Calista, Laura Rahme [best ereader for comics txt] 📗

Calista’s Secret

SEATED on a chaise longue, Vera had not budged. The clock downstairs struck midnight. She lifted her head, suddenly realising that she had travelled to Alexandra Hall almost a week ago. Thanks to Aaron’s advice, a dosage of herbs in Calista’s tea had done wonders. She certainly slept better. The days had passed, uninterrupted, and given Vera had spent many hours by Calista’s bedside, she had done much thinking.

She’d handed over Calista’s letter to Aaron. He had read it, not said a word, and then locked himself up in his study.

“Don’t shut me out, Aaron,” Vera had warned, by the door.

He had let her in. He bore the same weak reluctance as when they were children and she had invited him to kiss her. They both knew how that had turned out.

She’d longed for more, and for years, her hopes were fulfilled: Aaron had belonged to no one else. And then, without warning, he’d left for Athens. Now, as she stood alone with him in his study, he stared hungrily at her, and they both knew he had shunned her long enough. His mask had fallen.

“What is she alluding to, Aaron?” she’d asked, much later, as she re-arranged her dress, and coiled her hair back into its bun.

“I thought she understood. But perhaps I have been mistaken.”

“Well whatever it is, she is going to bring you down."

“Of course not. She is ill and exhausted. Naturally, she is prone to writing foolish things. Once again, you alarm yourself over nothing.”

“Over nothing? Aaron, your wife is accusing you of being a monster. Did you not read the letter?”

“I don’t want to speak of it, Vera.”

“Well confront her! Tell her what you think! Set it straight.”

Aaron had turned his body away. He avoided her gaze.

“She is your wife after all,” insisted Vera as though she spoke of a nuisance.

“She has called upon you. I understand she longs for another woman on whose shoulder she might cry on. So be it. Be her confidante. Let me know what is on her mind. Now, leave me alone. I need to think.”

Vera had replayed the conversation and she was unsure what she detested most: being drawn into the wild accusations of her sister-in-law, or the maddening secrecy of her brother. He would push her away once again, when all along, she had warned him. Calista did not belong here. It had been foolish from the start. That witch would invent any story to bring down the Nightingales.

Vera had thought long enough. Almost a week had passed, and she was tired of wondering. She had grown too curious. This time, she had deliberately not drugged Calista.

It was now past midnight. Aaron would have gone to bed. The house had fallen quiet. Calista was wide awake. Much to Vera’s distaste, she looked like a princess, swimming in blue silk sheets.

“I am ready to speak now, Miss Vera. I can tell you everything.”

“Begin, then,” said Vera. She clutched at her shawl and glanced apprehensively at her sister-in-law.

“Last year, while Aaron was away on a short trip to London, I received a letter,” began Calista. “You can’t imagine how happy I was. It was the first letter I’d ever received since leaving my village. At first, I was pleased. I was going to tell Aaron all about it. But then…” Her brow darkened as she recollected her thoughts. “It was written by my uncle Sakis, in Greek. He told me my parents were well. They did not know that he was writing this. He said he had learnt something terrible.”

“What is this to do with Aaron?” interrupted Vera.

“Please. I will tell you. Sakis told me that Aaron had wished to marry me for months since arriving in Kerkyra.”

“Well, you should count yourself lucky, I suppose.”

Calista stared up to the lofty ceiling. Vera’s curt voice only brought pain, but Calista trusted that if her sister-in-law heard everything, she would understand. So she fought back tears and resumed her story.

“I should have known, but I was too in love with him.” Calista closed her tearful eyes.

“You should have known what?” insisted Vera.

“All these years,” said Calista, shaking frightfully, “I believed Aaron was my saviour. I believed he had rescued me from a terrible life. You see, one night, two men abducted me. My father said I had brought shame to the village and that my family would not regain its honour until I had left his home. They wished to send me away. They wished to send me to an asylum.”

Vera stared. She took in every word.

“It was Aaron who offered to marry me when no one would. All this time, I was so grateful. I loved him. I would have done anything for him. What I did not know…” Calista’s throat tightened. She could not suppress her tears. “It was Aaron all along,” she cried. “Sakis found out Aaron had hired two local men to hurt me…” Her words grew indistinguishable. Calista let out a painful cry. Years of quiet torment were unleashed from her soul as the village girl wept. She held down her emotions no longer; she grieved the judgements she had endured since her birth, her dishonour, her parents’ rejection, the cruel illusion she had suffered at the hands of Aaron, and worse, the shame of not having known better.

Vera had now turned to stone. Her mouth twitched, repulsed by Calista’s sobs.

She knew not what to think of Aaron. But it cost her dearly to judge her brother, even if it meant showing her support to another woman. So she said nothing.

Vera looked upon the bed, attempting to find the right words as Calista gasped for breath and wiped her tears. “Well,” said Vera. Then she applied herself, sweetening her voice as much as