The Beast's Ward

Chapter One: Unfortunate News

I stared out the carriage window, absently stroking Foxy's thick fur as she slumbered on my black satin clad lap. Today was a perfectly somber day, perfect to match my dreary mood and the utter sorrow that had taken over my life.

Three weeks prior, I received the most horrible of news. Father had been gone nearly a month and I was looking forward to his return. When I was younger, he'd have my tutor, Mrs. Blackmoore, come and stay with me, but now I insisted on taking care of myself in his absence. This was partly due to my growing need for independence, but mostly it was because Mrs. Blackmoore irritated me beyond imagining. She was a terribly shrill woman and she never let me do anything but sit and sew for hours on end. More than two days with her, and I'd go mad! Though it was terribly lonely without my father around, I had gotten used to it over the years. It would be a relief once he was back again. I worried about him. He wasn't getting any younger. I was hoping that he'd be back within the next few days and was making preparations for it. I cleaned the entire house and started planning the menu for his welcome home dinner. Then, in the late afternoon, I heard a knocking at the door. I thought it odd that someone was visiting. It was such a rare occurrence. When I opened the door, I saw a man, dressed in the uniform of the royal Navy standing in the doorway. The man's face was filled with worry. He handed me a letter and bowed to me slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Craft, but I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news. The Beatrix never reached the Marin Port where it was due to enter Spain. It is presumed to be lost at sea."

My father? Gone? I couldn't believe it. I dared not believe it. I couldn't bare the thought of being an orphan, of never seeing my father again or hearing his voice. What I longed for most was to see his smile again. I would have given anything for that. I put off taking care of his final business for weeks, hoping that the naval officer was wrong and that my father would sail into the London harbor all well and good soon. However, the date of his expected arrival came and went. My father never came back and I could no longer pretend that everything was fine. I had to face the fact that the Beatrix had sank or was captured by pirates. Either way, my father and the rest of the crew were most likely dead. All I could do now was try to live as best I could without him. Now here I was, on my way to meet with Thomas Bindley, the executor of my father's will to see what would become of me and my father's estate.

Mr. Bindley was a very dreary man in his own right. He was tall and skeletally thin. Dark shadows painted the hollows around his eyes and along his cheeks. He wore an ill fitting suit that was all black, as were his eyes and his somewhat greasy looking hair. He made a sour face at me when I entered his office with my dog in my arms. I half expected him to yell at me, but instead he painted on a fake smile and gestured towards the empty seat in front of his desk. "Ah, Miss Craft. I've been awaiting your arrival. Please, do sit down here and we'll get straight to business." He said with forced politeness.

"Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. Bindley. Forgive me for bringing my dog. She's been clinging to me like a baby since father went away." I said as I sat down. I tried very hard to sound grown up and to sit up straight like Mrs. Blackmoore taught me. It was very difficult to keep the tremor of grief out of my voice, but I somehow managed.

"I am glad that you are finally coming to see me. The sooner we settle your father's final business, the better, you understand." He said, glancing up at me over his spectacles, which sat lowly on the bridge of his crooked nose.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have come sooner. Father's...disappearance came as quite a shock. It took some time for me to come to terms with it."

In reply, he merely murmured. I doubted that he was really listening to me while he scanned my father's will. "Miss Craft, I'm afraid I've found a problem with the will." He said when he finished. He took off his spectacles and looked at me with his dead black eyes. "It seems that it is a bit dated. Your father had it drawn up when you were only seven. It states that you must remain under the care of a legal guardian until your eighteenth birthday. Until then, your father's estate will be placed in a trust. You won't be able to collect your inheritance until you are a legal adult."