The House of Beardsley

Chapter Forty-five

The sky grew dark when I finally arrived at Chuchpoint. The town resembled a village from a fairy-tale land, all the cottages small with hay roofs and flowers at the windows.

I entered the inn, the biggest house there, with two stories, but only half the size of the Beardsley manor. I opened the door and the innkeeper took one glance at me and understood.

"You must be the girl Mister Silas Beardsley mentioned," he said.

"Yes, I am," I said. Then I remembered the letter and pulled it out from the pocket in my coat and handed it to him. He opened it, scanned it carefully, then looked back at me.

"He's paid for your room and services. Would you like to go to your room first or have some supper?"

"I don't need supper tonight," I said. He frowned.

"You can also have supper in your room." I shook my head.

"No, there won't be any need."

He gave a brisk nod before walking up the stairs. I followed. The staircase was narrow and creaked as we ascended. Then we went down the hallway and stopped before the third door, which he unlocked with a key and then opened for me.

"This will be your room," he said. "Would you like to be called for breakfast tomorrow?" I shook my head again.

"No, thank you."

"Very well. What is your name?"

"Shuyan."

"Su—excuse me?" The confusion evident on his face made me stop. I had forgotten I was no longer in the House of Beardsley. I was in the outside world, the world where people didn't care for how my name was pronounced. The cruel and uncaring outside world. I shook my head.

"No, I meant Susanne. Yes, Susanne Clock."

"Very well," he said again. "I wish you a good night, Miss Susanne Clock." He handed me the key to my room and then turned and left, and I entered my room.

The long day was finally over.

This was it.

This was the end of my everything.

I took off my coat and unbuttoned my dress before quickly getting into bed, but despite how tired I was, I couldn't sleep at all.

The image of Eugene's face kept returning. I knew, then, that no matter how long I lived, the image would forever be etched in my eyelids. This, I thought, must be how Tobias felt when Eugene broke his legs.

How alike we were—causing grief for the same person, the person we both loved the most.

The next few days I grew used to life at the inn. There were only two other guests besides me, and they didn't pay me any attention. The innkeeper also had a wife who prepared the food, which was good. In the day time I would even walk about Churchpoint, visiting stores or taking strolls, making people stare at me.

I felt out of place, as always, but a part of me had grown used to it. There would probably never be another place where I could feel like home again. Because there would never be another place with Clo, Rhiannon, and Beth, my precious friends.

One day I woke up in morning to soft rapping on my door.

"Yes," I said, sitting up in bed. Had they forgotten I didn't want breakfast? "Is something the matter?"

"Miss Susanne," said the innkeeper, "There's a man here by the name of Tobias Beardsley looking for you."

Tobias?