Midnight's Song (44 page)

“You there,” she
snapped to the first servant she saw in the hallway. It was a
Jackoby, having just emerged from Grandmamma’s room after having
paid his final respects. Beeti eyed him venomously. “What business
do you have in there? You’re a 12
^th
caste servant who should be
working in the stables!”

Having known me as someone who was
kind to him – perhaps even a friend – hearing these unkind words
come from what appeared to be my mouth was jolting. It might have
hurt him, perhaps even to the point that he regretted having helped
me so many times. However, he was only a servant. Despite his
surprise, he held everything else in but a few cordial words that
seemed to respect his place in society.

“Yes,
Lady Elissa.
I deeply
apologize…I was only paying my final respects to the
Lady.”

Upon hearing my name
directed at her, Beeti could only smile. This mask of deceit was
not only to fool her eyes, but
everyone’s.
You would think that
after all that the woman did to our lives that I’d have reason to
hate her, but looking at it now I only see it as reason to pity
her. If it hadn’t been true beforehand, it was certainly true now
that the darkness had overcome Beeti beyond the point that
she
was even its tool
anymore. But, it was still her doing. She had allowed it to, she
had wanted it. And the darkness always takes those who desire it
most.

Winston came to the Estate just as the
Magistrate had said he would. Now it was time for the destruction
to begin. The moment he arrived at the Estate, Beeti put on another
mask; the mask of a grieving granddaughter.

“Elissa,” Winston
whispered to her after jumping out of the carriage and running
straight to the person that he believed was me. He came in close to
her, cordially but lovingly taking her into his embrace. “I came as
soon as my uncle told me. I’m sorry that I left you before, but now
I promise that I shall never leave you in your time of need again.
Not until the moment you send me away.”

She went along with every
word, not quite understanding that my normal demeanor was almost
always opposed to Winston. Even though it didn’t seem like me,
Winston was pleasantly surprised that I was suddenly taking to his
courtship so well. Beeti opened her mouth, knowing that Winston
would hang on to her every word.

“I would never send you away, my
darling fiancé. Not now. Come into the house and get settled. Then
we might converse a little…perhaps your company might help me to
forget the plight of these last few hours…” She told him softly,
working her way into a slight sob.

Wishing to console me as best he
could, Winston promised a hasty return to my side and sent his
servants in to work with ours and prepare his room. That night, no
one had dinner at our communal table. I was presently missing,
Grandmamma was gone, and Wren only wanted to be alone. That made it
the perfect time to lure Winston in for a drink.

“Oh Winston…everyone in the family is
too grieved to eat or drink together tonight. I was hoping that
perhaps you might join me for a glass of wine…to help us forget our
sorrows.”

It was an offer that
Winston knew he had better refuse on account of his morale, but
when he took a look at the person that stood before him he thought
again. She was dressed in an alluringly beautiful dress; her hair
unbound in loose, wildly cascading curls. The dress was black, the
color of death – yet, it was too suggestive for mourning attire. As
decent a man as Winston was, he couldn’t resist it. Now he was
subject to Beeti’s whim.

“Of course, of course…” he
shakily accepted the offer. He was half dressed himself – only clad
in a pair of trousers and his undershirt – but he didn’t wait. He
followed Beeti’s every step to the room across from mine. She took
him in and locked the door behind her.

“It’s more private here,”
she cooed. “No one will think to disturb us.”

Winston nodded and
sat down on a loveseat in the corner of the room. Beeti walked to a
table on the other end that displayed two wine glasses that were
already filled to the brim. She turned her back to him and pulled
the vial of poison from her corset. The moment was finally here,
and she had to snatch it up as quickly as she could. At this very
moment she held the tonic in her hands that would rid the world of
Winston and therefore give it a reason to painfully, openly and
acceptingly rid itself of
me.

“You will love the wine,
it’s foreign,” Beeti told Winston, her back still turned to him as
she began to inch the vial of poison toward the drink. “It was a
gift to Grandmamma long ago…she wouldn’t want us to waste
it.”

The poison was just a few millimeters
away from entering the drink now. If she gave it one small tilt or
nudge it would surely come out and contaminate the entire glass.
Yet, for just a moment after that she actually stopped herself.
Something in her caused her to hesitate. Was it a small bit of her
old self beginning to come back again? A bit of conscience - a
small glimmer of hope that she wasn’t all lost? That is something
that no one will ever know, because in the next breath she took the
vial and shamelessly poured it in.

The red wine fizzed and
turned black upon entry. After a few moments the fizzing stopped
and the wine returned to its normal color. The liquid resumed its
quiet, seemingly harmless state as if nothing had touched it. Once
it returned to its deep red hue, Beeti was careful to place the
poisoned glass in her right hand while carrying the other in her
left.

She quickly turned around
and made her way to the loveseat, gracefully handing Winston the
glass. Though, much to Beeti’s dissatisfaction Winston refused it
at first. Not wanting to raise alarm in him, Beeti resorted to
luring a sip out of him with even more seduction.

“Winston, why must you refuse to taste
such wonderful wine?” Beeti implored him using the taunt of my own
beseeching eyes.

“Why rush? I desire to
enjoy your company in good judgment, not while I’m impaired,”
Winston nervously told her, clearly beginning to second-think his
decision in lieu of scandal.

“One sip won’t impair you…” Beeti
trailed off, using my voice to mimic one of my most little-used but
enticing tones. She took another sip of the clean wine, but Winston
wouldn’t budge.

“You’re grieving, Elissa.
You’re not thinking things through. I’ve seen many people like you
revert to wine in times like this and it’s not as comforting as you
might believe –”

“Comfort?” She interrupted, inching
her way closer and closer to Winston. “I do not seek comfort from
the wine…I seek comfort from you.”

At that moment, she
grabbed him and gave him a passionate kiss. When she pulled away at
the end, Winston was clay in her hands. She knew that now he would
do anything that she asked – yet, she still remembered what she’d
come for. Killing him with a sip of wine seemed far too easy now.
No, she was going to take this a step further.

Cloaked by my face,
Beeti realized that she presently held the power to achieve all
that she’d ever wanted. It was a thrilling feeling, one that
she
loved.
That
was when she affirmed that a simple drink wouldn’t do. No. She took
a sip of Winston’s drink – careful not to swallow – and laced her
lips with poison. She invaded Winston’s space for the last time,
placing upon his lips a kiss that was the essence of death
itself.

“Oh, Elissa…I love you,” Winston
dazedly said once they had parted. Within a second the man was
slipping away, his senses heightened by the poison at first touch.
Beeti knew that the end couldn’t be far off. She pulled herself off
of the dying duke and glared.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she
coolly announced.

“Then who are you?” The fading man
asked in reply.

After that, the poison’s
effects came on full-force. Winston’s skin became pale, his eyes
glazed and limbs stiff. When the pain came, Winston couldn’t even
scream. By then, he was so disconnected from himself that he
couldn’t form a sound. The rest of his death need not be detailed
here, for it’s enough to give even the strongest man a
nightmare.

The entire ordeal lasted only but a
few minutes, at the end of which Beeti had grown in triumphant
esteem of her power to the highest reaches of pride. Feeling the
need to exercise her might and poison this encounter with an act of
true revenge, in the very end Beeti knelt down at Winston’s side
and spitefully whispered to him.

“Winston…I am not the true object of
your wholly unrequited love. I am merely an instrument of your
uncle and the darkness inhabiting him. You were foolish to have
fallen into this trap; but you were even more foolish to challenge
his power.”

Even without his right mind, Winston
was still awake enough to understand. His tormented face was
immediately filled with the most painful kind of betrayal. Then,
the life left him. Beeti stood up. The task was nearly finished
now. She grabbed the empty vial of poison, unlocked the door and
went back into the hallway.

Once she reached the
other side, Beeti discreetly found my door. She cracked it open and
immediately stuffed the vial into one of my drawers.
It’s finished,
she
consoled herself at the dark deed’s completion. An instant cascade
of relief followed. Soon, Beeti would have everything she
desired.

All that could be waited for now was
for someone to find the body.

We paced down a stairwell that was
eerily quiet. Except for the ambience of water dripping onto stone,
all I could hear was the sound of Emily’s trembling. It was obvious
that she was terrified of this place. I wasn’t all too comfortable
down here, either. The awareness that this might be the last time
we saw each other was the only thing that kept us from voicing our
complaints.

“Emily, it’s alright to say you’re
afraid. I’m still here!” I grabbed her free hand, partially to
comfort her and partially to comfort myself. She continued
clutching our only guiding light – a torch – in the
other.

“It’s so dark in here,” Emily
shivered.

“You know what makes me feel better
when I’m in the dark sometimes?” I attempted to ask her in a more
cheery tone. “I sing.”

“Of course you do,” Emily dimly smiled
back.

“Come now – don’t you remember when we
sang together? When we ran from Beeti and escaped to my room?” I
asked. Suddenly, Emily couldn’t help but to smile.

“Oh yes! It was as if we were children
again,” she laughed. “What song did we sing again?”

“You know, I almost can’t
remember,” I fumbled in response, contemplating. “It was from a
fairy tale…perhaps it was that one about –”

“
The prince!”
We both said at
once,
immediately stopping where we were
to laugh.

“How did it go again? Oh, it’s been so
long! Oh yes, I remember now!” She immediately started singing. Not
long after that I joined in myself.

“
In folly he thought he
came, only to bring her rain

But the love was within
wrapped up in the skin

That she’d see to be him
all the same”

I started singing
with her during the second line of the song, but then something
halted me. I don’t know what it was or why it had to happen then –
but my mind suddenly flashed back to the moment that Emily and I
sung this song together all those months ago, then back even
further to a time when Mother would sing them to me as a child. The
memories that flooded my vision all pointed to one thing:
the meaning of the story.
Thinking about it, I could hardly decipher the eerie feeling
it gave me.

“It’s a bit ironic,” Emily spoke up at
the end of the song, apparently trying to lighten up the moment.
“We’ve found our own prince in disguise, haven’t we?”

“Yes, we have…” I told her uncertainly
in return. As hard as I tried to send it somewhere else, the
feeling refused to go away. Soon, we reached the bottom. It was
time to find the hall of mirrors, but at that moment we couldn’t
control ourselves. We stopped where we were and started
sobbing.

“I guess that this is the end,” she
said. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to see each other much longer
after this.”

“Don’t say that,” I weakly told her in
return. I wanted to argue with her, but I couldn’t. “You are the
best friend I could have ever asked for. I will remember you until
the end. Besides,” I stopped to sniffle for just a moment before
trying to smile and carry on. “The journey isn’t over
yet.”

“You’re right. I’m getting too far
ahead of myself in saying goodbye. I promise I’ll stay here with
you to the very end.” Emily told me, holding back her tears and
giving me her solemn oath by crossing her heart like a child. After
that she lowered her volume to a whisper. “Sisters stay
together.”