LTSV - Side Stories - 6 - Sisters and Reunions (Patreon)

A week later, Cecily’s life had transformed beyond even her most fevered imaginations.

She’d mended her bridges with Violet—with Mira and even Vesper had warmed up to her. She had her own maid and her own room in Mira’s palatial townhouse. Her family circumstances hadn’t gotten any less complicated. If anything, it had gotten even worse than before. It was hard to feel any burden, though, when she had smiles waiting for her at the breakfast table or whenever Mira got it into her head that Cecily didn’t have some minor comfort or necessity and would not settle until the perceived lack was remedied.

If anything, she pitied the Cecily who’d spent years agonizing over her upperclassman’s motivations and thought Mira was impossible to approach. Who could accuse this soft ridiculous heart of putting tacks in her shoes? This was the same woman who reacted to the servants’ slightest discomfort like a hound who just scented blood. This was the person who let Cecily put her head in her lap at the slightest excuse to be petted.

Cecily hadn’t felt so cared for since her mother left home.

How on earth had Andrei decided this woman was his mortal enemy?

Granted, Mira didn’t seem to be all that fond of Andrei either, but she didn’t bristle whenever his name came up the way he did when it was her. Actually, Cecily noticed that Mira didn’t seem to think about him unless circumstances brought him up. If it weren’t for the newspapers or Cecily occasionally mentioning him, he didn’t seem to have any regular place in Mira’s thoughts. She felt a little bad for Andrei, who couldn’t go more than a few days without fussing about something she’d said or done.

That said, Cecily wasn’t sure how much of that owed to the fact that Mira didn’t have many actual memories of Andrei. She knew he existed and she’d gotten a few memories of him outside the hospital, but her health was so delicate that no-one dared to try and provoke her sleeping memory of her former fiance. Would that they all could forget their enemies so completely.

It was just as well that Andrei had little to no place in Mira’s mind because Cecily sincerely did not want to see the explosion when Andrei and Mister Adelram finally crossed paths. It was inevitable, of course, but Cecily and Vesper had come to the silent agreement that they would both try to put that moment off for as long as possible.

Colvin Adelram was—he was alright. Cecily liked the things he did for her sister and the reverence with which he treated her. Anyone who’d been forced to witness her treatment at Andrei’s hands would have. 

There was just something about him that she couldn’t name; a feeling in the air when he passed that left her fine hairs standing on end and not in a good way. She always had this feeling like she almost recognized him from somewhere, but her memories refused to say exactly where. Maybe it was the way he tracked Mira with his eyes even when he appeared to be occupied with a different task. Vesper said he was fine and had been selected with Mira’s best interests in mind, but sharing a house with him was like living with a tiger. 

Cecily wasn’t sure she wanted to know why someone like Mister Adelram was in Mira’s best interests, but she couldn’t say that Mira didn’t like him. They’d clicked together like they’d been made in the same factory and she seemed genuinely happy whenever he was around, lurking. That was reason enough to put up with his smug face lurking around every corner and it was hard to forget the way he’d tossed that masher, Reginald Duvall, out on his ear. Cecily wasn’t often an advocate for violence, but that man would have deserved it if he’d been tossed out a window instead. In any event, she could tell he wasn’t going anywhere and this idea of him being ‘on probation to see if he worked out’ was a polite fiction that no one except Mira seemed to believe. 

Now, if only Cecily could find a way to reconnect with her friends—without Andrei finding out where she was living within the hour. She missed having the boys to talk to. Alan loved gossip and melodrama, the stupider the better, and would have watched the byplay between Mira and her ‘aide’ with peanuts like it was a stage play. William and Randall would require more effort to bring them around. Cecily had really messed up by not getting her anxiety under control and just talking to Mira when they were in school. They could have all been such friends! 

They’d sensed her fear and wouldn’t be quick to trust the source of it, which was an admirable quality in a friend even if it wasn’t convenient right now.

Of all the boys, she would maybe trust Randall not to blab to Andrei, mostly because he and Andrei did not speak unless they had to. Alan wouldn’t blab either. He didn’t like Andrei and didn’t really care who knew it. The only problem was that he would immediately tell Will and if any of Will’s brothers or sisters found out then she might as well have advertised her new address in the newspaper.

She still wanted to hurry up and get to the point where she could have all of her people together in one room and was stuck on how to do it. 

Well, the first step was softening them up towards Mira. 

Maybe she could take advantage of the fact that her situation with the post office was so irregular. She’d been having to use a mail forwarding service in order to route her correspondence around Rousseau House and obfuscate her return address. She needed to let the boys know she was alright, anyway. 

Cecily brightened and went to the pink and white secretary desk Nanny had ordered for her room. She took out her box of brand new stationary. It was mostly plain white paper, except for the subtle watermark in one corner of a blooming rose. She’d used dip pens her entire life, but now she had a fine selection of brand new fountain pens made of steel and polished rosewood that wrote with subtly perfumed ink. When she got this stuff, she’d thought it was too frivolous to use for any purpose other than writing to her sisters. Now she realized there was no better opening gambit to show how different her life was when compared to before, when she would have written them on scrap paper with cheap ink and an old dip pen that was prone to splattering. 

Dearest Randall,

I am writing to inform you of my new address, which I cannot share at present for reason I think you will understand when I finish telling my story. I hope I have not missed any letters from you. I will be using the Carrington Mail service for the foreseeable future and any messages you have for me can be entrusted with them.

Oh, Randall, it turns out I am not who I thought I was…

000

“Sir?”

Randall Zorander looked up from his desk, which was littered with a sad combination of his summer coursework, extra duties to support his elder brother’s bid for a magistrate position, student council work, and his neglected personal projects. He saw his valet, Gavin, standing just inside the door of his study and holding a white envelope sealed with pink wax. Cece had never used such impractical stationery so the letter shouldn’t have been from her, but the triumphant note in Gavin’s voice told him otherwise.

“Give it here,” Randall said, standing up with his heart in his throat. Cece had never gone quiet like this, except for that one time when her stepfather decided to sever their friendship by force. When she stopped answering his letters at the end of term, he’d been afraid for a moment that the old bastard had decided to pull her out of school or was isolating her in the house. Even his parents had started to worry. They liked Cece. They didn’t like how Sir Rousseau spoke to her and the lack of care he gave her.

The envelope was sealed with the pretty stamp of a rose encompassing a star and smelled faintly of gardenia perfume. Cece had never worn scent other than plain bath soap, but the scent seemed like something she would like and that would suit her. He broke the seal with his thumb and was rewarded with a fat stack of pages all written in a familiar and dear hand.

Dearest Randall,

I am writing to inform you of my new address, which I cannot share at present for reasons I think you will understand when I finish telling my story. I hope I have not missed any letters from you. I am no longer living at Rousseau House. I will be using the Carrington Mail service for the foreseeable future and any messages you have for me can be entrusted with them.

Oh, Randall, it turns out I am not who I thought I was…

He took the letter to his armchair near the salamander pot to take his time with. Just the quality of the letter itself would have been plenty of evidence for the change in Cece’s fortunes, but the story contained within was almost beyond belief. Randall read the entire letter twice through with raised eyebrows that slowly lowered as his suspicions set in.

If Cece had wound up in any other household, he might have given her the benefit of the doubt, but Cece said that she’d been taken in by the Coventrys. Worse than the Coventrys, she’d been brought into Violet Coventry’s care. Supposedly, they had an older sister there too. That would be Lady Vesper Coventry, the Ice Mountain herself. Randall had never spoken with her, but he’d seen her at a distance a few times and she was an impossibly intimidating presence. He and the rest of the Capitol had seen her take down a knight twice her size in three moves at the last Tournament of Arms and she hadn’t broken a sweat or changed her expression during the entire bout. 

Cece described her as ‘sweet and sometimes awkward.’ Were they talking about the same person? Surely not!

Then there was the part about Violet Priestly herself, which took up most of the letter. Cece had nothing but praise for her new ‘sister’ and, having been forced to share a dining table with Archibald and Ferdinand on far too many occasions, Randall could admit that the bar for quality siblings had started out in hell for Cece. Their former upperclassman couldn’t help but clear it, but Cece had been shaking in fear whenever they crossed paths just a month ago. What could possibly have changed that?

He went back to the important part. 

Now that you understand my living situation, I hope you will forgive me for not sharing my address. I would like for you to visit when the dust settles, but it would be a disaster if certain people learned where I am and came unannounced. 

‘Certain people’ was the Fourth Prince, without question and she was right to be concerned. Prince Andrei had never encountered a meaningful consequence, unless it was one that affected other people.

I know that I may have given you the impression that I and Violet did not get along in school and it is true that we had no opportunities to become close, but please believe me when I say she was not the bully. I couldn’t say anything at the time, but Fergie and my stepfather reacted very badly when I took Fergie’s place in class 1-A after he was held back a year. Violet saw something related to that and I was afraid she would tell people. That’s why I was afraid; not of her, but what would happen if you and all our classmates learned the same thing. I was still under my stepfather’s control and he had the power to destroy my future whenever he felt like it. I never expected the rumors to spin out of control the way they did and I am determined to set the record right—starting with you. 

Violet never bullied me. I am not writing this under duress. She had no motivation to hurt me. She doesn’t like Andrei and is happy to be free of him. Fergie was always gloating whenever something bad happened to me. He might not have admitted to doing it, but he might as well have. I am firmly convinced it was all him running wild without Archie there to be his common sense.

As if he could trust a letter saying ‘everything is fine, don’t come look for me, by the way my nemesis is not my nemesis and should be forgiven for everything.’

“Gavin,” he turned to his valet with a cool stare. “Investigate Carrington Mail Service. Find out where her return mail is being forwarded to, immediately.”

“Shall I have Smythe look into it?” Gavin asked.

Smythe was the Zorander family’s private investigator. Randall had received permission to use his services on occasion when he was elected to the Student Council and had yet to need him. Gavin was a fine investigator on his own and had been able to find anything Randall needed up until now, but someone was probably going to have to break into Carrington’s mail room this time and Gavin wasn’t paid enough to risk himself that way.

“Yes,” Randall agreed and returned to his desk. He placed the letter back in its envelope and tucked that into his inner breast pocket to read again later. “The sooner I have her location, the better. See to it.”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin replied and bowed himself out.

Randall meant to return to his work, but the words on the page in front of him seemed to melt and flow. 

What did all of this even matter? He’d been telling himself since first year that he was building a solid foundation for himself and that the long hours was just paying his dues as he learned to become a leader. He’d been all but useless when a stranger was terrorizing his friend, always being pulled away by this or that responsibility. Had carving out an hour each day to spend lunch with Cece really been the kind of support she needed or deserved?

If he’d done more or had been at her side more often, would she have come to him when she was thrown out of her home instead of going to live at the indigent’s house of all places?

Something was going to have to give and, when he looked down at his heavy desk, he realized what it was going to have to be.

His father didn’t reply in person when Randall sent him a note, informing him of his intention to hire a personal secretary to assist with his family responsibilities going forward. Instead, he sent Randall’s note back to him with a message dashed off onto the back of it.

Child, what did you think the budget I gave you was even for?

Later that same day, Randall found himself in the sitting room at Priestly House as Violet Priestly, the ‘Ice Fairy’ to Vesper Coventry’s ‘Ice Mountain’, “accidentally” brushed Cece’s sleeve up her arm to reveal the unmistakable marks from an old beating, and not just any beating. Her arms weren’t  just marked with fingerprints where she’d been grabbed, she had long brown-black shadows marking her forearms in such a way that she’d clearly been protecting her face from being hit with something long and heavy. 

Violet caught his eye with a pointed look that said ‘“Do something about this” and sailed out of the room as though she hadn’t just left a bomb in her wake. 

‘Fergie and my stepfather reacted very badly when I took Fergie’s place in class 1-A…’

They’d done more than ‘react’ and Randall wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for his own actions now that he knew about it.

-Fin | Cecily Side Story 6