Baldwell's Never Jest
Maureen Baldwell rolled over in her bed, and threw up. Her body was dripping in sweat and she could not support her body as she tried to stand up. Her knees gave out and in resignation she crawled/slid her body to her bathroom. Finally getting to the toilet, she let her head rest against the cool porcelain surface. She retched into the toilet and let her body slide down to the floor. She was surrounded with a coolness she had not felt for a couple days. She stared at the tiled floor. The white and black-checkered floor was slowly but definitely spinning. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Taking slow deep breaths she opened her eyes again. The floor was still spinning. She fought the urge to throw-up as she groped about for the toilet. Feeling her hand brush against a cool surface, she hoped that she was indeed barfing in the toilet and not a trashcan or bathtub. If not, it would mean an exhausting night of clean up for her. She brushed away a strand of dark curled hair that was soaked with sweat and plastered to her forehead. 'Where was Daisy? Her cool hands should be helping her.' She rubbed her temples as she began to hear a tapping. Her skin was moist and sticky from the beads of sweat sliding down her pale and sickly face. "Great," she thought, "not only am I dizzy and hallucinating, I'm hearing things too. What next? I'll think I'm a blueberry muffin?" She threw-up again and after a few bouts of dry retching she let her body crash to the blob of black and white that was her floor. She just wished it would stop spinning. There was no way she would be able to find the door if the floor kept moving. And at last in resignation she collapsed on the cool floor and closed her eyes. And in the few moments before pure fatigue took over her, she could have sworn she saw an owl fly by her and drop something at her hands.
~*~
Christopher Baldwell looked at the young nurse in front of him. She was staring at him with the look of utmost disbelief.
"Excuse me sir?" Her voice was quiet and squeaked at the end. "I must not have heard you right." He glared at her and realizing her mistake she quickly added, "You know how Maureen's ruined my hearing with her constant chatter. Uh, I mean I've just simply let my hearing get away from me that's all." She seemed at lost on how to continue. "You are going to leave your daughter, your own blood lying on the floor in her own throw-up? You're going to let her suffer from fatigue and fever and offer her no help? I just don't understand sir she could die. And besides the fact, the house-elves have informed me that her room is not to be cleaned and that you have forced her to clean her own throw-up twice in the past day. The poor girl is already suffering from exhaustion and she is being forced to clean up after herself. How could you do that to her? I just don't understand."
He took three quick strides until he was standing in her face. She quickly stepped back and turned her head, obviously in anticipation of a smack. He couldn't help but smile at her, but it was cruel and full of irony. His voice was harsh and sent chills through her body.
"You're right. You don't understand. Now, if you don't mind I would ask you
pack all of your belongings up and leave the house. I'm not sure who or what
you think you are questioning my decision. Besides at eleven years old, I feel
Maureen is more than capable of taking care of herself. Your services were
greatly appreciated but you have overstayed your welcome. Goodbye."
He turned to leave and on an afterthought he added, "Please avoid my daughter's room. It would be most unfortunate if you caught her sickness, would it not? And that is an order Ms. Bindle. As of today all contact with my daughter is forbidden and if you do attempt such, I suggest you have a will and testament ready. I do hope we understand each other."
He calmly walked out of the room, quietly shutting the door in her face.
She looked at the dark wood for a moment before she turned and left through the other entrance to his library. The library was, for all purposes cold and unwelcoming, and not the sort of place any person in their right mind would want to read in. Walking slowly up the burgundy carpeted stairs, which muffled her steps she wondered what would happen to the girl. The poor child would never make it through to see sixteen at this rate. She would either be neglected or abused to her death. Deep in thought Daisy walked straight into a door. She had subconsciously walked to Reen's room. With Mr. Baldwell's words echoing in her head she quietly turned the knob and entered the room.
What she saw threw her into great shock. Maureen's blinds, the only in the house that were never closed, were shut tight. Though there was one in the corner that was twisted and blowing in a slight breeze that was warming the room, which was freezing. Daisy felt like she had just walked out into the snow with no coat on. Maureen's bed, always impeccably made for the child was a complete perfectionist, was in disarray. The comforter was thrown across a chair and the sheets were in a ball. She saw a bowl on the side of the bed that was covered in vomit, and was the source of the awful smell in the room. The occupant was obviously not herself. She then noticed that Reen was nowhere to be seen and noticing the shut bathroom door, she picked her way through the bowls of chicken soup and half-full glasses of juice. As she pushed open the bathroom door, the smell of the bedroom intensified. As she cautiously pushed it further she smacked it against something. Looking down she saw Maureen's dark curls, darkened by the sweat that glistened on her pale skin. Her face was turned towards the base of the toilet and she was lying in a pair of soft pink boxers and a white tank top. Her pajamas were clearly soaked and Daisy saw stains of juice and broth on the white tank top. There was vomit everywhere, from the toilet to the bathtub. Daisy reached down to feel Reen's forehead and pulled her hand away in alarm. The girl's head was burning up. Her whole heart wrenched for the girl. To have to endure this until she was 18 would be so awful for her. Daisy reached down to shake the girl awake. She gently prodded the girl in the shoulder. Finally, Reen lifted her head, but to Daisy's dismay vomited all over her. She reached for both of Reen's hand to pull her into her bedroom when Daisy saw the envelope. It was addressed to Maureen, who never received mail. Suddenly Daisy remembered, when she was eleven and got the envelope to Hogwart's. She laid Reen in bed, tucked her under the sheets and pulled the comforter back to the bed. Daisy placed the envelope on her side table. She slid a pen from her robe and wrote in tiny letters on the back of the envelope, Good luck, Love, Daisy. Then taking one last look at the scene around her she murmured a cleaning spell, which, cleaned the room and Daisy's soiled robes. Daisy then blew a kiss and left.
~*~
Christopher looked at his daughter, who at eleven was already five feet and two inches tall. She no doubt would be tall like both her parents. Her dark hair fell in soft curls around her face, which at the moment was staring avidly at him with two teal eyes, glistening with tears. She was biting her lower lip to keep from crying; a habit that Christopher hated, and he slapped her face again.
"Stop being a baby. Grow up. How can I send you to Hogwart's? I won't have you embarrass my family name."
The girl threw her shoulders back and wiped her eyes. She looked down at her bare feet and grimaced. Her legs, though tan from a summer spent mostly outside, were scratched and bruised from where he'd beaten her with curses or with his favorite: a Muggle belt. The light purple skirt she had on was the cause of the first slap, which had started the tears. Her parents knew no beauty. It was all dark and depressing for them. Follow the Dark Lord's powers until he returned again, bladdy, bladdy, blah.
"Christopher, you were right, I can't wear this skirt, my bruises will show, excuse me while I go put black robes on."
He smacked her again. "That is not an acceptable excuse, you will put on black robes, because purple is disgusting and highly disgraceful. You have five minutes; your mother and I will be waiting at the door so we can get your supplies. We are meeting the Malfoys and under no circumstances will we be late."
She slowly raised her head and brushed back the black curls. Her vivid teal eyes stared into his bright green eyes. Her face was red and puffy on one side where she had been smacked. She raised a beautiful hand, with well-manicured nails and a simple diamond ring to her face. She covered her eyes.
He ripped her hand away. "What are you doing?" He was beyond frustrated with her now. He never had anything to do with his daughter, which had been a mistake. The bitch nurse had brought her up too softhearted to be a Baldwell. And now he had five days to toughen her up.
She looked into her father's eyes with a look of defiance. "I'm sorry," her voice was soft and had a musical incantation to it. "Your face," she paused and looked at it with a slight smile playing on her lips. "You face, well, it was hurting my eyes."
He stared at her. This was not the comment that he had expected from his daughter. She had not a mean bone in her body. He looked at her through squinted eyes. She had obviously braced herself for another beating. When he put his hand out she flinched and took a step back. He nodded his head, "You'll do, welcome to the Baldwell family, Maureen."
She looked at him, precisely plucked eyebrows raised. "Are you serious?" She searched his face for confirmation. He gave a slight chuckle.
"Baldwell's never jest, my dear. Now are you going to shake my hand, or did that nurse of yours not teach you anything?"
She looked at his outstretched hand and did the first thing she could think of, she spit into it. She then turned briskly on one heel and walked away.
She didn't dare turn around as she walked away, but suddenly she was jerked back as he grabbed her shoulder. It was a painful grasp and she had to stop. His nails were digging tightly into her flesh. His free hand had wrapped around her chin and turned her face towards his. She knew there would be bruises there tomorrow.
His teeth were clenched and his eyes turned a dark, foreboding color green she had never seen before. "Are you serious, Maureen?"
And with a slight smile she looked straight into his eyes. "Baldwell's never jest, Christopher."
She wrenched her head away from his hand and dug her long nails into his hand. In his shock Christopher let her go and watched as she quickly climbed up the stairs. He was waiting for her to turn around and smile, "Just Kidding." She was just being a teenager he thought to himself as he watched her backside move up the stairs. He watched the crescent moon, pale white on her tan back as it quickly grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind the closed door.
But he could not get the look of her eyes piercing into his as she spoke those traitor words, "Baldwell's never jest". The words echoed and resounded in his head and though he had always known his daughter was to be a powerful witch, he suddenly knew the side she was going to fight on, was not going to be his own.
A/N: And the saga is about to begin, we have finally received the Hogwarts letter and off she goes. Much thanks to Lorna and Margie for all your help. Now it's your turn!! Please R/R, any comments and constructive criticism welcome!
