Last story of the Young!Cobert horror trilogy (in order): "Dangerous Games", "9 Steps", "the Lost Child".
Brief Summary of the previous stories:
It was fate or just misfortune? When Cora and Robert were just a newlywed couple, something evil entered their lives unexpectedly; yet those dark times lead to a blessed event: the birth of their children, Mary and Michael. Something, however, is still not right. Is someone in danger? The story of the Crawley twins.. and the secrets that are impossible to forget.
Beta: CountessCora.
Trailer available on my YouTube channel: syriana94
Horror, mystery, angst and romance. Is there going to be a happy ending for everybody?
Hope you like it, enjoy!
THE LOST CHILD
Chapter 1 - The Beginning
Robert slowly climbed up the stairs, the cold air and gloomy light of the first week of February bathed the whole house into a lethargic atmosphere. But no one could embrace it. Only about ten days ago, the grand manor of Downton Abbey witnessed the birth of the two children of the Viscount and Viscountess, better known at the village as the grandchildren of the Count and Countess of Grantham.
There had been days of celebrations and countless flowers and wooden toys sent to the manor from all the happy citizens, which only increased the pride of the new parents. They hadn't yet taken the traditional carriage ride through the village with the newborns garishly held by the eldest member of the family, but the people already loved the twins dearly and everyone celebrated as if a brother was born or a daughter, or a niece... Everyone felt a deep connection to the twins, like it had always been with a newborn of the Crawley family. It had been so with Robert and with Rosamund too, so Robert didn't expect anything different for his children.
Cora was surprised, still not completely familiar with all the traditions yet. The happiness of having such a dear and large family she didn't know she had, warmed her heart. Finally she felt like she had done something right. She finally belonged to something and to the community, who accepted her and celebrated her because she provided a male heir on her first try, proving even the great Violet herself wrong. She had shown everyone that even a fragile American could do everything as a perfect English girl would have done.
Robert was proud of her, not only because she did all that but mostly because she finally felt at peace with herself. Cora found the strength to fight everything and everyone and finally sparkled like the most beautiful star of happiness and pride. Whenever she carried her children in her arms, protecting those little bundles that one day would become the king and the queen of a loving kingdom of green hills and yellow dandelions.
He loved how their minds raced, embraced in bed, late at night, dwelling on variety of futures with their little ones attending the best schools, being happy and important, learning how to walk on their own and maybe leaving home to fulfill their dreams.
Robert sighed, placing his foot on the last step, his hand still gripped on the railing.
He liked to guess what was happening inside their bedroom each time he paid visits during the day, by relying on the noises he could hear from the inside... soft gurgles or keen cries that promptly faded away, replaced with hums and melodious lullabies. Robert sometimes just stood behind the door with his ear pressed on the wood, to hear, imagine, and foretaste that stunning picture he would have in front of him once inside.
That day, in fact, he didn't break his little routine.
Robert had taken advantage of the short break in the middle of his morning, usually occupied by a stroll with his wife or tea in the library with the whole family – Patrick's usual – to take a walk upstairs, something he'd learnt to do since the birth of his children.
Cora had refused to hire a nanny yet, which was what everyone expected. The complaining hadn't been much. It also convinced Robert to keep both babies in their room for few months, so things could be easier for her.
Robert, of course, agreed without hesitation.
However, he couldn't help but feeling a little sorry for Cora, always alone in their room, day and night. She didn't complain. On the contrary, she wore the everlasting smile that made his heart skip a beat. Yet he didn't feel completely right about Cora doing everything alone, so every time it was possible, he joined her to help out or simply keep her company for a while. He loved to admire their babies and that was exactly the plan for that day as well.
He gently knocked on the door and waited patiently for a few instants before realizing he had been too gentle and nobody inside heard him. He smiled and grabbed the handle, slowly pushing the door and peeking inside.
"May I come in?" He whispered.
For a moment, his eyes wandered around the room, trying to adjust from the light of the morning to the dim light in which bathed the entire room.
There was a perpetual semi-darkness inside, as the windows were covered by curtains that let only few spots of sun pass inside the room. The curtains were never moved, whether it was a sunny day or a rainy one. They were only opened at night, when the darkness couldn't hurt anyone.
The doctor wasn't sure about the strange condition of Michael, first with his white eyes and then when he gave everyone a big fright, the same day of his birth, in the wee hours: when his crib had been touched by a soft sunbeam, he started to cry from pain. His eyes and skin turned red, as if something had burned him. The doctor decided that he suffered from a light sensitivity that would eventually heal with the growth. In the meanwhile, the light around him was strictly monitored. Everything brighter than few candles or a fire in the mantel on the opposite side of him was severely forbidden.
"Of course, but be quiet. Michael is sleeping." When Cora spoke, he finally could see her.
She was pacing between the two windows. From Robert's position, he could only get a small look at her profile: her purple dress that smoothed her body, her combed hair, her gracious nose and chin slightly bent down, toward the bundle of crème blanket that rested in her arms.
Even if Cora spent her days in that room, only coming up and down from the stairs for her meals, she woke up early in the morning to get ready and demanded to be dressed and brushed up as if a guest was coming to Downton. The others didn't quite understand this decision of hers, but deep inside he knew she wanted to be at her best for the children, and he adored that.
"How's Mary today?" He murmured, his voice full of mirth as he approached his wife, the door silently closed at his shoulders.
"Better." Cora answered, her voice calm.
The baby girl had gone through some rough times as well. When she and her brother were still in the womb, they apparently fought for space and Mary was the one who succumbed. She didn't have any serious illnesses but she was small. During her first days in the world, she had trouble with breathing properly and eating enough. However, she improved a little more every day, with intensive care from the whole family. Of course, there wasn't a day without a careful visit from the doctor.
Even if Cora was the most fatigued after the strenuous and stormy months of pregnancy and the nearly traumatic birth, she was the only one who had come through all of it unharmed and now she boasted a vigorous energy and joy that could fill the whole of Yorkshire. She was the proudest and happiest mother Robert had ever seen. Speaking of her beauty, she sparkled a little more every day, not though just her eyes, but her whole body gave off a curious aura of positivity and serenity.
"Very well." He said lastly, joining Cora and holding both wife and daughter in his arms, his chest pressed on her back and their fingers tangled over the blanket.
Mary's few hairs were dispersed in all directions above her tiny head. Her eyes were closed and her little chubby lips were parted, letting the tip of her baby tongue stick out between them. On the hem of her blanket, a little fist was visible, so small that it was only able to enclose Cora's pinky finger.
"She ate twice this morning and now she's about to sleep. All on her own." Cora stated proudly. It was a victory for them, especially when they'd spent the previous day begging the newborn to sleep after a whole afternoon of crying, involving everyone who had a suggestion, until at some point, when both Cora and Robert were lying unceremoniously here and there in the house to get some needed rest, Carson stood up and rocked the baby to sleep. Everyone was stunned, even Violet and Martha, who were battling over whether it was better to moisten Mary's lips with brandy or whiskey.
"That's quite an improvement." Robert said, putting on a silly face even if the baby couldn't see him.
"I didn't hear you leaving this morning." She almost sang those words, her body swinging smoothly as she rocked Mary.
Robert rested his nose beside her ear, puffing warm air on her skin as his whole body accompanied hers with a soft motion.
"You were all sleeping so soundly, darling." He smiled at the memory. "I kissed you but you didn't move a bit. The twins, too. Besides, you needed some sleep."
"Well, at the moment, I just need some air and some adult conversation." She laughed softly and kissed the baby's forehead, to check if her slumber was actually deep enough to put her down into the crib. When she decided it was time, she paced to the crib, laying the baby next to her brother in the big, white cradle.
Robert and Cora stood for a long moment in perfect silence, watching their babies sleep soundly one next to the other. If Mary seemed fragile and needing protection, they couldn't say the same for Michael. He exceeded his sister by a whole foot, maybe more. His limbs were strong and active when he was awake. In fact, he often kicked the air and screamed for no reason, while the teeny tiny thing that was his sister was quite content with lying here and there, mostly in her mother's arms – since the doctor said that the closeness between the two could help the little one to develop just right – looking at everything surrounding her with a quiet curiosity.
"Seems the perfect time." He stole a kiss from his wife, turning to the bed, he pulled the string to calling Cora's ladies' maid, O'Connor. "Even if..."
Cora turned sharply to him, sighing as a reply to the eloquent look on his face.
"I do not need a nanny, yet." She said promptly, in the loudest whisper she managed to produce. "When they're older, I'll be the first one to ask. But for now, we're doing just fine. Any maid or footman can watch two sleeping babies for a couple of hours, not that I would ever leave them for such a long time, now." Cora sighed again, placing her hand on Robert's upper arms. "Please. When the time comes, I'll know it." Cora gave him a look that meant he needed to trust her. Robert did, like he always did. After all, they had discussed the matter in the previous days. Frankly, he couldn't expected her to change her mind within seventy-two hours.
"Alright, I won't bother you anymore on the subject." He yielded, cupping her face in his hand.
"Thank you." She pecked a kiss on his palm and brushed the back of his hand with her fingers.
She wasn't sure of anything she was doing, but she trusted her maternal instinct. However, she trusted her fears too, in a certain sense, making her think about the worst scenarios ever involving her little ones, starting with lights or a dying fire that could transformed the room into a deadly trap. Or a dropped candle on the curtain, a simple cold that could threatened the babies' lives.
She wanted Mary and Michael to be supervised at every moment and she wanted to be the one who did that for the majority of the time. To be honest, the only person she trusted as much as herself was Robert.
"Milady?" The muffled voice of Evaleen made them both startle as their mouths bent simultaneously into embarrassed grins.
"Come in." Cora spoke gracefully, smiling at the woman who entered the room an instant later. She gestured for the maid to close the door quickly, which was readily obeyed.
"How can I help you, Milady?" She was carrying some baby dresses. From their appearances, they seemed like old clothing that had been worn by Robert and Rosamund. The maid also carried a wooden box and some other things that Cora couldn't identify.
"Could you watch the children for a while?" Cora showed Evaleen the rocking chair by the cradle. "They're soundly sleeping and they won't need to be fed for a couple of hours, I believe. There shouldn't be any problem. And we will be in the library."
The maid stared nervously at the both of them, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Milady-"
"What's the matter, O'Connor?" Cora's voice had became a little harsh in a matter of seconds and that change spurred Evaleen to answer straight away.
"Lady Grantham asked me to mend these old clothes and I can't do it here... it's-" O'Connor bit her lower lip as she was afraid to speak further. To be fair, Cora got very personal when someone criticized her room's arrangements or her decision on the best way to keep her children safe and sound. And the last thing Evaleen wanted was to get on Cora's nerves.
"It's what?" Cora urged her.
"It's too dark." She finally added in a very small voice.
Robert's soft touch on her wife's shoulder didn't help at all when Cora replied harshly to her maid.
"I always embroider here. This soft light doesn't bother me so it shouldn't bother you, since on this depends the life of my son, your master, O'Connor." She was utterly irritated and didn't care to hide it. The maid stared at her in silence with the look of a rabbit which was just been caught by the fox. "You can drag the chair near the mantel if you want, but you will do as required and you'll watch over the children, without a word. Have I made myself clear?"
"Of course, Milady." O'Connor said shyly. "My apologies."
Cora scolded her one more time with her fiery glance. Once assured neither of the babies had been awakened by the noise, she followed Robert out to the corridor, looking at the brighter light outside as if she hadn't seen it in years. She breathed deeply, grabbing the handrail with her right hand and shifting her left one under her husband's arm.
"You've been a little harsh." Robert commented with a half smile, remembering the times during her pregnancy when she was completely irritated and everyone tried not to cross paths with her. He'd always found that funny but also disturbing when he was the one she blamed. He remembered also feeling miserable when was scolded by that woman who was always the portrait of graciousness and kindness turned into a hell's beast.
Cora looked straight into his face with a mortified look, stopping for an instant on the stairs.
"Was I?" She asked, her heart clenching a bit. "Well-" She sighed. "I cannot tolerate this. The children need special treatments and everyone needs to cooperate, especially in these early times."
Robert nodded, urging her to restart their slow walk.
"You're right. But O'Connor is very sensitive, she'll keep apologizing for everything for days, poor soul. Letting you down is her worst nightmare." He chuckled a little, thinking about how those words could've been easily applied to himself and to his behaviour whenever something happened between him and his wife.
"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "I will apologize later for being rude."
"That's you again." He chuckled contagiously and gave her a quick kiss on her reddened cheek.
A few rooms away, the library had been designated as the theatre of an unexpected disarmed crossfire, run by words, duties, pride and simple and genuine will of getting on the nerves of some dear old enemy.
And hence there they were: Martha, Cora's mother, in her brown dress with a fur shawl, comfortably seated upon the red couch with her tea in her hand, facing the unquestioned queen of the house, Violet, who was sitting on the opposite couch in a high-collar blue dress, her right fingers grasping the porcelain cup handle while the other hand clenched stiffly on the couch's arm, her nails digging into the fabric, telling things her face couldn't show. Patrick, who pretended to be ignorant of the situation, was at the desk, sipping his hot tea and brushing his finger right after to dry his damp mustache.
He couldn't deny that the bickering between the two women amused him, but he needed to play his part of the bothered husband and house's master whenever someone caught him in the act of staring, listening or enjoying the conflicts.
Anyway, the issue of the daily fight was an important one, he couldn't say otherwise. But deep inside he knew that intervening without the remaining two members of the family was totally useless. No one else seemed to notice Robert and Cora's absence. Patrick started to think that the matter of the discussion was as crucial to them as any other thing that Martha and Violet would argue.
"You Americans, always ignoring traditions!" hissed Violet at some point after a long pause of peaceful silence.
Patrick rolled his eyes but no one noticed him.
"You forget what the real needs are!" Martha readily replied. "This is not about traditions and duties, it's about-"
"It's exactly about duties!" Yelled the countess, almost dropping her cup, which she wisely decided to put it on the nearby table to avoid any damages.
"Ah!" The red-haired woman put her cup on the table as well and emphasized her speech. "And you would put your only grandson in danger just for your stupid tradition and duties? You know the poor boy can't stand the day's light, taking him into the carriage for your big fanfare stroll could kill him. Just like that!" She snapped her fingers together and Violet startled, her eyes fixed on the woman's fingers, thinking how unladylike and rough the movements of her hands were.
"Not him, perhaps when his condition will be resolved." The countess nodded concisely. "I was talking about the girl."
"That poor thing just got used to the world!" Martha yelled back in shock. "It's February, it's damn England and it's cold outside, it could be fatal for Mary!" The woman stressed the name with force, for she knew how much it bothered Violet that her own son had selected an unusual name for his daughter, it had nothing of the traditional English name, nor a distant relative with the same one that could justify his choice. But it was not as much a departure as the jewish Michael, which was overlooked easily because of the baby's gender.
"Everyone must sacrifice a little for the greater good." Violet spoke with low voice that allowed no reply. "She's born a Crawley. She has duties, as do her brother and her parents. It's to claim of the village to see the little ones and we shall give them what they want. It's a little joy for the peasants."
"Peasants?" Martha raised an eyebrow. "Do you realize you're not exactly the queen...?" She asked ironically, thinking how much the nickname of 'the empress' she gave her on the first visit during Cora's season, fit her perfectly.
Violet scoffed, utterly irritated by that last comment, while Martha was gloating inside.
"Patrick! Say something!" She squealed.
"What, dear?" He slowly lifted his head as though he hadn't been affected at all by their dispute, which made Violet even more irked.
It was in that moment that the door flew open, welcoming Robert and Cora inside the library. They were peaceful, happily chatting as Cora's hand firmly grabbed her husband's sleeve. But when they paid their greetings, their smile instantly faded away. It was clear that their mothers had been arguing.
"What happened this time?" Robert inquired with a loud sigh, letting himself fall on the third couch as he dragged an exasperated Cora with him.
"Ask the empress!" squealed Martha, hitting the couch with her hand, covering the mouse of the irritated snort that escaped Violet's lips. But Violet said nothing more. Maybe she had begun to think wisely regarding Martha for the first time, understanding that it was better to stay silent than to produce a fight that it would have been impossible to mend.
"The queen of Sheba has spoken." Violet muttered beneath her breath, biting her tongue. Didn't American women carry the power in their hands? She herself was the one in charge of Patrick – Martha could have easily persuaded Cora to travel back to their home along with the children, of course, and Violet didn't want that.
"Mother?" Robert's voice was flat and annoyed. He and Cora both knew that their mothers didn't get along very well and often they caused a battle that involved the whole family for days, making everyone frustrated and cold until the two silently decided that it was over. Then the family found them peaceably playing some card game. Robert wished he had the power to skip the conversation and jump to the point of awkwardness where everyone looked at Martha and Violet with foolish eyes as if they were witnessing a real miracle.
"Robert," Violet took a deep breath. "I just mentioned our traditional carriage ride for the children, and- and-" The woman took on an innocent look, fidgeting a little on the couch and turned her head to her son, so that Martha was left out of her visual field. "She assaulted me!"
"Ah!" The red haired woman faked a laugh. "I just want the children to be safe." Her fired eyes ran between Robert and Cora, who suddenly found themselves in the middle of the crossfire. "We all know that Michael can't go outside and that Mary, poor thing, is fragile as a feather! Am I not right?"
There was a long pause of deafening silence.
Martha was most certainly right, but Violet's will and thoughts were hard to change. No one had ever tried to go against her, either fearing the consequences or simply resigning to an assured defeat. Yet the price would be too high, their children dead in the name of a tradition better to be postponed to a brighter and steadier period.
"I'm afraid that Martha is right," Robert announced in a small voice. "This time." He added shortly after, heartened by the softer hold of Cora's on his upper arm. So far it had been painfully hard, fearing the decision that could affect which their children's lives.
"Robert, you can't be serious." Violet was clearly shocked. "It can bring bad luck to our family." She hissed gravely.
"Bad luck?" Robert raised his voice a bit. "We've been through enough to say that something like 'bad luck' doesn't exist. Besides, I highly prefer having two living children to take out when the time comes, than to have two deceased children who succumbed because of some old tradition no one cares about anymore. Our people are content to know that Downton has an heir, they will understand... maybe they're more understanding than you'll ever be."
"Robert!" Violet tried to call her son back to order, but was unsuccessful. She was burning inside for showing Martha than even she didn't have the control over the perfect, well trained English Lord.
"I will discuss the matter no more, Mama." He sighed heavily and stood up from the couch, then helped Cora to do the same. "The children will not leave Downton before I allow it, and I won't allow it until they will be perfectly healthy and fine, according to the doctors, Cora and myself."
Despite his harsh and bold manners, his grip on Cora's hand was soft and reassuring as he led her to the door.
Cora didn't dare to speak, but knew she shared every single word he'd said. She still felt a strong fear of arguing with Violet. Whenever possible, she let Robert speak for her. It wasn't that she had to beg him to do so, for he defended and fought for his wife every time it was necessary.
"I knew that they would have shown some common sense." Martha's soft and gloating comment filled the air like a sharp blade.
"Stop this at once." Cora sharply turned back and looked at her mother with a fierce gaze. Martha wasn't used to being scolded with such boldness, no less from her calm and gentle daughter, and she found herself incapable of speaking. She looked up at Cora with a guilty face she strived to hide. "They are our children, mine and Robert's. What concerns their lives is none of your business." Cora swallowed, lowering her eyes but not her voice, her cheeks reddened. Her last words were addressed to both Martha and Violet, but she turned just slightly to the latter, fearing a killing glance that could have made her fall.
"Quite right." Martha's voice was just a whisper, which, however, carried the struck note of the hurt and defeat. "Well, well, after all I'll be leaving tomorrow and I don't think anyone will ever need my help to sort things out."
"Mother-" Cora's voice cracked a little, concerned that she might have gone too far.
"I'm of little use here, dear. I'd better be going back home." Her eyes were of a pale shade of blue and they shone like glass.
Cora's heart was clenching but she said nothing, Robert's hold on her hand suggested she leave things as they were. After all, she herself knew how good their mothers both were at faking hurt, making everyone feel guilty just to be back on the pedestal and leave the battlefield as nothing but winners.
But not this time.
"All right." The pragmatic voice of Cora almost sounded foreign to herself. She left Robert for just one minute, stepping next to the couch where her mother sat to kiss her on the cheek with a small smile across her rosy lips. "But you've been of great help."
Martha smiled and slightly nodded, her resentment fading away quickly. Violet was also growing calmer with her tea in her hand, a few feet away. It was clear to everyone that the matter would have been brought up again only when Cora or Robert would choose to do so.
Patrick peeked from the upper edge of his paper, his knowing smile hidden behind the white pages, the next generation of earls blooming before his eyes.
"That was hard."
The library dour closed behind them. Cora and Robert peacefully headed to the first step of the staircase in front of them, hand in hand, the thrill of the argument still rushing through their veins, their hearts pumping hard against their ribs.
They had won an important battle together. They had both stood successfully against their tumultuous mothers. Deep inside, they could feel something changing; they felt more grown, somehow. Maybe for the first time they had the reins secured between their own fingers. They had chosen the best for their children, breaking the rules another time and nothing on Earth felt better in that moment.
"It's just the beginning, my darling." Robert smiled lovingly at his wife, who readily returned the affectionate glance.
"We did right, didn't we?"
Robert nodded reassuringly, patting his palm over her hand as her fingers began to clench around his arm.
"Of course. We have duties to respect and the most important ones are towards our children." He looked up for a moment, toward the bedroom where his children were soundly sleeping. "We brought them into this world and now we have to protect them at all costs. This is our priority."
Cora smiled, her heart light as a feather as she heard the words from her husband's lips, so similar, if not exact, to the words she would have said.
She was the Viscountess and her husband the Viscount but in that moment she couldn't see herself or her husband as anything but a mother and a father concerned for their children. They most certainly did right. After all, they both knew that no one, upstairs or downstairs, would ever hurt the little ones. Not on purpose.
The emptiness, along with the silence in the upper corridor, swallowed them into a pacific yet tense universe of wide open doors, spewing bright beams of light onto the red carpet at regular ranges, all around the squared indoor balcony, except for a longer space of darkness on the west side.
Both Cora and Robert often felt a strange feeling when approaching the room. They stood silent, like always, to not disturb the babies, probably still asleep in their cradles.
No sound came to them.
No familiar sound to welcome them... not a cry, an infant laugh, nor an innocent or meaningless whine.
They heard a muffled sound, a distant cough that hooked their hearts into a steel grasp.
Before they could even recognize it, they were running toward the bedroom, the worst parent's nightmare awaiting them.
The door flew open and Robert burst into the room followed by a panting Cora, terror spreading into her soul. Their eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light once the door had been closed once again.
"O'Connor! O'Connor!" Robert was yelling, walking around the room as a restless beast in its cage, the frightful and unknown noise stinging his ears.
The first thing he saw was the maid, lying asleep in the rocking chair.
He clenched his jaw, giving a hellish growl as his strong hand went to grasp her shoulder, shaking the woman violently until she woke up.
Her eyes reflected a note of pure terror. She was clearly disoriented and seemed on the edge of crying copious tears. Evaleen did not know how that could have happened; the last thing she remember was sewing the little white dress for her little mistress.
"Milord-" She stuttered. "Milord I'm so sorry-"
"Get away!"
The fear and the wrath blinding him, he almost did not wait for her to be completely standing to toss the rocking chair away, allowing better access to the cradle.
What had the most normal appearance, in truth, hid the fatal balance of a life hanging by a thread.
The white teddy bear, usually put in the middle of the cradle to keep the babies separated, had fallen down. Michael had shifted in his sleep, like he usually did whenever possible, thanks to his strong limbs, much stronger than any other newborn. He ended up invading his sister's space, pushing the tiny girl against the pillow. Mary's face was almost totally buried between the cotton folds, her fists waving in the air with a raging vigour, moving like she had never have before.
Fear struck their hearts.
Robert was quick enough to scoop the baby boy in his arms, yet his thoughts and concern were to address Mary.
"Cora?" He yelled, anxious, unwillingly waking Michael, whose keen cries easily covered the girl's fatigued wheezes.
Cora's trembling arms were holding the tiny bundle that was Mary, tears rolling down her cheeks as she sang and rocked the baby, trying to calm her down.
Robert's mind was full of worries. After her lungs being too small for days and her learning how to breathe properly despite all, Mary was doing just fine, and now...
"Robert-" Her voice cracked.
"How's Mary?" He asked frantically, rocking Michael with odd movements.
"She's not breathing." She sobbed, her left hand pressed against the baby's back, which readily shifted up to support her head. For a terrible moment, Mary's bent horribly down as if her body was lifeless. "She's not breathing well." She said again, her voice high, full of despair.
"O'Connor!" He managed to balance Michael on his right arm, using his free hand to gripped the maid's wrist. "Open the curtains and the windows! She needs fresh air!"He ordered.
Evaleen stood still for an instant that felt like an eternity.
How could Milord have ordered something that the master's life depended on? Milady would have most certainly killed her. She shifted her unquiet glance between the fury of her master and the heartbreaking despair of her mistress, wondering what she could have done to cause all of that. She felt guilty. Maybe she was guilty and yet still so powerless.
"Milord-" The cry of the baby boy and the cry of Cora melted in one disturbing sound that would haunt Evaleen's dreams for a long time. An innocent baby screaming and a mother almost facing the death of her child.
She saw Robert covering the baby boy under his jacket.
Evaleen knew it wouldn't be enough to protect him from the deadly light. The fabric was too thin, sunbeams would pass through it.
"Open the curtains. Now!"
Note1: The OCs are Evaleen O'Connor (Cora's maid) and Michael Henry Crawley, the only characters I own.
Note2: some aspects of this story are inspired from the 2001 movie "The Others", by Alejandro Amenábar.
I missed this dark atmosphere, did you? Sorry for the little cliffhanger, but I had to have one for the first chapter.. I just couldn't resist the temptation.
Stay tuned for the next chapter: "Lullaby".
If you have time, leave a feedback please, thank you! :)