Chapter 8: Cousin Delphine
Whether it was by policy or a simple, unsettlingly good nature, all of the hufflepuffs who had been ignored by Clara in the last week accepted her groveling with astounding merriment. Even her classes were filled with a steady sort of pleasantry - all moving along smoothly enough to make her feel a deep sort of uneasiness that only comes from years of turmoil suddenly interrupted with everyday steadiness. Even Defense Against the Dark Arts was moving along. Sure it was a gravely, stilted crawl to the finish line but aside from the occasional unwanted attention of Towler and Professor Lupin, Towler carried most of the weight in their group.
Everyone seemed to take her lapse in social etiquette as a fluke - something that should be ignored.
Well… all except one.
"Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope." Keela was in a tizzy, her eyes snapping like grass on the edge of a particularly windy hill. As a rule, Keela didn't take many friends. Normally, she found them to be too much upkeep - like buying dogs and realizing you needed to get all this extra shit and waking up to find that they pissed on your favorite pillow. She kept her circle tight and consistent with a very firm line of honesty.
Clara shrunk under the obvious rage, feeling all eyes turn to her as many of the surrounding Hufflepuffs grew quiet. It had been a rather loud, affectionate morning up until this moment with many people offering her soft smiles and some offering her food like they were the ones trying to soothe the tension that she had created. In a way, Clara felt like this was needed karma. Her mother believed strongly in the concept and it was part of the reason that the young witch had become the woman that she was.
A slender finger wagged in her face, drawing her back to the present. "You think just because you're pretty you can go around ignoring whoever you want!"
Clara's heart shrunk at the accusation, her shoulders going up. Clara didn't particularly think that she was pretty at all. In fact, she thought that her features were so outlandish that any boys would be scared off. Once, when she was little, she had made a boy cry by jumping from behind a bush. It had been a joke, of course, and she had meant to scare him but she hadn't been wearing any mask and he had screamed like she was murdering him.
The boy's mother later told her mother that Clara had "unsettling" eyes.
"Now, Keela," Molly jumped in, looking uneasy. "I think you're being a little too hard on her-"
"Just because you got all mopey from her dodging you-" Archie jumped in, his jaw setting like he was seeing something that he didn't particularly like. Keela gasped, reeling to stare at the curly haired boy.
Across the table, Callum straightened from his book, brows furrowed in confusion. "You were dodging us?"
Everyone turned slowly towards him, even some of the nearby Hufflepuffs who were digging in rather energetically to their breakfast.
Behind his glasses, Callum squinted.
"Are you serious?" Keela said blandly. "She's been avoiding us for like the past week. Where did you think she was?"
For a moment, there was a long, awkward pause in which Callum's eyes grew smaller and smaller behind the frames of his glasses. "I… don't really know…"
"Dude…" a boy who had chiseled features and striking grey eyes said almost sympathetically to Callum. His eyes flicked briefly to Clara's, a crooked smile crossing his lips.
"Hey, Cedric," Molly said, her voice dreamy and her eyes far away as she stared across the table at him. Clara blinked, breaking eye contact. There was something particularly charming about Cedric Diggory that she couldn't particularly pinpoint. Maybe it was the way that he held himself - like he was trying to compact into the space that he was in. Like he didn't want to be bigger than what he needed to be.
"Um, hello?" Keela snapped her fingers to draw Molly back to the conversation. Those mismatched eyes snapped back to Clara in an instant. "I refuse to let you play with my heart like this, Deschamp."
"I'll do anything to make it up to you," Clara whispered, her hands working at each other in her lap. Her face felt pinched like someone was squeezing at her skin. "I'm really sorry. I know that I was in the wrong-"
"You don't have to-" Archie started, shaking his head.
"Oh honey, we're not mad-" Molly's hand reached across Keela to squeeze Clara's.
"Steal mermaid tears." Something like an alarm started to sound in Clara's head, heat rising to burn the nape of her neck.
"Keela, that is an awful, terrible thing," Molly gasped, looking positively scandalized.
"And also illegal," Archie clarified.
"All of you hufflepuffs-" Keela started to growl but Callum piped in.
"Snape will take away all of our points if he finds out that one of us stole from his collection." His eyes met Clara's over his glasses. "Not that I don't believe in your incredible powers of stealth."
Clara didn't particularly know whether to be offended or to thank him for possibly getting out of that sticky situation. She still somehow found herself saying: "I'm incredibly stealthy."
Nobody seemed to want to deem that with a response except for Cedric who smirked but turned quickly to his other friends and started up a conversation heavily focused on next weeks quidditch practice.
"Fine," Keela huffed, throwing up her hands. "Coutures tie, I'll take that instead."
Clara's heart plummeted at the request, her eyes immediately traveling to the Slytherin table where a gaggle of girls sat. Most were lanky and had a cruel twist to their lips that offset the otherwise striking beauty of their high cheekbones and soft features. They reminded Clara of a group of ballet dancers that had always swarmed together like a cluster of knots on one rope.
In their midst, wasn't one of the most beautiful in the group but a girl with such an air of malice that she had quickly caught the crown. Delphine Couture was not only tremble-worthy but also a distant relative to the Deschamps. The bad side.
"Still stealing," Molly snipped, her lips tipping down for the first time that Clara had ever witnessed. "You don't have to do this at all, Clara. This is absolutely ridiculous."
"She already said she was sorry, Keela," Archie snapped, his brows furrowed. "Isn't that enough?"
"Oh, fine!" Keela snarled, throwing her hands up and then quickly moving into a more sulky position. "I wasn't actually going to make her do it-"
"I will." Even Clara was surprised to hear the words, so clearly coming from her lips. She blinked. Everyone else blinked. "I'll get her tie."
Something in the pit of her stomach rolled. Clara Deschamp believed in karma just like her mother. And if getting a tie from one of her distant cousins that father had told her to never associate with meant that she was repaying her debts then so be it… But then again wouldn't stealing make more debts? Her head spun briefly. She would steal the tie and then quickly steal it back to discreetly sneak back into Delphine's bags.
"What?" Archie gasped.
"You can't be serious-" Keela's eyes were wide as she stared at Clara, feeling something akin to deep panic. She hadn't actually thought-
"Clara, that's stealing!" Molly watched in horror as Clara closed her books, stuffing them back into her bag, her eyes intent on the group of Slytherin girls that had gotten up to leave the hall.
A sort of deep horror had set in, leaving all of Clara's friend firmly rooted to their seats as they watched her scamper off, her yellow and black scarf whipping furiously behind her. She was the most suspicious looking figure that any of them had ever seen, her head whipping this way and that as she tried to keep her eyes on Delphine Couture even as more and more students pushed ahead of her.
"Oh no," Keela breathed.
Cedric leaned closer to Callum from across the table. "You think we could get any house points from that?"
Clara's hands fumbled with the letter, ripping at the milky blue corners and the shimmering purple of the lavender wax seal. All around her the quiet scribbling and turning of pages pressed down on her. There was something particularly unsettling about the library at Hogwarts. The small witch yelped as a book smashed into her nose, making her eyes water and a particularly waspish third-year hiss for silence as she passed by.
Floating books seemed to be boarish and completely unnecessary but then again the high bookcases that towered over her seemed unnecessary as well. Really, how was anyone supposed to reach those?
Beside her, George fluttered from one side of the aisle to the other, crashing into one floating book after another.
"Sssshhhh," Clara hissed, peeking around one of the cases. Good. No one was paying attention to the little corner dedicated to history this evening. A miracle since almost every Ravenclaw in the school religiously stayed down here.
Technically, there weren't supposed to be any birds in the library, period but when Clara had seen him peckishly tapping at the window, she hadn't been able to resist. Now, watching him puff up his feathers as another book came barreling into him, she was seriously regretting that decision.
Dearest Clara,
Attached is your field trip slip, signed and some money. Your sister would like some sweets from that Honeydukes place if you would.
Remember to write!
Your loving mother and father.
Frowning, Clara flipped it over, finding another slip of paper from her sister along with the promised slip and a silk, lavendar scented bag filled with fat galleons. It was odd for her mother to send her less than two pages in one sitting.
Clara,
Send home some of your assignments, if you would. It's an absolute bore in these hospitals and mother insists that I do exactly what the doctors say. And apparently what they say is that I am to stay in my bed.
Ah, but what's new?
Father and mother have been whispering into the dead of night. They barely sleep and father has been spending more and more hours at this English ministry. The dementors are apparently a hard group to reign in and the public is pressing harder and harder upon father's department for answers on Sirius Black.
I don't particularly believe that our distant relations to him are making it any easier either - nor our subsequent timing in moving to England. I daresay that you might have a bit of trouble if Sirius isn't captured soon enough.
A word to the wise, keep away from our relatives and that Potter boy. Hanging around either might give the wrong impression.
Annabelle.
Sweat trickled down Clara's neck, as she read over that last paragraph once more. And then again. Yes. It did look bad. Being one of under a hundred pureblood families, the chances of being found to have the same blood as the Blacks and LeStranges was a risk that was growing more and more. The timing on the Deschamps move to England would look a bit suspicious but the fact that Clara was going to the same school as Potter… She shuddered, trying to press that thought down.
Worse was her sister's growing condition. It didn't bode well that they had confined her to her room. Quickly, Clara tucked the change purse into her pocket along with the signed slips into the village before snatching a blank sheet of paper from a vacant table and diving back into the stacks of books with her quill.
Mother,
Annabelle tells me you have her under house arrest. Please stop listening to these silly doctors and let her get some of these famous fish and chips that I keep hearing about. One or two hours out of that dreary little house won't break her.
Your daughter.
She had always signed letters like this when she was angry. In a way, it eased some of the fury inside of her.
Cooing softly to George, she tied the rolled letter to his foot and nudged him onto a nearby window ledge before opening it. He cocked his head at her, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he gave an indifferent hoot.
"What do you want, you daft, little thing?" she hissed, glancing around anxiously to check that no one had wandered by. Her knuckle nudged a bit at his rump, only getting a sharp peck in return that made her yelp.
Sucking at the bloody wound, she glared down at the owl. What a mean, nasty bird, she seethed.
"Oh take it, you vulture," she finally hissed, taking a bit of leftover cookie from her pocket and shoving it at him. They were the last of what her mother had sent her and she would have been lying to herself if seeing them pecked up by George didn't make her a bit jealous.
"Last year I would have said that Malfoy looked too much like a little weasel to be attractive but I do have to say that he's getting this-"
"Solemn?" Clara jerked behind one of the endcaps of the library, her heart hammering as she heard the familiar click of her cousin's boots on the tiled floor.
"Angsty." There was a degree of satisfaction said in that one word that confused Clara. Briefly, she second-guessed if the word meant the same thing that she thought it did. No. Her English was right. Leave it to her cousin to find that trait endearing.
The real reason that she had come to this section of the library was situating itself in a small alcove just to the right of where she was currently hiding. From a few days of snooping, Clara had found that Delphine liked to sneak away to this little area of the library which frankly was no wonder. While most of the rest were crowded, overflowing with random books and clusters of worn oak chairs strewn with ink and parchment, this was… marvelous.
It was curtained off for most of the day but at night the thick velvet was tugged back and tied off to reveal a low table glistening with a steaming kettle and a variety of teacups. The settees and chairs were all fashioned in a deep red that glistened in the low lamplight and seemed to accommodate the mood of its visitors, blazing brighter or lower depending on the temperament.
At the moment, the lights were barely high enough to illuminate much besides the placid indifference on each girl's face as they settled into their respective seats. A sign by the curtains exclaimed: No books permitted!
"Do you think-?" a curvy girl with an eyebrow piercing named Cynthia started, digging into a three-tiered variety of pastries. The deep green of her house robes made her complexion look almost sickly in the darkening glow of the lamps.
"Would I go out with him?" Delphine huffed, daintily picking up a steaming mug of tea and sipping at it. "Lord, no. The only one that I would think about-"
"Sirius?" A girl wearing a thin smile with a dark complexion questioned, folding her robes around herself. Clara thought for a moment. Elsie, she thought, pulling the name from the back of her mind. Something about Elsie's eyes made Clara think that the question was meant to cut. Deep anxiety coursed through the witch as she tried to pat down her fluff of curls so that they wouldn't standing out like a white flag from her vantage point behind the bookcases.
The art of keeping a purebloods line had become less and less popular over the last decade or so. This practice had mainly consisted of inbreeding and had resulted in the extinction of a good number of family extinctions. The Deschamps still strongly agreed with the practice and in that way, it was very likely that Delphine and Sirius were a likely match given how tight their family ties lay. And startling enough there was only a 20-year gap between the two.
Some would say that they had good odds as a couple.
"No." The sharpness of the comment snapped Clara's attention back to the present. And her mission. Her tawny eyes narrowed on the loosened tie at her cousin's throat. "From what I hear, Sirius is soft as my aunt Willa."
Willa? That was her mother's name! A growl slipped from her lips as she lunged forward, anger bursting through her. How dare-?
"Who are we spying on?" Clara was barely able to stifle a scream as she whirled, heart beating its way out of her chest.
"George!" she hissed, relief and irritation making her lash out to give him a whack on the arm. "You scared me! Don't sneak up me like that!"
"And here I thought that you would be overjoyed at my arrival," the redhead griped, rubbing at the place where Clara had walloped him. His tie hung loosely at his neck, a few buttons undone and the ginger, gold strands of his hair disheveled as if he had been tugging it. In the back of Clara's mind, a vague sort of fluttering tickled her, making her heart beat a bit faster. He looked handsome like this.
George's eyes crinkled as he leaned around her and that fluttering intensified at the closeness, taking a quick peek at the alcove before drawing back behind the safety of the bookcases with a mischievous smile.
"Clara love, are you getting yourself into some trouble?" he teased, leaning a hand on a shelf near her head so that he could draw closer still.
"What?" she breathed, confused for a moment before she was shaking her head. "No!"
"Oh so spying on some nasty slytherins is of a purely innocent nature?" he quipped, his eyes twinkling as Clara's cheeks flared with heat.
"I-" Words and excuses clogged in her throat. She could just tell him that she was trying to steal that stupid tie. But - well, that did seem like trouble. And she couldn't bear for him to be right with that smug little smirk on his lips. Desperately, she tried to shift gears. "What are you even doing here? How'd you know where I was?"
"Ah, I hate to disappoint you, lovely," he drawled, taking another quick peek at the alcove before returning to smirk down at her. "But I don't usually stalk you through the halls." George's eyes twinkled as he continued. "I heard a little birdy crashing into the windows outside and recognized him as yours and since I didn't particularly want to finish my transfiguration paper…" He shrugged.
"You did stalk me," Clara sniffed, trying not to let how nervous she felt seep into her voice. She was really hoping that Delphine didn't have good hearing and that her little chat ran over an hour.
"While you were stalking some poor slytherins," he clarified. "Apparently we're both in the wrong."
"Apparently," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. George's eyes followed the action before he met hers again, one brow quirking in question. No, her mind battled back. She didn't want to admit that she was doing anything wrong. But the Weasleys were supposed to be troublemakers maybe George could… No! She refused to give him the satisfaction.
"Ah, come on, Clara," he whined softly, flicking her nose. "I'm bored!"
She gave in way too quickly.
"Oh fine," she sighed. "But you have to promise to tell no one!"
George looked vaguely offended by the notion. "I'm a Weasley." At Clara's hard gaze, he sighed. "I solemnly swear."
Grabbing his tie, she tugged him over so that they could see the alcove. The girls were still talking, although all of them somehow looked infinitely bored with each other.
"You see that girl with the…" Clara searched for a way to describe her cousin. High cheekbones? They all looked eerily alike. For a moment she felt the truth tickling at her tongue. She's my cousin, Clara wanted to say. Her eyes flicked nervously to George like he might be able to tell her thoughts. She couldn't tell him. Delphine was probably all too open about the fact that she was related to the Blacks. Clara's family couldn't risk the association. George's brows quirked. "The mean looking one with the curls." A family trait, she thought miserably.
"Ah!" He crowed so loudly that Clara yanked him back behind the bookcase with a hiss. "Delphine Couture. Nasty lot - incredibly gossipy and always looking for those pesky purebloods for potential mates." His smile was teasing as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What's gotten you mixed up with that lot?"
"I - I need to steal her tie," Clara admitted, feeling ashamed at the admission. Her eyes flicked to the ground.
"I didn't take you for the klepto type," he murmured, winking. "Hot."
"I don't have a fever," Clara sniped, pushing aside the confusion at George's sudden interest at her temperature. "I - It's for a bet. A bet I need to win."
George's eyes narrowed for a moment as she stared up at him. She didn't entirely know what telling him all of this would mean but if anyone could help her it was one of the Weasley twins.
"It's a good thing that you found me, Deschamp-" he sighed, rolling up his sleeves and combing back his hair. "You would have been absolutely bloody lost." Clara spluttered at that, feeling vaguely offended.
"I'm-"
"Soft," George finished for her, ruffling her hair and then cracking his neck. His expression had slowly gone from one of teasing to determination, the golden depths of his eyes intent on the corner of the bookcase that they had been peeking around.
"I'm not soft!" Clara fumed, her hands clenching at her sides as she glared up at the big, redheaded imbecile. His eyes twinkled with barely restrained laughter.
"Oh, love," he murmured. "Hufflepuffs are the definition of soft. In fact, I think most of them would pronounce the word as swoft. As in, pweady pwease, mistah Weasley. I'm too swoft to snatch the angwy slytherins tie."
"You arrogant-" He was already striding around the corner, leaving Clara to boil on her own.
Around the corner, she heard a flutter of robes and then the sharp intake of breaths before George's voice boomed. "Couture! If I knew that you would be in the library than I would have come here more often."
My ears burned with reflexive embarrassment even as I yanked down my hair to peer around the corner. She was sitting straighter, her eyes catlike in their intensity as George slouched forward, an easy smile on his lips.
"George…" The way Delphine said his name was the way that Clara used to say broccoli when she was little. But… she liked it. Clara blinked, startled and a little…? She couldn't pin that emotion down, the one withering in the pit of her stomach. How did they know each other? Why was her cousin smirking up at George like that? And why was George smirking at Delphine like that? A swirl of unfamiliar emotions rocked her gut. "If I had known that you Weasleys would be anywhere near a book, I would have surely stayed away."
George clasped his heart in mock agony, groaning. "Couture, how you wound me. And here I just wanted a friendly chat - you know the ones where both parties are happy afterward?"
The other girls around Delphine and George tittered, their eyes intent on the exchange. Like a pack of animals waiting for the first sign of blood. Only Elsie seemed to be a bit bored with the whole exchange, taking out a nail file to work at her pinkie.
"I assure you that I've been happy right up to the point where I saw that shock of red hair-" Delphine started, her lips giving away how much she was enjoying the banter.
"My best feature, I've been told." George's smile was lazy, his eyes winking wickedly in the lamplight. "Well, that and other things…"
"Oh barf," Clara heard Elsie grumble. By the way that no one else turned in her direction, Clara assumed she was the only one who had heard her.
Honestly, Clara agreed with Elsie more than she wanted to admit at the moment. The things that were coming out of George's mouth bordered on the kind of horror that she only saw on the muggle shows that her mother had become addicted to after moving to England. But clearly, Delphine was eating it up.
"Hm, interesting," she whispered, her eyes moving so slowly over George that Clara felt an uncomfortable itch start along her body in response.
Then George was leaning to whisper into Delphine's ear and Clara couldn't hear a damn thing anymore. By the soft giggle that escaped from her cousin's lips and the increasingly alarming shade of red that creeping up her neck, she guessed it wasn't exactly g rated.
Whatever he said, by the time that George pulled back, Delphine was tugging off her tie and dropping it into his outstretched palm looking like an incredibly satisfied cat. As he loped away, her eyes stayed intently on his back. It was only until he was almost upon her that she finally yanked herself away from the slowly dawning nightmare that was in front of her. Silently, she chastised herself. That was stupid. She should have just stayed behind the bookcase.
"One slytherin tie, as requested." Blindly, Clara held out her palm for it, her fingers curling around the silky material as she kept her eyes on the tile floor. Ugh. Why did she feel like throwing up all over the floor?
"Thanks," she bit out, feeling wretched for not feeling thankful at all. Gritting her teeth, she forced her gaze to meet his curious one. "I um owe you one."
"There has been something that Fred and I've wanted to ask you…" He wandered off, checking his watch before wincing. "Listen, Clara love I'll see you around. I really have to go finish that Transfiguration paper and Fred-"
"Yeah! Sure! I completely understand!" She had said that way too brightly. Clara winced, her fingers clenching around the tie. George hesitated, his brows furrowing.
"Are you sure?" His eyes scanned her face quickly. "You don't look too well."
"Just nervous." Clara tried to laugh it off, the sound more like the squawking of a distressed bird. "It's really late, George. You should get back to that paper." He still hesitated, his eyes narrowed on her. "McGonagall will butcher you if you don't turn it in."
That finally got to him. Rubbing his neck, he took a couple of steps back. "I'll see you around, Clara."
"Mmm." Clara's hand raised in a half-hearted wave but George was already gone, diving behind another bookcase to make his way to the other side of the library where his pen and bag lay open on a paper-strewn desk.
Something gnawed at Clara's insides as she finally took a good look at the tie that she had been obsessing over for the past couple of days. It was just an ordinary one issued by the school at the beginning of the year. Clara flipped it over and sighed. And of course, Delphine had taken the time and money to embroider her initials on the back.
Maybe it was that little monster tearing on her gut that made her lose track of time. Or the relief from having the source of her bet finally in her palms. Or maybe it was as simple as a momentary lapse in caution. Whatever it was, Clara didn't hear the giggles of the girls in the alcove behind her hiding space. She didn't hear the mentions of the fact that even if Delphine didn't want Malfoy or Sirius surely she wouldn't object to one of the twins. He was a pureblood, after all.
She especially didn't hear them slowly collect their things and leave the alcove. In fact, the only thing she heard was the silence of her own mind up until-
"What do you have there?" Clara jerked, gasping as she whirled and knocking into the bookcase behind her in her alarm. Standing in a menacingly still group at the end of her aisle was…
"Delphine." Clara's eyes jerked to the scrap of green and white cloth that her cousin's eyes were currently glued to. Her heart battered at her ribs so violently that it was growing harder and harder to breathe. "I - I - this is-"
"My tie," Delphine finished with eery calm and the girls behind her hissed like a group of angry vipers ready to strike. Elsie was the only one that remained quiet, her face decidedly blank. "Honestly, cousin you could have asked for my clothing if you wanted to stalk me."
"It's not-" Reflexive tears stung at Clara's eyes as she shrunk back. She had technically stolen it. This looked very, very bad.
"This is your cousin?" Cynthia quipped and something about the way that she said it made Clara shrink back even more.
"Unfortunately," Delphine grumbled, a brow quirking as her lips thinned. "I always heard about the Deschamps - isn't your sister some kind of seer?"
"I - yes -" Why was she having such trouble getting out a sentence? She sounded absolutely pathetic.
"And your father's a renowned auror?" Delphine didn't wait for her response this time, her eyes narrowed. "Turned to office work after - well, that doesn't matter. And you mother… celebrated herbologist?"
"Um, yes?" Clara worked around her embarrassment, struggling to get her footing in this unsteady sea of questions. She felt like Delphine was setting her up for some terrible punchline with her as the main bag to punch.
"And then… there's you…" The way that her cousin looked from her head to her toes and then back again, her lips curled down was more insulting than the giggles of her little lackeys. There it was. The punchline. "My mom told me that you weren't like the rest of the Deschamps but really… This is a new level." She gave a humorless laugh, crossing her arms. "You couldn't even get into ravenclaw? At least then you would be smart but hufflepuff…" Delphine clicked her tongue. "Well, I guess every family has to have one."
The words beat down on Clara, making her throat grow uncomfortably tight. Was it that apparent? How had Delphine found her weakness so easily and utterly decimated her? Clara's heart ached, her mouth chalky with all the things that she wanted to say - none of them as cutting as she wanted them to be. Her whole family was so much and then-then there was her. Just her. Oh my god. She could feel tears starting to build at the back of her eyes. George was right. God, she was pathetic. She was so soft.
Delphine stalked toward her, her face so calm as she yanked the tie from Clara's grip. "Leftover."
Clara didn't move as she moved away, her little squad of girls following after her with venomous glances tossed over their shoulders. Only Elsie lingered, her eyes softening for a moment so brief that Clara almost missed it.
"Here," the lanky girl whispered, tugging off her own tie and dropping it at Clara's feet. "You seem like a nice enough girl. Just… steer clear of Delphine for a week or two and she might forget about you. I'm sure that she'll find bigger fish."
With that, the girl swished away, leaving the scent of jasmine in the air.
Was that supposed to comfort her? That she was just a tadpole in Delphine's pool? Instead, the thought enraged her. She was furious at Delphine for being as awful as her family had warned her about. She was furious that she couldn't tell a single person because if she did she would have to say too much about who her family was - how deep that tainted well was. And worse, she was furious at herself for being so weak - for being such a disappointment not only to her mother and father and sister who all were so strong but also to herself and the little girl that had gotten everything that should have been her sisters.
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