(5) Fleabag
Outside in the faint morning light Saint was nowhere to be seen. Riley didn’t bother with the sidewalk, choosing to stomp her way across the grass instead. To what used to be her home. Her mother’s home. But now it was just Carter’s. Everything was Carter’s.
She didn’t wait to be let in formally. But at the same time something made her pause going inside. It was eerily still and the smell of stale incense was thick in the air. She added a quiet retroactive knock on the door, with a look to see who was around. Having come up empty, she starting idly poking around in the entryway.
Carter already had the servants moving things around. Another morbid element of inheritance. Knowing that everyone thinks about exactly where they would put things when you were gone. There was a dressing table that used to be in Victoria’s room. Now there were Carter’s keys and other walking out the door things. Riley noticed that they hadn’t been able to clear out the drawers yet.
She found Victoria’s perfume, smelling it deeply. She rubbed a little on her wrist and put it back. Victoria and their father’s engagement and wedding rings. Beautiful and audacious just like her parents. An old chatelaine of Victoria’s. And then she found it. Buried deep in a bottom drawer was a handkerchief that Riley had embroidered for her mom. She was terrible at it, but it was the first thing she had ever finished.
A footman appeared after a minute looking mildly annoyed that Riley hadn’t waited for him. Riley closed the drawer, and without thinking about it used the handkerchief to dry her tears. Then she shoved it into her jacket pocket.
“Ms. Riley.”
Riley stood up proudly. Presenting the ripped dress from under her arm letting all the dirt and leaves fall onto the floor. The footman took in all the scrapes she was covered in.
He looked at her with deeper, more personal annoyance than he had before. “I knew I recognized the open window in the bedroom. Are you here to see Mrs. Victoria?”
Riley’s face dropped from smug to devastatingly hopeful at the footman’s phrasing. Had it all been some kind of fever dream? Was her mother alive after all?
But no. He just meant her mother’s body. Of course. His annoyance melted away with just a flicker of shame and then back to servant neutral.
Riley shifted. “No, thank you. I need to speak to Carter.”
“She is already gone to the temple, ma’am.”
Riley waited, hoping there would be more information but none came.
“Right, thanks then.”
Riley went to leave, but then turned back to the footman. “Actually, is Carter’s husband home?”
“He is indisposed with Ms. Violet, ma’am.”
“Right. Is it ok if I go upstairs and grab something I left last night?”
The footman smiled, “What is it, ma’am. I would be happy to fetch it for you.”
Riley gave a slight nod. “You know what, don’t worry about it.”
Riley shoved her hands into her pockets, clutching the handkerchief. Without anything more she turned and left.
