With the final clank of metal against ceramic, Ingrid was prepared to flee the dining room when Tabitha spoke.
“So, Beatrice tells me you discussed imagination with Harry.” Tabitha rested her chin atop her intertwined fingers, plate half-finished and a gleam to her brown eyes. “Is this true?”
“Yes.” Ingrid kept her tone calm and level, eyes darting to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was already half-past six in the evening and Matilda still hadn’t shown up. Ingrid was growing impatient by the minute. “Is there something wrong, mother?”
“No, no, just an interesting topic is all,” Tabitha replied nonchalantly, a slight frown bowing at the corners of her lips. “Anything else?”
“Actually, he was quite interested in the topic of imagination as well,” Ingrid told her mother in an honest tone.
“Well, I’d like to call him, just to follow you up on that.” Rising to her feet, the chair scraped back. In alarm, Ingrid darted to the doors, standing before them quite protectively.
“That was a private conversation and you should not have been intruding with spies, mother!” she growled, arms spread out. “I’d appreciate it if you respected my privacy.”
Tabitha frowned fully this time, disapproval creasing her brow. “Don’t be so childish, Ingrid.” She’d reached her daughter by now, waiting patiently for her to move. “Now, if you please –”
She was cut short by the familiar echo of a single note throughout the manor. It rang in Ingrid’s ears, causing her heart to soar. The two women fell silent, straining their ears in an effort to find out who on earth was at their door at this hour, though Ingrid had quite a good idea of who.
The dining room entrance opened from behind Ingrid. She stepped out of the way as one of the maids scuttled in, curtseying respectfully.
“Miss, Madam Matilda has arrived.”
“Matilda?” Tabitha repeated in surprise. “Why?”
“She didn’t mention a reason, just that she requested an audience with you and Miss Ingrid.” The maid kept her head bowed, gaze glued to the floor.
“Escort her to my office. I will be up in five minutes.”
“Yes, Miss.” The maid made her exit, closing the doors behind her.
Tabitha then turned to her daughter, a suspicious look on her face. “Did you know she was coming? Did she call while you were on the phone?”
“Something like that,” Ingrid muttered, trying not to give away the anticipation in her expression. “We should go see her.”
“Ingrid Charles, do not –”
A single thought flashed through the front of Ingrid’s mind and the door burst back open but nobody had touched it. Ingrid turned, her scalp tingling with excitement and ran. She picked up her skirts and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, forgetting her lifetime of etiquette lessons for a moment. Once she arrived at her mother’s study, Ingrid burst through the doors with an eager grin on her face.
“Great Aunt Matilda –” She stopped short, noticing the look on the woman’s face and composed herself. Ducking her head impatiently, she bounced back up with an infectious grin. “You really came!”
“Yes – where’s Tabitha?”
“Auntie, what are you doing here?” Ingrid’s mother appeared rather flustered in the doorway to her study. She closed it behind her and hurried to her place behind the desk, trying to compose herself. “Madam?”
“Ingrid did not inform you of my visit, did she?” Matilda said dryly, shooting the young girl a disapproving stare. “Nevertheless, I suppose this was the only way.”
“Only way for what?” Tabitha eyed her aunt and her daughter in suspicion. “How did you get in contact with my daughter? I specifically instructed for her not to send any –”
“Mother, I would like to apply for Great Aunt Matilda’s Imaginist Academy,” Ingrid blurted out, unable to help herself. Her fingers were twiddling nervously with each other as she anticipated the older women’s reactions. “Please?”
A look of fury boiled across Tabitha’s delicate features. “You didn’t call Harry, did you? Oh, I should have known!” She seemed to speak the latter more to herself. “How could you disobey me like this? How can you still be so hopeful on this? I have told you many times over and over; no.”
“Mother!” Ingrid protested, feeling desperation leak into her tone. She turned to her Great Aunt, clasping her hands. “Aunt Matilda, you said you’d help me!”
“Auntie –”
“Tabitha, you cannot deny the girl’s abilities out of fear,” Matilda interjected, turning to her niece with a sharp gaze. “Her imagination is unbelievably powerful – didn’t I tell you that from the start? What will it take for you to realise that her best option is to come with me?”
“But you had no right to plan this behind my back!” Tabitha raised her voice, on the verge of shrieking. “Auntie, I respect imagination and the work you do for Imaginists but for mine and Leonard’s sake, please let this go! I will not have my daughter gallivanting about, constantly exposed to danger and bad influences –”
“Stop it!” Ingrid shouted. Her anger burst at the seams and her vision flashed red. The abrupt silence of the women was instantly followed by the explosion of the window, scattering its contents across the floor. Ingrid threw her arms up protectively, seeing her mother do the same out of the corner of her eye.
Surprisingly enough, the force hadn’t thrown shards of glass upon them. Ingrid slowly lowered her arms to find Matilda with a raised hand, as if she were silencing somebody. Her palm faced the ruptured window, an invisible wall protecting the three from harm’s way. Ingrid could still feel a slight breeze wander in.
“This is what happens to untamed imagination, especially someone with as much raw talent as Ingrid.” Matilda lowered her hand and though she could not see it, Ingrid could almost feel the protective barrier vanishing into thin air. Perhaps it was some sort of Imaginist’s intuition.
On the carpet in the middle of the room, powdered glass and fragments littered the floor yet a long clear line had been drawn across the mess, separating the three women from the window. One side was glittered with dust, the other completely absent of such clutter. It came to Ingrid as a surprise when none of the maids burst in from hearing the noise. Maybe they’d thought one of the women had shattered a glass vase by mistake, even though the window noise was ten times louder than that.
“Ingrid only needs to picture something and she can make it come true,” Matilda explained, waving a hand dismissively to the floor.
As if on cue, the dust accumulated across the floor, gathering tightly until they were clear shards of glass. Other pieces that were still intact had started throwing themselves against the gaping hole of the window, seamlessly mending themselves back together in a succession of thwip! thwip! thwips! until finally, the window was as good as new. Ingrid marvelled at her Great Aunt’s imagination. How had she accomplished such a feat so effortlessly?
“But with the right tutelage and control, she can learn to protect herself much better than whatever you can offer.”
Disbelief flickered through Tabitha’s eyes, rather offended at the claim. “I can give my daughter the best darn protection this world has to offer, thank you very much.”
“Money cannot buy everything,” Matilda replied sharply, the tone she used reprimanding. Even Ingrid jumped at her Great Aunt’s voice. “Ingrid must – no, will come board at my school and I will make her the best Imaginist she can be.”
Tabitha’s face grew redder and redder. Her gaze darted between Ingrid and Matilda in obvious desperation. That was, until finally, a look of realisation dawned on her face.
Despite her mother’s stubborn attempts to keep Ingrid from what she truly was, Ingrid knew, Matilda knew and Tabitha herself knew that deep down, the two Imaginists were right. Ingrid needed and wanted this as much as Matilda wanted her at the Academy.
“Fine.” Her voice was so small, the word mumbled under her breath but Ingrid had caught it with her keen ears. It took everything she had not to cry out in joy, especially since Matilda had given her a warning glare.
“I want a call from you every night,” Tabitha instructed, slowly rising to her feet, appearing rather tired. “And Auntie, I want to be ensured that she will not be in any life-threatening circumstances, at all costs.” She took a deep breath. “I want to know her progress and most of all, I want her safe. That’s the main condition I have.” Her mother paused, giving Ingrid a longing look. “How long will she be gone?”
“The tuition lasts as long as the Imaginist needs it,” Matilda started with uncertainty. “But judging by Ingrid’s lack of any experience or training, I would estimate two years. Maybe less if she can master her imagination quickly.”
“Two years,” she muttered, keeping her gaze on Ingrid. A wry smile cracked her solemn face. “I know you’re talented, Ingrid. So I want you back home within the year. Is that understood?”
“I’ll do my best,” Ingrid told her with a small smile. “Thank you, mother.”
“When is she leaving?”
“Tonight would be fine. I could take her back with me or come again tomorrow morning.”
“No, we’ve inconvenienced you enough by bringing you down here.” Ingrid’s mother waved her hand dismissively. “Ingrid, go and pack all your things. I’d like to keep talking with Matilda.”
“What would I need?”
“All your things, as much as you can fit into your bags. I can take a lot of luggage in my car, so don’t you worry.” Matilda’s uptight posture seemed to have slackened slightly, a smile on her thin lips.
Nodding eagerly, Ingrid opened the doors and suddenly stumbled back in surprise. Three maids staggered forward and without a doubt, they’d been eavesdropping. Despite their nosiness, Ingrid was in much too good a mood to rebuke them.
“Come, you can help me pack,” Ingrid ushered, nudging them up towards the next flight of stairs. “Mother, thank you!”
She could have almost danced her way back to her room but resorted to an impatient pace of jogging. Ingrid started humming under her breath, sweeping her room in a flurry of hands in an attempt to gather all the stray clothes strewn throughout the place. She continued throwing them at her maids who fumbled with the large amounts of material being tossed at them before neatly folding it all into suitcases that Ingrid would be dragging out in due time.
It seemed like no time had passed before she found herself at the front door, in the foyer, giddiness bubbling in her chest. Ingrid couldn’t believe it; a single visit from Matilda had set things straight, at last. And now, here she was, about to embark on an adventure further away from Montgomery, the Charles Manor for the first time in her life. How thrilling!
“Oh, I’m going to miss you so much.”
Almost abruptly, the giddiness dissolved like gas, turning into a lump in her throat. “M-Me too.”
Tabitha gave her daughter a sad smile as Ingrid’s realisation came crashing back down, shaking some sense into her. She may be headed off to the next chapter of her life but she was leaving behind the beginning of her book; her mother and her home.
Ingrid was leaving home. It wasn’t like all the other times when she’d made errand trips to Montgomery, all of which she returned home from. This time, she was leaving the manor for good – or at least for a while. Who knew how long it would take, how much training and shaping her imagination needed. What if it took her more than a year or two? Five even?
And what would father think? Ingrid wondered, a tight twinge in her chest as she wrapped her arms around her mother, feeling some sort of gratitude and sorrow fill her heart at the same time. Would he be encouraging me if he were here? He was always encouraging my imagination, even when mother hated it.
“You’d better go before I change my mind.” Tabitha held a tone of regret. She dabbed at her eye with her thumb, smiling sadly. “Before you see me in a mess of tears, I might add.” She paused, giving Ingrid a long, hard stare. “Oh, my dear girl!” Her mother threw herself at Ingrid again, squeezing her into a tight embrace that nearly suffocated the poor girl. “I will come visit you as soon as possible, I promise!”
“And I will look forward to it,” Ingrid wheezed, voice choking with tears. “Thank you for everything mother. I promise I’ll be safe.”
At that, Tabitha’s grip only seemed to tighten, constricting Ingrid further. She wasn’t sure where all this strength was coming from. She didn’t even know her mother packed so much power behind her thin arms. “In retrospect, I suppose this is for your own good as well as your safety. Good luck, Ingrid.”
Reluctantly, mother and daughter pulled away like forces of attraction being wrenched apart by the duty they had to each other.
Ingrid wiped the tears from her cheeks, knowing very well that this departure would be followed by a greeting in the future. The departure of her father on the other hand, had been different and much more melancholy; there was still a slim chance that he would return to greet them all again.
Nonsense, she thought, shaking her head and slowly shuffled through the threshold of the Charles Manor. Father is a fighter. He will come back and he will survive.
“Less than a year, Ingrid!” Tabitha called after her, voice cracking. “Auntie, take extra good care of her! She’s your great-niece!”
“Don’t fret, child,” Matilda called back. “Ingrid will be just fine.”
The maids were struggling with the heavy load of what was Ingrid’s luggage. Though Aunt Matilda’s car was larger than an average car, it shook each time the women managed to haul a suitcase in the back. Maybe she should have brought a truck, Ingrid thought, cringing when the hunk of metal trembled beneath the weight of her clothes. Or maybe I should have taken some things out.
It was too late now. Everything, packed and ready to go.
But Ingrid felt far from ready all of a sudden. Something about the situation, the fact that she was seconds away from leaving her home was frightening. For a moment, a chilling thought occurred to her. What if this was all a mistake? What if she wasn’t meant to be an Imaginist? What if things didn’t turn out the way it seemed? What if her imagination was too weak or –
“Any day now.”
Matilda appeared rather impatient as the chauffeur kept his hand on the open door, waiting for Ingrid to get in.
Before her fears or sudden irrational doubts got to her, Ingrid threw herself inside and clenched her fists in her lap. The door slammed shut beside her. The car shook slightly as two more doors were closed. A rumble burst from beneath the car floor and soon, they were off.
No turning back.
Flickering across the velvet blanket of midnight were tiny silver lights, winking down at the lone car travelling in the middle of the night. It was weighed down by the ridiculous amount of baggage within but nevertheless, carried on like a battered soldier. Beneath the watchful eyes of the moon, the car fought its way across a bumpy, uneven road that could barely be called one; overgrown foliage grew in every direction and angle. Had the driver not known the path like the back of his hand, the passengers inside would have been lost to the eerie darkness of the forest that consumed them.
Madam Matilda could feel it in her bones. It was an unnerving chill, one she always got when travelling through the woods. The trees she could barely make out were like tall black fingers reaching to tangle them in their woody grasps. She shivered, drawing her gaze back inside the car. It was just a façade, a defence mechanism to protect the Academy. She should have known better than to feel trepidation. After all, Matilda herself had been one of the few that had erected the guise in the first place.
Her eyes travelled to the mirror that reflected the sleeping passenger in the back; her great-niece. She felt her heart melt for the girl but kept her face impassive. Matilda reminded herself that she needed to keep up her hard exterior at all costs. It was the only way she got respect around the school.
Ingrid lay curled up in the leather seats, her boots peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress. Everything about her screamed vulnerable to Matilda; her charming innocence and that excitement that lit up the girl’s eyes whenever she asked questions about the Academy.
If Matilda didn’t whip her into shape in time, she wouldn’t last a day with a Tainted, let alone be able to protect herself and her imagination.
A sigh caused her shoulders to slump forward, posture slackening momentarily. Matilda had her work cut out for her. She prayed that Ingrid wouldn’t prove to be as innocent and delicate as she seemed.
“Ingrid, wake up.”
A stiff voice followed by a hand shaking her shoulder caused her eyes to flutter open. In one breath, Ingrid recognised a foreign scent wafting up her nose. When her eyes adjusted, she realised she wasn’t in her room. The discomfort in her neck proved that what she lay upon wasn’t her plush bed either.
With a yawn, Ingrid pulled herself upright, feeling strands of hair stick to the side of her face. “Hmm?”
“We’re here. Come on, up you get.”
A bony hand wrapped itself around her upper arm, tugging incessantly until Ingrid stumbled her way out of what appeared to be a car. She rubbed at her eyes vigorously, grateful that her eyes didn’t need to adjust much; it was almost pitch black outside, apart from the small orange specks of light dotting the area.
“Where . . . where are we?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes again and blinked rapidly.
“My school, Ingrid. The Royal Academy for Imaginists.” Matilda raised an eyebrow at her great-niece’s drowsy state. “Max will escort you to the dormitories and you will meet your roommate there.”
“Roommate?” Ingrid was a bit more conscious now, brown eyes wide in the darkness. “Why do I get a roommate?”
“Because you are my niece does not excuse you from being treated like all other students,” Matilda replied brusquely. “Which suitcase do you require immediately?”
“The pink one and the white ones,” she replied, voice in a daze.
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, Ingrid was following the back of a man who held a suitcase in each hand, holding them as if they weighed nothing. Was she dreaming?
One moment, she was in a field of concrete and glittering orange lights. The next thing she knew, Ingrid found herself at the doors to a large building. She couldn’t quite make out what it looked like in the dark though. Max handed her the two suitcases and it was then that she realised how heavy they were.
“Ingrid Charles?” came a soft-spoken voice.
Her ears perked at her name. “Yes?”
“Hi, I’m your roommate, Amelia Dawson.”
“Roommate,” Ingrid muttered, dragging the suitcases in with a desperate amount of effort. “Hello.” Standing up straight, she took the girl’s hand and was surprised to find her skin to be quite rough in comparison to Ingrid’s baby-soft hands.
Amelia’s brown furrowed slightly after withdrawing her hand, the smile gradually fading. “Are you waiting for something?”
“Some help with the suitcases would be nice.” Ingrid gestured to the large bags on either side of her. The tone she’d used was one she spoke to her maids with but in her half-asleep state, she wasn’t aware.
The smile dropped to a frown, a look of disbelief on her face. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I obviously can’t take these two by myself.” Ingrid smiled tiredly, holding onto the pink one with her dainty hands.
“Right.” Amelia took the white one, mood dampened. Ingrid did not seem to notice. “Well I know it’s late but welcome to the Academy.”
Ingrid yawned, nodding sleepily. “Thank you.”