Benjamin Doe

It has been an unusually sunny morning. As such, I had popped open the window to let in a breeze. I quickly discovered that despite the sun, it was no less chilly than usual. That was all I thought about as I set up my easel.

'This weather, oh this accursed weather.' I

spent the entire time mentally moaning and groaning. I told myself that to close the window, however, would be to admit defeat. The sun was a rare treat no matter how sour it was.

It was these thoughts that led me away from my paints and set me at the window sill. I looked out to the estate lawns. Far out  near the gate there was a semblance of care taken with the grounds. The closer to the estate itself, however, the more the overgrowth became unmanageable. I considered what the view would be like from the other rooms. This was a room tucked away in the unused West Wing on the fourth floor. It was angled that some natural light would filter in both the morning and evening as it faced north. 'Nothing is visible from the first floor. The second floor barely counts as even that, depending on the window, was covered in foliage.' I mused. It took the third floor to get a view. The attic was the best, if one did not mind the low ceiling.

All these thoughts kept my spirit light. The longer I looked outside, the less I was actually looking. My mind was far away from this silent place.

Then movement flickered before me. A car was winding down the dirt path. It was steadily reaching towards the overgrowth.

'Who could it be?'

I watched it until it's coloring became apparent. A cop car was approaching the manor. I shot up. There was one likely person that could be.

'Uncle Ronny!' While he was not a blood relative, he had always been close. I remembered him from the time I was sent to private school when I was seven. It had only been a year but he had always escorted me to and from class.

'Uncle Ron! Uncle Ron!' I cheered to myself. He was a welcome break from the monotony of my days. Any diversion was appreciated. Uncle Ron would surely he quite the diversion.

I headed towards a staircase and made my way down a floor. Then flew down a hall to the next staircase and flew down once more. Then I ran down another hall and went down the final stairway. By the time I caught my breath and traveled several winding halls, parlor rooms, and a kitchen, I was what could be considered late.

My brothers were in the front reception room already. My older brother, Byron, was sitting on the vermillion love seat with his cane resting against it. Leaning against his chair with his usual far away expression, was Handel. He was only a year younger than Byron. They disagreed about quite a few things but that never stopped Handel from reaching out to Byron. On the other side of the room, Roger was rapping his hand againts a shelf and humming to his own beat. He was three years younger than Handel at fifteen years old. He was only two years older than me. Way younger than our older brothers. Still, he held that against me in every argument. I would throttle him if he weren't so disgustingly happy with his spot in a new musical. Apparently it is a big deal. I would not know.

They were all so disgustingly talented, actually. Something something, manifest destiny. It made me appreciate the company of Uncle Ronny. He was the outside world. With him came stories of people I never met in these dusty halls. His stories were just so full of color. What was an artist like me to do, but want to capture it?

So imagine my dismay when it is not Uncle Ronny to walk through the estate doors. Instead, it is the unknown with a damning expression. A couple of stranger officers walk in an even stranger girl.

I look at my brothers. Roger is uncommonly still, his eyes moving back and forth in their sockets as he gauges the situation. I follow his gaze to where Handel is smiling. Beside him Byron's expression is full of awe. He hobbles up in his haste. His arms spred wide open.

"Dear sister!" He cries. "You are back!"

I whip my head to look at the girl. She looks like she bit into a sour lemon.

"Yes, quite. Forgive me, if I am not so excited. It truly has been so... long." She stumbles through her words. Her hesitance with the last words stands out all the more.

Her words have no effect on them. Byron lays his hand on her arm.

"Dear, let us have dinner. They have prepared a delicious roast for you. Tell us, how have these years been!" Byron lead her to the dining room. The rest of us could only follow.

Roger fell into step besides me. For a moment our eyes stayed on our brothers and the young woman.

Finally the words in my mind bust forth. "What is happening? No one has told me a thing."

Roger gave me a condescending smile.

"Of course you would not know. That is our sister. Her mother had sole custody and took her away when you were, what, four?"

I stared at him.

"What."

"I mean, we did talk about her. We kind of noticed that you never made the connection."

Still, I stared at him. I could not even imagine what to think in response. I had a sister.

Of course, Roger was not lost for words.

"We only got news of her return last Sunday. Tragic news, the death of her mother. Tragic. It was discussed emancipation that. Father insisted she join us. Though I believe he also insisted on boarding school."

"Boarding school." Finally, a phrase I could understand. "Father never allowed us to go to boarding school."

"Hmm? Well, Jane is barely like us. You understand. She should not be expected to behave as such. Anyway, anyhow, here we are. They set her up a room. Let us see how she settles. It is unlikely you should encounter her much with how you stay in that dusty corner. Do make an effort not to be so pubescent, would you?"

What. "What."

"That dust is clogging your brain." Roger took a deep breath, clearly readying himself for his next speech.

Handel, bless him, fell into stop with us.

"Just like all that rocking of yours makes you lose your rhythm." Handel told Roger.

"My dancing is perfectly on step, mind you." Roger frowned.

"If you say so," Handel murmured.

"What's this about a sister." Ah, I mustered a full sentence.

"Our sister, Jane is only a couple years older than you. She was the product of an extramarital affair." Handel was always my favorite brother. He continued. "She left with her mother when you were quite young. I believe you were three."

"No one told me. No one told me anything." I whispered.

Handel patted me on the shoulder. "Unfortunately, in a house like this, it is very easy to forget what is important."

At this Roger sneered and stomped ahead of us.

"Oh, and do forgive your brothers. They struggle to think beyond themselves, sometimes."

"Are you including yourself?" I asked listlessly.

Handel laughed. "Always, but in this case I have to ask for your forgiveness on something else, more specifically. I have not taken the time to see your paintings. How are they coming along?"

My lips twitched. I decidedly kept myself frowning, though.

"Fine. However, now I have to drop all my projects," I felt emotion rise in me. "Now, there is something else to report. I need to keep track of this. Why couldn't someone have told me? This is ruining everything I had planned."

"You will figure it out. I know you do not let anything left untold. And, really, I do apologize for not keeping you informed. Between you and me," Handel dropped his voice to a whisper, "there are other things going on. Things best left out of sight for young boys like you and Roger. Not to mention young Jane. This is all just fireworks. Nothing that lasts long and it only hides the stars."

"Y'now, it would be easier to forgive if you told me what is really going on." I pouted. I considered for a moment to try and look cute.

"Ah, but then you would not have an excuse to leave your paintings to find the truth."

"What does the truth matter if I cannot tell it."

"I think you should know that one."

We pulled into the dining room, then. I could not talk to Handel anymore before he took a seat to the left of the head where Byron was. Roger occupied the seat next to Handel. Jane was placed to Byron's right. This only left me with the seat next to Jane.

The first course was served. I stared at my soup. Even Roger was only miming at taking sips. A quick glance at Jane showed she had not even touched the spoon.

She caught my eye. I glanced back fixedly at my bowl. I refused to look anywhere except the speck of parsley in my soup.

Byron never stopped talking.

Finally, the final course was served. It was chocolate tart. I poked at the rasberry garnish. They were on the edge of mushy. It was all the excuse I needed to push the meal away.

Byron turned on me.

"Take a bite, Benny." He placed his own fork down.

"I'm not really hungry." My eyes never left my plate.

"Benny."

"Wonderful." Jane spoke up. "May I have it. Chocolate is my favorite."

I turned to her so hard I think I suffered whiplash. Jane nodded. I handed her my plate.

"Thank you, Benjamin." Jane spoke to me for the first time.

'Thank you' I though to myself.

"You are welcome," I said aloud.

"Still like chocolate, eh?" Roger grinned.

"I find most people do," Jane responded. She did not look at Roger. Only cut the small tart to bite size pieces.

"I find I rather do not like it. Too sweet or too rich. I much prefer fruits." Byron started yapping again.

For one moment, the siblings looked at each other. For one moment, they shared the joke.

___ ___ ___

Howdy! This is M. E. Crosby, reporting in!

This is the first chapter of my first story here on Inkitt. I am pretty new to the site. Anyone have any good found family recommendations for me? Maybe something with supernatural elements?

I hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter. It is just a little introduction to the characters and their conflicts. There are some Easter Eggs with each sibling's name. Anyone want to yonder a guess?

Now my own yapping aside, next chapter should be soon. Hopefully, the second chapter is next Sunday.

May y'all have a blessed life,

M. E. Crosby