Page 15 of Unlikable

“Here,” Everett says, holding out the safety collar to me. It has become nothing more than a crumpled and soaked piece of cloth. The iron wire running through the seams is bent.

I stare at the thing in his hands but don’t find the strength to take it. “That safety collar you bought earlier in the day, you might as well throw it in the trash.” The man’s words still haunt my mind, and a shiver creeps down my spine. I close my eyes and press myself closer into the leather cushion of the sofa.

We are in a carriage, driving back to the mansion. The sun has risen, shining warmly through the glass on my face and hands. The two horses pulling the carriage are in sync, their hooves clattering rhythmically on the stones. The carriage squeaks, creaks and is pulled through puddles of water.

Everett had addressed the first coachman who was waiting for customers in the early morning hours. After tossing in some coins, the coachman silently took us on board. We are almost “home”, and I did not expect to ever admit it, but I am glad we are riding back to the Clifton estate.

“Eleonora?” Everett’s voice sounds distant. He speaks my name again. I don’t respond. Then he falls silent. Perhaps he has realised by now that I am tired of talking. When they found us, we told them everything. How we were hot on the man’s heels, the strange conversation between us in the alley, how he pulled out a knife and we had almost died.

Everett and Jonathan had stood listening with open mouths. On my brother’s face, I had seen fear. Maybe he realised that he had been incredibly lucky. That if he had gone to London on his own, he might never have returned alive.

One thing is certain, my brother will not be looking for Junior R for the time being. By now, I’m pretty sure it was him who chased us, who almost killed us. Does that make me anxious? Yes. Am I okay? Not at all. Am I about to burst into tears and crawl away in a corner, wailing for my mother? Absolutely.

Yet I hold everything back. It’s not that I don’t want to cry, because heavens, what a relief that would be. I just can’t. The idea of me bursting into tears here makes the blood rise to my cheeks. I would embarrass myself to death. Besides…I feel empty, hollow. Like some kind of walking shell, unable to show any kind of emotion anymore.

Felix is sitting next to Everett. When I open my eyes again, I see him staring out through the window absently. Now that the sun is shining and he is no longer shrouded in darkness, I can see what the drug has done to him. The wrinkles on his forehead are deeper; his face is paler, seems more sunken. His lips are still purple. The shine of his dark hair has disappeared. It has become dull and looks old and unkempt.

It seems as if Felix has aged ten years overnight.

We are all grateful and relieved that the drug Felix ingested did not kill him, but there is a charged tension in the carriage. As if everyone wants to talk about how Felix looks at the moment, but no one really dares to broach the subject.

Next to me, Jonathan wobbles his legs up and down restlessly. He looks at us the whole time without saying a word. His wiggling is starting to get on my nerves, though, and I am glad when Felix snaps at him to calm down.

Jonathan stops immediately.

Felix stretches and sits a little straighter on the sofa. He seeks my gaze, but I turn my face away from him. I am still hurt by his words, even though I know he was right. Every word out of his mouth was the truth.

The awful thing is that I can’t do anything with it. As if I myself don’t know how things are, as if I myself wouldn’t wish the world were different.

“Father is going to kill us,” Everett says, defeated. He placed the safety collar on his lap and stares at it. “How are we ever going to explain why we didn’t spend the night in the house?”

“I think it would have been more complicated if you had never found us,” I say, granting him a smile that requires all my energy. “I’m so glad you found us.”

“It was severe weather,” Jonathan says, and I am surprised to hear him speak because he has been so quiet all this time. “We can say we had to take shelter, that it was irresponsible to travel back to the estate.”

“We could have taken a carriage?” Felix counters.

Jonathan shakes his head. “Then we tell them those were all taken. That everyone wanted to take shelter.”

“Don’t you know how many carriages there are in London?”

“No, Felix, I don’t know that,” Jonathan sighs, exasperated. “It’s not like I count them all.”

“Wow, what has got into you all of a sudden?”

Jonathan cast his friend a stoic look. “No idea. Maybe it gnaws at me that Mr Prime and I spent hours searching for you, thinking you were dead. That I spent hours living in agony as I asked myself how to justify this to the squire, your father.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

Jonathan breathes a sigh and then stares out the window with a sullen face.

“John, don’t be like that.” Felix is obviously trying to calm him down. He leans forward on the sofa and puts his hand on Jonathan’s knee for a moment, but his friend does not give him a glance. “I’m sorry, okay? We had no choice. That man is completely insane. He chased us with a knife. We were trapped like rats.”

“I know that; you told us.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Jonathan throws his hands in the air. His left hand almost touches my face. “Do you know what the problem is, Felix? The problem is that you always do what you feel like doing.” His nostrils widen, and his eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets. I didn’t expect Jonathan to be able to erupt in anger like that, to dare to erupt. “Life is not all about Felix Edmund Clifton, however much you might want it to be. If we had gone home after finding Mr Prime, none of this would have happened!”

Felix opens his mouth to say something, but Jonathan has not finished his tirade.

“I thought you had learnt from your impulsive actions by now. The day we had to escort the Prime family to our estate, you were nauseous from alcohol. Heavens, we were even late. Do you know what that does to me? I feel ashamed. I feel humiliated, and it is that you are my best friend and I am grateful to you that, despite my origins and low class, you accepted me into the family when I was in danger of rotting away in the sewers of London. Otherwise, I would not have tolerated this behaviour.”

The immensely painful silence that fills the carriage is suffocating. I almost dare not move, afraid that if I do anything, they will come to blows. Felix’s face looks like a thunderstorm, and Jonathan seems to have reached the end of his tether.

Through the window, I see the Clifton estate looming. Relief floods me.

In the end, it is Felix who concedes, much to my surprise.

“I’m sorry, John.” And I think he actually means it because his voice breaks a little. Felix sighs deeply. “I know I’m not the easiest person on this earth. I’m trying…” He swallows. “I promise to behave from now on. That I won’t do anything that will make you feel even slightly uncomfortable.”

“No more nightly outings,” Jonathan demands.

“I promise.”

“No more detours to brothels, gambling joints and pubs when we need to go somewhere.”

Felix waits a few seconds before saying again, “I promise.”

“And promise me we will never ever end up in this kind of situation again.”

“How am I supposed to promise that?”

“Promise me.”

“Okay, okay.” Felix grins. “I promise.”

Then, as if there had never been any tension, they start laughing together. They give each other a friendly punch on the arm, look at each other, laugh again, look outside and laugh even harder.

Everett and I seek each other’s gaze. My brother’s face is full of surprise, and he raises his eyebrows. I shake my head in confusion and shrug.

The boys’ laughter slowly dies away with another “ah” and a “huh, right” here and there. Then they see me and Everett staring.

Blushes of embarrassment appear on Jonathan’s face, and he immediately lowers his head. Felix also suddenly seems very uncomfortable. As if he is only now realising that this was not a conversation to have in front of others.

“I’m sorry I lost control in the presence of our guests,” Jonathan murmurs softly.

“Don’t worry,” Everett says quickly and the two look at each other fleetingly. Now my brother is also turning red. A tomato has nothing on him.

Felix looks at me as if he wants to look into my soul. Intrusive, curious. He probes me, seems to want to know how I am reacting to all this. It is such an intense way of staring that my skin starts to tingle from it. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but I can’t place what it is. Something in my lower abdomen starts tingling, and I press my legs together a bit more to stop the feeling. What is this?

“Are you all right, Miss Prime?” he asks hoarsely. He doesn’t seem to be feeling much better.

I nod. My lips part slightly. “Ah, you know, man talk. So nothing for a woman.”

He grins and I grin back.

And then, suddenly far too soon for my liking, the coachman calls out from his seat outside that we have arrived.

· · ·

Mrs Jones’s mouth flattens into a tight line as she opens the door for us.

“Good morning,” Felix says overly cheerfully, and he quickly steps past her before disappearing down the hall. Jonathan follows closely behind him.

Mrs Jones looks at them expressionlessly.

“We got the safety collar,” I say as airily as I can and raise the piece of fabric to show it to her. “We were held up by the rain and—”

“You are lucky that your father and Mr Clifton left yesterday afternoon after you left for Canterbury,” she interrupts me ruefully. She lets her eyes slide slowly over my damp and now stained cloak and dress. “It is not my place to tell you what you should and should not do,” she says gruffly.

No, that is not her place, yet she still comments.

“What are you saying?” Everett asks, standing next to me in the doorway. Only then does Mrs Jones seem to notice him and the dress my brother is wearing. If she finds it strange or remarkable, she knows how to hide it well. “Why is Father back to Canterbury?”

“He is returning soon. There were some technical things about the house that needed to be investigated. Something that could get in the way of finances.”

Everett looks at me. “Did you know about this, sister dear?”

I shake my head.

“Father just left without informing us,” Everett mumbles to himself, to no one in particular. “I had no idea the house was in such bad shape.”

“I don’t think he did either,” replies Mrs Jones.

Everett frowns.

Mrs Jones seems to realise that she may have said too much and shared her unsolicited opinion. She clears her throat and takes a step backwards to let us through, her sign that the conversation is over.

Everett and I walk quickly through. When we almost reach the first door, Mrs Jones calls my brother’s name.

“Yes?” Everett asks.

She closes the door, and when it clicks in the lock, she smooths her skirt with her hands. “Extraordinary choice of clothes. It looks…interesting on you.”

I can’t help but cough and immediately slap my hand in front of my mouth to silence myself.

“Um, thanks,” my brother stammers embarrassedly, then turns around again and steps through the door like a man possessed. As the door slams shut behind us, he shudders. “That woman gives me the shivers.”

“Me too, brother.”

While walking, he starts picking at his cuticles. “Don’t you find it strange that Father left for Canterbury just like that? He usually informs us.”

“There wasn’t really an opportunity to inform us,” I remind him. “Besides, it’s not really that strange. He and Mr Clifton are renovating. I don’t see why we should make an issue of this. We can be relieved that he is gone. I don’t think he would be happy with the idea of us not being home last night.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am always right.”

We take the stairs to our quarters, and as my feet climb the steps, I realise how exhausted I am. No sleep and being hunted by a killer doesn’t leave one unaffected.

“Has he been nice to you?” my brother asks suddenly.

I raise my eyebrows.

“Mr Clifton,” he explained. “Did he behave himself during the time you were alone?”

“Oh,” I say softly. The whole evening shoots past me in flashes. Felix lying on my lap. Felix’s intense eyes. How good it felt to just talk to him, to sit next to him. But also how painful his words were. How he had the guts to belittle me like that and yet…although I’m incredibly hurt, I’m not angry with him. Not anymore.

“I’m going to hit him,” Everett mutters when I say nothing more.

“No!” I shout louder than intended. I move in front of my brother, forcing him to come to a halt. His eyes are squeezed together. “I’m just tired; talking is difficult.” I clear my throat as my brother watches me, still suspicious. “Nothing happened, Everett. Mr Clifton behaved like a gentleman. He mostly fought for his life.”

My brother squeezes his eyes even more into slits and studies my face, as if he knows I am holding something back from him. Finally, he sighs and wraps his arms around me to pull me into a firm embrace. His chest is clammy, and he smells of sweat and cigar smoke. “I’m glad you’re unharmed, sis.”

I wrap my arms around him to reciprocate his embrace and—despite the strong smell emanating from him—press my face against his chest. The embrace doesn’t last long. Everett gently pushes me away from him after a few seconds, apologises and then leaves for his room. I continue to stare after him until he has disappeared from sight. Then, with a heavy feeling in my stomach, I walk to my room, where Cecile has opened my bed and placed fresh flowers on the windowsill to brighten up the room. Peonies, my favourites.

The smell welcomes me and relieves a little of the tension of the past evening. As I kick off my shoes, I walk to the window. My soles hurt, and I see that blisters have appeared on my little toes and heels. I cringe in pain as I briefly run my fingers over them.

Outside, the sun is shining, trees are dropping their leaves and the smell of a hearth fire penetrates the room. This is life; this is how it should be. Bathed in innocence, cosy and warmth. So how is it that what I see before me here is the complete opposite of what is happening right now? The world is broken, dark. What I see in front of me here is just a small and safe piece of the world playing tricks on me.

“Milady?” I am startled by Cecile’s voice. She is standing in the doorway. “The door was open, and I thought…Heavens, are you all right?”

“I…I think so.” My voice sounds unsteady and my answer uncertain. “I am mostly very tired.”

She walks up to me, helps me out of my dressing gown and hands me a clean sheet to warm myself with. Meanwhile, she walks to the bathroom where she fills up the bathtub. In the meantime, I wait in my room, fighting sleep. When she comes to fetch me a little later to take me to the bath, I almost cry. That’s how grateful I am to her. I am so relieved that I can wash the filth off my body and immerse myself for a while in warmth and water that doesn’t smell like sewage. When Cecile helps me out of my clothes and I slide into the water, I cannot suppress a small sob.

Cecile hovers hesitantly in the doorway. She puts her fingers on the latch, takes them off again, puts them back on, turns her body towards me, but finally back to the door.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask her.

“It is not for me to ask questions like that, milady.” She lets her head hang gloomily. Her whole body is tense.

I think back to the conversation I had with Felix when we were hiding from Junior R. “I just feel sorry for you that you are missing out on something that could be so incredibly fantastic. Besides, I met Cecile. She seems…nice?” It dawns on me that my conversations with Cecile are the closest thing to friendship I have. You’re supposed to trust each other as friends, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be able to share things with each other, aren’t you? Secrets, stories…

“You can ask me anything,” I finally insist, even though I already know what she is going to ask.

Cecile looks up at me with hopeful eyes. Then she walks towards me, kneels down at the bathtub rim and looks at me expectantly. The sleeves of her blouse touch the bath foam. “Where were you? I was so worried. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. I waited outside your door for several hours, sat on your bed. Maybe you were having the time of your life or maybe you were in danger. I didn’t know who to go to, how long to wait, afraid of snitching on you. It dizzied me, the dichotomy I was fighting inside me.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s so incredibly sweet of her that she was so worried about me. I put a hand on hers. It doesn’t bother her that it is wet. “It does me good to hear that you care about me, and I’m sorry if I worried you. That was not my intention.”

Am I going to tell her the story? If she was already so worried, the truth might give her sleepless nights. I don’t want her to worry about things that have happened and that we can no longer change.

On the other hand…friends tell you everything, right? To what extent does “everything” apply?

Cecile smiles with relief. “So nothing serious has happened?”

“I’m still here,” I respond with a manufactured smile, as I cannot bring myself to tell her the whole story. “ An ignorant person is happiest,” I hear my mother’s voice echoing through my head. And I am tired, very tired.

“I can ask anything, right?” Cecile springs up and walks to the rack of clean sheets. She grabs the top one from the pile and drapes it over her arm. She doesn’t wait for my answer. “If you plan to sleep outside again, let me know. Then I’ll know where I stand.”

I nod. “Promise.”

Cecile grins and holds up her arm with the sheet. “Just call when you want out. I think you are ready for sleep. Your bed has been changed, and the sheets washed with lavender.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in days.” I close my eyes and lower myself underwater until the world has disappeared.