The end of the world came sooner than expected. Benny had always known there was a possibility it would happen. He just hadn't expected everything to be so loud.
Mr. Ingram visited in the morning. His stay was shorter than usual, although Benny hardly noticed; he'd been too busy playing with his new spinning top. It'd been on his bedside table when he awoke, alongside a letter tied with a green ribbon. Benny hadn't bothered to read the letter, just like he hadn't bothered to listen to Ophelia and Mr. Ingram's conversation.
That was his first mistake.
His second mistake was that he didn't flee to Grandfather's weather cabin when he had the chance. The moment Mr. Ingram left the estate, everything dissolved into chaos. Ophelia spun around the drawing room with a blissful smile, Mother swooned on the settee, and Father started shouting for their finest bottle of brandy.
Which brought Benny to his current predicament: hiding behind the curtains and praying the end came swiftly. Words like hymeneal and nuptial did little to relieve his worries. Were they facing some plague? The last time Father had become this animated, the manor had been on fire. Just a small one, mind you, in the room attached to Grandfather's suite.
The words incendiary romance floated past, and Benny flinched. He couldn't believe his life had come to this. He was actually hoping the manor had caught on fire again. It felt easier to stomach than the alternative explanation. An explanation that—despite its improbability—seemed more likely by the minute.
He eyed the bottle of brandy as a servant presented it to Father. Perhaps he could sneak a few sips? The last time Benny had drank brandy, he'd been left hiccuping for hours. Father had forbidden him from drinking more until he was older. But this was different. Special circumstances involving the end of the world, and all that.
Benny tucked the spinning top under his arm. He slipped out from behind the curtain, cautiously approaching the refreshment station. Father had already taken a generous pour, sipping the amber liquid while he congratulated Ophelia. But the rest of the brandy had been forgotten in the commotion. Benny grabbed a glass, reaching for the bottle—
"Thank you, my boy," Grandfather said. He plucked the bottle from Benny's hands. "It's not every day your father brings out his expensive brandy." He winked, nodding towards Benny's spinning top. "That's a nice toy. Where did you get it?"
Benny stared at Grandfather. He didn't know which was stranger: Grandfather being out of bed before midday or the clothes he was wearing. A freshly pressed waistcoat covered his muslin shirt. A polished watch dangled from his pocket. And... were those ruffles on his sleeves?
"The spinning top is a recent find," Benny settled on saying. His fingers traced the design painted across the wood. The blue-gray swirls reminded him of storm clouds on a rainy day.
"She'll be happy to know you like it. She spent a quite a bit of time mixing paint, trying to find the perfect shade of blue," Grandfather said. He sighed, swishing the amber liquid around his glass. "I still can't believe she's gone."
Benny frowned. The brandy must be stronger than he thought. "Who are you talking about?"
"Your sister, Cordelia." Grandfather gestured toward the empty chair near the mantle. "We'll miss her dearly, but I know she's in a better place."
"What?" Benny stammered
"She's gone," Grandfather repeated. "Didn't you read her letter?" He paused for a moment, a furrow working across his brow. "Ah. It appears you did not. Perhaps I'm expressing myself poorly. Cordelia is—"
But Benny had already fled the room. He sprinted down the hall, narrowly avoiding a servant with a second bottle of brandy. The woman gawked, but Benny didn't stop. He raced to his private quarters.
The letter sat on his bedside table, tied with a green ribbon. It seemed impossible that something so innocuous could hold so many secrets. He unrolled it with shaking fingers.
Benny,
How does one write a farewell letter? I haven't the faintest idea. Writing has never been something I'm particularly gifted at. But if I've learned anything from our time together, it's that I should feel grateful for what I do have. And I am so incredibly grateful to have you in my life.
Do you remember the time Grandfather told us about Odysseus? It was last spring, during that vicious thunderstorm. You were convinced the cabin would wash away, and Grandfather distracted us with tales of a Greek hero who went on an incredible adventure. Odysseus dodged sea monsters, outsmarted a cyclops, and sailed the world. But through it all, he never stopped trying to return to his family.
It's time for me to go on my own adventure. I wish I could join the nunnery and be the dutiful daughter our parents desire, but that isn't me, and that isn't my future. It would be cruel to pretend otherwise. From now on, I'll be staying at the Avercroft boarding school. I'm going to be a teacher if you can believe it! I'll visit home for the holidays, and I'll send letters as often as I can. Please write back. No matter what, I will always be your loving sister.
-Cordelia
There was a smaller piece of paper tucked behind the first. Benny ignored it and re-read the letter. Once. Twice. Then, a third time, trying to calm his racing heart. Cordelia had embarked on a quest to become a... teacher? It was a far cry from a swashbuckling adventure with sea monsters and cyclops, but at least she sounded happy.
Benny closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about why Cordelia had left. He should have said more, should have done more, so she would know how much he loved her. Instead, he was stuck reading her letter and wishing she was here.
Benny pulled out the second paper, scanning Cordelia's elegant script.
Before I go, I want to leave you with a riddle. You were always so clever at solving them. Best of luck!
I hold people captive for days at a time;
Yet they come willingly, and I commit no crime.
I'm quiet by nature, though I aim to inspire;
But some people are wary and burn me with fire.
I keep many secrets, both known and untold;
I record the world's stories, the new and the old.
Benny frowned. Cordelia's riddle seemed unerringly dark for someone filled with so much light. Hadn't it said something about holding people captive and being burned with fire? Perhaps his end-of-the-world worries weren't that far off.
He turned the riddle over in his mind. It had to be something people enjoyed if they allowed themselves to be caught up in it for days. Maybe it involved spinning tops and toy soldiers? Benny would never get bored playing with those. But he couldn't picture a grown-up doing that. Toys didn't seem very inspirational, either. And what did that part about fire mean? Was it metaphorical, like Grandfather's stories of a phoenix rising from the ashes? Or was it connected to the last part of the riddle, about keeping secrets and stories?
Wait. Secrets and stories. That was it.
Benny hurried down the hall. The door to Cordelia's room was ajar. The space looked different than he remembered. Her trunk and most of the things that lined her vanity were missing. Her paintings had been taken down, and her leather satchel was missing from its hook. The room felt unlived in, like his sister's presence was a memory from the past.
Well, perhaps that assessment was a little too dramatic. Hadn't Cordelia promised that she'd always be his loving sister? Benny would hold her to that, no matter where the future brought them.
Benny pulled the riddle out of his pocket. They used to play this game when they were younger. Someone—usually Grandfather—would create a series of riddles and send them on a scavenger hunt around the manor. Ophelia would solve them within minutes and race ahead, but Cordelia would stay and help Benny. It's not the destination that matters, she'd say. It's who you're with on the journey.
Benny knew that solving this riddle wouldn't bring her back, but it seemed like something she'd want him to do. Besides, the answer seemed obvious. She'd even left it on her desk for him.
Benny picked up the book. The Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility smelled like peppermint and pine. He lifted the book's cover and....
Another riddle awaited inside. Benny smiled.
Ophelia paced across the drawing room. She was usually better at hiding her frustration, but this had been a trying day. It didn't help that her older sister had abandoned her when Ophelia needed her the most.
Ophelia didn't know which annoyed her more, that Cordelia had left the burden of saving their family to her or that she hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. What kind of lady—what kind of sister—would do that? Between the two of them, Cordelia had always been the kind, thoughtful one.
Apparently, things had changed.
At least Cordelia had finished Mr. Ingram's painting before she left. Ophelia had found it leaning against her door, a pretty green ribbon tied around one corner. The painting was one of Cordelia's best works yet. Mr. Ingram's country manor looked painstakingly realistic, down to the windows in the facade and the type of flowers in the garden. All Ophelia had to do was sign her name and slide it into a frame. Mr. Ingram had been so pleased he'd proposed on the spot.
And for the first time since she'd debuted in high society, Ophelia said yes.
Mother had fainted. Father had drank far too much brandy. Benny had run out of the room like the manor was on fire. And Cordelia.... Well, she wasn't here to offer commentary, one way or the other.
Ophelia tapped a finger against the painting. She supposed she would miss her. Out of everyone, Cordelia seemed to understand her the best. Her departure should elicit some measure of sadness. But there was a gap between what Ophelia felt and what she wanted to feel, a space where something important had frozen over. Watching her siblings nearly die had hardened some part of her. She was different from the caring girl she used to be.
A flicker of movement caught her attention. Benny raced past the drawing-room window, little more than a blur in the afternoon sun. He disappeared into the rose garden, following Cordelia's riddles like a trail of breadcrumbs. Cordelia had always been good at that. She'd given them a purpose and kept them together, even when the accident tried to tear them apart.
Ophelia supposed that duty fell to her now. Her shoulders were growing heavy under the weight of so many burdens. How long had it been since she'd had a day to herself, free from Mother's attention and Mr. Ingram's drivel?
Her gaze drifted to the mantle, where Cordelia had left her parting gifts. As usual, her sister had outdone herself. The piece on the left was some sort of astronomy map, clearly meant for Benny. The constellations were interesting, but it was the illustrations along the border that caught her eye. Cordelia had painted images from Grandfather's stories: a young hero holding a sword, Pegasus stretching his wings, and a princess standing by the sea. Each illustration matched a different constellation.
A smaller painting sat beside it, labeled with her name. Ophelia frowned. She supposed the painting was pretty, but there wasn't much she could do with it. The technique seemed rudimentary, as though Cordelia had focused more on the painting's feeling than its actual quality. Mr. Ingram's taste was too refined for her to present it as an engagement gift.
Besides, the subject matter was rather odd. The painting showed three figures sitting on a blanket, surrounded by a garden of roses. Two of the figures had their heads tilted back, staring at the stars. The third looked at the others with a loving expression on their face.
Ophelia turned away. Her sister was a talented painter when she applied herself, although that meant nothing if she'd run off to a boarding school. That was the difference between them. Ophelia would marry Mr. Ingram to restore their family's fortune. She'd strive to meet Mother's impossible standards. She'd hold their family together while Cordelia got to live out her dream.
A door slammed somewhere in the manor. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and Benny burst into the drawing room. He clutched a handful of white papers bearing Cordelia's handwriting. A grin stretched across his face. Benny's gaze flickered to the mantle before focusing on her.
"Ophelia, you'll never believe what I found. Lia left a gift for us!"
Ophelia straightened. "Yes, I know." She gestured at the astronomy map and the painting. "I presume your last clue led you here?"
Benny shook his head, his smile widening. "No. It brought me to the rose garden. We have a different gift there. It's something we're meant to share."
Ophelia blinked. Perhaps she'd misjudged their sister. Cordelia must care about them if she'd gone through the trouble of setting up multiple scavenger hunts and making personalized gifts.
"Come on," Benny said. He grabbed Ophelia's hand and started pulling her towards the door.
The corners of her lips turned up. "Alright. Lead the way."
Chapter word count: 2,257
Final word count: 14,763