My Mother's Daughter

Chapter 9

"Edward, I'm really not feeling well, dear. Do you need to work today?" Elizabeth and her husband were in the sitting room. She was awake earlier than usual, hoping to persuade him to remain at home. However, she had only managed to have him agree to only a few hours, which was quickly ticking away.

"Honey, do you want me to call the doctor? You do look slightly pale." Asked Edward, genuinely concerned for his wife's health.

"No dear, I don't need a doctor, I need my husband." He said nothing and lowered his head to hide the guilt and impatience that must have shone like marbles in his eyes. Elizabeth squeezed his arm and looked at him in alarm. "Edward darling, you don't think I'm with child, do you?"

"Nonsense Elizabeth, you're just not feeling your regular self that's all." Interjected Rebecca before her father could reply. Elizabeth's burned red with fury. "See, your complexion is already improving." Chimed her stepdaughter, beaming like the morning sun.

"Morning father." She chirped, pecking his cheek with a genuine kiss.

"Morning sweetheart." He replied lovingly, kissing her in return.

"Don't you just love to rise with the sun? There's something about a new day that makes you eager to live. Wouldn't you agree, Elizabeth?" Her stepmother mumbled incoherently under her breath. Rebecca heard the swear, but decided to ignore her.

"What's that you got there, Becca?" Her father asked, his eyes and smile sparkling with love and affection. At her father's question, Rebecca queued her act into play.

"Well, I knew that stepmother has not been feeling well since last night, so I decided to be a more vigilant and caring stepdaughter, and brought her a cup of herbed tea." Rebecca held the tray outward to the woman, and grinned slyly. "Drink up now, I made it myself. It'll make you feel better before the sun sets."

Baffled, Elizabeth mascara eyes widened, then pure clean anger shot through her veins, and she slapped the tray from her stepdaughter's hands. The contents of the cup spilled onto the expensive carpet. Shocked by his wife's sudden behaviour, Edward sat speechless.

Rebecca covered her mouth in mock surprise, and also to hide the mirth that stretched her lips for an untimely laugh. Elizabeth growled, her fangs and claws bared and ready to strike at the girl before her, as she completely forgot that she was still in the presence of her husband. The unchecked public display of emotions was equivalent to a volcanic eruption

"You little scoundrel. How dare you-"

"How dare her, how dare you. What has gotten into you Elizabeth? Why would you do something like that?"

"Because she put-" Elizabeth bit her tongue to silence herself, and the unnecessary information that almost filtered a dark tune on her husband's eardrums. Edward patiently waited for his wife to explain, but Rebecca knew the wait was futile. Her stepmother would never complete the answer to her father's question, not if she wanted to be pinned with the correct title of suspect. A badge she earned from her wicked nature.

On cue, tears sprung from Rebecca's tear ducts, as her plan was moving along perfectly.

"I only wanted to do something nice for you Elizabeth, especially since you were unwell. Why would you throw my kind gesture to the floor? Do you always have to be so mean to me?" After her spectacular performance, Rebecca hurried out of the room, but stopped just outside in order to overhear what her father had to say to her stepmother.

"What is with you Elizabeth, this is so out of character. I expect that you'll see to this mess, and the one you created between yourself and my child. I wish I could stay longer, but I really must get going. Enjoy your day and I do hope you feel better, but I have to get to work." Standing abruptly, he looked at his wife and sighed. "Are you sure you don't need a doctor?"

"No Edward, thank you for asking. I am truly sorry about what I did, I really am. Please do enjoy your day as well, my dear." She embraced her husband, who only patted her back with one hand. How she envied the tight hugs he reserved only for his daughter. The door of affection was a constant struggle for her to open.

"I love you." She whispered in his ears.

"Yes." He replied, then stepped away and exited the room. Quickly, Rebecca hid. Elizabeth tapped a single shoe tip on the polished floor as she strained her ears to hear her husband's departure from the driveway. Her anger flared like an unmonitored fever.

"Charlotte!" She screamed. The maid hustled into the room, fright draining the colour from her cheeks.

"Yes, my lady."

"See to this mess immediately. I want no stains. Make sure to do a thorough job, because I'll be back to check."

"Yes, my lady." Elizabeth walked briskly to the living room, she needed an empty space to think. Somewhere without other humans, and her stepdau-

"My, you look like you need a drink." Stated Rebecca, who with arms folded leaned against the frame of the open door that led to the entrance of the dining room. "Too bad you spilled it, or do you need something stronger, perhaps?" Rebecca laughed airily.

"Are you enjoying this little charade of yours, you imp?" Elizabeth asked with a mirthless smile.

"Of course I am." Rebecca responded readily, as she left her position from the entryway and sauntered towards her stepmother. "You couldn't say it, could you Elizabeth." She said as she stared at her menace seriously.

"You couldn't tell him that one little word... poison. Isn't that exactly what you used to kill his wife, my mother? Or are you more associated with the words strychnine." Rebecca shook her head and clucked her tongue. "You poor woman. Do you really think I'll give you a dose of your own medicine? I don't plan to kill you Elizabeth, so worry yourself no further. I only plan to let you expose yourself."

"Ha! Keep waiting for the impossible dear, because it'll never happen. What you need to understand is that I am your father's wife, who is very much alive and almost out of patience with entertaining your childish behaviour."

"Oh, but I'm not done yet, dear wife in contract but never in heart. Also, please understand..." Rebecca lowered her voice. "Never again assume you're pregnant, because you'll never be. I've taken care of that and don't ask how. No devil would ever be born from a demon like you, Elizabeth, and don't you ever forget that!" Rebecca marched to the dining room and opened the doors to the fullest.

She strode to the grand shiny black piano, and sat upon the cushioned seat. Her fingers descended on the keys with practised poised, and her voice lifted with an angelic song. The haunted words stung Elizabeth's ears and she swiftly bee-hived for the front door. Grabbing both coat and purse from the hallway closet, she summoned the butler to notify the chauffeur that she wanted to go out immediately.

She stepped outside into the cool breeze, and thankfully when the door closed she hardly heard the commotion on the inside. Her fingers drummed on her purse incessantly, and seconds later her favoured car, a flawless white Bentley, crunched to a halt, the door perfectly aligning with her body. She hurried in, unable to wait for the chauffeur to dutifully open the door. In an unladylike manner, she slid onto the seat, welcoming the silence when the door finally closed.

Elizabeth sighed with relief when the oncoming headache subsided. She wanted desperately to command the driver to pass by her doctor's office, but there was no telling if the good-hearted Dr. Phillip would discuss the subject with her husband whenever they met. For now, she had to leave it as the little repugnant child had been putting birth control pills in her tea.

Who would have thought Rebecca could or would ever go to such lengths? Nothing else made her sick than to talk or think about that child. What Elizabeth needed was to be around people like herself. People of standard.

"Driver." Elizabeth said, staring into the rearview mirror.

"Yes madam?" The chauffeur answered politely. He had tobacco coloured hair, and pale blue eyes.

"Take me to Manchester."

"Right away my lady." Elizabeth settled herself against the comfortable leather seat. The tension, which seemed to hold her body hostage was already melting away. Probing her mind held no delight. She lowered her eyelashes and let time take its measure on life.