Chapter One (part one)

ENGLAND, 1810
Chapter One: Whitehouse Place
“Well, that was certainly enjoyable.”
Mae, the oldest of the triplets by four and a half minutes, exclaimed.
“What? D’you mean the London bankers telling us our inheritance is less than nothing and that all we have left is some stodgy country house Great Aunt Felicia invited us to live at? Probably as a form of amusement?”
Emma rolled her eyes and Mae looked furiously out the window of the moving train. Both of them knew how much their mother’s horrible aunt, Felicia, hated them for.....well? Being related to her? Felicia’s hatred didn’t make much sense-but one thing that did was that she’d probably taken them in to live in the worst dwelling place probable. And that was Whitehouse Place. Miles and miles away from civilization, any sort of entertainment, and most of all-their grandparents’ beautiful villa in Southern Italy.
Arwyn, who, up till now, had been silent, wrung out her wet parasol on the floor of the train, getting Emma’s shoes and stockings wet. She was the youngest of the Richmond triplets, and always getting into trouble for being improper.
“Arwyn!”
“Sorry.”
Arwyn unhooked her bonnet and let her untamable, coal-black hair tumble down to her shoulders. (It was going to be a long train ride.) The truth was-almost every girl within a four mile vicinity was jealous of Arwyn’s dark hair, clear complexion, and sparkling green eyes-including her own sisters.
Emma, the blondest of the three, most especially.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know? I can’t just go out and buy a new pair now can I?”
All three girls winced at the same time. They all had terrible questions possessing their minds.
How were they going to make it through on Felicia’s kindness (which wasn’t much)? How were they going to repay their aunt Felicia (she would most certainly want monetary payment for her troubles)? And most of all-what would become of them now that they were orphans? Oh-their parents had died when they were all tiny children-they were used to being that sort of orphan. But ever since they were three-they’d been living in Italy with their grandfather, Robert (who refused to being called grandfather for some unknown reason). They missed the old man-who, they had to admit, wasn’t much of a guardian. He was kind enough-wonderful Christmas presents and let them spend his money wildly-but didn’t really raise them. Their governess, Lucia, did most of the raising. But Robert-bless him-had died. Leaving them very little-because it turns out that he was practically bankrupt.
Emma made a face.
“What is it Emma?” Mae asked.
“Well.....D’you think Great Aunt Felicia will be there to greet us personally?”
“With any luck she’ll be out touring Europe with Milford,” here all three girls shuddered at the mention of their horrid cousin’s name, “and that ugly dog of hers-what’s its name? Oh yes, Poochy.”
Mae looked at Arwyn and smiled, “Right-isn’t it the one who plays dead all the time, just to escape all the attention Felicia gives it?”
“Oh yes! And it’ll drink champagne right from the cup too!”
Arwyn laughed her deep, ringing laugh that always sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a rather large well.
“I’ll give you any amount of money to say that the poor thing’s dead by now!”
“Poor? Poochy? Right! Not for the inordinate amounts of caviar that dog can consume.”
They all had plenty of laughs at Poochy’s expense.
But none of them wanted to talk about what was on their minds-and that was how life would be at their new home.
The train ride must have been hours long-Mae could’ve not been more bored. Emma and Arwyn both fell asleep within twenty minutes.
Mae stared at her spectral reflection in the glass window. She touched a hand to the ghost staring back at her.
“You look so much like your mother.”
Was what Robert told her-almost every day. Mae had seen only one picture of her mother-on her wedding day. A little tin-type of a kindly-looking man and a woman in multiple veils and a dress that was fifteen years out of style.
She couldn’t see her mother’s face at all.
What am I going to do? The question tormented her mind. No money—nothing left for her or her sisters.
What would they do?
The train slithered around turns, lakes, and mountains like a great, winding snake. The English countryside was a different kind of beautiful compared to Italy’s Tuscan hills and restless seaports.
For one thing-it rained almost the entire time.
Drenched fields went on for miles-becoming more jagged and abandoned as the train whipped north.
And everything was so green-the grass, the earth, the few trees, the moss encompassing the rocks and mountains-even the sky was a bit greener than in Italy.
Mae looked down to her folded, gloved hands.
Against her will-she loved her new country already.

Dear Lucia,
I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing in English instead of Italian, I’ve just been so used to it in the past few days. I promise I won’t forget the language, though. And I’ll do my best to make Arwyn and Em remember it too. We’ve arrived safely, thank God. And I’m on my way to my aunt’s house as we speak.
I hope Paulo is well,
Mae

Chapter One Part Two

Arwyn’s sleep was restless and not very satisfying at all. She kept dreaming that something was chasing her, only she couldn’t see who-or what-it was. All she could see was a pair of blindingly green eyes before her-almost yellow, and a figure wrapped in a black cape-black like a starless, moonless night.
Without meaning to-she fell at her feet.
“NO!”
The thing chasing her was forcing her down into a prostrated position, with her hands bound behind her back.
The scene around her disappeared in a blinding light-and she was back at the villa in Italy-in the garden. It looked like it had when she was just six years old-perfectly pristine, neat, and beautiful-instead of overgrown (as it now was).
But something in it was out of place-a woman sat there on her knees, a gown of green silk spread around her like an aura. She was both familiar and foreign. Arwyn was about to ask her who she was-when the woman put a finger to her lips.
Shh....She heard it like a sigh in her mind-a soft sigh.
The woman’s white forearm extended-pointing at something on the ground.
Look....
A scarlet and black colored snake with yellow-green orbs for eyes wound its way toward the woman (who Arwyn supposed was her mother).
Arwyn was about to jump back and scream again.
The woman put her hand out-to stop Arwyn.
No-it wasn’t to stop her. The snake crept up her mother’s arm- and once it reached the middle of the arm-it sunk its teeth into flesh and hissed.
Arwyn screamed. But no sound emitted out of her mouth.
Yesss....... The serpent’s voice was cold and sharp in her mind.
“No,” Arwyn shook her head at her mother’s body-slowly growing colder, “NO!”
You’ve returned....At lasssst..... At lasssst.....
She screamed again-realizing this time that she could hear herself. Except that it wasn’t her-it was a strange, high-pitched squeaking voice that filled her ears.
Her eyes flew open.
The train was stopped.
“It was just a dream.....just a dream,” she panted feverishly.
“Are you okay, Arwyn?” Mae asked. Em was still snoring-she could sleep through anything.
Arwyn wiped the cold sweat off of her forehead and neck. Wanting nothing more than to take a nice hot bath.....
“Yessss.....I mean, yes. I’m fine.”
Arwyn shook her head-black waves shaking incessantly-this was too strange. It was just a dream but.....No. It was just too strange.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Mae asked. Arwyn looked quickly past Emma to the window-and realized the blackness outside was night, and the strange yellow light emanating from all four corners of the compartment was lantern light.
“No.” Arwyn lied, and continued looking out the window-in a vain attempt to see the moon and stars, which were strangely missing.
Just a dream.....Not real....just a dream.....nothing.
“I think we’ve come to the station...finally.”
Arwyn wiped her forehead again and muttered, “Yes.”
Mae leaned forward in her seat and pushed on Emma’s arm.
“Wake up, Em! We’re here.”
“Huh.....what?” Emma said sleepily.
“We’re at the station.”
“Mmm.....?” Emma curled her hand underneath her chin and drifted off toward sleep again.
“EMMA! WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE STATION!!!!!”
Emma covered her ears. “You don’t have to yell, Mae! I’m coming.”
But despite this she didn’t move.
Mae huffed out a furious breath.
“If you don’t come right this second....I’ll....I’ll!”
Em just rolled her eyes and yawned again.
Mae looked expectantly toward Arwyn.
Arwyn just tied on her bonnet and gathered her parasol and the weathered, leather briefcase that once belonged to Robert.
Mae put her hands on her hips and her eyes bugged.
The last thing Arwyn wanted to do was become the center of a three-way-struggle with her sisters (as was often the case).
Arwyn shook her head defiantly.
Mae sighed and went to Emma.
“I know you’re in no rush to see Felicia, but at least there’ll be food.”
Emma rolled her eyes but climbed to her feet. She stood on her tip-toes and stretched out like a ballerina.
Emma was the tallest of the triplets-she easily towered over Mae and definitely Arwyn (who was tiny and petit as a child).
“COME ON!” Mae yelled again, and released her parasol.
The girls stepped into the dripping wet and realized two things almost immediately.
It wasn’t night-at least not yet at least. The sky had gone strangely dark with the thunderstorm.
Rain beat down on the three girls by the gallon. They were soaked three seconds after they stepped off the train.
And the second thing they’d come to realize. This station had no shelter whatsoever.
They were left standing there with only their flimsy cloth parasols.
A boy in dark clothes hopped out of the luggage compartment and threw down Emma’s big trunk (which had all of their belongings) into the mud at the base of the platform’s steps.
“Welcome to Lincolnshire your ‘ighnesses!” The boy tipped his hat jokingly.
Mae shivered. “Help me with this, would you.”
The three girls managed to get the heavy trunk to the top step in ten minutes or so. Their sweat washed away by a thick curtain of sickly-cold rain.
“When will it ever stop?”
Emma squinted her eyes through the unrelenting rain.
“What? Arwyn I can’t see you!”
“You’ll have to speak louder I can’t hear you!”
Something grasped Arwyn’s hand tightly.
“Who goes there!”
She wanted to cry out, but didn’t-because she finally saw that it was Emma. It certainly had set her heart pounding, though.
“Emma! Arwyn! Look!”
They looked toward Mae who was standing near the trunk.
Apparently, their efforts with the trunk were in vain, because here came Aunt Felicia’s coach-and-four.
The coach stopped, the door opened.
Milford’s rather large head poked out.
“Well come on, then, we haven’t all day! Bring your trunk!”
The coach door slammed shut.
“Oh, bugger,” Arwyn sighed.
They ungracefully shoved the trunk down the steps and the coach driver (“The name’s James”) helped them lift it onto the back of the coach.
“Thank you,” Arwyn replied while rubbing the sore spot on her back.
James just nodded.
“Open it!” Mae yelled at the coach door.
It was thrust open.
All three girls clambered in and fell into the seat opposite of Milford.
(“I guess this means we’re out of luck, then”)
No one wanted to sit by him.
Milford shut the coach door with a sharp thud and they were off.
“Is our Aunt in?” Asked Arwyn, trying to sound as polite as she could.
Milford continued to stare out the window as if the girls weren’t there.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He answered after a long pause.
Milford downed at least ten cups of gin before they arrived at Whitehouse Place. Someone isn’t getting along with his mother these days.....Arwyn was sure she’d resort to alcohol if she was raised by Aunt Felicia. She suddenly broke into a wicked grin. If her sisters (particularly Mae) heard her think this, they’d chide her mercilessly.
It was a good thing they couldn’t perceive each other’s thoughts-as the stereotype for siblings born at the same time went-or they’d murder each other.
“What?” Mae looked at Arwyn’s mischievous smile and narrowed her eyes.
Arwyn tried to make her face go blank before any assumptions could be made.
Fortunately, Milford’s cringing into a corner saved her. A strangled sound emitted from their cousin’s mouth.
He composed himself after another glass of gin (he nearly swallowed the filmy glass cup along with the liquid), and said, “We’re here.”
He shivered violently and pointed toward the window to his left.
There it was. Whitehouse Place.

Chapter One (part three)

The first thing that the girls noticed about Whitehouse Place was....well....The lack of the afore mentioned white.
The “house” looked like a large Norman fortress, encumbering half of a high precipice.
And there was no white about the place.
Indeed-there was nothing about it that resembled a house or any sort of homey dwelling. It looked enormous, dank, crumbling, and there were probably hoards of mice (weathered castles were often the easiest places mice or rats could enter-because of the crumbling stone and loose mortar). A place well-fitting for Aunt Felicia’s personality, Arwyn thought ungraciously.
Emma crossed her arms over stomach. Why oh why did Felicia have to be here? And why was her precious son suddenly cowering at the sight of his own house?
The coach stopped in front of a rather large barn where an old man with a wig on backwards came stumbling out.
“She’s been waitin’ on ye for ‘alf an ‘our, doncha know?”
The man smelled strongly of brandy-the perpetual odor of Robert’s study.
“I know, I know.” Milford said weakly.
The girls stepped out of the coach after Milford and hoped, and prayed, that they didn’t have to carry their trunk in.
The old man clambered up to James, who was checking on the horses.
“It’s been rainin’ somefink ‘orrid, me wife though’ it some sorta omen. ‘ow’d choo see?”
James shrugged.
“Are we to go in or are we standing out here all night?” Mae asked Milford forcefully.
She was taking advantage of Milford’s strange fear of both her and her sisters.
Milford quivered and clutched his bottle of gin more tightly.
“This way.”
If possible, the inside of Felicia’s degenerate fortress was even less accommodating as it looked on the outside.
Milford led them into a dark parlor and left them there alone, where they kept discovering horrid things about the room.
The wood panels in the walls were rotting-giving them an almost red-brown glow. And everything was covered in miles of dust-one couldn’t walk into the room without sneezing violently.
Arwyn collapsed on a nearby sofa, only to find it creaking under her wait-and finally collapsing to the ground-leaving a very disoriented Arwyn on the cold stone ground amongst sagging cushions and rotted wood.
“Bugger! What’s she to do when she sees her sofa in shreds?”
Mae turned around, “SHH!” It reminded Arwyn, once again, of her horrid dream on that train.
Mae’s eyes scanned the room for something useful-nothing.
She turned to Emma-who was standing by a stack of books (covered completely in dust).
“There!”
“Where?” Emma swiveled around.
“Look, only two legs are broken, if we could put those where the missing legs are meant to be-perhaps Felicia won’t notice.”
Mae started carrying small stacks of books and placing them near the couch.
“Help me!”
Thanks to the books, they were able to salvage the couch before Felicia’s entrance. (“Poor books,” Emma commented.)
Aunt Felicia entered a few moments later with Poochy in her arms (whining as if to say “please, put me out of my misery, I beg of you”) and Milford at her side.
Felicia’s lips pursed at the sight of her nieces.
“Milford, be a dear and check on our guests’,” she spat the word, “dinner. Since they’ve arrived hours late without a moment’s consideration for their only living kin.”
Arwyn spoke up:
“Aunt Felicia,” she began, “we didn’t mean—“
But Felicia cut her off, tiny blue eyes narrowing.
For the next half hour (with no sign of Milford or dinner) Aunt Felicia lectured them with ardor about things they didn’t really understand.
“You, must, must do it, one of you must-I have no choice.....” She babbled on like an idiot, telling them at one point that she was not, by any means related to the girls, that they were those nasty little changelings that evil faeries left in cribs. Then another, they were her sisters’ only children.
They’d never seen Felicia in such a state-bad health or cold weather or something must have defected her thinking process.
Then, after awhile of nonsensical oration, Felicia started to speak out the girls’ most embarrassing qualities.
“Too tall,” she muttered at Emma.
“Too fat,” was Mae’s apparent downfall, according to Felicia. Well, downfall for something, none of them knew what.
Felicia stopped when she came to Arwyn.
“No, not at all....” Felicia shivered, “There’s something gypsy about that girl, I swear it....”
After awhile, Mae, the most impatient and bossy of her sisters, just couldn’t take it any more.
She interrupted Felicia’s muttering on about “leading the lamb to the slaughter,” with:
“If you aren’t going to allow us to eat dinner, the least you could do is show us our rooms.” (Emma tried to stifle a yawn-she had thought that seeing Aunt Felicia in all her glory-at her home with Milford and Poochy-would be scary, but now that she’d proved herself to be a tottering old woman, Em was ready for sleep).
Felicia looked taken aback-her small blue-button eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Just strutted across the parlor imperiously and shut the creaky, old door.
Arwyn crossed her arms and went to the door.
“Arwyn, what are you doing?”
“Drilling Milford until he’ll give us some information.”
“What?”
Arwyn just smiled at Mae and shut the door behind her.