Sollicitus is Latin for, "Uneasy, anxious".
Sollicitus
As soon as it was acceptable to do so, she fled the Morning Room and hurried back to her bedroom to spend the rest of the morning. The room, though not quite her own yet, was at least where she could be surrounded by all her things and not Rebecca's. Not that she had much by way of possessions but they were hers. All of her life was contained in one trunk whereas Rebecca's life filled an entire house. Much of her is glad. So very glad that she was not given Rebecca's old room. Of course it did not stop her from wondering just how it might look. The Morning Room had exuded taste, elegance and femininity in every detail. What would her bedroom be like in comparison? Thoughts like that would only make the feelings of inadequacy that much more, so she had managed to push those thoughts aside as best she could. Just when she has resolved to keep her chin up, the chiming of the bell signals the arrival of Noctis' sister and her husband.
No differently than a child would and nothing like the mistress of the house, she creeps to the edges of the staircase and peeps at them from behind a large pillar. She takes in their appearances as they enter the library to be received, by her. Her, being the hostess of this massive museum of a house brought the daunting feeling back. Taking a deep breathe and straightening her shoulders, she quietly walks down the steps to formally greet them.
"I must say Mrs. Etro is keeping the house looking lovely," comments who can only be Beatrice from inside. "She certainly learned that trick of arranging flowers from Rebecca."
"I wonder what she must think, having to serve a ex dancer now," muses the masculine voice of Beatrice's husband.
"Why on earth would you think she was an ex dancer?" asks Beatrice incredulously.
"Well, he met her in one of those night club resorts that are all the rage."
"So what?"
"Who else could it be? But an ex dancer from one of the clubs. Heaven forbid it be a waitress!"
She almost wishes that she were an ex dancer. At least then, it would explain why Noctis would want to marry her. It would mean that she was beautiful and talented, not plain and talentless. She takes another breath and manages to step through the door without tripping and takes in both of their astonished faces with as much grace as she can.
"Hello," she says, walking towards them with a nervous smile. "I am…"
"Beatrice Caelum!" Beatrice says, thrusting a strong hand out to shake her weak one. "How do you do?"
She is tall, confident and strong looking. Not to mention beautiful and sharply dressed. She is, by all accounts, a powerful woman. A princess through and through. Her husband a fine nobleman with a kind, though often endearingly clueless looking face beside her that immediately made her like him.
"I must say," says Beatrice, looking her over openly. "You are not like what we expected."
"What are you saying? Of course she does! She looks just as I imagined," insists her husband. "I told you didn't I? I am Giles. The husband."
"How are getting along with Mrs. Etro?" asks Beatrice.
"I have never quite met anyone like her before," she answers honestly.
"You mean she scares you?" Giles asks with a bit of teasing and a bit of understanding. "She isn't exactly an oil painting is she?"
"Giles, go on now so we girls can have a little chat," Beatrice remarks.
"I should go find Noctis, shall I?" he asks her with a wink.
"Giles," Beatrice says sternly though the smile does not leave her face.
"No need to get fussy, luv," Giles remarks with a chuckle. He shrugs and smiles at the both of them before leaving them to it.
"Men. Never know when to stop," remarks Beatrice wryly. "Shall we sit?"
"Oh of course!" she cries, motioning to a chair for Beatrice before taking one across from her near the fire.
"And how are you liking Manderley?" asks Beatrice.
"It, is a little overwhelming," she says quietly.
"I am sure it is a tad much at first," comments Beatrice. She looks so at ease, much like Noctis always does and she finds herself envious of their confidence and manner. Noctis' sister, though the resemblance is hard to see, was just like him. Their features may not look exactly the same, but their countenance was the same. "How is Mrs. Etro treating you?"
"Oh, well. She handles affairs very well, but I do not think she cares too much for me."
"Understandable. She is bound to be jealous and resentful at first," Beatrice explains.
"Why would she resent me?" she asks in surprise.
"I thought Noctis would have told you," Beatrice replies in surprise. "She simply adored Rebecca."
Which made sense on all levels. That creeping sensation of overwhelming dread settles over her through the rest of the conversation. Cold and icy Mrs. Etro had not been so for Rebecca. Was there no one that had not adored and loved the wife who was so tragically lost? The one who should still be in charge of this magnificent castle. Instead, there was only mousey little her who was afraid of her own shadow.
So overpowering is her anxiety that she does not remember much of the conversation with Beatrice after that insight. Not even the call for lunch is a small relief. Though, it does give her a bit of strength to carry on when she sees Noctis with Giles and Ignis. All three standing at the entrance of the dining hall for them to join. Brother and sister greet each other affectionately for a moment before they are all seated at the long table. The meal is not so scary with the addition of three more people to fill the silence with amiable chatter. Giles and Beatrice keep a flow of steady conversation going as they ate. With each course, Beatrice inquired after each servant's health and family by name, which prompted her to try her best to remember the names that she hears mentioned.
"I am eager to know what it is your wife likes to do Noctis," comments Giles, who is seated to her right.
"She sketches, a little," Noctis replies, giving her a small smile.
"Not one of those artists who paint a lamp upside down to represent a soul in torment, I hope," Giles jokes. "Strange, the things that pass for art these days."
"No, nothing like that," she laughs in answer.
"Do you ride?"
"Not very well," she answers.
"Oh but you must!" insists Giles. "There is not much else to do around here. This is lonely country here, my dear."
"I would love to learn," she admits. She really has always wanted to learn how to ride properly but had never gotten much of an occasion to.
"Do you enjoy dancing, my dear?" asks Beatrice from beside Noctis.
"I love it, but I am not very good at it, I'm afraid," she replies.
"You will have to each me," says Giles which makes her laugh.
"When are you going to start having parties here again, Noctis?" demands Beatrice in her authoritative tone. "I am sure everyone would love to meet…" She looks over at her.
"Yes, I am sure," says Noctis.
"You must!" insists Giles.
"I have not decided on any of that yet," says Noctis with another smile to her. "I would leave that up to her."
"You do not sail do you, my dear?" asks Giles, taking a bite of his pheasant.
"No, no I do not," she answers.
"Thank goodness for that!" comments Giles, who then happens to look up at Beatrice, who's face has become very stern with disapproval. "What? Oh!" Giles cries, slapping a hand over his mouth and looks guiltily at Noctis.
A quick look at a fidgeting Ignis and a suddenly somber Noctis dampens the cheerful mood of the meal. She has no idea what had triggered this and no idea how to break the sudden tension that has filled the room. That is, until Beatrice swiftly takes over the conversation once again, making her even more admirable in her eyes. If only she had the wit to do something like that. The rest of lunch passes pleasantly enough after Giles' faux pas, to which she does not understand fully. She can only assume the worst. Soon enough however, she finds herself standing behind Beatrice while the other woman fixes her hat in front of the large mirror in the library.
"You are very much in love with Noctis, aren't you." Beatrice states.
She flushes in answer with no way to voice her response.
"I can see that you do," Beatrice says, looking at her in amusement. "Can I ask you something? Why don't you style your hair? Like putting it back behind your ears? Oh no. That is much worse," the older woman critiques bluntly when she tries to follow the suggestion. She gives a shrug and reaches out to grab her purse. "I can tell by the way you dress you do not give a hoot how you look. But I do wonder that Noctis has not been at you. He is so particular about clothes." She entwines their arms and walks along beside her towards the front door.
"I do not think he notices what I wear," she says looking down at her plain garments. Noctis has never commented on anything regarding her appearance, now that she thinks about it.
"He must have changed a lot then," Beatrice says with a warm smile and giving her arm a squeeze. "Noctis can have quite a temper. He is one of those silent brooders. You can never tell what is going on in that head of his. Then when his temper flares…" she makes a whistling sound for effect. Then she gives her another warm, encouraging smile. "Though I doubt he would ever get mad at you. You seem such a pleasant thing."
"Come on old girl!" beckons Giles hastily. "We have tea at 3 o'clock."
"All right. All right, I am coming," Beatrice replies, not at all phased by her husband's need for haste.
They continue to walk arm in arm together when they reach the outside and stand beside the car. Giles rushes over to the driver's seat with a few words to Noctis.
Beatrice stops while the two men continue a short conversation to put on her gloves. "I am very sorry for asking you so many rude questions, my Dear," Beatrice apologizes with another smile. "Giles and I do wish you both will be very happy."
Beatrice's approval makes her feel like walking on air. It is such a sweet relief when everyone else has been so disapproving. That it would come from Noctis' own sister makes everything so much brighter.
"Thank you! Oh thank you, Beatrice!" she cries, giving the other woman a much needed hug.
"And I must compliment you on how Noctis looks," comments Beatrice approvingly, giving her brother an assessing glance. "We were very worried about him last year." She pats her arm affectionately. "But of course, you know all about it."
No, she does not know anything. Before she can admit that, Beatrice is already climbing into the cab of her car and Noctis has come to embrace her from behind with Casper barking his own farewell below them.
"Good bye!" he calls out to his sister and brother in law when they drive away. He playfully raises her hand in a half hearted wave before resting his chin on her shoulder. "Good riddance! Now we have the house all to ourselves."
She laughs at his good humor and turns her head to give him a kiss.
"Let us go take Casper on a walk and I can show you around," he suggests.
"What a lovely idea!" she says excitedly and then shyly asks. "Do you like my hair?"
"Your hair?" he asks quizzically. "Why? What is the matter with it?"
"Oh, just nothing," she replies shyly.
"How funny you are," he chuckles. "Frank! Go inside and fetch the princess a light coat would you?"
"Is a coat really necessary?" she asks, when he lays the raincoat over her shoulders a moment later.
"Yes, yes, yes. We cannot be too careful with children," he teases her invoking another giggle from her.
They are soon walking hand in hand through the garden with Casper happily bouncing and barking. He leads the way down a small path, showing how much of an expert he was at maneuvering the grounds.
"No, not that way," Noctis says sternly to Casper, only to be ignored by the determined canine.
"What is over there?" she asks curiously. It looked to be a way towards the water.
"Just some rocks and sand. Nothing of consequence," Noctis mutters in reply.
"Is that the path to the ocean?" she cries excitedly.
"Not the only path," he grumbles.
"It would be the view from the postcard I saw so long ago. Please, let's have a look," she implores him.
"Oh all right," he says reluctantly, forcing a chuckle out, but she is too much in a good humor to notice how tense he has gotten. "Just a quick glance."
Casper hops down a set of wooden stairs towards the water and makes a mad run for something hidden by a small cove.
"Casper! Not that way!" shouts Noctis angrily, before addressing her in a much gentler tone. "Have you had your look? Now we should go."
"What about Casper?" she asks, no longer able to see his fury shape.
"He knows his way back."
A whine comes from the direction where Casper disappeared.
"It sounds like he is hurt!" she cries.
Without delay, she runs towards where she heard the sound, ignoring Noctis' shout for her to stop. Around the bend, she stops short when she comes across a small shack. It sits not far from the waves, perched all alone in the sand. No lights are lit from the inside and it looked to be deserted. Casper, she notices, sits patiently at the door, waiting to be admitted inside. Walking closer, she realizes it has to be a boat house of some sorts. It looks like it has been neglected and abandoned for some time and not much to look at from the outside. Though, given how familiar Casper seemed there, it had not been too long since anyone has been there. She approaches it cautious until she reaches the door where Casper sits in wait.
"Come on, Casper. What are you doing here?" she chides the dog.
The door, creeps open in response, to reveal dirty booted feet. Her gaze slowly reaches up to the face of a scruffy bearded man with ragged clothes and a sailor's cap with dull eyes and a toothless smile. She should have screamed but the never, surprisingly, does not come.
"I know that dog!" he says with a gummy grin. "He comes from the house."
"Is this your home?" she asks cautiously. He does not look dangerous but she did not want to be long in his presence.
"I wasn't doin' nuthin'," he replies in childlike reassurance. "Just stocking me seashells."
"Have you anything for me to tie him with?" she asks.
He does not reply but merely steps aside for her to enter the shack with the same blank smile on his face. She squeezes past him uncomfortably into the sectioned off entry way. His seashells and various ropes and nets are haphazardly arranged in the tight space. Stepping in further, she sees the main area which greatly contrasted the exterior and entry way of the shack. This area looked more like a luxurious living room belonging inside Manderley, rather than the insides of a decrepit old shack. She recognizes the style right away and knows exactly who had used this place for their use.
A large cushy day bed lies underneath the small windows looking out towards the water. A large tray of cigarette butts sits atop it as if someone had just been there smoking. There is a small fireplace on the far wall with a wooden chair at one side. Two lounge chairs and a lamp table sat across from it. Closer to her was a table for two, to dine on and all around the room were small vases with flowers long dried up and dead. It made her think of the Morning Room, except that no one had come to dust the cobwebs away here. This place too, looked like it was still waiting for Rebecca's return but the passage of time was more apparent.
Stepping back and away from the room, she absently snatches a small bit of rope from a small pile and goes back outside to Casper. The strange man is standing where she left him, with the same lame smile on his face. He stares at her from his clouded eyes and he looks ill at ease.
"You won't tell anything you saw me in here, will you?" he implores like a child.
"Do you live nearby?" she asks, while trying to tie the rope around Casper's collar.
"I wasn't doin' nuthing," he promises again. Those glazed eyes glance at the water. "She's gone ain't she? She's gone into the sea and ain't ever coming back."
"Yes," she answers, feeling anxious at being here in this strange place. Something about it here seems chilling, shadowed and haunting. "She is never coming back." She glances towards where she knows the room lays in wait before tugging on the rope. "Come along Casper."
Her tugs seem to finally register to Casper because he starts to lead her back the way they had come. Confidently, he takes her back to the wooden stairs that would take them back to Manderley and where Noctis was waiting.
Only, he was not waiting where she had left him. She calls out to him without answer and hurries along until she finally catches sight of him fairly running back on the path back to Manderley.
"Noctis! I am sorry to keep you waiting but I had to find something to tie Casper with," she explains breathelessly in her haste to catch up to his brisk pace.
"Come along Casper!" he snaps, almost seething in his anger.
"Why are you so angry?" she asks, feeling her heart ache at having displeased him somehow.
"I told you not to go down there." he accuses.
"Why? There was only an old shack..."
"You did not go inside, did you?"
"For a moment, but..."
"I do not want you going down there again," he growls heatedly, stopping his quick stride to whirl around to face her. The drastic change in him makes her feel so guilty suddenly. "If you had my memories, you would not go near it or even think about it!"
"Forgive me," she pleads. It strikes her, that it must have been a special place for him and Rebecca and she feels so wretched for bringing that pain back to him by intruding so. "I cannot bear to have you unhappy. Please do not be cross. I love you so much!" She cries into his chest miserably, wanting to take away his lose but not knowing how. Instead she clutches him tightly and sobs miserably.
His arms soon come around her tightly in response to her distress. "How can I be angry at you?" he asks, his voice gentle once again. He keeps one arm around her, keeping her pressed closely to his side. "Here, let me have Casper."
She lets him take hold of the rope and lays her head against his shoulder. Their cheerful walk becoming dark and silent now after his outburst at remembering her. She cannot blame him for getting angry. He had only wanted to protect her from the memories as much as for himself.
"Let us go home, have some tea and forget all about this," he suggests softly, kissing her forehead in reassurance.
"Yes," she sniffs, reaching instinctively into the pocket of the coat she wears for a handkerchief. She dabs her eyes with it carefully. "Yes, let us forget all about this." She is eager to do just that and return to the playful mood from before.
She takes a deep breathe, managing to smile up at him before she notices the initials embroidered in the delicate lace of the handkerchief.
R.C.
It scrolled across the clothe, making her blood run cold at the reminder of who should really be there at Noctis' side.