Calista

by Laura Rahme

  Mary blinked. A new light shone in her eyes as she studied him with curiosity.

  Maurice took note of the fresh bruises along her neck and arms. He cursed Mrs. Cleary internally. “Here, Mary, I would really like to show you something.”

  He removed his vest and undid the collar of his shirt. He pushed aside the fabric to reveal the large scar on his shoulder where Therese had once burnt him.

  Mary’s lip parted in surprise.

  Maurice replaced his collar. “It no longer hurts. Just remember that. I’ve never shown this scar to anyone. You are the first one to see it.” He buttoned up his vest. “Sometimes,” he said, “other grown-ups do not help even when you wish they would come to your aid. And it is hard to be all alone. I know it, because it is what I’ve lived.” He stared into her eyes. “Mary, I think you are a very brave girl. Braver than you think. More brave than anyone in this house. And I know you saw something that you have kept hidden.” He paused. “Do you think you can help me, Mary?”

  Mary sat in silence. Her lips trembled.

  “I need to know about the night Calista died,” whispered Maurice.

  The maid shook her head. “I didn’t see anything,” she moaned.

  “It’s perfectly fine. In fact, you don’t have to tell me what you saw. No one will ever know what you saw. You only have to say, yes, or no. That’s all.”

  Mary blinked. She seemed to reflect upon his words.

  “Only yes or no, Mary. That is all you have to say. Do you think you can do that?”

  Mary nodded.

  Maurice heaved a sigh.

  “Did…Miss Vera kill Calista Nightingale?”

  His pulse quickened. Mary had cast her eyes down to the floor.

  “Just yes or no, Mary.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” Maurice stood. “Does Mrs. Cleary know what you saw, Mary?” If Mrs. Cleary knew Vera had killed her beloved Calista, then she would have wished to avenge her… Maurice held his breath. He watched Mary carefully.

  A nod. Mary lifted her head, still nodding. “When I told her, she warned me not to speak of it. She…” Mary froze, unable to say anything further.

  “What’s wrong, Mary?”

  Up to this moment, Willy had sat beside the maid. Now he leapt up on its hind legs and barked at Maurice, fierce and loud.

  Mary’s eyes widened. All the while, her mouth remained agape and Maurice thought she was choking.

  Then he understood. The dog had not barked at him. Maurice took a step back.

  He turned.

  A violent blow struck him on the back of the skull. He collapsed to his knees; his head, a mindless cage, his vision blurred. Willy’s barks rose up, more furious than before, as Mary’s screams filled the parlour.

  Maurice crawled to the nearby table, his limbs still shook from the pain. As he gasped, wrestling against the blackness, another sharp blow to the head felled him.

  Images flashed before him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He sensed the floor rub against his body. He was being dragged to the entrance hall. Mary’s screaming had not ceased. He had a vision of a key inserted into the cellar door, then he saw the ornate door swing open. The dark folds of a long dress swished above him and a sinister voice rose over Willy’s frantic barks.

  “Dear, dear, Mr. Wilson, do you wish to know what I’ve learnt? She’s a mad, mad woman, that one,” mimicked the voice, intimating that his letter to Mr. Wilson had been opened and its contents read. “Can’t have that, can we? Snooping in my private business. But no more, Mr. Leroux, no more.”

  A firm grip seized his collar and he felt his body slide across the checkered tiles.

  Then followed a repeated thud, as his heels banged across the stairs and a grip pulled his inanimate body into the underground chamber he dreaded.

  Chapter 13

  The Woman from Kassiopi

  Alexandra Hall, January 1848

  CALISTA lay on her bed, her head propped up on three lush pillows. Occasionally her body shook, seized with a bout of coughing. The physician would not arrive for a couple of days. She felt her pulse fade. The days succeeded one another, and while Vera had come, Calista remembered only pain from the cold look her sister-in-law had given her upon arriving at Alexandra Hall.

  “I came as soon as I could,” began Vera as she took in the beauty of the room with a prick of envy. Responding to Calista’s invitation to sit, Vera found a cushioned armchair and sat beside the bed, already irked by the woman who had bewitched her brother and turned her own life upside down.

  “My dear Vera, I am so glad you came.” Calista spoke from the heart but her voice was weak. In truth, her breath was laboured, crushed by a long illness which Aaron attributed to the foul air of the cellar.

  “I suppose one must do one’s duty,” responded Vera, absent-mindedly. She removed her gloves.

  “Did you read all my letter, Miss Vera?” came Calista’s anxious voice. The look of alarm in her tired eyes reflected the distress of not finding any sympathy from the woman she had long awaited.

  “I certainly have,” sniffed Vera. “I understand you are quite ill, my dear. I have spoken to Aaron.”

  “What…what… did you tell him?”

  “Do not trouble yourself. My brother is most understanding of your condition.”

  “Please, you must believe me. I can tell you everything.”

  “I think you must rest,” said Vera, eyeing her coldly.

  Beneath the covers, Calista shuddered. Her skin already so pale, had grown ashen with fear.

  Vera examined Calista’s tired face. At thirty-three, the Greek woman remained as beautiful as she had looked upon her first arrival at Alexandra Hall, her thick hair, still long and dark, even in illness. As for Vera, she had withered. It was alarming how envy could devour one’s insides. If she had never married, it was Calista’s fault. Aaron could hardly help the man he was. Nor the brother he never was.

  “My brother has vaguely spoken of your research in the cellar. He admits, he ought not have worked you so hard. He has expressed his wish that you rest, now.”

  “But, I must tell you…” Calista’s voice trailed. She gazed at the tea she had finished a moment ago. She wondered what she had drunk. Her mind clouded.

  Vera’s keen eye ran across the rose wallpaper where blooming rose bushes, in pink and salmon, neighboured leafy green foliage. Overhead, she took note of the golden motifs along the cornices. Each corner of the room depicted an elaborate bouquet of flowers and— as odd as it seemed, here in the country – shells. In the centre of this heavenly ceiling, was an oval alcove with a gilded frame that might have belonged in some Greek palace. The alcove’s artwork evoked floating clouds against a celestial blue sky. If Calista had stared above, she might have imagined her Greek homeland. Vera sighed, overwhelmed with disgust.

  “What an ungrateful girl. Now, what am I going to do with you?”

  Calista’s Secret

  SEATED on a chaise longue, Vera had not budged. The clock downstairs struck midnight. She lifted her head, suddenly realising that she had travelled to Alexandra Hall almost a week ago. Thanks to Aaron’s advice, a dosage of herbs in Calista’s tea had done wonders. She certainly slept better. The days had passed, uninterrupted, and given Vera had spent many hours by Calista’s bedside, she had done much thinking.

  She’d handed over Calista’s letter to Aaron. He had read it, not said a word, and then locked himself up in his study.

  “Don’t shut me out, Aaron,” Vera had warned, by the door.

  He had let her in. He bore the same weak reluctance as when they were children and she had invited him to kiss her. They both knew how that had turned out.

  She’d longed for more, and for years, her hopes were fulfilled: Aaron had belonged to no one else. And then, without warning, he’d left for Athens. Now, as she stood alone with him in his study, he stared hungrily at her, and they both knew he had shunned her long enough. His mask had fallen.

&
nbsp; “What is she alluding to, Aaron?” she’d asked, much later, as she re-arranged her dress, and coiled her hair back into its bun.

  “I thought she understood. But perhaps I have been mistaken.”

  “Well whatever it is, she is going to bring you down."

  “Of course not. She is ill and exhausted. Naturally, she is prone to writing foolish things. Once again, you alarm yourself over nothing.”

  “Over nothing? Aaron, your wife is accusing you of being a monster. Did you not read the letter?”

  “I don’t want to speak of it, Vera.”

  “Well confront her! Tell her what you think! Set it straight.”

  Aaron had turned his body away. He avoided her gaze.

  “She is your wife after all,” insisted Vera as though she spoke of a nuisance.

  “She has called upon you. I understand she longs for another woman on whose shoulder she might cry on. So be it. Be her confidante. Let me know what is on her mind. Now, leave me alone. I need to think.”

  Vera had replayed the conversation and she was unsure what she detested most: being drawn into the wild accusations of her sister-in-law, or the maddening secrecy of her brother. He would push her away once again, when all along, she had warned him. Calista did not belong here. It had been foolish from the start. That witch would invent any story to bring down the Nightingales.

  Vera had thought long enough. Almost a week had passed, and she was tired of wondering. She had grown too curious. This time, she had deliberately not drugged Calista.

  It was now past midnight. Aaron would have gone to bed. The house had fallen quiet. Calista was wide awake. Much to Vera’s distaste, she looked like a princess, swimming in blue silk sheets.

  “I am ready to speak now, Miss Vera. I can tell you everything.”

  “Begin, then,” said Vera. She clutched at her shawl and glanced apprehensively at her sister-in-law.

  “Last year, while Aaron was away on a short trip to London, I received a letter,” began Calista. “You can’t imagine how happy I was. It was the first letter I’d ever received since leaving my village. At first, I was pleased. I was going to tell Aaron all about it. But then…” Her brow darkened as she recollected her thoughts. “It was written by my uncle Sakis, in Greek. He told me my parents were well. They did not know that he was writing this. He said he had learnt something terrible.”

  “What is this to do with Aaron?” interrupted Vera.

  “Please. I will tell you. Sakis told me that Aaron had wished to marry me for months since arriving in Kerkyra.”

  “Well, you should count yourself lucky, I suppose.”

  Calista stared up to the lofty ceiling. Vera’s curt voice only brought pain, but Calista trusted that if her sister-in-law heard everything, she would understand. So she fought back tears and resumed her story.

  “I should have known, but I was too in love with him.” Calista closed her tearful eyes.

  “You should have known what?” insisted Vera.

  “All these years,” said Calista, shaking frightfully, “I believed Aaron was my saviour. I believed he had rescued me from a terrible life. You see, one night, two men abducted me. My father said I had brought shame to the village and that my family would not regain its honour until I had left his home. They wished to send me away. They wished to send me to an asylum.”

  Vera stared. She took in every word.

  “It was Aaron who offered to marry me when no one would. All this time, I was so grateful. I loved him. I would have done anything for him. What I did not know…” Calista’s throat tightened. She could not suppress her tears. “It was Aaron all along,” she cried. “Sakis found out Aaron had hired two local men to hurt me…” Her words grew indistinguishable. Calista let out a painful cry. Years of quiet torment were unleashed from her soul as the village girl wept. She held down her emotions no longer; she grieved the judgements she had endured since her birth, her dishonour, her parents’ rejection, the cruel illusion she had suffered at the hands of Aaron, and worse, the shame of not having known better.

  Vera had now turned to stone. Her mouth twitched, repulsed by Calista’s sobs.

  She knew not what to think of Aaron. But it cost her dearly to judge her brother, even if it meant showing her support to another woman. So she said nothing.

  Vera looked upon the bed, attempting to find the right words as Calista gasped for breath and wiped her tears. “Well,” said Vera. Then she applied herself, sweetening her voice as much as she could. “You must tell me more, my dear. You must tell me everything. In the letter you sent me, you said Aaron is not the brother I know. What did you mean by that?”

  For the next hour, Vera listened, dumbfounded, while the woman she deemed to be a cunning liar poured out her heart and recollected the horrors she had lived in the cellar for years.

  “Everyone in the house would have heard those poor animals scream, but they pretended they did not. They would have seen me take the dogs and the cats, down there, and never see them return. But what could they say? Aaron was master of the house. I tried to confide in Mrs. Cleary. I took her aside one day. I was crying and she tried to comfort me. I told her what I was forced to do down there. What we did… but I don’t think she understood.”

  Calista left nothing out, so relieved was she to find a friendly ear and to finally name the cage that was her home. She did not hesitate, even at the part where she had to explain the extent of her uncanny abilities, knowing full well Vera would not comprehend them. It did not matter. Oh, at last, she had found someone to save her from Aaron. And for being a woman, Calista had long ago intuited that Vera must not approve of Aaron’s ways. For what woman approves of a selfish man? Reassured in her belief, Calista told all and relief rushed through her at the end of every sentence.

  And then a deadly silence fell upon the room. Calista waited. She hoped Vera would overcome her deep reserve and bridge the gap between the two women. She hoped Vera would walk to her bed and take her sister-in-law gently in her arms. God knows, she needed it.

  As Calista gazed in hope at her sister-in-law, Vera grew aware of the repulsion filling her own chest, a burning sensation that surged from deep within and rose to her throat, choking her.

  She stood slowly, overwhelmed by a deep urge to vomit. She began to pace the room, not knowing precisely what it was she felt. Her confused thoughts swirled in her mind. At last, she turned towards the bed and stood there, studying Calista.

  Calista’s eyes widened. Behind Vera, the door handle had shifted. A limb, which Calista recognised, slid into the room, seeking. Calista froze, horrified that Vera might also see it.

  “Ovee…” she whispered, unheard and out of breath.

  For a heartbeat, Calista’s attention was drawn to the flurry of movement by the door, until she stared back at her sister-in-law, and gasped. A malignant light had taken hold of Vera. Her gaze was hardened.

  For in the instant she had learnt of Aaron’s extraordinary endeavor, and the various wrongs in which her brother found himself implicated, Vera was swept by a storm of frightful emotions. And now a violence animated her face and it was this which Calista saw as she trembled in her bed.

  Calista’s eyes searched for Ovee across the room, but the shadow she had glimpsed earlier was nowhere to be seen. Vera moved closer until her outrage shot from her lips.

  “You cunning bitch!”

  “But… it is all true, Vera…”

  “Is this why you had me come? To fill me with lies? So I might listen to your inventions? All lies. You wretched creature. It was not enough you ensnared my brother. Now, you invent stories about him like a low-class cur.”

  Calista stared in shock as Vera edged upon the bed, towering above her. There was a movement at the drapes. She attempted to scream, but her breath failed her and only a hoarse whisper escaped her lips.

  Vera reached for the larger pillow.

  “Ove…” Calista fought to call out its name but the pillow came fast over her face,
and her voice was muffled. Realising that no air came, and upon sensing Vera’s intentions, a bolt of fear ran through Calista’s body.

  Blinded and breathless, Calista could not see that Vera’s face had changed. Rage deformed that face, and her lips were twisted into a demonic mask. And as Vera clamped down the pillow, vengeful words burst from her lips.

  “You lying, lying bitch! You shan’t get away. How dare you tell lies about Aaron! How dare you come into our home and wreck it for us. He should have been mine. Now, you will keep your mouth shut.”

  Calista’s flailing arms waved about aimlessly until the last of her strength waned. Then all was still.

  Behind Vera, a small dog had found the door ajar and it sprung towards the bed, filling the room with its barking.

  Vera’s face smoothed over. She lifted the pillow and saw what lay beneath. It was astounding that not a moment ago, the reason for her rage still lived. Vera stepped back, quietly relieved. It was such a liberating feeling. The weight of years lifted from her shoulders.

  Captivated by the look of death on Calista, she barely heard Mary scold Willy by the door.

  “Willy! Get back now! Let Mrs. Nightingale sleep! You naughty dog.”

  Vera startled. She caught a glimpse of her face by the mirror. Her bun had collapsed from its tight coil and sweat trickled down her forehead.

  She recomposed herself. Smoothing the sheets, to make it look like Calista slept, she re-arranged the pillow before staring one last time at Calista’s closed eyes.

  Then she spun round, sped towards the door and seized Mary who had remained frozen outside.

  “What were you doing, snooping inside this bedroom, miss?” Vera hissed, still panting.

  “I’m, I’m sorry, Miss Vera. I was going to ask Mrs. Nightingale if she wished me to bring her another tea. I wasn’t doing anything bad.”

  “She’s asleep.”