#gothic easter

"What?" Cecily mumbled, waking with a start.

"You fell asleep in the chair, girl!" Aunt Marjorie's shrill voice rang through the dim room, giving Cecily a headache. "And you dropped the book you were reading — that was expensive, you know!"

"Yes, Aunt Marjorie," she said with a resigned sigh.

"Have you been in the sherry again?"

"No, Aunt Marjorie. It is only very hot and dark in here. Naturally I would doze off."

"It is not hot in this room! You must be ill." Aunt Marjorie grasped a long cord by her bed and rang it tenaciously. "Edith!" She screeched. "Edith! Oh there you are!" A harried maid scuttled into the room. "Take my niece out of here immediately! She has fallen ill and I am already in a weakened state. Return to me quickly, do you hear? My pillows have gone flat from Cecily's heavy breath!"

Edith escorted Cecily out of the room.

"I am fine, Edith, really," she insisted.

"I know you are Miss Cecily, but it probably would be best for your health to go to another part of the house."

"Yes, you are probably right, Edith. I shall go into the garden for some fresh air.

As dreary as the day was, the garden still looked colorful and alive. She stood in the middle of it, breathing it in. She tried to identify the different fragrances wafting in the wind — scented geraniums, sweet peas, and lavender of course, but also the smell of the water in the bird bath and the smoke from the chimneys.

A rustling sound to her left startled her out of her reverie. A small white rabbit was hopping among the honeysuckle. Cecily could swear he was watching her as intently as she was watching him. Suddenly, the rabbit winked at her. Cecily gave the smallest gasp.

"Are you alright Miss Cecily?" Edith's voice came from behind her.

She turned to respond, "Absolutely in good health, Edith," and turned back to look at the rabbit, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Cook's just announced supper, and she's got a brand new dessert she wanted to try."

"Oh really?" she replied, trying to feign interest through her disappointment. "What is it?"

"Rhubarb pie!"

At Monsieur Lapin's insistence, Cecily took him down to the root cellar in Aunt Marjorie's house. She had never had any desire in going down there before, what with its rickety stairs and suffocating darkness. He promised her that it really was not as bad as all that, and that it was actually quite a cozy place for a perfume laboratory.

Rabbit cradled with one hand and lantern in the other, Cecily made her way past potatoes and carrots and jars of who knows what. At the opposite end was a door that was half the size of a regular, human door. It was otherwise nondescript and easily overlooked.

"Will I fit through there?" she asked skeptically.

« But of course mademoiselle ! You are not so big, and the door is not so small. »

Inside was a cozy room with shelves and beakers and vials of all sizes. Strings of amber-colored lights criss-crossed the ceiling. At the center was a table with an unlit candle, surrounded by scraps of paper with notes and chemical formulas scrawled out.

"You built a perfume laboratory in Aunt Marjorie's root cellar?"

Monsieur Lapin shrugged. « Needs must when le diable drives. » He turned to contemplate her. « When I look at mademoiselle, I see ... hmm. » He hopped around Cecily in a circle, hmm-ing and tut-ing as he went. « I see a mature flower. There is fresh jasmine, but there is also smoke which obscures you. I shall make you a sample of Jasmin Smoke. Please wait for me in the library. »

"I would like to wait here. How can I trust that you won't leave as soon as I am out of sight?"

« Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît. There is not much room for a lady et un lapin. I will keep my promise. »

Reluctantly, Cecily went to the library. By now, the fire had been extinguished and the embers snuffed out. She was leaning over the fireplace, missing its warmth, when she noticed a tiny box in the ashes.

"Finished already? I must be dreaming." She removed the small spray vial and spritzed her wrists.

Immediately she felt as though she were sounded by giant, white Easter lilies. The smell pricked at her nose and overwhelmed her. The lilies weren't just a figment of her imagination; they were rapidly sprouting from the floor, smothering her, suffocating her ...

"Help!" she screamed. "Monsieur Lapin, help!"

In a flash the rabbit appeared, nimbly crunching on the stalks until the lilies fell and dissipated into the floorboards. Cecily crumpled to floor, pressing the bottoms of her palms into her eye sockets.

« The indole is too strong for mademoiselle, no ? Did you smell the smoke at all ? »

"No," she groaned. "I feel ill."

Monsieur Lapin rubbed her back while she recovered, murmuring gentle "there theres" of encouragement.

Suddenly, Cecily exhaled forcefully through her nose with a short, explosive, disdainful blow.

« Mademoiselle ? » the rabbit asked with a start.

"This smell is ... familiar. And not in a pleasant way. It reminds me of Eau Duelle."

« Ah, oui ! I know Eau Duelle! You do not find it pleasant? »

"I find it ... medicinal. To me it smells like medicated diaper cream."

« Ah non, ah non, ah non ! This will not do. »

Monsieur Lapin encouraged Cecily to her feet and they went to her bed chamber. He dipped her washcloth into the washbasin in her room and helped her scrub off the offending odor.

« I hope you will give me another chance. White flowers are wrong for mademoiselle, but I have an idea brewing that will be perfect for you ! »

"Stop!" Cecily hissed at the shape bounding away. "Stop this instant!"

« Ah non ! Ah non ! » he breathed, ducking under the credenza and appearing on the other side in a flash.

Suddenly, a door flew open. Monsieur Lapin was running at such speed that he crashed into it and was momentarily stunned.

"My word," came a voice thick and viscous. "How on earth did a rabbit get in here?" The awkward figure grabbed Monsieur Lapin by the scruff of his neck.

"Hello Reverend Phibbs," Cecily said, trying to control her breath so he would not know she had been running. "Does the season still disagree with you?"

"Very much so," he replied with a rather undignified sniff. He held the rabbit at arm's length in case his nose found rabbit fur disagreeable as well. Monsieur Lapin hated being suspended midair and began to kick wildly.

"Oh please," cried Cecily, "give him to me quickly! He'll hurt himself with a fit like that!" She snatched the rabbit into her arms and smothered him close to her chest. The rabbit squirmed against her grip. Reverend Phibbs watched Cecily scamper off with bemusement.

« Mais non, mademoiselle ! You must let me go ! » The rabbit's cries were muffled by the cotton and lace of Cecily's dress.

With some difficulty, she wrestled the doorknob of her bedroom open without losing her grip on Monsieur Lapin. "No, I mustn't," she replied simply, placing him on her bed and creating a hedge of pillows. "It is dreadfully boring in this great old house, and you are the first bit of entertainment I've had in ages! We shall tell each other stories—you can help me practice my French—and I will brush your fur until it is glossy. You will become my fat pet rabbit with an endless supply of vegetables and grass."

« You do not understand, mademoiselle. I have no wish to be a fat pet! I long to be free in the world, making perfume! »

"Perfume? Did I hear you correctly? Perfume?!"

« Oui, perfume. Un lapin such as myself has a wonderful nose. I desire to bottle the best scents in the world so that everyone may experience the pleasure I have every day. »

"Perhaps we can make a bargain then?" she cooed, gently stroking the soft fur on top of his head. "Bottle a perfume for me—no! Not just any perfume; the perfume that perfectly captures my essence!"

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Cecily. She had been sent Up North to tend to her aunt, Marjorie, who was quite ill indeed.

It was Cecily's responsibility to read aloud to Marjorie all manner of words: short words and long words, foreign words and familiar words, true words and false words. Cecily fulfilled her duty with only the smallest begrudgement every day except Sunday, which is when the local clergyman would come and read a homily.

It is on a Sunday that we find Cecily now, idly pacing around the house in listless ennui. She glanced glumly out the window as the rain fell with a gentle plip plip plip against the glass panes and green leaves.

"Trapped in this house," she muttered drearily. "Trapped in this town. Like a pretty bird locked in a cage and shut away in a tower room. Forgotten."

She heaved a sigh and moved to the library. She was careful to walk lightly; Aunt Marjorie's maid Edith was quick to scold her when her footsteps were too heavy. "Your poor aunt thought the house was comin' down round her ears! You mustn't vex her so!"

There was a beautiful fire going in the library's fireplace, making the room feel a little stifling for a mid-spring day.

"I suppose I shall read," she said aloud to the books, "though the written word has become tedious." She was only half-heartedly looking at the book titles when she came across a book she had never noticed before.

"Rhubarb Thief?" She enunciated the title with skepticism. "Well then, let's see what you are."

Cecily quickly read the story of Monsieur Lapin and his quest to bottle the scent of rhubarb. "What a charmingly naughty rabbit," she commented to no one in particular.

Psst!

Cecily almost missed the whispering sound coming from the doorway. Fortunately, it was persistent.

Psst!

She looked quizzically at the darkness in the hallway. "Is someone there?" Suddenly, a flash of white cotton darted from shadow to shadow in the corridor.