Rule of The Monarch

Sixteen: When it All Falls Down

25 September

'Thank you Dr. Shelley,' Heather extended a hand but was only met with a look of disgust.

'You're lucky your sister was only given sleeping pills, Miss Beckett. She should recover easily. But the boy,' he looked to Astor who was fast asleep, so similar to how her uncle had been long ago. 'He will need care, or else he'll end up in the same state as Miss Prescott.'

'Is there anything I can do to help with his recovery?'

'He needs rest, nothing more. Whoever administered the poison,' he looked at her with the same suspicion the rest of the staff did. They likely thought that she had tried to kill the three, being the only one unscathed. 'Did not choose anything too lethal. His immune system should do the rest.' Dr. Shelley shut his satchel and turned for the door. 'One thing Miss Beckett,' he stopped for a moment. 'You wouldn't know anything about the body in the streets would you?'

'No sir,' she glanced to the crowd outside the window, still staring at where a body no longer lay. 'I'm afraid not.'

'Well, good evening,' he said as he left Christopher's guest room. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

'So am I,' she said only loud enough for her ears and took careful strides to the armchair by the bed. Her heart was steady as she settled down next to Astor. A bit too steady for her liking. It was shock, she told herself. And a bit of anger too, but it didn't linger as long as she'd like. Anger was good, it gave her life, it made her think. But it was numbed far too soon by denial.

'I'm really stupid aren't I, Mr. Hemingway?' She sighed shakily. 'I couldn't see that Christopher had us trapped. I couldn't save you or Amelia from being poisoned. She's dead now,' her voice broke. 'I'm running away from responsibility and my sister is alive because of a miracle. This is all my fault, tears welled in her eyes, her chest growing tighter by the second. 'And here I am pretending you can hear me,' she laughed ruefully, swiping the tears on her cheeks. 'Wake up soon, all right? I'm not ready to face this, all of this on my own,' she looked at his sickly pale skin, his shallow breaths. 'Not yet.'

•••

'What are you going through?'

'Christopher's—'

'Drawings?' Astor's face softened with worry as he joined her, sitting cross legged in front of the fireplace. 'It's all right to mourn. It's normal,' he squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

'I'm not mourning,' she stared at another illustration. This one of her clutching a dagger and wings growing out her back. Like an angel.

Or a demon.

'It's not wrong to be sad, or angry even. If angry works.'

'I'm fine.'

'No you aren't,' he took the papers from her, noticing her vacant face as she lifted her head. Was this what his brother had seen in him all those weeks ago? 'You aren't fine. Not even close. You've just lost your cousin, your uncle, your aunt and your friend. You aren't the slightest bit fine.'

'I'm thinking. I can't mourn when I need to think,' she opened her mouth then closed it, trying to find the right words to say. 'This is stupid,' she pinched the bridge of her nose and chuckled. 'I've probably scared you half to death. Evelynn says I look like I'm plotting murder when I'm upset.'

'Not a bad look for you,' he smiled. 'About Amelia, why did she, why did he—'

'What's your mother's name? Her full name?'

'Alison Urania Elizabeth Hemingway.'

'No, no,' her brows knitted in frustration. 'I've got it all wrong.'

'What have you got wrong?'

'Amelia! I can't figure out why Christopher—' she opened her eyes with realisation. 'Oh,'

'What? What 'oh'?'

'Brilliant, brilliant!' She muttered. 'Why else?'

'Could you please explain?'

'She's family. That's why Christopher needed her dead! Her aunt is Richard Prescott's sister,' she turned away from Astor. 'Isabelle Rose's deceased husband. Do you not see? Amelia had a legitimate claim to the throne.'

'No, I do not see. For goodness sake Heather, could you try to be normal for once?' His voice was close to yelling, close to hating her for not feeling at exactly the wrong moment. 'What the hell is wrong with you?'

'Do you not see?' She looked at him, letting him notice her fingers drumming and tears she blinked back. 'This is my fault. I'm responsible for this. I saw, knew something was wrong. The moment he pulled out Amelia's name. This is my fault. If I'd known earlier, none of this would have happened. We'd all still be alive—'

'No,' he shook his head. 'We don't know what we could have done,' he set down the papers. 'Christopher's proven himself a dangerous man. He would have ended you if he had the chance. The tea was meant for everyone, remember? You declining wasn't something he could have planned.'

'Perhaps,' Heather fidgeted, composing herself. 'Do you think he killed them? My aunt and uncle?' She asked suddenly.

'I... don't know,' he said truthfully, putting an arm around her shoulder. 'But it's done. It's over.'

'It is.'

'Are you going? To his—'

'No. Are you going to her—?'

'No.' Astor noticed her leg bouncing between them, finally annoyed. 'All right, are you trying to get me to leave?' He mocked frustration. 'Stop fidgeting. It's making me nervous as well.'

'I'm not nervous,' she said indignantly, sitting perfectly still. 'If anything, our parents are. They've been posting letters without pause—'

'That's what this is about.'

'What is?'

'The crown. That's why you can't sit still,' he grinned at the discovery. 'I completely forgot! They announce Keydon's next ruler.'

'Is that so?' She mirrored his smile. 'I suppose I worry about it without my knowing.'

'Heather Carlton does care about the verdict after all.' The corner of his mouth quirked up involuntarily.

'Ha, ha.' Heather rolled her eyes. 'Evelynn is still in no state to travel so I've requested for the verdict to be sent here. You're free to return to Aurelius if you wish. I can ready a hansom—'

'I'm refusing the crown.' Astor didn't allow her a moment to answer. 'Despite poisoning me and Amelia, your cousin makes a point. The monarch has brought nothing but betrayal, distrust and strife between our families, dating back to the first monarch. Perhaps it's best if it ended.'

'Possibly,' she started looking through the drawings again. 'Do you think there's anything wrong with us?'

'What do you mean?'

'We're crying one moment, then shut out another and now we're laughing like nothing's happened. Do you reckon there's something wrong, doctor?'

'Not a doctor,' he reminded her. 'No, there's nothing wrong with distraction. Nothing at all. We can't be sad all the time can we?'

'What's anger there for then?' She chuckled. 'Well, I suppose you're right, Astor,' his face lit up at the mention of his name. 'That'll be tomorrow's worry. Today, we rest.' heather stood and offered a hand.

'Hear, hear!'