#premascine

Lillian looked at the hair in her hands. Four days after the incident and her body had stopped withering. Not quite a walking corpse, but certainly nothing that would walk in public and not cause notice. Her hair, her beautiful dark auburn hair, had continued to wither away until it became brittle and thin. Now it was the hair of an old woman standing on the edge of her grave. The nuns at school had alternately praised her for her luck and admonished her not to give into the vanity that was the sin of all women. If they could see her now, holding handfuls of faded dried up weeds.  

A knock at the door made her cry out in alarm, "No! Don't come in!" She didn't want to see anyone until she could come to terms with what she was. But someone entered anyway.

"Mother," Lillia whispered, suddenly wishing to cry. Instead, she covered her drawn and sunken face behind knobby hands. "Don't look at me!"

Catherine Rosselini came to her daughter with soothing sounds of comfort. "Oh sweetheart, don't hide from me. You're as beautiful now as you were when you were born."

Lillian choked on her mother’s good humor and obvious lie. "Newborns are ugly."

"Not to their mothers." Catherine laughed, not hesitating to put her arms around her daughter, holding the cold and stiff body tight. Desperately needing the comfort, Lillian returned the embrace still feeling tears that wouldn't fall.  Could she still cry in this state, or would she always feel stuck not being able to purge what was in her heart?

"What do I do now?" she whispered into her mother’s shoulder, only just now realizing she was dressed for a formal evening. Count Rossellini was hosting his own descendants tonight at the family gathering, an invitation that Catherine had coveted more than anything, finally getting to mingle with the greatest of her relations.  Lillian backed away hastily, less her changed countenance somehow stain the dress.  She felt filthy in this condition, still smelling the canal water that had flooded that pit and wondered if, like her missing tears, if she’d ever feel clean again.

"You put on the dress I brought you and you hold your head up high and you remind everyone that you have been triply blessed this year. And when that poor excuse of a father of yours hosts the Milliners at the end of the week as the youngest family, you'll attend that one too and remind every one of those ignorant Yankees exactly what you bring to the table."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what, honey?"

"Sleep with dad if you hate him so much?"

Catherine looked thoughtful, smoothing back the thin scant wisps of hair that still graced Lillian’s head. "Because it was the price of my independence, darling. And besides, it brought me you and your little brothers and I didn't have to chain myself to some fat lugard of a man for the rest of my life. You," she kissed Lillian's cheek. "Were entirely worth putting up with that dithering ass. And this," she kissed Lillian's other cheek. "Has made every insult worth it. My precious daughter given the Kiss just hours after the Milliners were formally included in the family. By one of the elders no less. It is very possible you are closer in blood to Uncle Ambrogino than you are to your father!"

The way her mother laughed, it was clearly the crow of triumph.  It was apparently a mark of status to have a close family be….whatever she was now.  Whatever status Catherine had gained by having Old Man Milliner’s bastards had somehow increased by her literal falling in with Mathias. 

"How...how did you know to send me there? To the well? How did you know there'd be family there?"  Lillian tried to forget the screams of the people they pushed in - Frances’ wife and all his descendants, by blood or by marriage, that had refused to bend a knee to the horror that was the Giovanni.  It was Frances’ proof of loyalty, that everyone walking would be bound, one way or another, to the family business.  She had already heard the servants gossiping on the haggling being done over the newly widowed and who would take them of Frances’ hands.

Again that thoughtful look as if Catherine was considering the events and if the story could be told. "My uncle married outside of the family. She was an only child, an heiress to use the old fashion term, so it was permitted.  There wouldn't be anyone to challenge the inheritance or any of her own family she could run to if she....discovered any of the family business. It was eventually discovered she had been having an affair. He couldn't divorce her and risk losing any of the estate, or her taking the one child he knew for sure was his, so he demanded that Count Rossellini do something. And so he did. My uncle's wife, her lover, and their children were all pushed into the well. We were all brought to watch as a reminder that one doesn't betray the family."

It was said so casually that Lillian felt colder than she had been, staring at her mother in something akin to shock.  “And…and no one thought her death suspicious?”

“It's easy to fake a drowning death in Venice, my dear.  What was left of the bodies showed up in the lagoon eventually.  A boat accident was to blame.”

"Did you...expect this to happen to me?"  Lillian pressed withered hands to her sunken cheeks.