An heiress to one of Britain's most impressive fortunes, Cordelia Gardiner has always done what her strict father expects her to, manage the estate, host dinners, mind her manners. After years of adhering to his demanding expectations, however, Cord...
When the cab driver stopped in front of an elegant row of townhouses, Cordelia's eyes widened. Her mother was in one of those very houses, probably not even expecting a visit from her practically long lost daughter today. Charles' eyes, however, narrowed when he saw the seedy-looking man outside the home that Lady Gardiner resided in. The man was unshaven and dirty looking, and was sitting on the front doorstep of the Gardiner townhouse, glaring at the cab. "Cordelia," he said, snapping her out of her euphoric state, "if something goes wrong, you know you could always stay with me tonight."
When she raised an eyebrow, he cleared his throat, " when I say with me, I mean to say with Lord Elderwood," he corrected awkwardly. Cordelia smiled and held a hand to Charles' shoulder.
"Oh Charles, you're so kind to offer. I know that everything will go splendidly with my mother-I can't believe I finally get to say something like that-my mother!" She practically squealed, a smile brightening her face, and making her dark eyes sparkle and gleam. Charles cleared his throat again, serious as always, and leaned forward.
"Cordelia, I hate to put a damper on your excitement, but I think it is important for you to have more, erm...rational expectations when it comes to meeting your mother. You two have been separated for a long time, and she may not be all that you expect." If Cordelia's smile dimmed, it was only for a moment before she began to grab her belongings from the car.
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"Oh Charles, you worry far too much! She's my mum, what could go wrong? I'm sure she'll be even happier than me to see me! Enjoy your stay with Elderwood, and thank you for chaperoning my trip to town!" With that, she swung open the door, and began her ascent up the stairs of 1151 Queen Street. Stopping only to kindly greet the man on the stairs, who greeted her in return with a scowl. Charles stayed only long enough to see her knock on the door, shaking his head at her-albeit understandable-naivety.
Cordelia's soft knocks at the large door were returned with silence. She spun around to face the scowling man on the steps, who looked angry at being spoken to. "Excuse me sir, but do you know if the lady of the house is home?" When he squinted his eyes, Cordelia continued, "Lady Margaret Gardiner?" Still, the man squinted and scowled, before he finally nodded in understanding.
"Aaahhhh, yer lookin' for Maggie," he said, spitting a glob out onto the stone steps, narrowly avoiding Cordelia's slippered foot, "aye, she's in, but she may no' be awake yet." Cordelia tried to suppress her disgust at the man's dark spit so close to her newest shoes, thanking him as she beat on the door a little harder.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," she heard a voice shout from within, accompanied by angry stomps down what must be a staircase. The door swung open, and all the greetings Cordelia had planned in her head on the train ride over had disappeared. Before her stood her mother, Margaret Gardiner. Cordelia knew it was her mother, though she wasn't sure just how she knew it. They shared the same dark, curly hair, though Margaret's appeared quite matted and slept on. They shared the same nose, and Cordelia made out a slight smile at that, for she had always known her nose was nothing like her father's larger one.
This was it, she thought, this is the moment I've waited years and years for. Cordelia straightened out her hat so that her mother may have a better look at her, and beamed at the woman in front of her, so self-assured that she knew exactly who she was. It appeared, however, that she did not. "Who the hell are you?" Margaret questioned, keeping her door slightly closed behind her, hiding the inside of the house from her visitor.
Picking her shoulders back up and keeping her smile plastered on her face, Cordelia opened her arms and gave Margaret a very one-sided hug. "Mum, it's me, Cordelia!" She said, smiling at the women in her arms, who smelled slightly of smoke and wine. She felt Margaret's body stiffen, and then felt arms pushing Cordelia back onto the front step.
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"Oh, Cordelia...of course it's you," she said, taking a long look at the young woman in front of her. "My how you've grown," she said, gesturing for Cordelia to follow her inside the dimly lit foyer.
"Well, it has been almost twenty years since you've last seen me. I'm sure anyone would grow in such time," Cordelia joked, finding the least dusty corner of the house and placing her luggage down in it. She noticed movement from one of the parlors they had walked past, and she realized that she and Margaret weren't alone in the house. "Mother, is there someone else here?"
Margaret looked confused for a moment before she remembered her guests. "Oh! Yes, dear, mummy had some friends stay the night, a sleepover if you will!" Cordelia noticed her mother spoke to her like a child, and figured that Margaret just may not be used to speaking with children, let alone her own child.
"How...fun," Cordelia said, seeing bottles of wine and ash from cigarettes on the floor. A thought flashed in Cordelia's mind that made her chuckle to herself. Her father would be red with anger if he ever had to see how Margaret was treating the townhouse he had given to her. Upkeep-or lack thereof-such as this would never be allowed at Loddington. Cordelia thought that if she were to stay with her mother for any period of time, she would have to give Margaret's maid a stern talking to, like she did at Loddington.
Margaret cleared a place for them to sit on one of her couches, shooing a cat and an ashtray off the chaise and onto the rug below. Cordelia cringed slightly when she saw the ashes fall to the rug, only to be rubbed further into the ornate Turkish piece by the feet of the cat. "Cordelia, dearest, tell Mummy how you've been doing?" She asked, and as she spoke Cordelia noticed that her mother had begun swaying a little bit, and her skin had paled until it was almost white.
"Well, where do I begin?" She giggled, so pleased that her mother wanted to know more about her. She folded her gloved hands in her lap before she could begin speaking, but when she opened her mouth, Margaret had snapped hers open already.
"How about you start with the money I asked you for?"
