Friend Reunion

Mabel continued with more questions, her curiosity about her mother evident. "But why did she leave me? Why did I end up at the orphanage? Did my mother hate me? Where is my father? Why isn't he here too?"

These questions weighed heavily on Duke Caius's heart. He couldn't reveal the painful truth to a child so young, the truth about the mistakes and complexities of the adult world that had led to her unfortunate circumstances.

Instead, he opted for silence, gently wiping the tears from Mabel's deep purple eyes, which reminded him so much of her mother.

Each glance at those eyes filled him with guilt, a reminder of the secrets he held and the promises he had yet to fulfill. He couldn't reveal everything to Mabel just yet, but he vowed to himself that someday he would share the truth.

Duke Caius spoke softly, his fingers brushing through Mabel's slightly disheveled silver hair, a result of her recent tears. 

"Mabel, I'll tell you when the time is right. This burden is not one for a child to carry."

He continued, his voice filled with compassion, "I can assure you, your mother would never hate you. She had her own reasons for not raising you, but it doesn't mean she harbored any ill will toward you."

Mabel, sensing the pain in Duke Caius's eyes, chose to remain silent. She didn't want to cause her father more anguish, even though her curiosity still gnawed at her heart. 

Perhaps someday, the truth would unveil itself to Mabel, or she might summon the courage to approach Isabella with questions about her mother. Even if Isabella's words were often unkind and painted a dark picture of her mother.

She yearned for even a fleeting glimpse into her mother's life, a shard of insight to piece together the puzzle of her existence. 

...

A heavy cloud of gloom had settled over the manor in the days since Mabel had withdrawn into her room.

Clara's concern deepened as she watched Mabel lying in bed, clutching Mrs. Bunnies to her chest. Mabel's face remained expressionless, a stark departure from her usual playful self.

Mabel's silence weighed heavily on Clara's heart, she couldn't stand idly by. Abandoning her work on a half-knitted dress for Mabel's cherished stuffed doll, Clara decided it was time to take action. 

Seating herself beside Mabel, she gently patted the child's head and suggested, "Mabel, today's weather is lovely. How about we go for a little stroll? A change of scenery might do you good."

Mabel simply shook her head, her frown deepening. "I don't feel like it, nanny," she replied, her voice tinged with melancholy.

Clara, concerned but undeterred, pressed a hand to Mabel's forehead with a knowing look. "Hmmm... You don't appear to be sick, dear. What's troubling you?"

"It's not that," Mabel mumbled, hiding her face behind Mrs. Bunnies.

Clara sighed deeply, her heart heavy with concern. It was clear that Mabel didn't fully trust her yet. She was well aware that Mabel had crossed paths with Isabella, and there was an unsettling feeling that something had gone awry.

The rumors among the maids hinted that Isabella might have played a role in hurting Mabel physically, a notion that surprised Clara. She couldn't fathom why Isabella would resort to such cruelty. 

Clara knew she needed to speak to Isabella to get to the bottom of things, to help lift Mabel's gloom.

"Alright, Mabel. I'll step out of the room for a while," Clara relented. "Do you think you'll be alright on your own?"

Mabel nodded weakly. "Yes, I'll be here."

As Clara made her way to the door, she cast one final, troubled glance at Mabel. Then she stopped one of the maids who had been cleaning near Mabel's room and inquired, "Do you happen to know where Lady Isabella might be?"

The maid looked startled by Clara's sudden appearance but responded with a respectful bow, "Yes, Miss Clara. Lady Isabella is engrossed in her potions work, most likely in her workshop."

"Thank you," Clara replied, allowing the maid to continue her duties.

Clara then made her way to Isabella's workshop, knowing that Isabella's presence at the manor had been authorized by Duke Caius. 

Their relationship had always been strained, a topic of gossip in noble circles and even among the servants. What perplexed Clara most was Isabella's rough history with Mabel's mother, making her presence here all the more shocking.

Upon reaching the workshop, Clara knocked on the door, but there was no response. She tried again, calling Isabella's name, but the silence persisted. Clara decided to take matters into her own hands and opened the unlocked door.

What greeted her was a chaotic scene. Papers and spilled potions littered the floor, creating an overwhelming scent in the room. 

A large cauldron with a mystic circle above it still emanated heat, containing a mysterious purple liquid. Caged animals of various sizes lined the walls.

Isabella stood near the window, engrossed in her work, jotting down notes with great intensity. Clara couldn't help but sigh as she approached Isabella, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"Lady Isabella, I need to speak with you."

Isabella jumped in surprise, her initial annoyance at being interrupted giving way to surprise as she recognized Clara. 

"Clara! I can't believe you've come to chat with me. I thought you were busy with that troublesome child."

Clara sighed audibly, her frustration mounting. She massaged her temples, saying, "So it was because of you that Mabel has locked herself in her room?"

Isabella furrowed her brow, seemingly genuinely perplexed. "I haven't done anything to that child. Have I ever harmed a child before?"

Clara fought the urge to shake some sense into Isabella, realizing her friend's inability to grasp the impact of her words. Isabella could be painfully oblivious at times.

Isabella suddenly perked up, clapping her hands. "Well, this is quite a rare occasion. How about we have a spot of tea and chat for a while?" She promptly ushered Clara out of the room.

Clara, resigned to Isabella's unstoppable nature, sighed once more. 

...

Mabel found herself alone in her room, pondering over the tumultuous thoughts swirling within her. Should she dare approach the enigmatic Red Witch, Isabella, and inquire about her mother? 

Or perhaps it would be wiser to patiently await her father's to unveil the mysteries of her past? The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her feeling adrift.

The thought of approaching Isabella filled her with dread, her sharp words reminiscent of Mrs. Jenkins, albeit without the physical harm. Nevertheless, the emotional wounds cut deep, and she yearned to avoid such a presence.

Restlessness tugged at her, making the confinement of her room unbearable. With a resigned sigh, she rose from her perch and decided to embark on a stroll around the grand manor. 

As she ventured through the corridors, her footsteps echoing softly, Mabel stumbled upon a partially open door. She overheard a conversation between Clara and another woman. It was Isabella.

"How are you doing, Clara? Life is good right?" Isabella inquired as she stirred her tea, her tone casual. "I found myself rather concerned about your well-being after recent events."

Clara, her presence marked by a gentle demeanor, began to respond. "It's alright Lady Isabella, but--" Clara's words were cut off abruptly by Isabella. 

"Don't address me so formally," Isabella declared with a slight furrow in her brow, her dissatisfaction evident. "We are friends, aren't we?"

Mabel was taken aback by this revelation. The gentle Clara and someone as acerbic as Isabella were friends? The contrast puzzled her.

Clara sighed softly, acquiescing, "Very well, Isabella. I simply wished to remind you that I am no longer of noble standing."

Isabella, visibly frustrated, slammed her palm onto the table, expressing her displeasure. "Ridiculous! Cease with these notions. Why haven't you reclaimed your family name after your husband's passing?"  Her disapproval deepened, and her eyes narrowed.

Clara, though startled, understood the source of Isabella's anger. Her family history was indeed complicated. "You know how complicated my situation is. I can't forget that my family disowned me when I married Johan. It was a difficult choice to make."

Isabella leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed in annoyance. "This is beyond my comprehension. How could you forsake your family for a peasant?"

Isabella's words stung Clara deeply, yet they bore a harsh truth. Clara had indeed been in love with her late husband, willing to abandon her noble lineage for their love. It was bittersweet, considering that Johan's life had been cut short prematurely.

Clara sighed softly, her eyes fixed on her tea, her expression distant. "You would not understand, Isabella," she said, pausing to take a sip of her tea, "Not until you experience true love from a man who loves you in return."

The words hung in the air, piercing Isabella's heart. She knew Clara's statement held a grain of undeniable truth, even though it felt like an affront to her pride.

Her past engagement had left her unloved, yet she couldn't bring herself to admit it.

"What use is love if it brings you naught but misery? I have never been happier than in my own company," Isabella retorted, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.

Clara chuckled softly, her laughter carrying a touch of melancholy as she sipped her tea. "Are you truly happy, Isabella?"

She looked at Isabella's eyes, making sure that she would answer her question. 

Isabella squinted her eyes, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She longed to respond to Clara's question, though it felt like an affront to her pride. Ultimately, she chose to remain silent and avoid Clara's eyes, awkwardly sipping her tea.

Clara cleared her throat, attempting to salvage the conversation from the awkward turn it had taken. "Isabella, I'm here to understand what exactly transpired with Mabel."

Isabella's gaze roamed the room, her frustration palpable. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms, her voice laced with irritation.

"Haven't I told you already? Stop repeating the same questions," she retorted.

Clara closed her eyes briefly, summoning patience and empathy in her dealings with Isabella. Dealing with Mabel had always been easier, than dealing with her. 

"Mabel isn't the type to confine herself to her room like this. I believe you know precisely what I mean," Clara replied firmly, determined not to let Isabella deflect her inquiry.

Isabella rubbed her chin, deep in thought for a moment. "Well, it might have something to do with me mentioning her mother."

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.