The Storm (CH7)

3 0 0
                                    

When they had made it back, there was something very odd and unusual. A different carriage was now on the beach by the docks, and it wasn't the one Rowena and Tansy had arrived on the day prior.  It hit both girls with a level of familiarity, though Claira's familiarity was far more potent, poisonous even, as she gasped before running forward without so much as uttering another word.

"Claira, do wait!" Rowena called, starting to run after her but her legs were not fast enough, "Please, what is the matter?" But it was quite obvious from the moment she bumped into Claira's back, what the matter was. Who the matter was. Who that carriage had belonged to. Thunder rumbled and the wind whistled darkly outside. In her imagination, she saw the swelling spiral of a grey and lilac storm, coming together in a whirlpool formed in the sky. Lightening crackled and the previously fluffy white clouds were sucked up and manipulated into dark rolling matter.
Rowena glanced up to Claira and observed how dark her eyes had gotten as she solemnly cried, "We weren't expecting him for weeks."
All of a sudden she wasn't so lively and she wasn't so bright, nor so bold or so brave. All life, all strength had been squeezed out of her body in an instance. The cause was understandable. A man, clothed in nothing but purple velvet, tall in stature, with a waxy face and hair like straw. With him, the storm persisted inside the Hadrada. Everyone had retreated to the sides of the room and clung onto the furniture for shelter, yet he was immune. His face moulded into a smile as he saw the young girl decipher his features before him, "Greetings again Rowena, I hope the day has found you well..."
"It had..." The girl surveyed him wearily, but she knew fully that if anyone could tell her where her mother and father were and what they were doing, it would be him. He knew everything. He had that power. "Do you have news from my parents?"

The man reached into the pockets of his velvet tailcoat with his talon-like hands to bring out a letter. He said not a word as he outstretched the document, but bore a smirk, eyes widening the longer the child stared up at him. Rowena snatched it from him. She proceeded to wrestle it open, heart pounding rapidly.

''My dearest Rowena,
It turns out that I can no longer leave you in the hands of Tansy and our business abroad is going to take longer than we initially planned. In this case, you shall be taken away to be looked after by Mr Maddaly, the generous and kindest of men, who gave our haberdashery the perfect opportunity.
My undeniable love,
Your mother,
Iribelle Cricket.'

The letter almost fell from her hands, as her heart seemed to do within her. Eyes blinking with shock, she turned to Tansy. So this was the man who had driven the housekeeper and midwife out. This was indeed the man who had messed with Tansy's family's finances so Claira and her father struggled. He had taken Tansy from her home, from Farforth, from the land of stories, and made the brave weak with his own two hands and own two lips. And he was the man who had told her parents to go away to some distant place, made her home wander away from her. He was the kind and generous businessman. But it was the concept of being taken away from Tansy, from Claira, from Farforth that made her shake her head repetitively.
"I am the man who the letter is referring to, the Mr. M. Maddaly," he responded despite the distress, "though I'm sure you will remember me me from- when was it? Yesterday?" He gave a cackle, "As you see, my business really doesn't sleep! The family you are currently residing with, Rowena, are unsuitable to take care of you. They are well acquainted with me, aren't they, Mr T?"

He gave a smug glare over to Claira's father, who gulped back his response, merely grabbing Claira into his arms. But those eye quickly concentrated themselves on Rowena again. The fact that she couldn't make out their colour unsettled her even more. "You ought to gather your things and get in the carriage, my dear."

Suddenly, he made a move to grab her arm but Rowena was too quick. She had fled into Tansy's safe arms but she was about to give Mr Maddaly what he deserved. Rowena could feel that she was so angry, she might box his brains out. Her brother quickly restrained her. "It isn't worth it Freya! Don't you see?"
"If I have to do more work then so be it!" Tansy spat, rolling up her sleeves, meanwhile, Mr Maddaly grinned, "But Iri said that Rowena was to be with me until she returns, and until Iri returns, with me, she shall stay. I am not giving up. Not on Iri. Not on Rowena.  Not now and not ever." The tears of built up frustration was enough to make anyone cry. It worsened the child's own horror, although she couldn't bring herself to cry.
"Still..." the brother awkwardly stuttered, "it just...it just isn't worth it..."

The Painted Slippers, An Undercurse FableWhere stories live. Discover now