Tavington: The Legacy: Chapter Three
Screams in the Late Afternoon
Morganna reacted quickly, seizing her nephew once more by the hand, and forcing him from the room, up several more flights of stairs, down a narrow, and finally into a very tiny room. It was in this room that Morganna left the offending child, but only after making certain that the door locked properly.
William just stood there. His aunt was gone. He was locked in, but for several minutes he didn't even realize what had happened. He held up his right hand, and was horrified to find it covered in drying brown-red blood. Certainly he hadn't hit her that hard! He'd had enough experience with violent physical contact to know that it was nearly impossible to draw blood by slapping. This was bizarre, unnatural. Lady Worthington's face had been positively dripping and his hand and part of his sleeve were soaked in blood.
He wanted the blood off his hand. Something in his mind demanded that the offending fluid be cleaned off immediately. A quick glance around the room served to inform the boy of how woefully unfurnished it was. There was a bed covered with a faded patchwork quilt, a small table with a candlestick (no candle), and an ancient, dirty tapestry covering the wall opposite the bed. Seeing as there wasn't a washbasin, he spat on his hand and wiped the blood off on the tapestry. It was so dirty already that William thought another stain would hardly be noticed.
With the blood gone, and his natural shock worn off, his first instinct was to try the door. It was locked, but after a few minutes of twisting the knob this way and that the lock gave way with a loud click. This was the little used fourth floor of St. Agnes', and everything from the quilts to the locks had deteriorated with the passage of time.
He opened the door about an inch and peered out into the hallway. Morganna was gone, and the only indication that she had ever been there were the dust moats hanging in the air, swirling about in an angry frenzy at being disturbed. Confident that he was alone, William stepped into the hallway. Besides the door he had recently "unlocked" there were three others. He tried them all, but found them to be locked, and far more stubborn than the first one.
What to do? William selected a corner beneath the dirty window at the end of the hall and sat down on the hard, wooden floor. He wanted to think and had always found it easier to think when he wasn't locked in a very small room. What had happened to Lady Worthington? Try as he might, his young brain could not make any sense out of it.
"There you are!"
He looked up quickly. That voice had not belonged to Morganna. It was harsher, scratchier, and younger.
Standing at the end of the hallway, at the very top of the stairs, was a scrawny-looking girl about his age. Stringy, black hair hung down to the small of her back in greasy curls. A healthy crop of freckles accented her small nose and pale cheeks. William would have assumed she was some sort of servant girl, a kitchen maid perhaps, but her grossly expensive dress identified her as one of Morganna's students.
"Gawd! I've been looking all over for you. I figured she'd locked you in a room somewhere. That's what she does when we misbehave, locks us in our rooms. I never thought she's put you up here though. No one comes up here," she paused and then added with some reservation, "Except me."
"She did lock me in a room," William bragged, pointing toward the open door.
The girl walked to the open door and peered into the room. "Eh, getting out of there is nothing, especially since I softened the lock up a bit. I got locked in there once myself. That was before I managed to pinch Lady Vulture's key. I kicked the door a few times, that lock hasn't been the same since. Gawd! She gave you the boring room. The other rooms are full of interesting stuff."
"What sort of stuff?" William asked.
"I'll have to tell you later," the girl put her hands on her hips and assumed a very determined expression. "Right now you have to come with me. I figure that you're the only one who can shut her up. If you can, that'd be something. Once she starts bawling, no one can make her stop. But you're so scary that you might just be able to pull it off. All the other girls are deathly afraid of you. It's all they can talk about. Now, come on!"
William had never appreciated feeling entirely uniformed. "Who are you talking about?"
"Eleanor, of course! She the niece of the great Lord Cornwallis, and a spoiled brat to boot! Come on already, at this rate she's drive us all as mad as Lady Morganna's father!"
Not wanting to spend the entire day sitting in about in the hallway, William decided to 'come along already.' The girl led the way down the stairs to the third floor. When they reached the landing they were greeted by such an awful wailing that even William's first instinct was to cover his ears.
"See what I mean? That's Eleanor alright. Gawd! We have to put up with at least one of her fits a week."
The third floor was comprised of a considerably wider hallway lined with considerably more doors. They followed the hallway, passing doors one through four until they came to a door marked simply with the number five. Many of the other doors lining the hall were opened just slightly, and many pairs of little girl eyes stared in terror at the young, male newcomer.
"Well, this is Eleanor's room," there was a moment of silence while the black-haired girl listened to the awful noise. "Gawd! That sounds like a bad one." She turned and gave William a hearty pat on the back. "Good luck to you, and Godspeed!"
William Tavington was not the sort to do kind things for others, even if those others were perfectly nice young ladies. On general principles, he never did anything that wasn't going to benefit him in some way or another. In being asked to deal with Eleanor, a golden opportunity had presented itself. He still didn't know what sort of punishment Morganna had in store for him, but if Eleanor's tantrums were that frequent and that offensive to the ears stopping one of them might slightly overshadow the incident involving Lady Worthington. Besides, there was nothing that offended him personally quite as much as someone who had everything being anything less than satisfied.
He opened the door and strolled into the room with what he considered incomparable grace and dignity. Someone, probably the black-haired girl shut the door behind him. This was it, no way out unless he could do something about Eleanor.
This room was very different from those on the fourth floor. Eleanor's room was practically dust free and tastefully furnished with a fire crackling angrily in the fireplace, obviously it too was offended by the noise. In the middle of the room was a giant four-poster bed, and in the middle of the bed there sat a pudgy little girl with tightly curled red hair and a nose turned up like a pig's snout. Her face was dark pink and her large mouth was opened quite wide to allow that awful wailing to escape from somewhere within.
"Oh, will you shut up!" William shouted loudly so that Eleanor could hear him over her own shrieking.
Her mouth shut automatically, her eyes widened. "Who are you?" she cried. "What are you doing in my room?"
William knew that the best way of dealing with irrational people was to be blunt, and Eleanor had impressed him as a very irrational person.
"The others sent me here to make you be quiet. They don't like you very much."
A fresh wave of rage clouded Eleanor's face. "How dare you say such a thing!"
"They don't like you," William repeated, "and I think I can understand why. I find your carrying on most offensive. In fact, I don't like you very much either."
Despite her privileged upbringing and four years of formal education, Eleanor had always been a somewhat dull-witted girl. "Wait a minute! You're the boy from this morning, the one who nearly killed Lady Worthington!"
Seizing his opportunity, William continued, "Yes, and if you don't stop," he paused for dramatic effect, "I'll do the same thing to you!" If it had been possible for Eleanor's eyes to open any wider, they most certainly would have. "You're going to burn half my face of?"
This response startled the boy a bit. Burn half her face off? Certainly he hadn't done anything like that to Lady Worthington.
* * *
"I must speak with Lord Cornwallis," Dr. Mooreville sighed, "As much as I despise the man, it is why I had to travel to this Godforsaken 'New World.'"
"I was wondering why you were here. Certainly it isn't to visit me, though I appreciate your stopping by."
Mooreville laughed. "Don't fake courtesy with me William, I know you too well. You don't appreciate my being here. You're embarrassed enough about being defeated by a colonial without anyone else having to see you helpless."
"Very well then, you're correct. I don't appreciate anyone seeing me like this, you in particular."
Mooreville scratched his chin, which was in dire need of shaving. "Has she seen you like this?"
"Would I let her?"
"I wouldn't know. Your mind is a strange place, full of dark, twisted little passages."
"Well I haven't. And she hasn't come here, at least to my knowledge."
"And that knowledge has been severely impaired by opium."
"She hasn't come. Kindly refrain from mentioning her again. ever."
"Still angry?" Mooreville laughed. "Then again, when was the last time you weren't angry?"
Morganna reacted quickly, seizing her nephew once more by the hand, and forcing him from the room, up several more flights of stairs, down a narrow, and finally into a very tiny room. It was in this room that Morganna left the offending child, but only after making certain that the door locked properly.
William just stood there. His aunt was gone. He was locked in, but for several minutes he didn't even realize what had happened. He held up his right hand, and was horrified to find it covered in drying brown-red blood. Certainly he hadn't hit her that hard! He'd had enough experience with violent physical contact to know that it was nearly impossible to draw blood by slapping. This was bizarre, unnatural. Lady Worthington's face had been positively dripping and his hand and part of his sleeve were soaked in blood.
He wanted the blood off his hand. Something in his mind demanded that the offending fluid be cleaned off immediately. A quick glance around the room served to inform the boy of how woefully unfurnished it was. There was a bed covered with a faded patchwork quilt, a small table with a candlestick (no candle), and an ancient, dirty tapestry covering the wall opposite the bed. Seeing as there wasn't a washbasin, he spat on his hand and wiped the blood off on the tapestry. It was so dirty already that William thought another stain would hardly be noticed.
With the blood gone, and his natural shock worn off, his first instinct was to try the door. It was locked, but after a few minutes of twisting the knob this way and that the lock gave way with a loud click. This was the little used fourth floor of St. Agnes', and everything from the quilts to the locks had deteriorated with the passage of time.
He opened the door about an inch and peered out into the hallway. Morganna was gone, and the only indication that she had ever been there were the dust moats hanging in the air, swirling about in an angry frenzy at being disturbed. Confident that he was alone, William stepped into the hallway. Besides the door he had recently "unlocked" there were three others. He tried them all, but found them to be locked, and far more stubborn than the first one.
What to do? William selected a corner beneath the dirty window at the end of the hall and sat down on the hard, wooden floor. He wanted to think and had always found it easier to think when he wasn't locked in a very small room. What had happened to Lady Worthington? Try as he might, his young brain could not make any sense out of it.
"There you are!"
He looked up quickly. That voice had not belonged to Morganna. It was harsher, scratchier, and younger.
Standing at the end of the hallway, at the very top of the stairs, was a scrawny-looking girl about his age. Stringy, black hair hung down to the small of her back in greasy curls. A healthy crop of freckles accented her small nose and pale cheeks. William would have assumed she was some sort of servant girl, a kitchen maid perhaps, but her grossly expensive dress identified her as one of Morganna's students.
"Gawd! I've been looking all over for you. I figured she'd locked you in a room somewhere. That's what she does when we misbehave, locks us in our rooms. I never thought she's put you up here though. No one comes up here," she paused and then added with some reservation, "Except me."
"She did lock me in a room," William bragged, pointing toward the open door.
The girl walked to the open door and peered into the room. "Eh, getting out of there is nothing, especially since I softened the lock up a bit. I got locked in there once myself. That was before I managed to pinch Lady Vulture's key. I kicked the door a few times, that lock hasn't been the same since. Gawd! She gave you the boring room. The other rooms are full of interesting stuff."
"What sort of stuff?" William asked.
"I'll have to tell you later," the girl put her hands on her hips and assumed a very determined expression. "Right now you have to come with me. I figure that you're the only one who can shut her up. If you can, that'd be something. Once she starts bawling, no one can make her stop. But you're so scary that you might just be able to pull it off. All the other girls are deathly afraid of you. It's all they can talk about. Now, come on!"
William had never appreciated feeling entirely uniformed. "Who are you talking about?"
"Eleanor, of course! She the niece of the great Lord Cornwallis, and a spoiled brat to boot! Come on already, at this rate she's drive us all as mad as Lady Morganna's father!"
Not wanting to spend the entire day sitting in about in the hallway, William decided to 'come along already.' The girl led the way down the stairs to the third floor. When they reached the landing they were greeted by such an awful wailing that even William's first instinct was to cover his ears.
"See what I mean? That's Eleanor alright. Gawd! We have to put up with at least one of her fits a week."
The third floor was comprised of a considerably wider hallway lined with considerably more doors. They followed the hallway, passing doors one through four until they came to a door marked simply with the number five. Many of the other doors lining the hall were opened just slightly, and many pairs of little girl eyes stared in terror at the young, male newcomer.
"Well, this is Eleanor's room," there was a moment of silence while the black-haired girl listened to the awful noise. "Gawd! That sounds like a bad one." She turned and gave William a hearty pat on the back. "Good luck to you, and Godspeed!"
William Tavington was not the sort to do kind things for others, even if those others were perfectly nice young ladies. On general principles, he never did anything that wasn't going to benefit him in some way or another. In being asked to deal with Eleanor, a golden opportunity had presented itself. He still didn't know what sort of punishment Morganna had in store for him, but if Eleanor's tantrums were that frequent and that offensive to the ears stopping one of them might slightly overshadow the incident involving Lady Worthington. Besides, there was nothing that offended him personally quite as much as someone who had everything being anything less than satisfied.
He opened the door and strolled into the room with what he considered incomparable grace and dignity. Someone, probably the black-haired girl shut the door behind him. This was it, no way out unless he could do something about Eleanor.
This room was very different from those on the fourth floor. Eleanor's room was practically dust free and tastefully furnished with a fire crackling angrily in the fireplace, obviously it too was offended by the noise. In the middle of the room was a giant four-poster bed, and in the middle of the bed there sat a pudgy little girl with tightly curled red hair and a nose turned up like a pig's snout. Her face was dark pink and her large mouth was opened quite wide to allow that awful wailing to escape from somewhere within.
"Oh, will you shut up!" William shouted loudly so that Eleanor could hear him over her own shrieking.
Her mouth shut automatically, her eyes widened. "Who are you?" she cried. "What are you doing in my room?"
William knew that the best way of dealing with irrational people was to be blunt, and Eleanor had impressed him as a very irrational person.
"The others sent me here to make you be quiet. They don't like you very much."
A fresh wave of rage clouded Eleanor's face. "How dare you say such a thing!"
"They don't like you," William repeated, "and I think I can understand why. I find your carrying on most offensive. In fact, I don't like you very much either."
Despite her privileged upbringing and four years of formal education, Eleanor had always been a somewhat dull-witted girl. "Wait a minute! You're the boy from this morning, the one who nearly killed Lady Worthington!"
Seizing his opportunity, William continued, "Yes, and if you don't stop," he paused for dramatic effect, "I'll do the same thing to you!" If it had been possible for Eleanor's eyes to open any wider, they most certainly would have. "You're going to burn half my face of?"
This response startled the boy a bit. Burn half her face off? Certainly he hadn't done anything like that to Lady Worthington.
* * *
"I must speak with Lord Cornwallis," Dr. Mooreville sighed, "As much as I despise the man, it is why I had to travel to this Godforsaken 'New World.'"
"I was wondering why you were here. Certainly it isn't to visit me, though I appreciate your stopping by."
Mooreville laughed. "Don't fake courtesy with me William, I know you too well. You don't appreciate my being here. You're embarrassed enough about being defeated by a colonial without anyone else having to see you helpless."
"Very well then, you're correct. I don't appreciate anyone seeing me like this, you in particular."
Mooreville scratched his chin, which was in dire need of shaving. "Has she seen you like this?"
"Would I let her?"
"I wouldn't know. Your mind is a strange place, full of dark, twisted little passages."
"Well I haven't. And she hasn't come here, at least to my knowledge."
"And that knowledge has been severely impaired by opium."
"She hasn't come. Kindly refrain from mentioning her again. ever."
"Still angry?" Mooreville laughed. "Then again, when was the last time you weren't angry?"