Mother's Love

Clara was momentarily rendered speechless by Isabella's apparent lack of understanding. She felt as though Isabella was testing her patience, and her frustration showed in her tone. 

"Have you lost your mind?" she snapped incredulously.

With Mabel now listening attentively from her concealed position by the door, the conversation regarding her mother became even more riveting.

"What? Why are you getting so worked up? I merely spoke the truth about her mother," Isabella responded with an unapologetic air.

Clara buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with stress. She was well aware of Isabella's strong disdain for Mabel's mother, but this went beyond the pale. Isabella had crossed a line by uttering such hurtful words to a child who had never even met her mother.

"Isabella," Clara attempted to maintain her composure, though her patience had been thoroughly tested dealing with the formidable woman. 

"You're aware that Mabel never had the chance to meet her mother. There are certain things you should never say to a child."

Clara hoped that reason would prevail in her conversation with Isabella, but she knew that reasoning with her was often an exercise in futility. 

Isabella was a grown woman who surely understood Mabel's circumstances and the inappropriateness of her words.

Isabella, however, tilted her head slightly and propped it up with her hand, an air of nonchalance about her. "I'm aware of that already. After all, her mother died because of that child."

As the words tumbled from Isabella's lips like sharp daggers, Mabel's heart seized within her small chest. She stood in the shadowy recess by the door, hidden from their view, her young ears capturing every cruel syllable. 

Each word felt like a weight pressing down on her, threatening to crush her fragile spirit. Her trembling hand clutched Mrs. Bunnies close to her chest. The words echoed in her ears—had she been the cause of her mother's death?

Clara intervened, her voice tinged with frustration. "Stop this, Isabella. Don't phrase it like that. You know it's not the truth."

Clara understood that the truth was far more complex. Mabel's mother had loved her deeply, and her untimely demise was a matter of tragic fate, not blame to be laid at the feet of a child.

Isabella, however, remained unfazed by Clara's appeals, even chuckling cruelly. Her words remained devoid of empathy and laced with sharpness.

"What should I call it then? She perished while giving birth to her," Isabella retorted, her tone cold and unyielding.

Mabel couldn't bear it any longer. She sobbed quietly into Mrs. Bunnies' soft fur. The guilt that had consumed her, the notion that she might have been the cause of her mother's passing, weighed heavily on her heart. 

Had she not existed, would her mother still be alive? Was her very existence the reason her father had abandoned her?

Clara, weighed down by Isabella's relentless cruelty, could only sigh deeply. She felt powerless in the face of Isabella's harsh words. While the essence of what Isabella had said held some truth, it didn't alter the fact that Mabel was not to blame.

"Isabella, it's not Mabel's fault. Her mother loved her deeply, and she chose to bring her into this world, knowing the risks. That's a mother's love."

As a mother herself, Clara understood the depths of maternal love, the willingness to protect one's child at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing one's own life. She believed that Mabel's mother had loved her dearly, and that love was not diminished by her tragic fate.

Isabella, finally relenting a little, nodded in reluctant agreement. "I never said she didn't love her, did I? I do not believe she ever harbored any ill will toward anyone."

Though Isabella harbored a deep-seated hatred for Mabel's mother, she was acutely aware of her kindness and compassion.

However, she was loath to admit it, as in her eyes, the woman was nothing more than a beggar.

"If you understand that, please refrain from mentioning Mabel's mother in her presence," Clara implored softly, a glimmer of hope that Isabella could demonstrate some restraint.

Clara knew that Isabella was not entirely devoid of kindness, even if her arrogance and cruelty sometimes masked it. She hoped that Isabella could show some compassion for Mabel's sake.

Isabella, however, sipped her tea casually, her demeanor unchanged. "I can't make any promises in that regard."

Clara's reassuring words did bring a sense of calm to Mabel, but they couldn't erase the heavy burden of guilt that had settled upon her young heart. 

The truth was, she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had somehow been responsible for her mother's untimely passing. 

Her mother, a figure she had only dreamed of, whose embrace and love she had yearned to feel, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Mabel, overwhelmed by the emotions stirred by the conversation she had overheard, decided it was time to retreat to her room.

However, just as she was about to leave, she heard Isabella broach a different, unsettling topic.

"I wanted to discuss something more important," Isabella began, her fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "Why don't you depart from Ashford and join House of Suncrest?"

Mabel's curiosity deepened as she listened. Isabella's words continued, each one striking her like a bolt of lightning. 

"I shall insist that my father adopts you. Those tasks Lirio assigns you? They are beneath someone of your caliber, especially when you are his cousin." 

Mabel was left in stunned silence. Her emotions were in turmoil. The idea of parting ways with Clara, or worse, allowing her to be influenced by someone as formidable and callous as Isabella, was unfathomable. Especially when she had consistently spoken ill of her mother.

Driven by a surge of impulse, Mabel pushed open the door with all her might, her voice ringing out with a mixture of protest, urgency, and unwavering determination.

"No, Nanny cannot go to your house, Red Witch!" Her exclamation reverberated in the room, charged with the force of her emotions.

Isabella and Clara were taken aback by Mabel's sudden appearance, both of them swiftly rising from their seats. 

Mabel's eyes glistened with tears as she made her way toward Clara, who immediately enveloped her in a warm embrace, gently brushing her back.

Clara was fraught with worry, uncertain of how much Mabel had overheard behind the door. Did she now know about her mother's passing? The uncertainty gnawed at her.

"Don't go, nanny. I'll be a good girl, and I'll tell Daddy to give you lots of money," Mabel pled through her tears, her gaze piercing as she directed it at Isabella. 

"I don't want you to be sad because of living with that evil witch!" She was desperate to prevent Clara from living with what she perceived as the evil witch.

Isabella, unfazed by Mabel's impassioned plea, chuckled and placed her hands on her hips, issuing a challenge. "Let's see what Clara has to say."

Clara let out a weary sigh, recognizing that Isabella was likely well aware of her response and was simply toying with Mabel.

Kneeling in front of Mabel, Clara gently brushed a strand of hair from the girl's face. "I won't leave you, Mabel. I know you're a good girl," she reassured her. 

Then, turning her gaze to Isabella, she added, "Don't pay any mind to whatever Isabella says. She enjoys teasing children."

Mabel, seeking assurance, locked eyes with Clara, her voice filled with hope. "Really? Promise me?"

"Of course, I've never broken a promise before," Clara affirmed, tenderly wiping away her tears as she held her close.

Isabella, her tone laced with sarcasm, chimed in, "Well, isn't that a heartwarming promise? I'll take my leave now since I have matters to attend to."

With that, Isabella departed, leaving Clara and Mabel to share a moment of respite and assurance in each other's company.

Clara gently guided Mabel to the garden, recognizing the need for a change of scenery and a moment of solace. 

She watched the child closely, her worry evident as Mabel continued to wipe her tears, her face a mixture of emotions.

They found respite on a weathered bench beneath the shade of an expansive oak tree. The tree's sprawling branches provided a comforting canopy, sheltering them from the sun's rays. 

Clara observed the vibrant garden around them and listened to the soothing sounds of a nearby fountain.

Clara knew it was time to address the pressing matter. Her voice carried a soft, gentle tone as she broached the subject. 

"How many conversations did you overhear, Mabel?" she asked, concern etched in her eyes.

Mabel, initially hesitant, fidgeted and cast her gaze around the garden before finally deciding to answer.

Her voice quivered as she admitted, "From the start... I'm sorry, Nanny," and fresh tears flowed down her cheeks.

With a compassionate sigh, Clara reached out to pat Mabel's head, her heart heavy with understanding.

She knew that, eventually, she would have to provide Mabel with answers about her mother, an emotionally challenging revelation for any child to bear.

"Do you miss your mother, Mabel?" Clara inquired gently, her eyes locked onto the deep purple orbs of the young girl.

Mabel paused, wrestling with her feelings. "I don't know... I never met her," she confessed, struggling to articulate her complex emotions. "But I wanted to meet her."

Clara couldn't help but acknowledge the peculiar nature of her question. After all, how could one miss someone they had never met? 

But in that peculiar scenario, the connection between the mother and her child was undeniably potent—a bond that transcended the boundaries of time.

She understood the emotional turmoil that Mabel grappled with. It was a unique form of heartache, a blend of longing, love, and grief for someone she had never had the chance to embrace. 

The cruel reality that they would never meet, coupled with the uncertainty of whether her mother truly loved her, weighed heavily on the young girl's heart.

She knew that what Mabel needed most was reassurance and the unwavering belief that her mother's love had indeed been real, even if they'd never shared a physical presence.

"Listen to me, Mabel," Clara said, her grip firm but gentle on Mabel's shoulders. "Every time you want to know and miss your mother, look at yourself in the mirror. Every bit of your mother's love is in you."

Clara continued, "In your strands of hair, in your beautiful eyes, even in your wonderful laughter. These are all gifts from your mother to you. So, whenever you miss her, remember that your existence is a testament to her love."

Mabel, despite being a child, grasped the profound meaning in Clara's words. Tears streamed down her face, but this time they bore the weight of relief and acceptance. 

She held Clara tightly, seeking comfort in the belief that her mother had loved her deeply, that she had never been hated, even in the moments of her birth.

Mabel's burden lightened, and the worries that had plagued her slowly dissipated. In their place, she felt the warmth and embrace of a mother's love, even in her absence.