arrangements. It's a matter of compatibility. Please don't make it into something it's not."
Ophelia gathered the blemished petals into neat piles. Her nails sank into them, ripping them into red ribbons. When she spoke, her voice had lost its icy edge. "I know. And... I'm sorry." She let out a rueful laugh. "Even now, I'm terribly jealous of you. How lucky you are, to choose how you live your life."
Cordelia stared at the mangled petals. When she was younger, she and Ophelia used to visit this garden with Grandmother. The aging woman had rambled on about growing the perfect rose. According to her, the ideal flower should be beautiful and elegant, able to blend into a field or stand out in a bouquet as the situation requires. Any ugly bits, such as torn petals or sharp thorns, must be trimmed away.
Looking at her sister, Cordelia was beginning to understand what Grandmother had meant.
"Do you remember our last conversation with Grandmother?" she asked.
Ophelia nodded. "Of course. It's... difficult to forget."
"It was the first time I'd left my room since the accident," Cordelia remarked. "I was half-delirious from laudanum and weak from blood loss, but Grandmother demanded a meeting in the gardens anyway. She needed to know if her darling debutante was ready for a ball that weekend. I made it as far as the garden entrance before collapsing."
Benny sucked in a breath, and Ophelia flinched. "Grandmother shouldn't have pressured you into coming," she said.
"Perhaps," Cordelia agreed. "But at the time, I felt I had little choice."
"That's not true. You always have a choice," Benny said. His eyes darkened, staring at her empty sleeve. "You just have to be ready to live with its consequences."
Cordelia nodded, wrapping a corner of the blanket over his shoulder. She wished she could turn it into a coat of armor that protected him from the world's cruelty. For now, she settled for giving him another comfort scone. It didn't erase the guilty expression on Benny's face, but it gave him something else to focus on.
"It's a shame Grandmother didn't get to see the woman you've become," Ophelia said, watching her care for Benny. "I think she would have felt proud."
Several of Grandmother's words flitted through Cordelia's mind, and proud wasn't among them. She could still remember Grandmother's face when she came across Cordelia lying near the garden entrance, her breathing ragged and her skin soaked with sweat.
Grandmother had taken one look at her bandaged stump and turned away in disgust. "We must keep her hidden," she'd told Cordelia's mother. "The girl will only bring shame to our family. After all, who could ever want half a lady?"
Even now, with Grandmother buried six feet underground and two years to dull the pain, the rejection stung.
"I wish it didn't have to end this way," Ophelia said. "I'm guessing service in a convent isn't the life you want?"
Cordelia picked at a loose thread in the blanket. "It isn't," she agreed.
"And it might not have to be," Benny chimed in. "Why do you both look so sad? This is the part of the story where a demigod on a flying horse will swoop in and rescue you. See?" he asked, pointing to Andromeda's constellation. "We'll need chains, a rock, and a hungry sea monster to complete the set-up."
"If demigods on flying horses don't work out, I suppose I could change my name and join the theater. Living with you two has given me plenty of practice," Cordelia mused.
Ophelia frowned, a pensive look crossing her face.
"Ophie?" Cordelia asked, nudging her shoulder. "It's your turn to make up an outrageous story."
"Right, ah, maybe you could marry the king of France and return to England with an army so you can place our father on the throne," Ophelia said.
Cordelia and Benny exchanged puzzled glances.
"What?" Ophelia protested. "All this talk about names and joining the theater made me think of Shakespeare."
"She didn't bring up that dreaded playwright, did she?" Benny asked, covering his ears. "Please, spare us!"
Cordelia laughed. Their mother had been obsessed with William Shakespeare's tragedies for as long as she could remember. She'd even named her children after characters from his plays.
There was Ophelia, the dutiful daughter in Hamlet who crumbled under societal expectations. Then, there was Benvolio from Romeo and Juliet, a gentle peacemaker who inadvertently caused his friend's demise. And finally, there was Cordelia, King Lear's favorite daughter, until suddenly, she wasn't.
It's too bad Mother was fond of tragedies. She should have named her children after histories. Those tended to have happier endings, although Antony and Cleopatra might disagree. Poor souls.
"Whatever this week holds for us, I'm glad we get to face it together," Cordelia said.
"Agreed," Benny exclaimed.
"I'm not going anywhere this time," Ophelia vowed. "You're stuck with me."
She moved closer, settling in the space beside them. The three siblings fell silent, letting each others' presence speak for itself.
Around them, roses rustled in the breeze. A chorus of insects played a steady tune. And the moon sailed across the sky, bathing the night in silver light.
Chapter word count: 2,039
Total word count: 10,336