Chapter fifteen- Beatrice

"We think Mother is dead."

The words just rolled around endlessly in her brain like fall leaves dancing on a breeze. She just couldn't believe it. Sissy couldn't be dead. But Teddy was not given to making up stories or telling tales. He was far too somber for a lad of barely thirteen as far as Beatrice was concerned.

"Dead?" The word whooshed out of her on a shocked whisper. "You think your mother is dead?"

"She hasn't come out of her room for two days." Felicia announced grimly. "And we don't dare go in without permission." At ten, she too was far more pragmatic than Beatrice liked. But considering everything these children had endured through their short lifetime, it was no wonder.

Beatrice shifted, hefting little Martine a bit higher in her arms to try and relieve some of the strain. Small as the six-year-old was, she was getting too big for Beatrice to carry about and her arms were tiring.

"She locked herself in her rooms after Mr. Narwhal left." Felicia informed her.

"Mr. Narwhal?" Beatrice parroted in surprise.

"He was very angry and shouting." Teddy told her. "We could hear him from all the way up in the nursery."

Beatrice felt a worm of guilt wriggle inside her chest. She didn't need to ask why Mr. Narwhal was angry. No doubt he had been frustrated after fruitlessly searching everywhere for her. This was all her fault. If she hadn't run away, things would never have escalated to this point.

"I don't like Mr. Narwhal." Martine declared, scrubbing her face in her aunt's bodice.

"Me neither." Felicia readily agreed.

"He's not a nice man." Teddy growled angrily. "Mother should never have allowed him to pay court to you."

Beatrice was struck speechless. Teddy didn't blame her after all.

"Mr. Narwhal told Mother he wants the fresh blossom, not the old cow." Felicia told her, helpfully.

"That made mother angry." Martine added.

Beatrice choked, biting her lip to hold back laughter. She could just imagine the expression on Sissy's face after that exchange. No doubt that insult had pricked her ego. That the children had overhead such an exchange was no surprise. Little pitchers often had big ears, and even bigger mouths. It always amazed her how much information they could absorb and retain.

"Mother was almost as angry with Mr. Narwhal as she was with Teddy." Felicia quickly pointed out.

Teddy squirmed and ducked his head, blushing in shame, but made no protest. A sure sign of guilt.

"Why was your mother angry with Teddy?" Beatrice asked.

"Teddy was very ill." Felicia said, solemnly.

"All over Mother." Martine chimed, her small voice muffled against her aunt's chest.

Beatrice had to stifle another giggle. The vision of Sissy, looking disgusted while covered in sick, was impossible to banish from her mind's eye. She cleared her throat with a little cough before turning back to her nephew. Teddy was avoiding her eye, his face red with guilt and embarrassment. No doubt his mother had punished him harshly. It would never occur to Sissy that the boy had no control over his bodily functions while he was ill.

"Did you feel poorly, Teddy?" Beatrice automatically lifted a hand to his forehead and cupped his cheek but he didn't seem to have a fever.

"I feel much better, now." He hastily assured her as he scrubbed at the tears on his cheeks and tried to square up his shoulders in a manly fashion.

Poor Teddy. He tried so hard to be the man of the family but he was still just a boy. Beatrice fondly ruffled his hair and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"It's all right, Teddy. Things like that happen when we get sick." She hugged him close and dropped a kiss on his forehead. It was testament to his agitation that he allowed it. Usually the boy avoided such overtures of affection.

"Mother sent us up to the nursery." Felicia rubbed at her eyes with one grubby hand, reluctant to release her aunt's skirts.

"We fell asleep." Martine yawned loudly and adjusted her hold on Beatrice's neck as she burrowed closer. Beatrice used her chin to rub the top of the child's head affectionately and dropped a light kiss on those copper curls.

"In Teddy's bed." Felicia quickly added.

Beatrice sighed. The two girls could be very competitive. The poor dears were starved for affection. With their father gone, and their mother so strict one minute and just plain neglectful the next, Beatrice was the only adult who truly showed them any genuine affection. She tried to shower them with all the loving care she was capable of, but she was only their aunt and barely much older than they were herself. She often felt out of her depths and emotionally overwhelmed.

"When we woke up, we were hungry so we went down to the kitchen to get something to eat." Teddy explained.

"Then Mr. Narwhal came." Martine tipped her head back to look up at her aunt.

"We heard him shouting." Felicia announced.

"Mother took him into the parlour and closed the door but we could still hear them arguing." Teddy's voice dropped to it's new, lower register before suddenly squawking on his last word.

"And then what happened?" Beatrice asked.

"After Mr. Narwhal left, Mother said she had a megrim and went to her rooms." Teddy explained quietly.

"We haven't seen her since." Felicia shook her head earnestly.

"No, we haven't seen her." Martine chimed in.

A soft sound behind her had Beatrice turning her head. She was startled to see Gilbert standing in front of the oriole window which overlooked the street-front. As she watched, he gestured urgently to the window and she noticed an odd glow through the glass. She had all but forgotten about the fire. They would need to hurry. But she didn't want the children to be frightened. They had enough trauma in their young lives.

"Children, I would like to introduce you to a very nice gentleman." She gently but firmly placed Martine back on her own feet and turned the three to face their guest.

Before she could say anything more, Martine tilted her head back, her eyes widening with awe, and boldly observed, "Oh, a big bear."

Felicia scornfully corrected her little sister.

"That's not a bear. He's a man."

Embarrassed by their rudeness, Beatrice flushed and quickly reprimanded them both.

"Girls, that is not how we greet a guest in this house."

"Sorry Aunt Bea." Was the automatic response.

"I should hope. This is Mr. Lourson. He's here to help us."

"How do you do, Mr. Lourson?" Teddy's newly deeper tones remained steady as he stiffened and bowed properly.

"How do you do, Sir?" Both girls parroted their brother, each performing a sweet, if hasty, curtsey.

Gilbert nodded and performed a perfect courtly stretch of the leg, sweeping off an imaginary hat and throwing his arm out. The children giggled at the formality and even Beatrice could not resist smiling at his antics. Then she caught sight of the glow outside the window and was reminded of the urgency of the situation.

"We have to go."

A chorus of confused questions rose from the children but Beatrice chose not to answer. She lifted the lantern at her feet and moved to the shelf by the nursery door. There she lit one of the short candles and handed it to her nephew.

"Teddy, take your sisters to the nursery and put on your coats and shoes. Quickly now." She shooed them off with gentle but firm insistence.

The girls both protested, but Teddy took charge, urging them into the nursery, and followed them inside. As soon as the children were out of sight, Beatrice turned to Gilbert.

"We have to check on Sissy."

She hurried back down to the mid-level and turned on the landing with Gilbert behind her. When she reached the door to the master suite, Beatrice automatically raised her hand to knock. She hesitated an instant before rapping sharply. There wasn't time for hesitation.

"Sissy! Sissy, it's Beatrice. Are you in there?"

She reached for the door handle but, unsurprisingly, it didn't budge. Sissy often locked herself in when she wanted privacy. Not that any one of them would willingly disturb her anyway. They all preferred to avoid the woman and her rigid strictures. After a moment of complete silence, Beatrice was surprised by the gentle nudge at her shoulder. Gilbert motioned for her to step aside.

He placed his hands on the door, running his fingers along the seams and over the panels. Confused, Beatrice watched him examine the door. She had no idea what he was doing until he reached up and forced his fingers into the gap between the panel and the frame. A sharp click sounded and the door swung open. She was so amazed, it took her a moment to recall their purpose in wanting the door open.

Beatrice hurried inside. They entered the sitting room first. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was crowded with furniture. Here, the opulent grandeur of their former life was fully visible. Sissy had sold off most every painting, every gilded mirror, every stick of furniture in the rest of the house to cover their bills. But here, in her inner sanctum, everything was just where it always had been. Beatrice felt almost sickened by her Sister-in-law's selfishness.

She hastened through the obstacle course to the bedroom door. This time she dispelled with knocking and threw open the door. It was the overwhelming stench that she noticed first. The sickening sweet odour was enough to cause anyone to retch. Beatrice lifted the lantern higher and simply stopped. At first, she thought the figure on the bed was frowning at her, angry at being disturbed. She expected to be berated for barging into her Sister-in-law's sanctuary without being summoned. But then she looked a little closer and noticed the white complexion,  the fixed and glazed eyes.

Sissy would never berate her again. She was indeed dead.