Family Values, I: Distant Memories

This was it. 77 Maple Street, Old Town. Just like the note said.

Beatrice held in a breath and then let it out slowly as she set her bags down on the sidewalk. She’d known her great aunt and uncle were wealthy; Beatrice’s father had done well for himself in life, too, but her estranged relatives’ estate made the charming chalet where she’d grown up look like a tool shed.

“Lady Beatrice! Welcome!” a smartly-dressed man with silver hair and white gloves met her at the gates with a humble bow. “Your Great Aunt and Uncle have been expecting you. Please, allow me to take your bags to your room.”

Beatrice looked around, confused. “They have?” She hadn’t called ahead; the note hadn’t given her a number to call. “My room? Oh, I was just going to say hello and then look for a hotel-“

“Nonsense, Lady Beatrice! You are family! Follow me.”

The butler led Beatrice to an unused guest room that smelled like aged wood and days gone by. Something about it tickled the farthest reaches of her distant memory. A lonely teddy bear propped next to a window looked at her like an old friend.

“That teddy bear… and this room. It feels so familiar to me. Have I been here before?” she asked.

“Oh yes, Lady Beatrice. I’m surprised you still remember. Your father brought you here for the summer when you were no taller than my knee,” he chuckled as he set her bags down. “Would you like a tour of the estate or would you prefer some time alone to rest before supper?”

“A tour would be lovely, thank you.” Despite the long trip, Beatrice didn’t feel tired. She had too many questions.

The butler escorted Beatrice out of her room and into the grand foyer just as a greying gentleman with a vague resemblance to Beatrice’s father entered from the lounge.

“Alfred! You didn’t tell me my niece had arrived!” he exclaimed when he saw the two of them. The butler, whom Beatrice now knew was Alfred, bowed apologetically.

“I’m afraid she’s only just arrived, Master Gunther.”

“Well, no matter,” Gunther waved off the indiscretion easily and offered a beaming smile to his niece. He approached her with outstretched arms. “Beatrice! It’s been so long, I hardly recognise you. You look just like your father, Watcher rest his soul.”

“Thank you, Uncle Gunther. I’m sorry I don’t have clearer memories of you and Aunt Cornelia,” Beatrice moved off the subject of her father’s death quickly. The topic still put needles in her heart. “I was given a note instructing me to meet with you; it said you had the answers. The answers to what? Also, how did you know I was coming? Alfred said you’d been expecting me, but I-“

“I’m terribly sorry, Beatrice, but I was just on my way to work when I ran into you. I know you must be confused, but we can discuss everything later. I really must be going, but do go see your aunt. She’s been so excited to see you again. She’s just finishing her afternoon tea in the lounge.”

He gave her a quick hug and was out the door before Beatrice could get a word in edgewise. She was starting to get the feeling something bigger than she expected was going on; it unsettled her.

She opened her mouth to ask Alfred where the lounge was only to find he’d slipped away unnoticed while she’d been talking with her uncle. She could hear voices coming from the room her uncle had just been in, so she followed the voices.

“Ah, here she comes now, Lady Cornelia,” Alfred motioned to Beatrice as she entered. “May I present your great niece, Lady Beatrice.”

“Actually, you can just call me Bea,” Beatrice finally found an opportunity to mention. “Everyone does. Even my father… did,” she hesitated before using the past tense as her chest squeezed in on itself.

“Oh I could never shorten such a beautiful traditional name, dear,” Cornelia smiled sympathetically as she delicately dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief. “I’ve just finished my meal. Come and sit. Have you had afternoon tea, yet, Beatrice?”

“Oh, no, but I’m not very hungry, Aunt Cornelia,” Beatrice said, but sat down at the table with her great aunt, anyway.

“I suppose that’s just as well; you wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite for dinner. Alfred’s preparing quite the feast tonight in your honour, you know. Do you remember my son, Mortimer?”

Beatrice blinked, nonplussed. In her honour? How did they even know she was coming in the first place? No one seemed eager to answer her whenever she asked. “Um, Mortimer?” She tried to think back, but drew a blank and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Ah well, he’s not that much older than you, so maybe you wouldn’t, but I’ve invited him and his family over so we can all catch up as a family. He’s married with a little girl now, you know.” Cornelia sighed and shook her head. “Gracious, I feel old just thinking about it.”

Beatrice didn’t know what to say to that. Meeting her estranged cousins sounded interesting; she was curious about her father’s side of the family she barely knew, but she was getting antsy. No one was in any rush to give her these so-called “answers” she was supposed to be seeking.

“Aunt Cornelia, thank you for the warm welcome, but I have a lot of questions. My father left me a note instructing me to seek you out and that you and Uncle Gunther had answers for me? Answers to what? And Alfred says you were expecting me, but I don’t know how because I never called ahead.”

Cornelia pulled her niece into a welcoming hug. “Yes, yes, I know all about that. We can discuss all that after dinner. For now, why don’t you get settled into your room and pick out something nice to wear this evening? Family dinners are a formal affair around here.”

---

Beatrice stared at her clothes, now unpacked and neatly hung up in the room where she’d be staying for the foreseeable future, but she wasn’t thinking about what to wear to dinner. Picking out a pretty dress was the least of her concerns at the moment.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about these ‘answers’ no one wants to give me, Mr. Cuddles?” she asked the teddy bear sitting in the corner of the room.

Mr. Cuddles revealed nothing.

“Hmph. You sound just like my father,” Beatrice muttered under her breath.