Haley Thistle
patreon
The Bride of Mr. Fox: Part One (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2023-02-22 21:00:01 +0000 UTCStrange that it is I wake up each morning to the scent of grave dirt these mornings. I half expect to find myself being buried, but that is not that case. I am in bed, like I should be, and there are no graves in sight. I only see my sister in her bed, pretending to still be asleep when I know she’s barely slept at all. Needless to say I don’t like waking much these days. I don’t care to get out of bed due to the injury to my foot. It is so embarrassing to hobble.
It isn’t until I see Mother standing in the doorway, glaring at us from the crack. Her green eyes seem illuminated, although I know that is impossible. But I cannot help but to think that they glow from the way she stares down upon us.
“It’s time to get up, you two.” She says this with a quiet voice, but the silence of the house turns it into a roaring boom. “You cannot be lazy. Get. Up.”
Heleen rises from bed, her complexion pale and clammy. Like me, she doesn’t wish to get out of bed because of the injury to her foot as well. She looks at me, both of us exchanging weary and exhausted glances.
I step out of bed, placing my good foot upon the ground while keeping the other tucked under the blankets. I don’t want to see it or the bandages covering it. I look away, taking hold of the cane I use to walk and proceed to get dressed.
“What do you think it will be today, Griet?” Heleen asks me.
I huff as I try to get dressed. It’s hard to balance on one foot. “The same as it is everyday I assume.”
“Not everyday,” Heleen mutters under her breath. She flops down into a chair in order to roll on her stockings. I see her hesitate, her eyes flickering down to her foot and then shuddering away. “It used to be different.”
“That’s why it’s different,” I snap at her. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why we have canes. That’s why Mother-” I look at the door and no longer see green eyes glowing. “We are lucky at least.”
“How are we lucky?” Heleen whines. “We used to be lucky. We used to be fine at our worst days! Now, everyday is misery.”
I open the curtains to let in some light. “One girl gone from our home cannot cause us this misery.”
“Liar,” Heleen chuffs. “We both know things are different. Mother is.”
I catch sight of my reflection in the glass and promptly turn away from it. “She’s disappointed in us. Of course she’s different.”
“What did we do so wrong? We did everything she told us and now look at us!” Heleen wobbles as she stands, grasping hold of the wardrobe to gain her footing back. “It’s her fault anyways! All of this is her fault!”
“Shut up!” I hiss at her. “Do you want her to hear you?”
Heleen is silent as she raises her hand and points at me. She nods her head, eyes widening ever so slightly. “See that! That! We never used to do that. It didn’t matter if we were loud. She never came to wake us up. The one who did that was-”
I throw my shoe at Heleen, but I miss. Heleen grows a smile that's mocking and she starts to laugh, throwing her head back and cackling.
“I told you to be quiet, Heleen.”
Heleen sits back down into her chair, holding her face in her palms as her laughter turns into sobs. Her shoulders shake, her back arches, and she heaves between guttural breaths. I sigh and step back, looking back towards the window.
“Just shut up, alright. None of us like this.” I spot someone at our gates but don’t care to see what they hurl towards us.
“We did everything she said!” Heleen whines. “We did!”
We did, I know we did. But still, what use was there in bemoaning our fates? The girl was in her castle, and we remained the same.
Heleen and I dress and go downstairs. Mother is waiting on us, but not at the same time. She drinks and gazes at her plate, barely acknowledging us as we take our places at the table. Food is waiting on plates, but the yellow of our eggs is hard, and the tea is barely steeped.
“What took you both so long?” Mother asks.
“Our feet hurt.” Heleen keeps me in hand, dragging me with her as she hopes to return mother’s favor. Ever since the wedding, Heleen has been aching for Mother’s approval more than ever.
“That should be healed by now,” Mother barely acknowledges her. She simply waves her hand like it would make everything better.
Heleen’s hopeful smile fades and she stares wide eyed and mouth open at Mother. The beauty mark at the corner of her lips is so ugly then, I want to smack it off. “We cut parts of our feet off.”
Mother doesn’t look up, but the way she twists the knife in her hand says more than enough. She swipes butter across her bread, sighing and shaking her head.
“I still don’t know why you two would do such a thing.”
I hold in my breath and bite my tongue.
“You should have known it would be a worthless endeavor.” She takes a bite from her bread and a look of disgust washes over her face. “This butter is spoiled!” She stands up and throws the bread down onto her plate then flips her plate over onto the table. “Go and get some more!” She storms out of the dining hall in a flurry of dark colored skirts.
“But-” Heleen tries to stand but makes a misstep and falls again. “Mother! Wait!”
“Make yourself useful, Heleen!” Mother shouts from the hall.
I dare not accept Heleen’s look as she turns my way. I finish off my egg, leaving the rest since it has the elated butter on top.
“And what are we supposed to get butter with?” Heleen laughs. “Who in town will serve us?”
“As if I know.” I huff and stand from the table. “We’ll create a tab.”
Heleen pouts, but I don’t give her the out she wants.
Leaving the house, I see the cobblestones are crusted over, caked with dried, rotted vegetables, and who knows what else. I ignore them, but Heleen sniffs as she walks over them.
“Do people have nothing better to do? Haven’t we suffered enough?”
“I wouldn’t call rotten vegetables suffering.” I huff as I open the gate. Heleen walks out as fast as she can, whimpering as she waits for me to lock the gate back.
As we walk into town we garner the stares I expected. People look our way and whisper, so all I can do is hold my head high and keep my gaze forward. Heleen, of course, tries to look, tries to see what people are doing. She wants to hear what they are saying, but all she would do would be to whine and complain about it to me.
“Ignore them,” I hiss at her.
“What did we do so wrong? You would think we murdered her, but we kept her safe. Did we? We gave her a home. We fed her.”
I glance down at Heleen and with a stern voice I say to her, “That’s not enough.” I give her that look and she looks down to the ground.
Walking into the store a quietness falls over the customers. They look our way, quickly reverting back to what they are doing, but the quietness remains. I approach the counter, and the grocer looks at me strangely.
“I need some butter, and I’m sorry, but it will have to be added to the tab today.” I lay my hands upon the counter top, meeting his eyes as he looks me over.
“I’m afraid I can't do that,” he says with a meek quietness.
I furrow my brow. “You can’t? Why not?”
“You’ve not paid in full last month’s tab.”
A chill goes down my spine. More humiliation? Isn’t there so much a person can take? Isn’t there a break? A lull? A moment where people remember their manners and stop staring? The whispers are gnawing at the back of my neck, clawing at my ears, ripping out the hairs inside my ears.
“I’ll buy the lady’s butter.”
The air inside my lungs is sucked out and I turn to see a tall man standing over me. He has bright red hair that is neatly styled, and a mustache waxed so the tips curl elegantly.
“Are you sure?” The grocer asks, hinting that it isn’t a good idea, no matter how kind the man intends to be.
“I don’t know about you, sir, but back in my day the womenfolk weren’t talked to in such a way.” The man lays money upon the counter and, from the corner of my eye, I catch sight of his wallet. It’s a brief glance, and perhaps a trick of the eye, but he holds more money than a man should carry at once.
“Don’t hold it against him,” the man says to me. “Sometimes we men forget ourselves.” He smiles and it is a rugged sort of grin.
I smile back shyly, nodding my head toward him. “Thank you, sir.”
“Think nothing of it.” His smile grows as does the pulse of my heart. The man is handsome in a strange sort of way, I cannot quite place my finger on it. “What’s your name, young lady?”
“Griet,” I answer and feel Heleen’s hand at my side, pinching at my waist. “Griet Bravenboer. And this is my sister, Heleen.”
He nods his head. “You both can call me Mr. Fox,” he says. “I’m sort of new here in town, but are people often this unfriendly here?”
“Yes,” Heleen answers right away without so much a breath between. “This isn’t exactly the most friendly town. Not like it used to be, mind you.” She nods towards the door. “Not since the Earl was married.”
“I heard about that. I didn’t make it down in time for the ceremony though.” Mr. Fox turns his attention onto Heleen, who appears all too excited for it.
“Here's your butter.” The grocer places the wrapped parcel upon the counter and gives me the eye. I take the butter, refusing to acknowledge him further.
“Thank you again for your kindness, Mr. Fox. It was very much appreciated,” I say to him. “But we should be getting home now.”
“Why don’t I take you. I can’t help but notice you’re both holding canes.” He motions to the one in my hand. “What on earth caused you both to get injured?”
“An accident,” once again Heleen left no breath between.
I see a woman near us turn and stare, move myself, blocking Mr. Fox’s view of her. “A ride home might be nice,” I answer. “But you do not need to put yourself out. We are fine walking home.”
Heleen pinches me as hard as she can which causes me to react in pain.
“No, no,” Mr. Fox says, putting his hand around my arm. “You say that when you make such a face? Come along now. You can tell me where you live and I’ll drop you right off.”
“Thank you. That would be such amazing help,” Heleen giggles.
Mr. Fox takes us to his carriage and helps us inside. Once we are seated and he heads towards the front, Heleen gives me a look.
“Let’s invite him in.”
“No,” I whisper. “We will thank him and let him go.”
Heleen huffs and flops in her seat. “Invite him in! It will impress Mother!”
I roll my eyes and exhale in exasperation. “You think this will impress her? Do you? I doubt a stranger in her home would do anything to her but make her enraged.”
Heleen slaps the parcel of butter in my lap. “We have to! He is so kind.” She then gets a smile that makes my guts churn. “For tea, at least.”
I know what she wants. It’s not hard to know. With everything going on, since the wedding, since the girl left, it’s not hard to know what we all want. I’m sure Mother would be enthralled if we brought a strapping, rich man home. She would be happy to get either one of us married off, have that money while keeping one of us at home for her comfort.
“We just met Mr. Fox, we have no idea who he is.” I cut my eyes at her. “And it’s uncouth to appear so eager, Heleen. Do you want him thinking you’re one of those girls.”
Her expression became dour and withdrawn. She turns away from me, her hands folding in her lap, her eyes looking outside the carriage but gazing at nothing in particular.
I stiffen my jaw and turn up my nose. “Don’t be like that girl, Heleen.”
Heleen is silent for a spell, but then she says it. “At least she got married to the Earl. It obviously worked.”
“The Earl obviously has poor taste and a lack of class for his station!” I snap at her.
The carriage comes to a stop at our house and I shut my mouth tight. Heleen is holding her breath while Mr. Fox hops down from the front. Which I only now realize is a bit odd. Why did he bring his carriage into town if he was by himself? Was he trying to show off to someone?
He opens the door and offers his hand up to me. “Now, wasn’t that much nicer than having to walk all the way home.”
“Yes, thank you.” I look up towards the house and I see a curtain move. Mother must have been watching from the windows.
“It was so very nice!” Heleen has forgotten all about her hurt within the carriage. “The seats were so comfortable. It was a real pleasure, Mr. Fox.”
“Think nothing of it.” Mr. Fox bows his head, still keeping Heleen’s palm in his clutches. I eye the scene, picturing the girl and the Earl as she walked away from our home.
“Griet! Heleen!” Mother calls in a melodic voice from the front door.
There it is, the same act she put on for the Earl, just after she slapped me and commanded I cut off my toes.
Mother comes down from the steps wearing a smile that betrays her age. She makes a cordial little laugh as she comes in, taking my hand then leading me by my arm. “What on earth have you girls brought home?”
“This is Mr. Fox, Mother!” Heleen says in triumph. “He helped us at the grocer.” She snatches the butter from my hand, ripping the wax paper covering it. “They wouldn’t allow us any more credit at the store! It was humiliating! But this sweet, generous man swept in and saved us.”
“Well,” Mother takes the butter from Heleen and smiles gentilly at Mr. Fox. “Kindness must be rewarded. If you are not so busy, Mr. Fox, then you should come in and have tea with us.”
“I’d love that, ma’am,” he replies. “But I’m afraid I can’t stop right now. I’ve got to get back home after I take care of a few things in town. My sister is waiting on me.”
“Your sister stays with you?” Mother is digging now.
Mr. Fox nods, and a somber look takes over his cheery expression. “She’s not well. Ever since we were kids. Now that our family is gone, I’m all she’s got.”
Mother puts on her best sympathetic mask. “What a good man you are. Not many would do such a thing.”
I catch Heleen looking at me. I gaze back at her until she looks away and bows her head down.
“My girls understand what it’s like to take care of one another.” Mother lays her hand upon my shoulder. “I can only hope they’ll be as gracious as you should anything happen.”
Mr. Fox nods. “I don’t consider it anything more than my duty, ma’am. My sister has earned her rest and comfort. I only hope I can keep it up for her.”
“Would she be able to travel?” Mother asks. “Perhaps she could get out of the house for a moment and join you on a visit.”
A visit, she intends more than one.
“Hard to say day by day. Her health is as fickle as the weather,” he says with a heavy sigh. “But, maybe. I know for certain I will be coming by here again to visit with you and your lovely daughters. I’ve not gotten the chance to meet the people of this village yet. Perhaps you can help me get acquainted.”
“Of course!” Mother exclaims with the same eagerness as Heleen. “We will do all we can to help you feel comfortable here. It is such a lovely place to live. We will look forward to the day you grace us again, Mr. Fox.” Mother coos. “Such a shame you can’t stay now.”
He nods his head towards her then glances towards me, his deep brown eyes remind me of something, but I am not so sure. “It was very nice to meet you Ms. Griet,” he says with a voice that could have melted the butter had my frigid mother not been clutching it. He then turns to Heleen, kissing her hand before ascending into his carriage again. “Until we meet again, ladies.”
“Safe journeys,” Mother and Heleen call to him coyly.
I stand there at the gate, watching as Mr. Fox leaves, feeling an urge build up inside me I have no idea how to place.
“Do you think he has money?” Mother asks, returning to her cool, detached voice. “What did you notice about him, Griet?”
My eyes linger down the road where Mr. Fox’s carriage had gone. I rub the top of my cane and I nod to her. The quick look I had caught of his wallet could have all been for show. For all I knew that was all he had to his name. But I had no other reason to believe he wasn’t wealthy. Money or no money, it was still better to be married to a man than no man at all.
I nod to Mother, giving her a glimpse of hope and reprieve. “It was a brief encounter, Mother, but I do believe he has money.”
“Isn’t he lovely? So much better than the Earl! Right, Mother?” Heleen simpers as she follows Mother’s lead into the house.
“That isn’t what is important right now. Looks fade, remember that.” She looks at us, reminding us of what a beauty she must have once been. She hadn’t squandered her looks, but she had watched them like the setting sun. “Wealth, if handled correctly, can grow and grow. Heleen, you’re going on a diet,” she says with a sharp decisiveness.
Heleen floundered, mouth flopping and all. “What! But-but-but Mother!”
“Griet, you need to start taking better care of your hair. That forehead can be off putting.” She sighs.
I remain quiet while Heleen tries to think through what a diet could mean for her. “Yes, Mother,” I utter.
“We don’t want any repeats of what happened with the Earl. Luckily, that girl is long gone, she won’t ruin our chances.” Mother’s green eyes flick towards me, and I swear to God they are glowing again. “Nor will you two embarrass me all over again. There are still blood stains on the floor.”
Heleen steps back, keeping pace with me instead of Mother. “Yes, Mother,” we both reply.
A smile graces her lips, but not one that gives me any sort of comfort. “That’s my perfect girls.” She stops in the hallway, taking my chin into her hand. “It’ll be just like old times.”
I dare not look away from her eyes, for if I do, I could give away every chance I have. I focus on her, I peer inside her, and I think to myself how nice it would be to marry Mr. Fox. To be loved like the girl, adored, uplifted, to feel a man’s kiss and to wake up in the morning not smelling your own early grave.
“We’ll try our hardest, Mother,” I murmur.
She releases me and places the butter into my hand. “Then take care of this for me, won’t you, Griet?” She wags her finger at Heleen. “Come along, girl, let's find some of your old dresses. We’ll use them as a goal.”
“Yes, Mother,” Heleen follows along beside her, heading down the hallway.
I stand there at the door for a moment, enjoying the silence before I had to go and take the butter to the kitchen. I think about all the times I never had to do such a thing, the girl always did it. I never had to go to the kitchen unless I wanted to.
There’s a mirror in the hall, just before the parlor. I gaze at myself in it, smoothing my fingertips over my forehead. I’m already seeing gray hairs despite my age, and I have done my best to cover them by powdering my hair with cocoa powder; which we are running out of.
I step back, looking over myself, with my forehead as big as it is, my face is long, my nose too sharp for some, my lips too small. I was at least slim, but I did not have the shape Heleen possessed. We both had different fathers, so that was no surprise.
As I lay down for bed, I find sleep near impossible. I lay there wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. Heleen’s breathing rattles in sleep, making such an awful racket. I get out of bed, taking myself out and towards the study. I’ll read until I feel tired.
I haven’t been in the study for a long while. I used to find the girl there, reading by the fireplace when she had nothing else to do. It was where the Earl found her and where he had her try on that godforsaken shoe.
I shudder as I step into the room, shaking off old feelings as I go towards the shelves. I take out something boring, a biography of the royal family one of my step-fathers had been commissioned to write. It was used as a textbook for children, and was primarily used when teaching the youngest to read and the eldest about history. It was smeared and forced upon so many that some had come to call it propaganda. At least my step-father never lived long enough to hear such things. He lived just long enough to get paid.
As much as I want to live the life of a royal, a princess, a duchess, whatever I could be, I find their lives, their histories, so incredibly boring and monotonous. The family rarely married outside itself, which added to the monotony. It made me wonder how the girl was faring. The Earl was part of that same royal family, part of the monotony. Marrying the girl was certainly a break from that. For what was she? She was nothing. Perhaps something but ultimately nothing. Her beauty was her only redeeming quality, and like Mother said, beauty fades.
Flipping through pages of the biography I came to the passage about Princess Rapunzel, who was probably the most interesting story from the royal family. A mystery in her own right, she has become a fairy tale through the ages that not even my step-father’s biography could erase.
‘Much of Princess Rapunzel’s life is swathed in rumors and gossip. Even her conception was met with speculation and hearsay, as the king had been away in war when the queen became pregnant. Complications cursed the pregnancy, and the queen was constantly ill while the princess was within her womb. It is said the queen threw up hair and fingernails during the last few months. But most say it was bile mixed with blood, creating an ink like substance. It was said the princess was born with a full head of hair, longer and tangled within her mother’s womb, which caused the queen’s illness and probable death. The king, so disturbed by this occurrence, is said to have given the princess to the midwife to take care of, not to be seen until she became of age. The king washed his hands of the child, calling her a blight and a curse upon the kingdom. The midwife took the girl, placing her in the highest tower of the castle. Not much else is known about the princess and her life within the tower for many, many years. Speculations had abounded, which include rumors about the length of her hair, growing incessantly and uncontrollably until its lengths reached the ground below the tower. Others believe the midwife killed the princess and replaced her with a changeling. While stories have surrounded and plagued Rapunzel’s history, it was not until her sixteenth year she was seen by the public eye. She was married to a distant cousin in a rather simple ceremony, attended only by the princess’ brother. It was speculated she was heavily pregnant at the wedding, and was said she gave birth to twins soon after. She was not seen again for another year when she was taking a walk outside the palace. It was reported she was alone and unattended, her hair was long and dragging on the ground. Other reports said she was in a nightgown and her head was completely bald. Like much of the princess’ life, rumors abound about her appearance. It was the last time the princess was seen alive. Whatever happened to her twin children, a boy and girl the same midwife who kept her in the tower reported, is a mystery. ’
I yawn loudly, setting the book down and leaning back in the seat. Before I knew it, I was asleep there in the study. It did not last long though. The sound of a shovel scraping against the hearth causes me to wake. I sit up in my seat, seeing the silhouette of a figure before the hearth. It sweeps the stones then shovels them into a bucket.
“Is it you?” I sit up, leaning towards the fireplace. I hold my breath as it would be so wonderful to see her there like always.
The figure stops its work and turns towards me. I can hear it breathing but it does not respond to me.
“Tell me, is it you?” I ask again in a whisper. “Was this all a dream? Are you still here with us? Did that ball never happen?”
The figure points to the bucket of ashes and giggles.
“Stop playing! What are you even doing up so late? If you were to wake Mother, you would-” I stand from the chair and plant my feet into cold dirt. I lose my breath for a second, turning back to the figure as it shovels, tossing great heaps of earth into the overflowing bucket.
“Girl,” my voice warbles.
The figure stands, holding a great shovel in their hands. They extend their hand, showing me the open grave before me.
“It’s time to go,” she says.
I shake my head. “No.”
The shadowy figure shakes their head. “It’s either now or later,” they say with the voice of the girl. “You won’t want later. It’s far too hard.”
I clutch my hand around my throat as a cold begins to crawl up my legs. “What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”
They hold their hand out towards me, extending their fingers as far as they can go. “Get in and you won’t have to worry about it.”
I gaze down into the grave, seeing no beginning or end, just darkness. Endless unfathomable darkness. I lean in closer, trying to see if there is something waiting for me in the shadows.
The girl laughs, high and swelling in the dark loamy air. “Hurry now! He’s coming!” A hand presses into my shoulder and I fall.
I hit the floor and my injured foot strikes against the stone of the fireplace. I cry out in agony, pulling my knee up to cradle my leg. I cry and heave, the pain is overwhelming. I have been so careful, so delicate with the injury, this feels like torture.
Moments later the door opens and Mother steps inside the study.
“There you are. What are you doing?” She stomps into the room and stands over me, looking down at me with a disgusted look. “Come now, get up! Wretched,” she scoffs. “I told you to take care of that hair, and what do you do?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” I’m still out of breath from knocking my foot. Tears stream down my face. “I’m sorry, Mother. Please, can you help me?” I hold out my hand to her.
“I’m far too busy for this,” she huffs. She takes my hand, helping me to stand. She snatches her hand away. “Good lord, stop crying. You look terrible.” She shakes her head at me. “We’ve got work to do around here. I won’t have you sobbing all day.”
My guts churn inside me, sloshing like angry waves and rising the sickness the ocean brings. “What work?”
“In case Mr. Fox decides to arrive.” She takes the pillow from the chair I was in and fluffs it, placing it dead center. “I want him to think we’re a presentable and distinguished family,” she sniffs.
“Aren’t we?” I try to catch my breath. I feel dizzy and light headed, I want to sit down until I feel better, but Mother snatches my arm.
“I just fixed that! Don’t you dare,” she commands me.
I weakly nod. “Yes, Mother.”
She sighs, shaking her head at me. “I thought you were the daughter with sense.” She huffs and smoothes down her skirt. Those green eyes gaze at me unblinkingly. She then huffs and stands stiff again. “We are presentable. But the rest of the world only sees the lies that girl told the Earl. As long as he gets to know us first we have to get to him before the rest of the town does. They’ll fill his head like worms and eat away his common sense. He will see we are, the people we say we are. Understood?”
I swallow down my nausea and nod to her. “Yes, Mother.”
“Good. Now go. We have so much to do today. Mr. Fox will not see a tarnished fork or a speck of dust. This home will be perfect!” She struts away, leaving me there, close to heaving and unable to put any pressure on my foot. I look down and I see blood.
