The Odd Life of Cornelius Tessington

For the Ones We Love

I don't know if you've read this story but if you have then you already know me well and if you haven't, well, then I'd better introduce myself. I am Edith Owen, and I live in beautiful London, year 1875, and late fall. The cold winds sweeping in to houses that had no doors or windows but don't bother those who could afford such wonderful luxuries. I live in the lower class regions of the city, under the rule of Her Highness Queen Victoria (God save the Queen!) with my mother and father. However my father, Lyle Owen, has grown suddenly ill, causing him to spend hours asleep on the one bed we have, coughing violently and barely having enough strength to lift a mug. Thanks to the horrid influenza my father seemed to have caught at work my mother, Fern Owen, has had to work extra hard, working as a maid at the house of Redlaw from three in the morn to late midnight, coming home worked to the bone. I fear that she too will grow ill and feeble, but my mother has never been a weak woman, she's always done what she could for our family, desperately doing whatever she had to do, even if it might not have been what she wanted to. I stay at home and tend to father, making sure he doesn't get worst even though I protest that I am old enough to find a real job. Oh, I forgot, I'm turning 15 in the late winter; my mother had always called me a blossom in the dead of winter, when the field is bare and dead. But my mother tells me if I go out and look for a job I could be mugged, or killed, or worse. I could be assaulted by men and my parents wouldn't be able to pay a bribe, leaving me in their hands. I needed to stay here and tend to father so he gets better she tells me. However, I can see in her warm brown eyes that she doesn't fully believe her words, as if she isn't sure father will get better. My mother wants to wait until summer for in summer she will dress me in my best and look for a fine husband for me, to find me a way out of the horrid poverty I was born into. So as the dutiful daughter I am I wait, and wait and wait for the sun to once again shine merrily upon the cobblestoned streets and banish the harsh winds and biting snow. However, this winter feels like it shall last an eternity, and I too fear in my heart, father will not last long enough to see another summer day. No, I must stay positive, maybe, just maybe if we work hard enough we will scrape by this winter. Maybe we will make it to summer and father will get better and I shall find a fine husband and leave my family in good care.

Oh what a fool I am to believe such lies.

It stared on Novemeber 27, cold and slippery from rain that threatened to beat through the thin wood that covered our living space that honestly, isn't big. Merely a shack with one bed and a tiny stove that seems to gobble more and more wood yet produce less and less heat. I sat on the floor beside father, listening to his raspy breaths as he sleeps, tossing and turning fitfully. He has a fever now, a bad one, I feel my stomach churn at how he groans and moans like the restless undead. Is this the strong, grinning man I called father? The man who did his best to support his family, blue eyes dancing merrily while his deep brown hair bounced around his head, mustache wiggling above his lip? I sighed and rubbed my shoulders, it was getting too drafty, I wish I had a better way of covering the door other than a threadbare blanket! Shivering faintly I turned at the sound of weary feet and the blanket shifted, revealing my mother standing there, her face in upmost grief. I stood up and stared at her with fear.

"Mother? What's amiss?" I inquired, rushing to her side. She took silent steps to father's bedside and stared at him a long time, dirty blond hair pocking messily from her hurried bun. Then she spoke, low and soft, as if worried the words would bite her. I felt my tension build. "Mother? Mother?" I cried, my voice rising. Goodness I hated when my voice hit that pitch. She sighed softly and looked at me, eyes watering.

"I was dismissed Edith, Mr. Redlaw said I was growing to slow and hired a new servant. I'm out of work," I felt my body go numb and I stumbled onto my knees. I could barely hear her soft tears through the blood rushing loudly through my ears. Our last way of making ends meet, our last hope of making it to the summer, our last way of buying food had flown out the door like a bird desperate for freedom. How in the heavens were we to survive if we had no money? My breathing grew short and frenzied, no, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening! Hadn't I been a devoted daughter? Hadn't I kept to the house like my mother's wishes and done my duties as a daughter? Hadn't I prayed each night and before each meal and kept myself pure in both body and soul? What had my parents done to deserve all this strife? Suddenly my mother took my hands in her work worn ones. She looked me in the eye, both of us of equal height now. "But, before I left I heard gossip of a new lord looking for staff. However he only takes young women now, and you my sweet girl, are our last hope of survival. He lives two streets from here. However, they call him an..." I nodded for my mother to go on, noticing her tentativeness. She sighed and went on, "An eccentric, they say he's mad but he pays well for his servants. I know this is a big risk Edith but if we want to live you need to take this job, please my girl, do it for your family," I paused at the word eccentric. Wait, eccentric? As in mad, insane and just plain loony? Wasn't this the sort of danger my mother had been keeping me away from all these years? But looking into her eyes I could see something I'd never seen in her strong eyes. Desperation. The desperation to support her failing family and keep them alive. And I quickly succumbed to the look itself. With a heavy sigh I glanced at father,

"But, why is he only taking young women? Isn't that..." I struggled for the right word but my mother quickly filled me in,

"Worrisome? A man only wanting female servants? Yes, I admit it is a little bothersome to me but he is our last hope Edith, please. At least try, what have you got to lose?" She finished.

"Well, my life as well as a few other valuable things," I thought negatively, looking at all the awful things this vulgar sounding man could do when he had me as a servant. But I finally slumped to the floor, sitting on the cold dirt and tracing my fingers in it.

"Will you do it Edith? Please?" I didn't look at her but whispered softly.

"But, I'm afraid mother," I felt like I was years younger, as if I was a toddler and not a young woman reaching adulthood. I felt my mother engulf me in a warm embrace, both of us exchanging body heat. She murmured in my ear.

"I am too Edith, but sometimes we must face what we are afraid of, for the ones we love," I gripped her tighter, feeling my eyes tear up as her soft scent of washing things, like soap and fresh water from her job, the scent I would smell as I drifted to sleep. I didn't want her to be afraid but I didn't want to work for a madman either. However I made a decision, one I felt would change my life forever, and that of my family.

"Fine, fine I try and get the job, what do I say though?"