Madeline Usher's Tale

Chapter Five

 “[Roderick] admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a more continued illness—indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution—of a tenderly beloved sister, his sole companion for long years, his last and only relative on earth.”

                                                                          Chapter Five

The first time Roderick touched me was when I was fifteen.

            But first, I must rewind the story.

            Seventeen months after the night Roderick had yelled at me, my father died. I can’t say I wasn’t suspecting it. I was fully aware that my father had gone down the same dark path my mother had never returned.

            He headed back to the city a few more times before finally returning to Usher Manor where he shut himself away from everyone. Everything in my life seemed like an endless case of déjà vu: first my mother and now my father. Before their untimely ends, both had complained of headaches and sensitivity to the light. Both had wanted to be left alone in their rooms. Whenever they did venture out into Usher Manor, it was if the world did not exist. One look at the cracks in the wall would send them scurrying back into their rooms. The cracks were not a product of my imagination as Roderick liked to insist. If my parents were terrified, then it was with good reason.

            I attended a third funeral in the Usher family graveyard. I had become used to it by now. I persuaded Roderick to at least invite Mr. Kennedy since he had worked with our father. I told Roderick that he needed a friendly face for support, but really, I wanted to see Mr. Kennedy for my own purposes. I wanted to know that there was some type of sanity out in the real world—that life went on normally for some.

Roderick begrudgingly invited Uncle Henry to the funeral. Uncle Henry was now our last relative. Through the whole service, he constantly stared over at me and Roderick, a look of intense curiosity on his face. He had come alone, leaving his wife and children, my two cousins, at their home in Virginia. Despite our first interaction all those years ago, I had come to feel a sense of unease about my uncle. I knew he was here for one thing and one thing only. I tried to ignore him as I sat between Roderick and Mr. Kennedy.

When the funeral was over, I remained seated while Mr. Kennedy took my hand in consolation. Roderick had already removed himself, and I saw Uncle Henry approach him, whispering something in Roderick’s ear. I frowned. Surely Roderick wanted to have nothing to do with that man. Much to my surprise, Roderick and Henry began walking back towards the manor.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy,” I said, lost in thought. My brother and uncle were already in the house. I ran to catch up.

Richard greeted me at the door. “Where did my brother and uncle go?” I asked out of breath.

“To the parlor, Lady Madeline.”

Before I could even open the parlor door, I could already hear raised voices.

“This house is not yours!” I heard Roderick exclaim. “My grandfather passed it to my father, and my father passed it to me.”

“Where’s the proof for your statement?” Uncle Henry challenged. “I have not seen your father’s signature to testify to this.”

I stormed into the room. “Uncle Henry, why do you come into our home and demand answers on the day of our father’s funeral? We invited you here in good faith since you are now our only remaining family and you take to raising your voice at my brother.”