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MORBID BITE
Chapter Four: The Harp
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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Belle looked between the two siblings, their gaze did not leave each other's faces. Their striking eyes were so similar in appearance you could almost mistake them to be identical. All Belle could do was stand and watch as the two of them walked closer to each other. Nicholas was the first to make a move, placing his arms around Sylvia's thin shoulders.
"You're back," he softly whispered, muffled by her hazel hair. Sylvia did not return her brother's touch of affection, in fact her face held a look of disgust at her brother's directness.
"Please Nicholas, no need for such gestures." Her stiff voice was like a hot poker slowly being stabbed into his heart. She took a step away and pushed at his chest, turning her attention back to Belle.
"I must insist you introduce me to your lovely friend." Her sarcastic tone did not hide her distrust of Belle. Averting her eyes away from the uptight woman, Belle's hands folded at her front and she pulled at her fingers.
Nicholas's large grey eyes stared in hurt at his little sister. When had she become so cold? It only seemed like yesterday when she had been a cheerful little girl, playing around with her dolls; intent on giving them the best ballroom dance.
"This is Annabelle, a guest of my household. She is staying with us for a while, her carriage was attacked by the monster and..." Nicholas's hand motioned towards Belle but his smile was interrupted by Sylvia's sudden intake of breath.
"Oh, Nicholas." Sylvia jerked her head towards her brother, an amused smile growing on her red lips. "Don't tell me you still believe in all those heathen myths. I remember you jabbering about that years ago. Monsters, Nicholas, that is something commoners believe in, not people like us." He stared at the wall just behind his sister's head, unable to look her in the eyes. She did not seem to notice the hurt in Nicolas's face, but her nose scrupled up like a bad smell had drifted under the door. She turned in disgrace from her brother and switched her disapproving glare to Belle.
"Tell me Annabelle. Do you believe in my brother's ignorance?" The woman laughed as if her brother's words were really such a stupid belief.
"Yes I do. The thing that killed my father was no creature of our God's creation. It was a monster from hell." Belle's voice was flat as a flow of confidence glowed in her gut.
She was beginning to very much dislike this woman, something about her made Belle think of a sly slinking vixen. Sylvia's smile slowly vanished as she looked between Belle and her brother.
"Well. Who are you to tell me what is right and wrong? I don't even know who you are." She waved in the direction of Belle. "For all I know you could be some peasant my brother picked up from the sewers in a strange fit of charity." Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her front teeth together in an almost fox-like hiss.
"Annabelle Novacek." Belle stated flatly, trying not to show how much the comments hurt her.
"Well that explains everything." She threw her head back in a fake laugh. "You are of a lower family, none of this is your own fault, simply who you are." Sylvia waved her hand at Belle and strolled past her, off to find the best room no doubt and write a poison filled letter to a high society friend.
Once she had vanished into the depths of the house Nicholas brought attention back to Belle.
"I am so sorry for my sister's behaviour." He signed and ran a rough hand through his short hair. "It's not her fault. She was brought up by our godfather, she has always felt misplaced." Nicholas could not look at Belle for too long, he felt so embarrassed and upset at his sister's treatment of her.
"No need to apologise. She is your sister I do not judge people on their family." Belle smiled and gave him a light push on his shoulder.
"Thank you." He reached for her hand and squeezed it in an affectionate act.
His lost puppy eyes pulled on Belle's heart strings, all thoughts she had felt of worry for his character vanished. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge him. He coughed and retracted his hand, blinking a few times, making his eyelids stick to the dry surface of his eyes.
"Lunch will be at one. I need to inform the kitchen that another place is needed at the table." Nicholas turned quickly on his heels and jogged down the stairs.
Belle was left, trying to decide what the words he had said to his sister meant for her. Nicholas had shown that he was prepared to side with Belle, even against his own family. What actions had she shown that proved her of any worth for his generosity. Moving down the stairs she began to hope that the gentlemen expected nothing sinister from her. She was not that type of woman.
Feeling a new confidence, she decided to investigate the house she had been living in the past week. The house creaked with age as her feet scuffed the floorboards. The walls were well maintained with a cream wallpaper reaching up to the ceiling. The bitter cold outside threatened to come in but the heavy curtains across the windows hugged the inside of the house. The oil lamps gave an orange glow to the hallway, but through one of the open doors a white daylight spread out into the entrance hall. As Belle walked into the room she could not believe the beauty that was before her.
The gold cornicing ran around the high ceilings, each corner and line immaculate and spell bounding. The detail that ran around the room too much for any man, woman or child to appreciate. Every wall was decorated in such tasteful decor it made Belle want to explore every corner of the room. Even the door had carved symbols around the border the one which drew her attention was the harp entwined in rolls of parchment. But what was most fascinating was walls and walls of spines, every shelf full of stories. The smell of old books was unmissable, that sweet smell of words. Every story jumped out at her, no one could read this whole library in their lifetime. Once she finally moved her eyes away from the walls and back down to the floor Belle noticed the dusty harp.
The huge ceiling to floor windows allowed the early morning light to twinkle off the strings of the instrument, as if the harp yearned to be played. Belle's father had given her the option of any musical amusement, her sisters had chosen piano and singing but Belle had wanted to play something deep, meaningful, something that had a haunting sound.
Belle dragged her sore feet towards the harp and pinged one of the strings. The warm note sent through a memory of her father and in that moment, she felt as if he sat across from her. He had always sat and listened to her play, the low swing of the music dulling him into a sense of serenity. How much she missed his company. Belle moved the tuning pin, making sure each string sounded like silk in the acoustics of the room. Searing the room, she scanned for a seat, so she could sit and play. Finding nothing, she picked up the discarded books and began to pile them. Once she was satisfied they would be the right height, she sat down and pulled the instrument towards her left side and from there she played her father's favourite music.
For what felt like an eternity, she plucked at the strings, her long fingers elegantly moving over the notes. The melody filled the room and if Belle closed her eyes she could pretend that her father, truly was just back in Paris sitting in his beloved arm chair. The memory was too painful, and she stopped mid bar, wiping away the tears she decided to never play that song again. The rumble of her stomach reminded her that she had a lunch to attend, and in that moment, she felt a hardness settle in her that she had never felt before.
Belle could not get out of her corset fast enough. The lunch had been hell. Sylvia had made it her mission to get every piece of information out of her, treating her like an animal, to see when she would snap. She had been so meek and mild her whole life that she had not realised how much her father's death had changed her. Belle knew it had been wrong to snap at her hosts sister, but it was the only way she could stop herself from slapping that smug square grin off her perfect face. She had called her father a second-class delusional capitalist – she had not even known him.
Belle tugged at the laces as her breathing became fast and irregular.
Nicholas had just sat there, silent, staring at his meal like nothing was happening - as soon as she thought of it, a wave of guilt hit her, and she slumped onto the bed. It was not Nicholas's place to defend her. Her whole life her father had done just that, fighting her corner protecting her. Even if Nicholas had shouted at Sylvia, Belle would have found it wrong. They were family and she as the intruder. She chucked the corset onto the floor and screamed into a pillow, letting the anger seep into the soft feathers.
Once she had regained her sanity, Belle began collecting her thoughts. For weeks she had been stuck in this house, unable to walk or move. She needed a change of scenery somewhere she could forget about high society and Nicholas's overpowering sister.
A knock sounded on the door jolting Belle up from the bed, she glanced down at her chest; the dress was sprawled open at the front. Fumbling around for some sort of cloth to cover herself she reached for, what she thought was, her night grown and then shouted for the person to enter.
Nicholas strolled in his eyes to the ground.
"I didn't get to comment on your playing this morning." He brought his eyes up from the ground but as they settled on Belle they widened, and his next words stumbled out of his mouth, "your...um...your top."
Belle looked down and realised she had picked up her corset and it was not covering most of her chest. She took in a sharp gasp and spun around, so her back was facing Nicholas.
"It is rude to stare, monsieur." Belle could feel his eyes staring into her back. She sighed, now she knew her fears were right, he had feelings for her that were not returned.
"Pardon me mademoiselle." He turned away and rested his hand on the door frame, gulping back his words.
"I just came to say, your playing reminded me of my mother. It was the most beautiful thing to enchant this house since her death, so thank you."
He left before Belle could put together an answer. How could he anger her one-minute and then break her heart the next? Every time she thought it best to leave, her mind would feel sorry for him, maybe a companion was all he wanted. Belle had been fine with marring without love before, why now was she so against it?
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It's another quite one I'm afraid, I really want you to get to know the characters before any more action happens as I feel it will help with the story. If you did enjoy the chapter then vote and comment, feedback is always appreciated.
Dedicated to arsenic_ for the beautifully perfect cover.