Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

To be quite honest, the last thing I really cared about at that precise moment was my job.

"I’m sorry, but we honestly are in danger, we need to move.” Lady Laytoff snorted.

“Come, Cordelia.” I grabbed her hand and darted out the tent. Whatever happened now to Lady Laytoff and her children was none of my concern. My cheeks were pink with embarrassment from my recent dismissal, and the amount of running we were doing. We weaved through the various amusements, eyes darting everywhere, scared of Messers Tavener and Laytoff coming after us.

There were just a few rowdy crowds left at the fair now, drinking, and walking through scraps of newspaper and dropped food. Luck seemed to be on our side, because no-one questioned us, and there was no sign of the two scheming men.

We reached the Beaumont household. I took in a deep breath. Were Charles and Ida going to believe our seemingly far-fetched tale, and that the little girl beside me was really Cordelia?

They were not entirely convinced, appearing rather taken aback that Cordelia was actually alive, after all the agony they had been through after her supposed death. Ida actually fainted when she saw Cordelia and I on the doorstep. Afterwards, she leant against the wall, gasping for oxygen, while Charles' eyebrows flew up in amazement and confusion.

“Are you sure this is not the work of a faerie or a witch?” Ida asked uncertainly, wringing her hands, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

“Mama, it is me,” Cordelia cried, also on the verge of tears.

“It is certainly an extraordinary adventure,” Charles remarked, hugging his sister and me tightly.

Later on, after many more hugs and tears, I mentioned that I had lost my job. Ida sighed and shook her head, eyes shining as she looked at Cordelia skipping around, hand to her heart.

"I’m sorry, I will get another one.” I promised, but Ida just sat and stared at the little girl who she couldn’t decide was a miracle or a waxwork figure.

The next morning, I was up very late, having hardly any sleep. I was so scared- what if Tavener and Laytoff came to seek me out again? What if it was all a dream and Cordelia was really dead?

However, I had no time for brooding, for there were errands to run, such as dashing to the baker’s and the butcher’s and in the meantime, I tried to find a new job. It seemed the story of my dismissal had reached many ears, for I was refused many a time, with comments such as ‘wouldn’t want you wandering off with my lambs to a funfair’.

I decided to plead for a job at the baker’s, having previously worked at the one in Pembury. Two obnoxious women pestered me the moment I set foot in the shop.

“Oh, here comes miss hoity-toity!”

“Don’t know how the Beaumonts keep her, although their name is already in disgrace…”

“She’s dyed her hair red.” That was one blessing, I didn’t have to wear the itchy wig any more, but my cheeks were burning and fists were clenching.

“Oh will you stop talking,” I said furiously.

“I beg your pardon?” One of the ladies, the one with the massive lilac-trimmed hat, asked.

“Keep your comments to yourself,” I growled. They both raised their eyebrows, muffling laughter behind silky pearl gloves. I swept out the shop, fuming, thinking how dare they! Just because they were of a higher class. They were sort of right about the Beaumonts though, because when I got back to the house, we had been evicted.

A man was waiting outside the house with planks of wood, nails, and a hammer. Ida was sobbing, begging the landlord to let us stay.

“You haven’t paid your rent in weeks, I know some of your family has died, but I’m sorry, you must leave.” I ran indoors, up to Cordelia’s room, where I had been sleeping, scared. I had so little possessions that they all tucked neatly into a falling apart basket. I bumped into Charles as I bounded down the stairs. "Oh, Athenia,” he whispered, raking his hands through his hair, “What are we going to do?” I bit my lip.

“We’ll think of something.” I rushed downstairs to help Cordelia wrap the prize ornaments in newspaper.  Everything was such a blur, moving so quickly, it seemed unreal. We couldn't be evicted. Where would we go? I couldn’t bear to look at Charles, when I felt like this was my fault, that I had brought their family name to shambles.

We hadn’t any time to shift the furniture, so it would all have to stay. The Beaumonts had crammed all their possessions into four bags, which were splitting because of the amount they contained. Charles held a wailing Ida as we watched the house be boarded up, the sound of the hammer laughing cruelly in our ears.

“My dolly; I left my Lottie dolly in there,” Cordelia cried, running forward and kicking the door, tiny fists clenched. I restrained her quickly, in case the landlord told her off. We all stared at what the Beaumonts had once called their home. Panic started to descend on me: what was going to happen to us? We stood in the street, in shock of how quickly it had all happened, a forlorn looking bunch guarding their bags of treasure.

“Look, they’re finally out,” someone yelled across the street. We glared at the crowd who had gathered.

"Isn’t that the girl who was supposed to be dead? Why, I bet they faked all that to try and get some money.” No, they didn’t, Tavener and Laytoff did, all because of me.

“Well, off you go,” the landlord shooed.

Ida tore a scrap of newspaper and asked Cordelia for one of her pencils. She still regarded her warily, and had spent the morning tiptoeing around her. She nibbled her lip, sitting down on the pavement.

“What are you writing? What are we going to do?” I babbled, realising sweat was dripping off my forehead.

“Our next residence,” she replied. What if our next residence was the dreaded, fateful workhouse?

“No, you can’t do that, in case Mr Tavener or Mr Laytoff come after me,” I cried, heart beating faster.

"Stop being so selfish. I took you in, nothing but my troublesome cousin, from the goodness of my heart. My parents did respond to the letter that you sent. It was all about how I should now regret marrying my Henry, which that house holds so many happy memories of, how bad was my financial status, and whether I needed help securing a new marriage arrangement. I will bet you an exotic wild fruit my mother wasn’t allowed one say what went into that letter,” Ida sniffed, rolling her eyes with contempt.

“Oh, Ida, have some faith in your mother,” I grabbed her shaking arm, “I say we should get a carriage and go to her house!”