Page 28 of Unlikable

The next morning, I wake up so early that it is not even light outside. I call Cecile so she can help me into my dress and do my hair. However, another maid enters my room, telling me Cecile is not feeling well. She introduces herself as Amanda.

“What a bad start to Christmas,” I mutter softly, watching in the mirror as I am cinched into my corset. “Has she told you what ails her?”

“She has a headache, milady.” Amanda makes a bow in the laces. “I’m sure she will be fine. Cecile is a hard worker.” She gestures to the chair in front of the dressing table. “Please take a seat. How would you like your hair?”

A little defeated, I sit down. Could that be why Cecile has been acting so strangely lately? Because she has a headache? But nobody suffers from headaches for that long, do they?

“Milady?”

“Hmm?”

“How do you like your hair?” Amanda asks again. I meet her eyes through the mirror and see her suppress a yawn.

“Um…” I look at my reflection and see how my cheeks start to colour as I ask myself how Felix will like my hair best. “What do you think?”

“Me, milady?” Amanda sounds surprised.

I nod. “I want to look my best today. It’s…Christmas.”

And I can’t stop thinking about last night. About Felix. His drawings. His touches. His lips…

Finally, Amanda lets my hair hang loose over my back and braids the front strands back into a thin braid, which she then twists into a ball and pins in place. To make it extra festive, she adds my mother’s hair pins: small, white pearls.

After she leaves, I wait in my room for a while before going downstairs. It’s really ridiculously early, and I think Amanda has crawled back into her bed. She sounded so relieved when I told her that her services were no longer needed for now.

I walk around aimlessly. I catch myself grinning from ear to ear every now and then as I let my mind wander back to last night. After walking around my room for the umpteenth time and seeing every stone at least twice, I notice that my violin case is slightly open. It stands between the wall and the wardrobe and tilts slightly forward. As I grab the case to close it, I am startled by how light the thing is.

I pull the case out of the corner, place it on my bed and open it further.

What!?

My heart starts beating faster, and this time it is not from happiness. First the book…now my violin. My mother’s violin. Surely I could swear that…

The knocking on my room door startles me, and I let out a scream, which immediately causes the person to open the door and step into the room like a man possessed.

“What is it?” Felix looks as if he is ready to fight. When he sees me standing there and concludes that I am fine, he visibly breathes a sigh of relief. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I bring out in surprise. I look outside, where it is still dark. “Couldn’t sleep anymore?”

“I…” He straightens his back and looks at me from under his lashes. “No.”

“Me neither.” I feel myself smile.

He smiles faintly back. “Had breakfast yet?”

“I think the kitchen is still busy throwing away the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner.”

“Nice, so there are leftovers then.” Felix walks back into the corridor and looks at me over his shoulder. Waiting. An invitation.

I suddenly seem to have completely forgotten the fact that my violin is missing as I stare into his bright eyes. I walk up to him, and as I stand next to him, he makes no effort to hide that he is taking me in from head to toe.

“You look—”

“You too,” I whisper.

Felix looks away laughing, shakes his head and then holds up his arm for me, through which I hook mine with a pounding heart.

· · ·

In the morning, Felix and I have breakfast together. The maids are surprised when we step into the dining room. I think they were still busy with a shift change. Anyway, our Christmas breakfast is in front of our noses in no time. A pastry with gravy, jacket potatoes, beans and bread. It smells delicious, but I don’t get to finish it all. Indeed, I can hardly get a bite through my throat. I am aware of myself to the irritating point of Felix staring at me. I am afraid I will spill and therefore appear awkward.

Is this what it’s like to be in love with someone? Because it’s nerve-racking

Still, it feels like Christmas because I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. Ideally, I would like to share this happiness with Cecile. I hope she feels better soon and we can spend the holidays together.

In the afternoon, it starts raining. Torrential downpours are coming down. Jonathan and Everett join us, and we play charades and hide-and-seek. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. Jonathan takes me aside for a moment to thank me. When I ask him what for, he gestures to Felix. I wave away his thanks, but secretly I feel proud and relieved that I was able to return the favour.

When it is my turn to hide, I find a place in the library among the cupboards. It takes forever for Felix to find me. I’m almost tempted to run back because it takes so long, but once he finds me, I’m glad I didn’t.

“Miss Prime,” he whispers with the corner of his mouth raised. “I am afraid I have found you.”

“Oh no…” I slap a gloved hand in front of my mouth quasi-abashedly.

Felix approaches, causing me to take a step back. Outside, rain rhythmically clatters down on the immense windows of the library as I come to a halt against the bookcase. Felix comes even closer, and when his body almost touches mine, I get nervous.

“Shouldn’t we go back?”

“Let them think I’m still looking for you. I’m not very good at this game.”

“You found me.”

“Then I’m a winner.”

He kisses me. Tender and nurturing. I wrap my arms around his neck and feel him bring a hand to my head to comb my loose hair there with his fingers.

I interrupt the kiss. “They will suspect something,” I say hoarsely.

Felix smiles against my neck, over which he has traced a trail of kisses. “I suspect they will enjoy themselves.”

At those words, I feel myself getting warm. I hope my brother is as happy as I am at this moment.

“Besides, we are engaged,” Felix continues, and he presses another kiss to my neck, one that makes me gasp.

It feels so intimate.

Pulling away from me, he holds up his hand. On it is the ring I had taken off on the night of the accident. His green eyes look hopeful.

I have to stop myself from bursting into tears on the spot when I realise what he is asking of me. What he is sincerely asking of me this time. Without secrets, without lies.

When I extend my finger and he slides the ring around it, it feels like I’ve lost twenty kilos. As if I have been walking around with lead in my shoes until this day, and now I finally get to take off those shoes.

When I want to lean towards him again to steal another kiss, we are abruptly disrupted by the library doors opening. Peering between the bookcases, I see Everett and Jonathan come running in, laughing. Jonathan pushes my brother into one of the seats in the middle of the room and sits on top of him. They whisper something to each other, and when Jonathan leans forward, Felix clears his throat.

“Why did you do that?” I snarl at him and feel myself growing warm with embarrassment.

“Would you like it if we found out that your brother has been watching all this time?”

I remain silent and shake my head.

“There you are!” Felix shouts cheerfully, stepping out from between the bookcases. Jonathan jumps up and pretends to be looking for something.

Felix and I decide to say nothing and pretend we are still playing the game.

Later in the day, Everett gets Father from his room to join him for dinner. The dining room is attractively lit. The large pine tree in the corner of the room is decorated, and the baubles reflect the light from the dozens of candles placed in candelabras on the window sills.

Father still rambles a lot and keeps asking who we are. He calls Felix “Theodor” a few times, occasionally causing Felix’s gaze to narrow. As if Father is only carrying memories of the past. At least he remembers who Theodor is, or was. Only the memories of recent years have all but disappeared. Sometimes he calls me by my name, making me feel a surge of hope, but a minute later he is begging for my mother again. He lasts almost an hour with us at the table. He laughs at Everett’s jokes and listens attentively to the stories I tell him, but after a while, I notice that he is starting to get tired and is delirious again.

“I will take you back to your room, Father,” I promise him with a broken heart.

“To Mary,” he begs me as Everett and I hoist him up from his chair. “Is Mary walking?”

My brother and I exchange a glance, and I see my sadness reflected in his eyes.

“It was a real pleasure celebrating Christmas with you, Mr Prime,” Felix says politely and rises to take a short bow. “Sleep well.”

My father hums something unintelligible and nods briefly to Felix. Jonathan also stands and asks us if he should help, but Everett replies that we can do this on our own.

“We’ll clean it up a bit here then,” Jonathan suggests. “Right, Felix?”

“We have servants for that.”

“They also have Christmas to celebrate.”

“I’m really not going to…” I see Jonathan give Felix a warning look. “Fine then.” Felix slides his chair over and then throws me an encouraging smile. “We’ll see you in a minute. Maybe we can have a drink by the fireplace to end the day.”

Something in my stomach starts to flutter at the idea.

When Everett and I have put Father back to bed—which does not go entirely smoothly as Father keeps begging for mother—Everett tells me to go back to the others already.

“Everett,” I protest.

“You took care of the man for weeks,” he reminds me. He drops to his knees at Father’s headboard and heaves a weary sigh. “Let me take care of him too. I’ll be right there.”

I look at my brother and then at Father. Then I walk back to the bed, press a kiss on Father’s forehead and then one on my brother’s. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

“See you soon, sis.”

When I close the door behind me, I feel so many emotions that I am at a loss as to how to place them. I am happy but also sad. I get happy when I think of Felix, but I also want to burst into tears because of the whole situation with Father. I miss Cecile; I miss my mother. I feel guilty for feeling happy when the situation we are in is not exactly comforting.

Come on, Eleonora. It is Christmas. Now is not the right time to be sad.

With those words in my head, I manage to convince myself to step away from Father’s door. When I get downstairs, I hear the voices of Felix and Jonathan coming from the dining room. They are laughing and joking. My heart fills with warmth, and I start walking faster.

“Milady,” Mrs Jones’s voice suddenly comes from behind me.

I am startled. I come to a stop, and when I turn around and see Mrs Jones looking at me in the shadows of the hall, my neck hairs stand on end.

“You scared me,” I exclaim.

“Cecile is looking for you,” she says monotonously, not responding to my remark. “She wants to wish you a Merry Christmas, but she doesn’t feel well enough yet to seek you out herself.”

“Where is she?”

Mrs Jones remains silent for a moment, looking as if she is standing here reluctantly. “In the rooms at the back of the garden, where the chambermaids stay.”

I frown. “Don’t the chambermaids stay in the house?”

“Not all of them.”

She offers no further explanation, as she turns around without another word and then walks quickly away towards the other end of the corridor, which leads to the garden doors. The tapping of her heels on the marble tiles drowns out the laughter of Felix and Jonathan in the room behind me.

I keep standing where I am. At odds with myself. The warmth from the room behind me just begs me to return, but the fact that Cecile is asking about me and has not been feeling well for some time keeps me in its grip.

“Milady,” Mrs Jones’s voice sounds in the distance. I turn to her and see how her silhouette contrasts darkly against the light of the moon shining in through the garden doors.

I start walking again.

When I am outside, I am startled by the icy cold that meets me. It has stopped raining, but the sky is still heavily overcast. Occasionally, the moon peeps through between the cloud cover to illuminate my path.

Maybe I should go inside to dress warmer first.

But then I don’t see Mrs Jones. Panic strikes because I don’t know where the chambermaids’ quarters are. The garden is so immense.

I won’t lie and say that this situation is not gnawing at me, that there aren’t voices in my head warning me about not knowing the garden well enough, especially in the dark. The wisest thing to do is to go back inside and ask Felix to walk with me, but it’s Mrs Jones and I know from experience that her patience runs out quickly.

And I really don’t fancy Mrs Jones dropping out on Christmas Day.

Besides, Felix and Jonathan will be busy cleaning up our mess for a while, and Everett is with Father. I’ll give him that time.

As if the cold sets my mind to zero, I walk on again. With every step, I begin to clatter more. I wrap my arms around myself and squeeze my eyes together to see where Mrs Jones has walked to. I think I see her for a moment, by the maze, at the back of the garden.

Did she run?

I speed up my steps, and when I am almost at the maze, I feel something wet land on my arm.

It is snowing.

Large white flakes descend from the sky. It stays down. I laugh out loud when I realise that we really will have a white Christmas. I can’t wait to tell Cecile and the others.

With a pounding heart of joy, I set off on a sprint, which also helps against the cold. I even arrive sweaty at the maze into which Mrs Jones has disappeared. Although the trees have lost their leaves, the maze is still in bloom. I recognise the leaves of the holly as I approach. Holly never loses its leaves.

“Mrs Jones?” I call out to the entrance.

“What is keeping you?” her voice sounds from within the maze. “Will you let me freeze to death here?”

Someone got out of bed on the wrong foot.

I walk into the maze, and after walking a few corridors, I realise that this is really the stupidest thing I have done in a long time. I don’t know my way around, it is freezing cold and I am totally not dressed for this.

“Mrs Jones?” I call out shakily.

No response.

I repeat her name. “Where are you?”

Just when I think she is not going to respond again and has left me here, I hear her voice. “You’re almost there.” She no longer sounds angry nor irritated. She sounds…sad? Scared? And most of all, her voice sounds distant. It doesn’t feel like I’m almost there at all.

The snow begins to cast a thin blanket on the ground and leaves around me. I am even starting to leave footprints.

I call Mrs Jones’s name again, but I get no response at all now. My breathing leaves clouds in the air. I start breathing faster; panic creeps up on me.

I remain grounded when I suddenly hear some very familiar sounds.

A violin.

It sounds close.

For a moment, I think I’m imagining it. That I am starting to hear things that are not there at all. However, the sound gets louder and louder, so by now, I am sure that what I am hearing is real. It doesn’t sound like someone playing a piece of music. On the contrary. They are just grim, false notes. In short succession.

This doesn’t feel right at all.

Snippets of memories from the chase in London flash through me. I turn around and start making my way back to the exit at a brisk pace. I don’t look back, even as the sound of the violin seems to get closer and closer.

Could it be that Mrs Jones is trying to trap me? Or has she been overpowered by whoever is playing the violin? The latter is something I hope for, because I would feel terrible myself if the former were true.

The latter, by the way, is not at all what I hope for. That would be just as bad.

No matter how my heart begs me to turn back and save Mrs Jones, my feet keep stubbornly walking. I am too scared. Breathing suddenly seems the hardest thing in the world.

My heart skips a beat when the violin sound stops. It doesn’t die away. It just suddenly stops.

I stand still to listen if I hear anything else. But apart from the wind rustling the leaves of the maze and my own breathing, I hear nothing.

I take another step. My footsteps creak in the snow. It crunches, not hard, but everything is loud enough now. In sheer panic, I look around me, disoriented. Where on earth did I come from? I turn the corner, walk straight for a bit and come out at a dead end. I turn around, meanwhile starting to run. I slip on a bend but manage to throw myself against the hedge that breaks my fall. The branches and sharp leaves make tiny scratches in the fabric of my dress. Tears spring to my eyes, and I clamp my jaws together to keep from crying out in fear and despair.

I run and run. Turn corner after corner and when I reach a dead end for the umpteenth time, I gasp for fresh and cold air.

Then I hear the violin again.

“Cecile!” I hear myself call out. “Everett, Jonathan, Felix!” I haven’t felt so helpless in a long time.

Is it stupid of me to make noise? Absolutely. Is it currently my only chance of survival? Probably yes.

I keep repeating my friends’ names as I try to find a way out, as if calling their names gives me some leverage.

A row farther, I stumble over something big and dark in my path. I get a chunk of snow shoved in my face, and when I scramble to my feet and see Mrs Jones lying there, surrounded by blood, I want to scream.

However, the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a soft whimper.

The moon comes out from between the clouds and illuminates the ghostly image of the woman in the snow. Her throat has been slit. Dark-red blood stains the now-white ground around her. Her eyes are open and look at me sternly and lifelessly. “Run!” they seem to shout at me.

But I can’t. I can’t move, especially when the violin sounds get closer and closer.

I pull my knees towards me and, shuddering, wrap my arms around them. I shiver with cold and fear. I cry for Mrs Jones and for the situation I find myself in. I curse myself for my foolish choices. I can go no further. I am spent.

I turn myself away from Mrs Jones’s body and hide my face in my arms.

The violin sound stops again. I listen intently, but again it remains silent.

Boom, boom, boom.

Boom, boom, boom.

My heart is racing so hard I am afraid it will jump out of my chest.

Footsteps. Quick footsteps. They come closer.

I don’t know how I still manage, but I manage to whisper new courage to myself and stagger to my feet. I step over Mrs Jones’s body and start running again.

You almost had me, whoever you are. I almost gave up, but I have too much to live for.

The faster I run, the faster the footsteps get closer. I hit several corridors, and this time I do not encounter any dead ends, but neither do I find the exit. It begins to snow harder, and the snowflakes hinder my vision. I beat around wildly to keep my field of vision clear. After a while, I see footprints ahead of me in the snow. My footprints. I have been here before. However, that is not the reason why I suddenly feel terrified. No. It is due to the fact that a few footprints have been added, which are not mine.

Just when I think I am going to see nothing but endless corridors, I stumble upon an open area in the maze. In the middle is a large fountain. Just as big as the other fountains in the garden. The thing has three tanks that would normally collect the water. However, there is no water in the lower basin.

A person lies in it.

I slap a hand in front of my mouth when I recognise her.

“Cecile!” I shriek.

“Milady!” my friend cries upon hearing my voice.

I stumble towards her.

“Milady, I can no longer see anything. I can’t see anything anymore.” She starts crying even harder and tries to get up, but she sags through her arms and falls back into the stone bowl with a loud thump. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to do it. This was never meant to happen.”

“Shh,” I utter shakily, and when I reach her and take her icy hands in mine, the world seems to be swept out from under my feet.

Cecile has turned her face towards me and is looking at me. She looks older, much older. Her skin is wrinkled, and her hair has turned dull and grey. Her eyes…

Where her eyes should be, there are now two black holes.