Hellen

Two days had passed since my meltdown about Simon, and the snow still hadn’t ceased. I couldn’t leave the house, for there were five feet of snow outside. I couldn’t ask Sarah to teach me how to treat the sick; there were no sick people to treat. I couldn’t ask Philip to tell me about engineering; he’d scoff at me. Lewis was angry at me because he assumed that I was responsible for his brother’s disappearance. The only person in the entire mansion who I could talk to was Charles, and that was never an easy task. 

In order to earn his attention, I had to recite all of the lines from an entire scene in a Shakespeare play. The play depended on Charles’ mood and what he was thinking about. Once it might’ve been Hamlet because he thought Charlotte might be dead. Another time it might be Romeo and Juliet because he longed for her.  

I noticed that every thought that he had me recite lines about had something to do with that runaway blonde girl. I understood how much he missed her. It’s difficult to go an entire four days without seeing the only person you’ve ever loved. I almost pitied him about it. 

I didn’t say any of this aloud, of course. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if my brother found out about that kid that I used to like when we were seven. That kid who Charles spent every moment of his life with. That kid, who Charles called his best friend. 

That kid. 

Philip and I had called him the Turner boy. 

With a loud gasp, I realized the mistake that we’d made. The mistake that I’d made when I let Edmund and Charles fight for a straight half hour. 

How different he looked now. How had I not realized before? I had met him before. Mr. Turner had lied to me. He had said that we had been announced to be engaged, but we had never met. Though we had met. He and my brother had been best friends. Of course, I had met him. My twin and I used to talk every now and then when we were small. Edmund was always with Charles. 

I rushed to find my brother to tell him what needed to be done.