Maevis Visits Part 2

Maevis’s eyebrows grew together. “What of it?” she inquired, not sure what her charge was getting at.

“Why can we not sell it? Keep this cottage and one of the others for you, let Ms. Crotlybloom go. Why must we keep that dreadful place? I shall never step foot in there again.”

“Serendipity,” Maevis began, leaning forward, her hands on the table, “we can’t. That’s where all of the doll parts are kept. There’d be no way we could store them all here.”

Nodding, Serendipity suddenly remembered it had not been that long ago that Maevis had asked to sell the last remaining warehouse. It had required making space in the hall for all of the fabric, hair, eyes, bisque heads, what remained of her father’s initial supply of paint--everything Serendipity used to assembly her art. “All of the money from the warehouses is gone then?” she confirmed.

Maevis’s curls bounded up and down as she assured Serendipity such was the case. “You know your mother sold off almost every single one of your father’s assets after the ship went down. Anything she could sell, she did, in an effort to keep her household afloat. The only thing she didn’t sell was the doll warehouses because…”

“Because my father had them listed in my name, as my property.”

“That’s right. We were down to one, just this last one…, and now it’s gone, too. If you were to sell the hall, there wouldn’t be any place left to keep the dolls. And there are so many left, thousands…”

“Seven thousand four hundred and ninety-six,” Serendipity replied, her eyes glossed over in deep thought, her unblinking stare landing somewhere over Maevis’s left shoulder near the front door.

Maevis just shook her head in disbelief, though she realized she should not have been shocked that Serendipity knew precisely how many dolls were left and how many she had completed. “Yes, I suppose so,” she replied. “And we wouldn’t want to displace them.”

“No, we cannot do that,” Serendipity agreed.

“So, we must find a way to continue to pay the few expenses we do have. But I am afraid that managing a courier service at this time is impossible.”

Serendipity’s blonde, matted, frizzy hair waved up and down like a large hat when she nodded her head in response. “Perhaps we could rent it out, a room or two, perhaps?”

Once again, Maevis shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s likely,” she began. The blank expression on her charge’s face led her to realize she would have to say more, despite the fact that she did not want to. After a while, she continued. “No one nearby would want to live at Marwolaeth, Serendipity. And I’m afraid rumors have spread into outlying areas as well. It would be rather difficult to procure a renter of any sorts since most people believe the place is…”

“Haunted?”

“Yes, and cursed.”

Serendipity’s expression shifted for a moment, her eyes narrowing but then rapidly widening. “Is it haunted, Maevis? Have you ever seen… anyone?”

Maevis’s was stone faced for a moment as she contemplated the purpose behind the question. At last she replied simply, “No, I’ve not seen… anyone.”

Whatever spark had momentarily flickered in Serendipity’s eyes was gone now. A moment later, she said simply, “Well, we will have to find a way to keep afloat then.”

Maevis knew there was no sense in pressing the issue just now. Serendipity was clearly exhausted and unable to make any sort of decision. Pushing the idea of selling the dolls would have to wait for another time, one when she was better equipped to make a financial decision. In the meantime, she would find a way to make the household meet at each end. She always had before. “All right, love,” she said returning her focus to the basket she had brought in as Serendipity’s attention returned to whatever she had been working on. “Here are the heads I fired yesterday.” She began to remove the fragile pieces from the basket, sitting them gently next to Lizzette on the table. “The fabric you requested is also here, and I brought you some soup and a couple of apples.”

At the mention of food, Serendipity instinctively wrinkled her nose, causing Maevis to waggle her finger in her direction as she said, “You must find time to eat, Serendipity. Otherwise, you will wither away.”

The shrugging of thin, boney shoulders let Maevis know that her threat was not necessarily a menacing one, and she let out another sigh. She couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for the transformation that had taken shape before her eyes starting with the day her father’s business associate had knocked on the door of Marwolaeth to report his death at sea, and the skittish creature who was afraid of her own mother, as well as her own shadow, had now turned to this grief stricken nearly unrecognizable former shadow of her bubbly self, who had locked herself away in retribution for a sin she would have never committed if Maevis had been present and able to provide her with assistance on that fateful day eight years ago. Several times, Maevis had broached the subject of responsibility with Serendipity, but it never did either of them any good. She insisted it had been her fault that her sisters and mother had died, even going so far as to blame her father’s death on herself as well. While Maevis repeated that it was an accident--everyone knew she had not switched the canisters on purpose, including Deputy Shillingpepper, who had released the young girl into Maevis’s care. There was no question that Serendipity’s actions could have been prevented if only Maevis had been in the kitchen that morning….