Afterthought, M J Marlow [bts books to read .TXT] 📗

AFTERTHOUGHT

Thick gray clouds were building along the horizon. From the top of the cliff, where a gray stone castle and its accompanying Dowager House and gate house stood guard for a small village that lay behind them in the valley below, the tall, sandy-haired man with blue eyes, dressed in warm brown tweed woolens that kept out the autumn chill, could see white caps out on the ocean. A raven haired girl stood next to him in front of her mother’s and uncle’s graves as still as a statue, her small hand clasped in his larger one. The wind whipped her hair and skirts around the gray tweed coat that sheltered her slim body from the chill air, yet she never moved.
A storm was brewing; and it was in direct contrast to the strange peace on the pale face of the fifteen year old standing next to him. Perhaps the storm, he fancied, was mirroring the true thoughts of the child beside him. He found it disturbing to see the girl so calm. But she had been this calm when she was five; when his twin sister had abandoned her almost eleven years earlier.
Their older brother, Adam, had gone after their sister again to try to convince Aileen that she needed to come home and they had both vanished. The first month of looking out windows and running to opening doors led to tears, but Evangeline had eventually quieted; accepting that her mother was not coming back for her. He had known trouble was dogging his sister’s footsteps but all his searches had found no trace of his sister or their brother.
He had given up and concentrated all his efforts on making certain that the poor child felt like she belonged. But even after almost eleven years, he had the feeling she still felt like she was of no importance to the family, like she was an afterthought. The only ones who might see her that way, unfortunately, were his children.
The ‘terrible trio’; as the three moodier Sterling children were called by their cousins, would play mean little tricks on Evangeline. He knew from the numerous bruises and scrapes that they were tormenting her; but she never said a word against them. He did not understand how she could be so forgiving. Sometimes he felt as if she believed that she deserved to be so ill-treated; but he would put such fanciful thoughts aside as nonsense. He had never met a child who was less deserving of punishment in his life.
“I wish we could have found them sooner, child,” Alastair Sterling said as they turned from the graves. “Adam and Aileen should be alive.”
“We found them, Uncle,” Evangeline said softly; as if the fact that her mother and uncle were dead and buried in the family plot had no more effect on her than putting a period to the end of a sentence. She put half of the bouquet of red roses on each grave and stepped back, biting her lip. “They’re home now.”
Alastair squeezed her hand reassuringly, but said nothing. He could tell she was hurting; her beautiful emerald green eyes were bright with tears, but she refused to let herself cry. She had certainly cried enough in the first month after Aileen had left her; but he wished she would cry now. This quiet acceptance of such a tragic act unnerved him far more than tears would have. He would be able to comfort her if she were crying. They walked up the hill to the family house and Evangeline suddenly stopped and looked up at the gray stone of the Sterling family castle with a frown on her face.
“Is something wrong, Eva?” Sterling asked as he saw the strange expression on her face. He knew that look. He had seen it on her mother’s face many times. The child had inherited Aileen’s gift for ‘feeling’ things. “What are you feeling?”
Evangeline didn’t answer right away. Her slim hand moved out to touch the rough gray stone that the castle the first Lord Sterling had used to fashion his family holding in 1450. It was always cold to the touch but today she felt a chill in the stone that mirrored the one in her heart. This place had been the only home she had known for almost eleven years and she was happy here most of the time. She felt safe here and that was not something she wanted to let go of.
She heard him repeat his question and looked up at him. He was worried about her, she felt from him. But that was Sterling’s manner; he worried about everything and everyone. She didn’t really belong to him, any more than Cook or the maids and the other servants did. And Evangeline desperately wanted to belong to someone and some place of her own.
“I’m not going to be here much longer, Uncle,” Evangeline said softly. “Someone is coming who was never meant to be out of my life.” She sighed and looked up at him then and he saw the tears he had been hoping for earlier spilling unchecked down her cheeks. “He’ll take me away from here. Must I go?”
“Your life will follow the path it was meant to follow, child,” Sterling said gently as he reached out to open the front door. The butler, Hurst, already had the door opening for them. He took their coats and closed the door behind them after they entered. “No matter how many twists and turns there are, you’ll always be guided back to where you belong.”
“Do I belong here, Uncle?” she whimpered as he spoke her own thoughts back to her. He pulled her into his arms. “Really?”
“You’re a part of this place,” he said as she looked up at him; “because you are a part of this family.” She smiled up at him weakly and he kissed her forehead. “Now dry those pretty eyes of yours, Evie, and go to your room. Rest before dinner.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Evangeline nodded. She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
Then she went inside the old gray stone building, home to generations of Sterlings by blood, and one suddenly frightened girl felt as if she finally belonged after ten years. She moved through the marble floored entry hall flanked by its immense columns remembering how terrified she had been when her mother and his older brother had brought her here when she was five.
The immense stone structure dominating the cliff with its smaller accompanying structures had been so different from the sunny house she, her mother, and Sylvie had in Normandy. Sterling had been welcoming enough and most of the children of the house had been warm; but she had known her mother had brought her here to leave her behind. Even at that young age, she had learned to recognize the signs that her mother was ready to run. Aileen had stayed three days as the family took Evangeline into their keeping. The little girl Evangeline had been was not fooled, she knew the moment Aileen felt her relax; her mother would be gone. She was polite, for Mama had taught her manners, but she remained quiet and watchful. She followed Aileen around as often as she could. She was determined that her mother would not leave without her knowing. But Aileen had slipped away one night without a word to anyone. She had heard her uncles speaking about it when she woke up the next morning. She had been inconsolable for the next month and would not listen to anyone when they tried to explain why she could not go with Adam to look for her. The voice of her new cousin, Daria; Alastair’s daughter, was the one that finally got through. “She didn’t want you anymore; that’s why she left you,” the spiteful nine-year- old had told her. Evangeline could still see the angel-faced child turn into a demon and start packing her suitcase. She’d dragged Evangeline to the front door, fully intending to throw her out. “Well, I don’t want you either, so go away!”
Evangeline paused at the top of the grand staircase and looked back out the immense leaded window shaped in the form of a shield over the front door towards the cliffs. Her mother and the uncle who had brought them here had gone on another journey now and, once again; she could not go with them. She choked back a sob and headed to her room. She would not let herself fall to grief as she had once before. It was a waste of time she chided herself. Lost in her mental battle, she didn’t hear a door open as she turned along the right corridor off the landing to head to her room. But she did hear the cold voice, piercing through her pain, and ringing alarm bells in her mind.
“Evangeline, dear,” Daria Sterling smiled sweetly and quite insincerely as she stood in the doorway of the girls’ suite. Evangeline winced. Daria only called her by her full name when she was really angry. Daria was a beautiful girl; all gold and cream like an angel, with the cool cornflower blue eyes all that could soothe or shatter as her mood dictated. She could be charm itself to get her way, or cruel and cutting when she felt someone was holding out on her. But one never knew which way her mood had turned; it was hidden behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Do come in here, cousin. I need to speak to you.”
“I need to rest, Daria,” Evangeline sighed. She was exhausted from struggling not to care. All she wanted to do was go to bed for a while and forget. “Can’t this wait?”
“Come here now!” the petulant golden-haired teen snapped as she yanked Evangeline into the room by her hair. Evangeline bit her lip to keep from crying; it never did any good to cry, and waited to hear what she could have done to make nineteen-year-old Daria mad this time. She winced as her cousin Daria slapped her across the face, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “You’re not paying attention to me, Evangeline.”
“But, I…”
“You are not going to talk back to me,” Daria said, her voice deadly calm, “are you, Evie dear?”
“No, Daria,” Evangeline whimpered and tried to move away.
“You left the house without letting me know you were going,” Daria frowned at Evangeline and went to the mirror to check her appearance. Daria never appeared anywhere, even dinner at home, with so much as a curl out of place. She turned and there was a look of great sadness on her face; she looked truly wounded. “You promised that you would help me with my lessons this afternoon.”
“Uncle took me to see