Laughter filled the air as the elevator rose to the top level,
unloading its three female occupants in a tussle of giggles.
"Roxton, you should see this girl run! She almost beat me and Vee," Finn said as Roxton looked up from his spot at the kitchen table where he cleaned his guns.
He smiled a little, motioning them to get some water and sit down. Looking Isabella over, he noted how much healthier she looked now that the blood and grime was washed away from her. Her curls held a new bounce and her smile brightened the whole room.
"I trust you ladies had a good time," Roxton stated as the three seated themselves at the table.
"Of course," Isabella laughed.
"Good, good," Roxton grinned lightly, though more pressing concerns filled his mind.
"Lunch is almost ready," Challenger announced, returning from his lab and glancing at the boiling stew.
"Great! I'm starving!" Isabella cried, patting her stomach with a soft glint in her eye.
Challenger chuckled. "Look at that, her father's appetite as well."
Isabella grinned sheepishly and told him in her cultured English accent like her father's: "I'm a growing girl, Professor."
The red head nodded and shouted to Malone, "Lunch is served, Malone!"
"Where's Marguerite?" Veronica asked as she rose and helped Challenger put the food on the table.
"She said she had a headache and wasn't hungry," Malone informed them, entering the room, "I think she's taking a nap."
Isabella nodded understandingly, remembering this kind of behavior from when she was younger, and merely said, "Well I guess that's just more food for us then."
"Now that's the way to think with your stomach," Roxton laughed, clapping her on the back in an effort to help her brighten the mood.
"Looks great, Challenger," Finn commented.
"Yeah, let's eat!" Isabella agreed.
"Jack! Jackie, slow down!" a young girl's voice rushed across a breezy meadow bristling with wildflowers. Her accent resembled that of a young, well-born Brit, though it was a bit watered down. "Jackie, you know Dads will kill us if he finds us this far from the camp! John Richard Roxton, Jr.! Come back now!"
In her dream, Marguerite hears all of this, then turns around to see the little girl from the picture run past her, chasing down a boy. A blond boy who looked younger than the girl but older than the boy was at Isabella's heels. A toddler was mounted on his back in a makeshift backpack, obviously his little sister.
Finally catching up with Jack, Isabella literally tackled him to the ground. The older boy came to a stop a few feet away from where the other two are wrestling on the ground. The smaller boy was pinned under his sister's greater size advantage, though was still valiantly struggling.
"Layton, get her off of me!" his muffled cry raised from beneath the mass of skirts that was Isabella.
"No can do, old chap," the other boy answered, sounding drastically different than his cohorts with his Americanized voice. "I don't mess with Roxton women, your father taught me that much. You deserve it anyhow."
"Stop struggling, Jack, and I'll let you up," Isabella huffed angrily.
"Fine," Jack sighed, ceasing his fight as his sister rolled off of him.
"Now you're coming back with us before we get in trouble and I get all the blame. Aunt Veronica is not going to like us having Jane with us this far from camp," Isabella said angrily, taking her brother roughly by his shirtsleeve and hoisting him off the ground. She brushed the grass off herself first and then off of his shorts and knee socks. "Look at you, Jack, you're a mess."
"Not my fault my bloody sister tackled me," Jack mumbled, breaking away from her and brushing the rest of him off, trying to keep his dignity. He reached up and pulled some pieces of grass out of his close cut brown hair.
"John Richard Roxton, Jr. watch your language! I should tell Mum and let her wash your mouth out with soap," the older Roxton admonished, turning heel and heading back across the field, Layton -laughing- close at hand.
Suddenly looking penitent, he ran to catch up with her, sliding a stubby arm around her shoulders. "But you wouldn't, dear sister, because I'm your favorite brother."
Isabella looked down at him, trying to still be angry, but he inherited his father's charm and she let out an exasperated cry as her eyes softened. "Oh! You're my only brother and you better be happy for that 'cause otherwise you wouldn't be my favorite."
"Oh yes I would!" he objected. "You know it's true. Isn't it Layton?"
"She does love you very much, whether she wants to admit it or not," Layton offered, cowering a little as Isabella shot him an icy gray glare.
"That's enough from you, Layton Malone."
The toddler on his back, Jane, giggled and pulled on his blond curls. "Beya right! Beya right!"
"See, even your sister agrees with me," she humphed, tousling Jane's similar curls.
Layton rolled his eyes and Marguerite's dream fades as a familiar voice called for the four children.
"Coming Mum!" Isabella and Jack cried and took off.
Marguerite woke up with a start, tears wetting her face from the adorable little scene that had unfolded before her. She brushed them off of her face quickly and climbed out of her bed, pulling her boots on.
In the living room, everyone was sprawled in on the chairs and the couches, lazy from their mid-day meal.
"Isabella, we can't wait anymore. We have to know what happened," Marguerite demanded, pulling a chair in from the kitchen. "Please."
The room looked taken aback and Isabella swallowed hard, blinking a bit.
"Umm, sure. Where do I start? The beginning, right?" She took a deep breath. "I was born November 10, 1925, here at the tree house."
****
Layton followed thirteen months later. We were raised together nearly as brother and sister. I was bossing him around as soon as I could talk. A year later my brother Jack was born, and just a couple months later, we moved to New London. Jane, three years later, was the first and only of us born in the city. And everything was just.perfect, for years. We'd take trips out to some of the more remote parts of the plateau, sometimes all of us, sometimes just me, Jack, Mother, and Father. I was just a normal kid; school, fencing lessons, family trips, and just normal stuff. Except maybe for the fact my parents were nobility. And my "family" wasn't a family at all. And we were famous in New London.
Layton, Jack, and I became an inseparable trio, with Jane tagging along as soon as she could walk.
The summer before I turned nine, my parents hired Gabrielle Woods to act as a sort of nanny to us. Gabrielle seemed nice enough at first, and Jack even liked having her around. I for myself merely tolerated her, slipping off to spend time with Father, go jewel hunting with Mother, or going off to the Malone house or Finn's, even subjugating myself to one of Challenger's science lessons . The feeling was obviously mutual.
Then one day Jack, Mother, and I were out for a walk. We encountered a group of dying natives, with tiny sores all over their bodies. Mother immediately recognized it and whisked us away. That night Jack contracted the disease and began to show symptoms. Six days later, John Richard Roxton, Jr. died of small pox, quarantined from everyone else to prevent the spread of the disease.
****
She took a deep breath, focusing on a spot on the wall because she couldn't look at any of them. "Only Mother and I were allowed to be with him. Father had to wait outside. Mother and I never contracted the disease due to."
"A natural immunity," Marguerite finished in a pained, harsh whisper loud enough for everyone to here.
"Yes," Isabella answered, pulling her hair back from her face. "Father took it hard. But Mother took it worst of all."
***
It was hard enough for me, my best friend, my soul mate, my little brother, was taken from me at seven years old. He died and I didn't, though we both encountered the same thing! I thought it wasn't fair at all.
To make matters worse, when I woke up two mornings later, my mother was gone. She'd disappeared without a trace. My father was a wreck, I was too confused to get out of bed for days, and Gabrielle saw her chance to swoop right in.
A/N: I know, I know, evil evil evil place to end, but I have to, because there's another half of the story to tell and you've waited long enough. Thanks to all my loverly reviewers. Now review again and tell me what u think.
"Roxton, you should see this girl run! She almost beat me and Vee," Finn said as Roxton looked up from his spot at the kitchen table where he cleaned his guns.
He smiled a little, motioning them to get some water and sit down. Looking Isabella over, he noted how much healthier she looked now that the blood and grime was washed away from her. Her curls held a new bounce and her smile brightened the whole room.
"I trust you ladies had a good time," Roxton stated as the three seated themselves at the table.
"Of course," Isabella laughed.
"Good, good," Roxton grinned lightly, though more pressing concerns filled his mind.
"Lunch is almost ready," Challenger announced, returning from his lab and glancing at the boiling stew.
"Great! I'm starving!" Isabella cried, patting her stomach with a soft glint in her eye.
Challenger chuckled. "Look at that, her father's appetite as well."
Isabella grinned sheepishly and told him in her cultured English accent like her father's: "I'm a growing girl, Professor."
The red head nodded and shouted to Malone, "Lunch is served, Malone!"
"Where's Marguerite?" Veronica asked as she rose and helped Challenger put the food on the table.
"She said she had a headache and wasn't hungry," Malone informed them, entering the room, "I think she's taking a nap."
Isabella nodded understandingly, remembering this kind of behavior from when she was younger, and merely said, "Well I guess that's just more food for us then."
"Now that's the way to think with your stomach," Roxton laughed, clapping her on the back in an effort to help her brighten the mood.
"Looks great, Challenger," Finn commented.
"Yeah, let's eat!" Isabella agreed.
"Jack! Jackie, slow down!" a young girl's voice rushed across a breezy meadow bristling with wildflowers. Her accent resembled that of a young, well-born Brit, though it was a bit watered down. "Jackie, you know Dads will kill us if he finds us this far from the camp! John Richard Roxton, Jr.! Come back now!"
In her dream, Marguerite hears all of this, then turns around to see the little girl from the picture run past her, chasing down a boy. A blond boy who looked younger than the girl but older than the boy was at Isabella's heels. A toddler was mounted on his back in a makeshift backpack, obviously his little sister.
Finally catching up with Jack, Isabella literally tackled him to the ground. The older boy came to a stop a few feet away from where the other two are wrestling on the ground. The smaller boy was pinned under his sister's greater size advantage, though was still valiantly struggling.
"Layton, get her off of me!" his muffled cry raised from beneath the mass of skirts that was Isabella.
"No can do, old chap," the other boy answered, sounding drastically different than his cohorts with his Americanized voice. "I don't mess with Roxton women, your father taught me that much. You deserve it anyhow."
"Stop struggling, Jack, and I'll let you up," Isabella huffed angrily.
"Fine," Jack sighed, ceasing his fight as his sister rolled off of him.
"Now you're coming back with us before we get in trouble and I get all the blame. Aunt Veronica is not going to like us having Jane with us this far from camp," Isabella said angrily, taking her brother roughly by his shirtsleeve and hoisting him off the ground. She brushed the grass off herself first and then off of his shorts and knee socks. "Look at you, Jack, you're a mess."
"Not my fault my bloody sister tackled me," Jack mumbled, breaking away from her and brushing the rest of him off, trying to keep his dignity. He reached up and pulled some pieces of grass out of his close cut brown hair.
"John Richard Roxton, Jr. watch your language! I should tell Mum and let her wash your mouth out with soap," the older Roxton admonished, turning heel and heading back across the field, Layton -laughing- close at hand.
Suddenly looking penitent, he ran to catch up with her, sliding a stubby arm around her shoulders. "But you wouldn't, dear sister, because I'm your favorite brother."
Isabella looked down at him, trying to still be angry, but he inherited his father's charm and she let out an exasperated cry as her eyes softened. "Oh! You're my only brother and you better be happy for that 'cause otherwise you wouldn't be my favorite."
"Oh yes I would!" he objected. "You know it's true. Isn't it Layton?"
"She does love you very much, whether she wants to admit it or not," Layton offered, cowering a little as Isabella shot him an icy gray glare.
"That's enough from you, Layton Malone."
The toddler on his back, Jane, giggled and pulled on his blond curls. "Beya right! Beya right!"
"See, even your sister agrees with me," she humphed, tousling Jane's similar curls.
Layton rolled his eyes and Marguerite's dream fades as a familiar voice called for the four children.
"Coming Mum!" Isabella and Jack cried and took off.
Marguerite woke up with a start, tears wetting her face from the adorable little scene that had unfolded before her. She brushed them off of her face quickly and climbed out of her bed, pulling her boots on.
In the living room, everyone was sprawled in on the chairs and the couches, lazy from their mid-day meal.
"Isabella, we can't wait anymore. We have to know what happened," Marguerite demanded, pulling a chair in from the kitchen. "Please."
The room looked taken aback and Isabella swallowed hard, blinking a bit.
"Umm, sure. Where do I start? The beginning, right?" She took a deep breath. "I was born November 10, 1925, here at the tree house."
****
Layton followed thirteen months later. We were raised together nearly as brother and sister. I was bossing him around as soon as I could talk. A year later my brother Jack was born, and just a couple months later, we moved to New London. Jane, three years later, was the first and only of us born in the city. And everything was just.perfect, for years. We'd take trips out to some of the more remote parts of the plateau, sometimes all of us, sometimes just me, Jack, Mother, and Father. I was just a normal kid; school, fencing lessons, family trips, and just normal stuff. Except maybe for the fact my parents were nobility. And my "family" wasn't a family at all. And we were famous in New London.
Layton, Jack, and I became an inseparable trio, with Jane tagging along as soon as she could walk.
The summer before I turned nine, my parents hired Gabrielle Woods to act as a sort of nanny to us. Gabrielle seemed nice enough at first, and Jack even liked having her around. I for myself merely tolerated her, slipping off to spend time with Father, go jewel hunting with Mother, or going off to the Malone house or Finn's, even subjugating myself to one of Challenger's science lessons . The feeling was obviously mutual.
Then one day Jack, Mother, and I were out for a walk. We encountered a group of dying natives, with tiny sores all over their bodies. Mother immediately recognized it and whisked us away. That night Jack contracted the disease and began to show symptoms. Six days later, John Richard Roxton, Jr. died of small pox, quarantined from everyone else to prevent the spread of the disease.
****
She took a deep breath, focusing on a spot on the wall because she couldn't look at any of them. "Only Mother and I were allowed to be with him. Father had to wait outside. Mother and I never contracted the disease due to."
"A natural immunity," Marguerite finished in a pained, harsh whisper loud enough for everyone to here.
"Yes," Isabella answered, pulling her hair back from her face. "Father took it hard. But Mother took it worst of all."
***
It was hard enough for me, my best friend, my soul mate, my little brother, was taken from me at seven years old. He died and I didn't, though we both encountered the same thing! I thought it wasn't fair at all.
To make matters worse, when I woke up two mornings later, my mother was gone. She'd disappeared without a trace. My father was a wreck, I was too confused to get out of bed for days, and Gabrielle saw her chance to swoop right in.
A/N: I know, I know, evil evil evil place to end, but I have to, because there's another half of the story to tell and you've waited long enough. Thanks to all my loverly reviewers. Now review again and tell me what u think.