The Humble Queen [The Chronicals of Narnia]

Will the war kill us?

FIVE YEARS LATER

"They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesickness conquered. It was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news, and only at the end did the writer's heart over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.

'Give them all of my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.' Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, 'I am a selfish girl! But I'll truly try to be better, so he may not be disappointed in me by-and-by.' 
'We all will' cried Meg. 'I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but won't anymore, if I can help it.'
'I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman' and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else,' said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South." 

My voice was loud and clear as I recited the words of the small pages. I was sat on the Library floor, leaning against an armchair with Mrs. MaCready and Cameron by my side. Cameron sat before me, playing with the tiny rattle that Mother had left behind. Mrs. MaCready was sat in the armchair as she quietly knitted a pale pink scarf.  I'd been reading 'Little Women' to them. It was Mrs. MaCready's favourite book. Cameron didn't seem to enjoy it though. I will admit, it was a rather enjoyable novel.

The manor was in a gloomy state of grief. Unfortunately, Grandmother had passed away a few weeks ago. It was incredibly hard. She had passed the same way that Father had. Grandfather had been hidden in his study ever since. Giving the professor some time, Mrs. MaCready had taken it upon herself to care for Cameron and me. I needed a little caring for as I was fourteen years old. It was Cameron who needed it. He was five years old. Cameron was an adorable, mischievous little boy. He looked just like Mother had before she had abandoned us with Grandfather and Grandmother. His hair was black and his eyes were big and brown. He had her nose and face structure and tiny freckles were dotted over his nose.

With a sigh, I closed the book and stood up to put it away. Mrs. MaCready raised an eyebrow as I switched the radio on and sat on the couch to listen. A huge war had broken out and it was scary. Germany had just attacked Poland on September 1st. I rested my head in my arms as I listened.
"Two days after Germany's ruthless attack on Poland. Britain and France have declared war on Germany!" the radio said. I frowned gently as I listened. Wars were stupid, wouldn't everyone die? A sigh left my lips as Mrs. MaCready switched the radio off and looked at me sternly.
"Now, a young girl like you shouldn't be listening to anything like that. Do you hear me?" she asked, her thing eyebrows were furrowed, leaving wrinkles in her forehead.
"I'm curious," I replied, "England is going into war. There's a chance that we'll all-"
"Hush now," she interrupted, "you and your brother are safe here, I can assure you. We live in the countryside, we're far from the war."
"But-"
"I don't want to hear it!" she snapped before sighing and rubbing her temple, "Why don't you go and make some tea for the professor?"
"Yes Mrs. MaCready," I muttered as I left the large room.

My red skirts danced around my small legs as I walked through the luxurious halls. I headed towards the kitchen, where the tea set was. I froze when  I came upon the place where Father died. I stepped forward hesitantly as my hand grasped the ice shard that Grandmother had made into a necklace for me. I bowed my head silently.
"Rest well Father." I walked into the kitchen.

It was a large room with two cookers and two fridges. The refrigerator stood beside the sink. I walked over to the countertop where the tea set stood. Filling the kettle up with water from the tap, I placed it over the heated stove and waited. I glanced at the plastic stool that Mrs. MaCready had always put aside for me to use when I volunteered to help. I didn't need it now; I was quite tall. After five minutes, I poured the hot water into  Grandfather's favourite mug. Dropping some milk and two sugars in it, I placed it on a tray with some biscuits before leaving the kitchen. My steps were quiet as I walked up the stairs. They'd been rebuilt in the past five years as Grandmother had fallen down them, resulting in an awful injury. The paintings seemed to watch me as I walked past. They were ancestors I presumed. I stopped walking as I caught sight of an odd painting. I'd never seen this one.

It was a painting of a young and beautiful woman. Her body was slim and pale, her eyes were icy and blue. She had extremely thin lips and a rather stern glare. Her blonde eyebrows were furrowed as she seemed to look at me. A shiver went through my spine. She wore a large, blue dress. It was had off the shoulder straps and seemed incredibly fluffy. The neckline was thick and seemed large. Wrapped around her shoulders was a large, white, fur coat. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back into a rather messy and matted bun. In her hands, she clutched what seemed to be a stick. There was a blue shard in it which seemed to glow. Written in the corner of the painting was: 'Jadis, The White Witch'.

A loud crash interrupted my thought process and I turned to what had caused the noise. Grandfather had stumbled slightly and accidentally knocked a statue over. I gasped in surprise as I hurried over.
"Grandfather, are you hurt?" I fussed and he shook his head as he patted my head.
"I'm fine Arabella," he replied. A sharp stab pierced my heart. Ever since Grandmother had passed, Grandfather had stopped calling me Monkey. I was just Arabella now. I hated it.
"I brought you up some tea," I said as I held out the tray. He nodded gently as he took it and carried it into his study. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"May I come in?" I asked. He glanced up at me and indicated to the seat in front of him. I closed the door behind me as I walked over to the seat and sat down.
"How are you coping?" I asked softly, his hollow eyes stared at the floor. During the past five years, I'd concluded that Grandmother was the sparkle in Grandfather's eye. Ever since she passed, his sparkle too had passed.

"There's something that I've been meaning to talk to you about." He sipped his tea as he leaned back. I tilted my head to the side, my gold curls falling over my shoulder. His blue eyes stared into my grey pair.
"In a few weeks, we will be having a few guests," he informed, "they are roughly your age, so I want you to help Mrs. MaCready tend to them. Please help them settle in too."
"Is it because of the war?" I asked and he gravely nodded. I sighed gently. "Grandfather, will we die?"
"Of course not!" he cried, "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Well," I began, "won't the war kill us?"
"Not at all. Arabella, I promise you that we are safe here." A gentle sob left my lips as Grandfather spoke. "What's wrong?"
"Grandfather," I said, "I felt safer when Father and Grandmother were here too."
"I understand Arabella," he whispered, "it'll be alright."
"But will it?"
"Worry less Arabella." He placed his cup down, "The Pevensies will be arriving soon. Please, can you ask Mrs. MaCready to ready them each a room?" With a heartbroken sigh, I nodded before standing up and leaving the study.