Beast and Beatrice

Chapter fifteen- Beatrice

"We think Mother is dead."

  The words just rolled around endlessly in her brain like falling leaves dancing on the breeze. She just couldn't believe it. Sissy couldn't be dead. But Teddy was not given to making up stories or telling tales. He was far too somber for a lad of barely thirteen as far as Beatrice was concerned.

"Dead?" The word whooshed out of her on a shocked whisper. "You think your mother is dead?"

"She hasn't come out of her room for two days." Felicia announced grimly. "And we don't dare go in without permission." At ten, she too was far more pragmatic than Beatrice liked. But considering everything these children had endured through their short lifetime, it was no wonder.

  Beatrice shifted, hefting little Martine a bit higher in her arms to try and relieve some of the strain. Small as the six-year-old was, she was getting too big for Beatrice to carry about, and her arms were tiring.

"She locked herself in her rooms after Mr. Narwhal left." Felicia informed her.

"Mr. Narwhal?" Beatrice parroted in surprise.

"He was very angry and shouting." Teddy told her. "We could hear him from all the way up in the nursery."

  Beatrice felt a worm of guilt wriggle inside her chest. She didn't need to ask why Mr. Narwhal was angry. No doubt he had been frustrated after fruitlessly searching everywhere for her. This was all her fault. If she hadn't run away, things would never have escalated to this point.

"I don't like Mr. Narwhal." Martine declared, scrubbing her face in her aunt's bodice.

"Me neither." Felicia readily agreed.

"He's not a nice man." Teddy growled angrily. "Mother should never have allowed him to pay court to you."

Beatrice was struck speechless. Teddy didn't blame her after all.

"Mr. Narwhal told Mother he wants the fresh blossom, not the old cow." Felicia told her, helpfully.

"That made Mother angry." Martine added.

  Beatrice choked, biting her lip to hold back laughter. She could just imagine the expression on Sissy's face after that exchange. No doubt that insult had pricked her ego. That the children had overhead such an exchange was no surprise. Little pitchers often had big ears and even bigger mouths. It always amazed her how much information they could absorb and retain.

"Mother was almost as angry with Mr. Narwhal as she was with Teddy." Felicia quickly pointed out.

  Teddy squirmed and ducked his head, blushing in shame, but made no protest. A sure sign of guilt.

"Why was your mother angry with Teddy?" Beatrice asked.

"Teddy was very ill." Felicia said solemnly.

"All over Mother." Martine chimed, her small voice muffled against her aunt's chest.

  Beatrice had to stifle another giggle. The vision of Sissy, looking disgusted while covered in sick, was impossible to banish from her mind's eye. She cleared her throat with a little cough before turning back to her nephew. Teddy was avoiding her eye, his face red with guilt and embarrassment. No doubt his mother had punished him harshly. It would never occur to Sissy that the boy had no control while he was ill.

"Did you feel poorly, Teddy?" Beatrice automatically lifted a hand to his forehead and cupped his cheek, but he didn't seem to have a fever.

"I feel much better, now." He hastily assured her as he scrubbed at the tears on his cheeks and tried to square up his shoulders in a manly fashion.