by Amy Cross
“You're pregnant?” Edgar replied, unable to stifle a smile. “That's the best news I've ever been given.”
Leaning toward her again, he gave her another passionate kiss, this time one that lasted for several minutes. Once the kiss was over, they both realized that a small crowd of local well-wishers had gathered nearby, and a round of applause rose as they all began to clap and cheer. It was as if everyone on the island was cheered by the good news about the Le Comptes, and Estella saw that perhaps her dream was coming true. She had always wanted to inspire the locals and give them some happiness in their otherwise humdrum little lives, and she beamed with joy as she realized that they all looked up to her.
“I love you,” Edgar told her. “Now, and forever.”
“And I love you too, my darling,” she replied, smiling as she turned and rested her face against his chest, while still feeling his hand on her belly. “This is perfect. Everything is perfect.”
And then, dropping to one knee, Edgar began to sing. It was the most startling sight, and Estella stepped back for a moment, shocked as he burst into a love ballad that he had written especially for her. The whole scene was like something from a romance novel, but Edgar's beautiful voice was enthralling as he sang of his love and devotion, and of his happiness at finally having such a wonderful wife.
“It's perfect,” she whispered finally, with tears in her eyes. “It's all absolutely perfect.”
She knew she was right. After all, perfection was the only option, and she felt that some kind of utopia had been predestined ever since the day she'd first met Edgar. There had been complications along the way, of course, but those complications had been nothing more than temporary distractions; love, she felt certain, could overcome everything else. Closing her eyes, she felt certain she could feel the child growing in her belly, and she knew that as the child – or children – became stronger, so too would her love with Edgar. Once he saw the children, he would certainly change his views. The children were all that mattered.
Everything was perfect, almost too good to be true. Almost like a dream.
II
“They're so beautiful,” Estella said nine months later, as she held her two newborn children in her arms. With Edgar sitting next to her on the bed, all she could manage was to look at the children – one boy, and one girl – and cry tears of joy as they wriggled in their fresh cotton blankets.
“They take after you, my dear,” Edgar replied, leaning closer and kissing Estella's forehead, “and that's how it should be. You are both beautiful and wise, and I'm glad to get your blood into the family line. The Le Compte lineage has become a little dark of late, and it needs freshening up. I actually used to worry that we were doomed to extinction within the next few generations, but now I foresee a much brighter future.”
“You flatter me too much,” she said, turning to him. “Why Edgar, sometimes I wonder if you aren't too romantic and too doting, even if -”
Before she could finish, she heard a faint cracking sound. She and Edgar both turned and looked over at the window, just as one of the panes dropped out and smashed against the floor.
“How did that happen?” Edgar muttered, getting off the bed and making his way over to take a look. Reaching down, he picked up one of the broken pieces of glass and examined it for a moment. “Have you noticed?” he continued, frowning as he turned to Estella. “Every window in my home is cracked. I'm sure it wasn't like that before.”
“I don't see that there's any reason to worry,” she replied cautiously. “Come, Edgar, and let us enjoy our children some more. They need to bond with us, you know.”
“You're right,” he said, clearing the glass up before heading back to the bed. “As ever, my darling, I must listen to you. I shall simply have to get Jacob to fix the windows. And the walls too, actually. I've noticed cracks in some of the stonework.”
“I'm sure it's all just superficial,” Estella replied, forcing a smile as she looked back down at the two babies. “This place is going to last forever, my darling. We are going to last forever.”
***
“Oh, Estella!” Madeleine laughed. “However do you manage to look so exquisitely beautiful?”
“Please,” Estella replied, as she and Edgar pushed two prams out onto the lawn, “you flatter me.”
“And just a few weeks after giving birth,” Madeleine continued, leaving Benjamin's side for a moment and hurrying over to look down at her niece and nephew. “They take after you, Estella,” she continued with a girlish, coquettish giggle. “You know that, don't you? They have your elegance and grace, although I suppose there's just a hint of Le Compte blood in there too.”
“As it should be,” Estella replied. “We have finally chosen names for them, actually. The boy shall be Lucian Devereaux Le Compte, and the girl shall be Portia Mary-Louise Le Compte.”
“How charming,” Madeleine replied, before turning to Edgar. “Did you not want once want to incorporate our great-grandmother's names for the girl, dear brother? Old Elizabeth and Catherine, or Kate was we called her.”
“Not Kate,” Estella hissed, momentarily filled with anger before quickly regaining her composure. “Edgar and I discussed names at great length, and eventually we settled on Portia Mary-Louise for the girl. It's a good, traditional name that I'm sure will hold her in good stead as she -”
“Estella,” Nixon said suddenly.
Turning, Estella looked around, but there was no sign of him. He was long gone, she knew that, yet his voice had suddenly seemed so clear and so close.
“Are you okay?” Madeleine asked.
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said again, seemingly all around in the air.
“Did you hear that?” Estella asked, turning first to Madeleine and then to Edgar. “Did you hear him?”
“Who?” Edgar replied with a frown.
“I...” She paused. “No-one. I'm dreadfully sorry, I must have simply imagined it, that's all.”
“Are you sure you don't want to sit for a while?” Edgar asked. “I do worry a great deal about all the strain you take upon yourself.”
“Nonsense,” Estella said with a smile, before turning to Madeleine. “He treats me like a delicate flower sometimes. It's flattering, of course, but a little over-the-top.”
“Come,” Madeleine replied, “and let us sit for a while. It's a beautiful day, and I would so love to spend time with the fresh arrivals to the family. Since I myself cannot have children, I must devote my life to the task of being a good aunt. I'm sure I shall find much happiness and fulfillment that way.”
“Yes,” Estella said, frowning as she realized Madeleine didn't seem quite her usual self. “I'm sure you will.”
“The grass seems to be dying,” Edgar muttered, looking down at the ground for a moment before turning to look at the nearby line of trees. “The whole place seems somehow less healthy. Have you noticed? It's as if something dark is spreading across the island, root by root.”
“It's probably just the warm weather we've been enjoying,” Estella pointed out. “Please, my darling, don't worry about such things.”
For the next hour, the four of them sat talking and laughing, and eating and drinking, while Estella took the two children in turn and fed them from her breast. She was fully aware that the others were insanely jealous, and that her life with Edgar was absolutely perfect, but at the same time she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps something was wrong, something that was slowly creeping closer. More than once during the conversation, she caught herself looking over her shoulder, half expecting to see some threat approaching the lawn. Edgar had been right about the grass, it did seem to be dying, and she felt that the process was accelerating. No matter how she tried to focus on her perfect life, she wasn't able to shake a sense of dread.
Eventually, once Edgar and Benjamin had taken the children to play on the grass, Estella found herself sitting alone with Madeleine.
“I never would have believed it, you know,” Madeleine sa
id finally, keeping her voice low so that they wouldn't be overheard.
“Believed what?” Estella asked.
“This. You and my brother. There was a time when I thought his heart belong to... Well, you know, to the woman whose name you don't like us to mention.”
“If you're referring to Kate Langley,” Estella replied archly, “then she was only ever a brief, flirtatious distraction for my darling Edgar. A pre-wedding wobble, you might say. She more or less threw herself at him, it was all quite unseemly. He is a full-blooded man, of course, so naturally he took notice of the brazen harlot, but his love for me is too deep and strong for him to ever stray. I'm actually glad that it happened, because it gave Edgar a chance to prove himself. I myself felt nothing but pity for Kate, and I always hoped that she would find some other purpose in her life. It's such a shame that she died, but -”
She turned suddenly, wiping the side of her neck.
“Are you okay?” Madeleine asked.
“I thought I felt rain,” Estella said with a frown, before flinching again. “There!”
“There's no rain,” Madeleine replied with a laugh, glancing up at the clear blue sky. “One could hardly experience rain under a cloudless sky.”
Looking up, Estella realized that Madeleine was right. There wasn't a cloud to be seen, yet she could still feel occasional drops of cold rain falling on the back of her neck, even though she knew such a thing was impossible.
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said suddenly, sounding worried and urgent.
“What?” she asked, turning but seeing only Jacob, carrying a fresh tray of drinks from the house.
“You know you can talk to me, don't you?” Madeleine said, clearly concerned. “Nothing would please me more, Estella, than if we could become pals. After all, I look up to you so much, and I would dearly love to learn from you.”
“You're too kind,” Estella said with a frown, “but...”
Turning again, she realized the sense of falling rain was becoming more intense.
“Go to your mother,” Edgar said suddenly. “Go on, Portia, off you go!”
Estella turned again, and to her shock she saw both Lucian and Portia tottering toward her, smiling and laughing as they learned to walk.
“But that's impossible,” she whispered. “They're barely three weeks old.”
She stared in disbelief, but as the children got closer she realized that somehow, they had aged rapidly in just a few minutes.
“Mummy!” Portia giggled, grabbing Estella's knee and holding on tight, before Lucian did the same. “How come you're so beautiful, Mummy?” the little girl continued, already seeming a little older again. “Does Daddy love you because you're prettier than everyone else, or because you're wiser?”
“Both,” Madeleine told the child with a smile. “You're so lucky to have such a perfect mother.”
“Please,” Estella continued, blushing. “You're all embarrassing me a great deal.”
“Who's Kate?” Lucian asked.
Estella turned to him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I heard Daddy talking about someone named Kate,” he continued. “Who is she?”
Looking over at Edgar, Estella saw that her husband was talking and joking with Benjamin as they examined some dying shrubs near the fountain.
“What... What did Daddy say about Kate?”
“That he loves her,” Lucian replied, “and that he doesn't love you.”
She turned to him.
“That he wishes you'd died,” the boy continued, “and that Kate Langley had -”
“Go to your room!” Estella shouted.
Lucian stepped back, clearly shocked by his mother's outburst.
“Go to your room at once!” she yelled, pointing toward the house. “Go and think about the filthy lies that come from your mouth! Go!”
“Estella -” Madeleine began.
“No,” she said firmly, staring at her son. “I won't have such things. Lucian, go to your room at once, or so help me God I shall carry you myself and then I shall put you over my knee!”
“I'm sorry, Mummy,” Lucian said with tears in his eyes, “I was only joking.”
“What's wrong?” Edgar asked, hurrying over to join them. “Estella, why are you shouting at him?”
“Estella!” Nixon's voice said firmly.
“What?” she shouted, turning to look for him before remembering that he'd left Thaxos a long time ago and hadn't been heard from since. Feeling more invisible rain on the back of her neck, she turned and found that everyone was staring at her, even the children. “I'm sorry,” she stammered, turning and heading toward the house, “I must rest for a while. I feel I have pushed myself a little too hard today.”
The others all called after her, but she hurried through the doorway and into the ballroom. Making her way up the stairs as quickly as possible, she finally reached the bedroom and slammed the door shut, before leaning back and taking slow, deep breaths. She could feel a sense of panic starting to rise through her chest, but she told herself she was simply being paranoid. In the back of her mind, there was a strong, pounding feeling that somehow nothing was real, that the world around her seemed to be twitching and twisting in ways that made no sense at all.
“There's nothing wrong,” she whispered, repeating the same three words several times over. Still, nothing seemed to work, and the fear grew in her heart until she felt as if she was about to scream.
***
“I'm glad you're feeling better, my darling,” Edgar said, planting a delicate kiss on her forehead. “My delicate, beautiful rose.”
“I'm sorry,” she replied, forcing a smile as she followed him into his study. “I don't know what came over me earlier. “It must have been very embarrassing for you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I suppose that I might still be a little weak after giving birth so recently.”
“Recently?” He turned to her. “I'm not sure I would call five years recent.”
“Five -” She paused, trying to understand what he meant. “Five years? Edgar, it hasn't been five years since Lucian and Portia were born!”
“No, it has been six years since the twins arrived,” he replied with an amused smile. “It has been five years, however, since we were blessed with our third child, Marcus.”
“Marcus?” Feeling another drop of cold rain on her face, she looked up, only to see the study's ceiling, with a deep crack running through the plaster. After a moment, she turned back to Edgar. “Who is Marcus?”
He frowned.
“Who is Marcus?” she asked again, this time barely able to hide the frustration in her voice.
“Our youngest child,” he replied, taking her hand. “Come, let me show you.” He led her to the window, allowing her to see three children playing outside near the fountain. “There they are,” he continued. “Lucian, Portia and Marcus, all playing happily. They're such wonderful children, and so close. They really do enjoy the most idyllic childhood.”
Estella stared in horror as she saw the three children playing happily. The grass around them was dead and faded, leaving barren patches of mud, while the trees in the distance had also died. Whereas earlier there had been hints of death in the world around the mansion, now those hints had become unmistakeable. Something was wrong.
“Perhaps you should rest again,” Edgar said after a moment, clearly a little worried. “You still don't seem quite yourself.”
“Everything is going so quickly,” she whispered, still watching the children. “It feels like only yesterday that Nixon left.”
“Nixon?” Edgar smiled. “Well, there's a name I haven't heard for a long time. I don't have a clue where he went after he left Thaxos almost seven years ago, but I suppose it's a good sign that he hasn't returned. He's building his own life. You'd think he might send a postcard occasionally, though.”
She turned to him, horrified. “Seven years?”
“Yes, my darling.” He paused. “What's wrong? You're not actually starting to m
iss that old wolf, are you?”
“I...” She froze for a moment, her mind racing as she tried to understand what was happening. “Edgar, I...”
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said again.
“What do you want?” she screamed, turning but finding no-one behind her. “Where are you?” she continued, storming over to the desk and looking around, convinced that Nixon was hiding just out of sight. “Where is he?” she asked, turning to Edgar again. “Is this some kind of sick joke cooked up by the pair of you? Do you intend to drive me out of my mind?”
“Estella,” Edgar replied, hurrying over and putting his hands on her shoulders, “whatever is the matter with you?”
“And this constant dripping!” she hissed, looking up at the ceiling as she wiped the back of her neck. “How can it be raining indoors?”
“Raining?” He stared at her. “My darling, you've begun to worry me a great deal. It's almost as if you're seeing and hearing things that aren't really here, while missing things that are.” He waited for her to reply. “My dear, I worry that you're struggling a little with your wifely duties. There's no reason to be ashamed, but perhaps you should see a doctor.”
“I don't need a doctor,” she whispered, before suddenly thinking of Doctor Lassiter. “Or maybe I do. Maybe that's exactly what I need.”
“Mummy?” a voice said suddenly. “Can you tuck us into bed?”
Realizing that her children had reached the door, Estella told herself that for their sake, at least, she had to stay calm. After all, they were her anchor to reality. “Of course,” she said, turning to them with a smile. “Nothing could possibly please me more in all the world.”
A few minutes later, having left Edgar downstairs to finish some important paperwork, Estella sat on the end of Portia's bed, while her three children waited for her to read from the book they'd selected for their bedtime story. Although she was still confused and worried, Estella had told herself that for the sake of the children, at least, she had to hold herself together. There would be time later to determine exactly what was wrong, but for now she gained great solace from the way they stared at her with adoring eyes.
