Cinderellion (bxb)

Chapter 2: Shit

My nose was running, and I felt like shoving my fingers in my eyes just to scratch them. I officially hated dust with a passion and being in this attic was not helping. It looked like it snowed dust in here, and my footprints were leading directly from the trap door, through the maze of old furniture, to where I crouched searching through trunks on the opposite end of the large attic. I ignored that my mother's trunks were somewhere in this horrid room. I could easily look for them, and a part of me wanted to. . . but I don't; instead I pushed the thought away.

I pulled a case forward, sneezing once again and wiping my nose on the back of my sleeve. I groaned out of annoyance before unlatching the trunk. On top, was a layer of newspapers which I peeled back, exposing a folded stack of women's dresses on one side, and something else wrapped in more newspaper on the other. Right trunk then, finally. It only took me searching through five other trunks - most of which were filled with antiques, old baby stuff, and more tablecloths than one person could possibly need - to find this one.

Pulling off page after page of old newspaper I found three jewelry boxes. I pulled each one out and opened them with the attached keys to make sure that there was, in fact, jewelry inside. Then I started shoving the newspapers back into the trunk beside the dresses. I was picking up the last handful when something printed on the yellowed paper caught my eye.

Tremaine.

I dropped the rest of the papers back on the ground and wiped my eyes and nose with my sleeve - both were running now - to see the words better. I then straightened out the crumpled paper and searched for the word. I found it again, quickly, and wipe my eyes so my vision's not blurry. I scanned it over.

It was an obituary for Lady Anita Tremaine. I skimmed over the nice words until I find: After a two week-long fight, Lady Anita was lost to an unknown disease...

Unknown disease.

That's exactly what the doctor had said about my mother's sickness. An unknown disease.

I was quiet for a few moments, thinking it over. "Shit," I said to myself, my fists tightening around the paper. "Shit. Shit, shit." It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Lord Tremaine was an evil son-of-a-bitch, for sure... but murder? I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, puffing out my cheeks and blowing out a breath. I sat there for good few minutes thinking it over. Lord Tremaine was not an affectionate man by any means. And often quicker to slap than he is to say a kind word, even to his own children. And I'd never seen him so much as look at my mother affectionately. Lust, maybe, now that I think of it. He's always looking for ways to save, and make, money. He'd fired every servant except for Mrs. Boudon and made me a glorified servant myself a few months after my mother had died. And he hadn't given me my inheritance yet, despite my being nineteen, one year past becoming an adult. Every time I'd asked for it, he turned me down because of some excuse. And since both my mother and Lady Anita were wealthy women... No. I wouldn't put it past him to murder for what he wants.

I could go to the authorities, but surely, they would have seen that both the man's wives had died the same way, only two years apart, they must have investigated it. Unless they were stupid enough not to see it. Or Lord Tremaine bought them off. Either way, I had to see if I was right. And if I was, then I had to bring it to the light.

I threw the rest of the newspaper back in the trunk, closed it, picked up the jewelry boxes, and headed toward the trapdoor. I tried to clean my face up while I made my way to Anastasia's room, but when she opened the door she still cringed at my face.

"Why are your eyes red?"

I sniffled. "The dust."

She made a ladylike noise of disgust but stepped aside to let me, and the boxes, in. I placed them on her vanity and left just as quickly. "Goodnight, Anastasia," I said over my shoulder. Burn in hell. Her only response was little humph.

I ran quietly down the halls and stairs until I was in the kitchen. My daily chores were done, unless one of the Tremaines' had another job for me. But they couldn't give it to me if they couldn't find me. I usually helped Mrs. Boudon with

cooking dinner since she was always so busy with the other household chores, but tonight my mind was full and racing. I felt anxious, and I couldn't possibly do nothing at that moment.

Then I thought of something.

Excited with my idea, I jogged through the door and saw Boudon, a middle-aged woman with a short and stout frame, stirring a pot over the fire. The room smelled of delicious spices and beef and cooked vegetables. "Boudon," I said.

Boudon didn't turn around or even look over her shoulder. "Ellion."

I surveyed the food all over the table, I hadn't eaten since breakfast and my stomach was reminding me. "Is it alright if I leave you to make super tonight? I have something I wish to do."

She waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Yes, just don't expect me to let you off the hook every night."

"I won't, thank you. I should be back in time to help with the dishes." I headed towards the kitchen door which lead to the backyard.

"Ah!" I stopped at Boudon's 'stop what you're doing' noise. "Take a roll, or two . . . and an apple."

I back tracked to the table and grabbed three dinner rolls, an apple, and a tart. "Thank you, Boudon." She grunted in response. She may not have like me much, but she cared a little.

I ran across the lawn to the stables, hoping to be gone before Dru got home. He had left an hour ago, but you never know. I tacked up my mare while eating my dinner, shoving the bread and tart into my mouth quick enough that I knew I would be feeling gross once it settled, then ate half the apple and gave the rest to my grey mare, Perla.

I raced off, away from the Tremaine country estate and towards the city. It's a thirteen-minute gallop to my destination, a town-house-turned-office. People in expensive clothes going for evening walks stared at me like the waste they might find on the bottom of their shoes, but I ignored them. Leaving my horse in the fenced in front lawn of the home, I walked up the front steps and banged the door

knocker. The red painted door swung open a few seconds later. A blood-hound-looking butler stood there, looking annoyed at the horse on the perfectly manicured lawn. And then at me on the perfectly manicured lawn.

"Can I see Dr. Aubert?" Dr. Aubert was the best doctor in the city, he's known for his high-end clientele. He had been the doctor to take care of my mother, so if any doctor had taken care of Lady Anita, it would have been him.

The butler tilts his chin up. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but—"

"Emergency?"

"No, but—"

"Then you may not see him. You can make an appointment for a later date—"

"Sir," I interrupted, "please, I'm doing research for school and I need to see some records for the disease I'm researching. I promise I won't divulge any information the doctor doesn't want out—"

"No, apologies sir, but you'll need make an appointment." Then he closed the door.

Shit.