The Madness of Cadmea; or, The Lunatic Couturier
WARNINGS for descriptions of blood and self-harm.
TWO
Cadmea did try desperately to distract herself with her work - there were always fabrics and notions to order and procure, and ball gowns and be-spoke formal suits to made, not to mention the ready-to-wear rustic clothing sought out by the not-quite-so privileged working class folk.
For a long time - a period of nearly three months - she was semi-successful, running herself and her fingers ragged as she helped her parents and their hired help keep clothes on the varied backs of the kingdom. She fetched and carried, cut and pressed, drew her needle and thread tirelessly through the days from dawn to dusk, until at last, her fingers swelled and her grip and her wrists grew weak.
Her parent's knew she was working too hard, but they could tell it was how she was coping with Jefferson's abrupt exit from her life, and did not often forbid her from it - but they were helpless to stop her slow decline. It became worse quickly after she was ordered by the physician to take a long break or else risk permanently damaging the nerves in her hands and wrists.
Unable to work, Cadmea and her parents attempted to find her other distractions, and she began taking long walks through the village and the well-worn paths of the nearby woods. She volunteered her time to help teach the orphaned children how to spell and read, and kept Jefferson's shell-shocked mother company during his father's busy working hours at the Millinery Shop. Since Jefferson had left, they'd fallen behind, and his father was frantically training both a new Hatter's apprentice, and a new shop assistant.
When the winter came in earnest, the weather kept Cadmea indoors for days on end. There was little to do if she could not sew. She baked, cleaned and read, dusted and gingerly sketched. She even re-papered the walls in her mother's salon with rose-colored watered silk, and changed the light, feminine furniture around. Her patience with the grayness and monotony quickly ran thin though, and she soon fell unfettered back into her happier memories of Jefferson.
The pain was still raw, her love as strong and true as ever, but even still it was a deeply wounded thing. She took to dosing her tea with her mother's arthritic medicinal aid, and the laudanum made her content and allowed her to sleep. If she doubled the dose, it made her light-headed and almost euphoric, and she began to look forward to the time she could avail herself of it.
One day, her mother noticed the missing bottles, and finally realized how and why her daughter had been so quiet and blissful of late. Immediately, she hid the remaining portions and went directly to her father, at which time they'd confronted her.
Cadmea had readily admitted her use, bewildered at their overreaction, and they had to explain to their innocent daughter how addictive and harmful the potion was if misused.
Feeling foolish, Cadmea had promised to leave the stuff untouched, even if she did somehow manage to find it. But she underestimated her reliance on the drug for her own peace of mind, and the illusion of well-being it gave her. When the symptoms of withdrawal began to set in, she hid herself in her room, ashamed, and sought to sleep her way through it, only to quickly find it was impossible.
She began to get ill, caught herself sobbing hysterically over Jefferson one moment, and laughing about how stupid she was being the next. The pain, the loss, her inability to remain still and the constant wailing of voices in her ears finally made her hazardous enough to scrabble under her bed for her sewing box and grasp the stork-shaped, golden scissors within. She was barely aware of the pounding at her door as frantically opened the blades and dragged the sharp point swiftly up the insides of her arms. She was laughing at the burn, enjoying the slow ebb of the ever-present pain as it ran in lovely scarlet ribbons out of her veins and into the folds of her full skirts when her door broke open…
"Perhaps she should be institutionalized - this attempt on her life may not be the last," the physician was telling Cadmea's parents in the hallway outside her room.
They acted as if she could not hear them, Cadmea thought, scowling. Her arms hurt and her head pounded. She looked longingly at the fat water pitcher at her bedside, her throat and tongue feeling unbearably parched.
"What kind of life would she have left to live anyway, if we shackle her up inside of one of those places!" her mother protested in a harsh whisper, and her father sighed but agreed, muttering, "I could cheerfully murder that boy for what he has done to her."
Cadmea knew he was wrong - only she was to blame for the state she was in. Who could blame Jefferson for merely speaking the truth and following his heart?
The physician gave them more instructions on how care for her stitched wounds, and insisted someone be kept at her bedside at all times, awake and alert, for she was as likely to make another attempt within the next few days as she would ever would. He spoke of returning the next day to check for any sign of infection, and advised them to check her often for fever before he finally left.
Cadmea rested her head back on her pillows and stared at the pressed tin ceiling. She would have to sew the doctor a new shirt and vest in return for his efforts - the copious amounts of her blood had ruined the fine white lawn and raw black silk.
She looked over when her parents came into the room, their faces noticeably aged and lined. Her mother brought her a cup of tea laced with morphine for the pain in her arms, and she barely kept herself from laughing at the irony - they took one drug away, aggravating and provoking a suicidal episode, only to directly bring her another drug which the doctor warned was just as addictive!
Her displeasure did not keep her from immediately accepting the tea.
The arrival of gossip about the Dark One himself to the village that early spring was a welcome distraction for Cadmea. She still had not returned to work because of the slow-heal of her scars, and the sensitivity and weakness from damaged tendons made it difficult to do much of anything.
She was lingering outside the market one dewy morning, waiting on her mother, when she overheard three ladies speaking in a huddle nearby. At the mention of The Dark One, her ears perked, and she stepped closer to shamelessly listen in.
It seemed the Dark One had become a very physical presence in the neighboring kingdom of late, and was said to be up to any number of evil and uncouth deeds. It was rumored that he had the look of an emaciated crocodile, and the reptilian eyes and teeth to match. He was cold-blooded and heartless, and would just as soon kill you as to look at you.
They spoke of him making deals with people and taking their souls as payment. He granted wishes like a djinn in return for magical items and things held precious to their owners - such as their hearts. He did despicable things like spiriting away beautiful daughters, never to be seen alive again, and had purportedly stolen more than one firstborn.
At first, Cadmea dismissed the rumors as rubbish - oh, the Dark One was certainly real, as real as magic, but why would he draw so much attention to himself?
As the days drew on, and the gossip became even more incredulous, she began to wonder. She heard several stories of people traveling to to remote places, seeking out odd and less-than savory characters in their drive to seek the Dark One out. In such stories, greed and sorrow were the most popular reasons for said journey's.
One day in late spring, a letter marked urgent arrived by special courier - it was for Jefferson's parents, but they were away on a much-needed holiday (though her mother was certain they'd run away because they felt guilty and partly responsible for Cadmea's 'little accident'), and the mail had been redirected to their home instead. Cadmea knew it was impolite, but she was too curious to wait for her parents to finish their breakfast to read it. She broke the seal, settling herself on a padded bench in the entryway, and eagerly began to read...
Her parents found her fifteen minutes later, nearly catatonic on the floor before the bench, the edges of the letter fluttering like butterfly wings in her shaking hand.
It took nearly a week to convince her eagle-eyed parents that she wasn't going to try to kill herself again. At first they were highly skeptical, after all, news had arrived that Jefferson was ill and dying in a distant northern place, and she had not taken it well.
Meanwhile, Jefferson's parents had still not returned, and she bitterly envied their ignorance.
Time was more precious than they could imagine.
Cadmea insisted to her parents that she was finally ready to move on, though she was mournful and shed many a tear for her doomed 'friend'.
The morning finally came that her parents became confused in their busy schedules, and while her father left early for the Clothing House, her mother finished dressing and hurried out the door to a charity breakfast, unknowingly leaving Cadmea completely alone.
Cadmea quickly gathered all the loose coin she could find, along with all of the bits and bobs of jewelry she had been gifted over the years. A small, soft leather bag neatly carried the tools of her trade - if she ran out of money, bartering her services would surely come in handy.
Cadmea took the time to shimmy into a pair of snug-fitting leather leggings she'd made for herself, added protection under the folds of her skirt, and draped a dark shawl over her hair to obscure her identity. She hung the leather bag containing her tools diagonally across her chest. She then took an old gray cloak from the back of her mother's closet and fastened it at her throat, it's loose folds disguising her familiar form and the telling quality of her dark red, tropical wool dress.
Making her way to the kitchen, Cadmea stuffed a large satchel with loaves of bread, apples, several rounds of hard yellow cheese, and a waxed cloth containing a hearty portion of cubed, cured beef sausage. Last to go in was a leather skein of water, and a dark bottle of her father's most expensive, prized vintage of wine - but on further thought, she hurried back upstairs to her parent's room and retrieved the large, sharp silver shears her father kept in the bottom of his wardrobe as protection. She was going into the deep forest and beyond, after all, and welcomed the sense of security it might bring.
The satchel was heavy, weighing her shoulder down, but she was unconcerned - if all went as she hoped, not all of the items she carried would be there for long.
Cadmea found herself deeply ashamed for leaving as she was, barely giving her poor parents a thought, but she took a pre-written letter explaining her desperate need for a change, and pinned it to the front door. In it, she begged for their forgiveness, and apologized for the worry she would cause them. It also assured them of her love for them, her gratefulness, and that she had no intention of self-harm; she would send them news of her whereabouts when she found a new life to settle in. It's tone was warm and convincing - she'd almost fooled herself into believing it was true. Though she did love them, and would miss them terribly, her need to save Jefferson overwhelmed her.
Securing her sturdy, calf-length boots, she dashed out the back door and through the budding garden, sparing the bench where Jefferson had made his goodbye a lengthy, longing glance, for if things went as she intended, it would be the last time she saw it.
Cadmea shook herself free of the memory of Jefferson's brilliant smile, the faint scratchy feel of his warm cheek under her lips, and turned away.
She had a man to see about a dwarf, a dwarf to see about a witch, and a witch to see about a devil…
A/N: Here we are! The end of chapter two! I feel like I've been running a race!
So, I know that there are bound to be details about the OUAT world that I've missed or added erroneously, but as this story continues on - what with my addition of an OC and Jefferson's origin - it does feel a bit A/U, I will stay as true to the original storyline as possible, I promise.
I also promise there will eventually be a happy ending - I mention this because if any reader is like me, the first two chapters of this would have hurt or pissed me off enough not to bother to continue trying to follow it without an assurance that it will end well. (If anyone else feels the need to shake Jefferson until his gorgeous eyeballs rattle, I'm right there with you).
It is going to be hell getting there, though. Jefferson still has his thief phase to go through, and Cadmea has to adjust to the shock of living in Wonderland with complete amnesia. While things may not be perfect for Cadmea for quite awhile, there will be happier times ahead. Stick with me! Thanks for reading, and comments are always welcome. =)