The House of Beardsley

Special Chapter 3 (Final)

"You know," he always told me, even as a child, "Eugene is different from us."

"You mean because he's our cousin?" I asked.

"No. No. Because he didn't grow up as a Beardsley, like we did."

"Hmm."

"Do you dislike Eugene?" he asked carefully. I peered up and slowly shook my head.

"No. He's nice," I said, then looked down again and moved my white pawn. "He's not like Silas: he doesn't laugh at me or shout when he's mad. Although he is a bit loud."

He guffawed, then reached out to pat my head. "Don't blame Silas, that's just how he is."

"I'm not blaming him," I said, pushing away his hand, "and don't treat me like a child, Father. I've already beaten you nine times in chess."

"Yes, you're right." He pondered over our game, or maybe something else, before speaking again. "I hope if anything happens in the future, you don't hold it against Eugene."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, for example, if he took something from you."

"Took something from me? I don't have anything I wouldn't mind sharing."

"Some things can't be shared, Tobias."

His voice was low. I looked up at the board and at his suddenly melancholic face.

He often had on that brooding face, like he carried the weight of the world on him. Like I was too young to understand anything, to share his burdens and relieve him of even a quarter of his sorrows.

"I don't understand—"

It slipped my mouth before I could stop it.

Then Father smiled again.

"It's fine, Tobias. Let's concentrate on the game. Look here, you've forgotten about your bishop..."

***

"Sir? Sir?" There was tapping on my shoulder, and I flinched back in surprise, only to see an ordinary man staring at me.

"Sir, it's the last stop," he said. I looked outside the window and sure enough it was my destination. I sighed. I had slept all night on my ride back to Ravensborough and had a dream about my childhood again. What a fitting coincidence.

"Thank you for waking me up," I said. The man nodded and left. I pulled my numb body off the seat and then my suitcase. I carried almost nothing with me now but a few necessities. I just returned from Ireland but I wasn't planning on staying in Ravensborough for long. Neither in London nor Yorkshire, though. I wanted to stay somewhere quieter, where I wasn't bound to run to anyone I knew. Although I doubted I'd be recognized, anyways.

Six years had passed. I was twenty-seven, and a vagabond.

What did I expect? Father did always say I had a penchant for being alone. Just like him.

I wandered the nostalgic town. People were absorbed in their own world, smiling or frowning, bickering with their friends or laughing with their lovers. The weather was nice, the sun out, and so were parasols, coats gone, less carriages and wagons and more people strolling the streets.

This time I found the street and peculiar sign quickly and without hesitation, rang the doorbell before entering.

I walked through the hall and then into a frivolously decorated room of treasures and fakes. On his face was a familiar smile but this time Humpty Dumpty was dressed in Indian robes of white and gold.