Chapter 45 No Excuses
Continuation...
The room seemed to freeze.
Lila’s breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, no one moved. The sound of running water echoed too loudly against the tiled walls, as if the bathroom itself were unaware that something had gone terribly wrong. I
Gertrude was curled on the floor, shaking, her hands pressed to her face, sobs breaking free despite her efforts to repress her emotions. She does not want to appear weak anymore.
“Trudy,” Lila said again, more softly this time. She knelt beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don't speak. Save your energy, Trude.” Trudy knows it was hard for Lila too, but she still takes care of her.
Gertrude shook her head, words refusing to form. Her eyes darted toward the tub and then away again, as if even the memory of what she had seen was unbearable. The image of Clarina, lifeless inside the tub is painted vividly in her mind. The flowing water blurs her face but it marked... and she does not think she will ever forget what she saw.
By the time Madame Ingrid arrived, the corridor outside the room was already alive with whispers. The girls had gathered instinctively, drawn by panic and confusion, though none of them dared to step inside. Madame Ingrid dismissed them at once with a sharp wave of her hand.
“Back to your bedrooms. All of you,” she ordered. “This is not something for young ladies to witness.” she added. Her voice did not tremble. Her face is plain and dull as ever, no hint of fear, terror, or curiousity. She stepped into the bathroom and looked at the scene and then closed her eyes. An inaudible murmur slipped silently through her lips before she turned to Lila.
"Call Constantine. Quick!" she instructed.
"But we need an ambulance!" Lila debated.
"Lord Constantine first." she emphasized.
Madame Ingrid then knelt beside Gertrude. “Dear,” she said firmly, “listen to me. You did nothing wrong.”
Gertrude let out a broken sound, halfway between a sob and a gasp. “She wouldn’t answer me,” she whispered. “I just thought she fell asleep... but when I drew the the curtains open... she was there, lying---dead and drowned." Trudy sniffles.
Madame Ingrid placked both hands on her shoulders, comforting her. “Enough. You will not blame yourself for this.”
The water was turned off. A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by Gertrude’s shaky breathing.
Meanwhile, their breakfast was abandoned entirely. The girls went back to their respective rooms but Sylvia, being the oldest, gathered everyone in her bedroom. The rest of the girls walked tiptoe over the oldest's room. No one dared to speak but later came a whisper. Freya stared blankly while sitting at the edge of the bed, while Mary Kate clutched her rosary so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Sylvia, usually composed, looked as though she were holding herself together by hope and will.
"What do you think happened?" Nora Lane trailed off.
“Something bad happened,” Anamaria murmured.
Nora Lane squeezed herself to the tiny space between Amalie and Freya. "Do you think it's Clarina? No one had seen her this morning... aside from that maid, Trudy." she broke off.
"I knew it! That suspicious biatch!" Amalie hissed.
"Hey, you cannot just suspect anyone right now." Sylvia shushed her.
"Oh, really, Miss Goody-shoes? Well, I think Clarina's dead. And there's no one to blame but that maid. She was the one who woke her up. But if you think about it... maybe she didn't wake Clarina up at all--- because she's already dead." Amalie made her point.
"We cannot make silly suspicions until Madame Ingrid say so." Mary Kate added.
"This isn't a suspicion, but a gut feeling. I knew there's something strange about that Trudy! And to think that she was also the one who saw Clarina in the bath--- isn't it too problematic?"
Their discussion was put to an end when the head mistress blast the door open. "I thought I told you to stay in your bedrooms... who told you to gather here?"
When Madame Ingrid finally returned, her posture was as straight as ever, but her expression had hardened. Her demeanor brought the girls to lower their heads. She heaved a deep breath. "Since you are all here, might as well tell you truth."
“Girls,” she uttered, “there has been a tragic incident.”
A collective breath was drawn. “Clarina is gone.” Her words sunk like rocks at the bottom of the sea.
A few gasps followed. Someone began to cry quietly. "B-But, what exactly happened?"
"Suicide..." The head mistress shook her head.
"Why would she do that? It's just so unclear... she was just a young girl." Sylvia uttered.
"Have you called the police?" Mary Kate asked.
"It's all been taken care of. I'm afraid this is all I will say for now,” Madame Ingrid continued.
“Classes are suspended for the day. You are to remain together and follow instructions as they are given. There will be no rumors, no speculation, and no disrespect to the deceased."
Her gaze swarmed around the room.
“Do you understand, ladies?” They nodded.
The manor changed that day.
Doors were kept open. Voices lowered. Even the sunlight seemed ashamed to streak its ray into the gloomy and mourning manor. Servants moved quietly, exchanging worried glances.
Gertrude was confined to her room under Lila’s care. She spoke little, staring at nothing, replaying the morning again and again in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the silence, the unanswered knock, the feeling that something was wrong long before she understood what it was.
“She was only a child,” Gertrude whispered at one point.
Lila sat beside her. “So are you.”
“You had no idea what she looked like, Lil. She looked horrified. Why would she end her life? I just don't get it." she gently shook her head.
"You really wouldn't know what comes into the mind of a person, Trude. We have nothing to do about it." Lila cheered her up.
"E-Earlier that day, she told me to wait for her while she shower... but s-she was found in the tub... her mouth was like burnt and crooked. It was not a work of suicide, Lila." her voice fades. It brought horror and more and more confusion to the other girl.
Hours passed, turning into days. Madame Ingrid stood alone in her study that night, staring at the fireplace, the flames eating out the burnt wood. She chugged the goblet and smirked. "Good for her. Now I have still got plenty of girls to take care of..." she whispers as the ember made crispy sounds, darkening the place and her soul.