Madeleine, Let's Just Disappear

Despite the suffocating weight of the velvet drapes, there were slivers of the morning sun that bled through windowpane. For Elizaveta Laidengard, waking up was a resurfacing. To arise each morning was a gasping inhalation after drowning in deep sleep, only to realize the water was still there, filling the room and her lungs.

She sat on the edge of her mattress, the iron springs creaking in protest beneath her slight frame. Her dormitory was dull, but even so the beautiful linens and the lingering scent of lavender sachets her mother insisted she pack tried it’s best to give life to the room, almost mocking her.

“Be a good lady, Elizaveta. Please be happy with yourself. Hold your head high.” Her sweet mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

How could one be happy with a self that on most days felt like a rotting house?

Elizaveta stood, the rush of blood to her head making the world tilt dangerously. Black spots danced in her vision, a familiar greeting from a body kept purposely empty. She steadied herself against the heavy oak wardrobe waiting for the vertigo to pass. A moment after she caught her reflection in the cheval mirror.

Her red hair was usually compared to autumn leaves by older relatives, but it looked dull to her eyes. Her hazel eyes were sunken, two dark bruises against pale skin dusted with freckles she had tried to scrub away since she was twelve.

She yawned as her fingers moved by muscle memory alone. A sequence practiced more than a thousand times, she put her left arm in her dress shirt, followed by the right and then smoothed the pleats of her skirt. The uniform of Arlenegarten Girls Boarding School was a solemn affair, stark but rigid. A long, ankle-length black skirt that swished with every step, a stiff white collar that pinched the throat and a cropped black jacket with the school’s crest, a wreath of golden laurels. She buttoned it to her chin and sealed herself away.

Leaving the dormitory, Elizaveta stepped out into a place she had learned to tolerate but never love. Unlike the fortress-like schools perched on inaccessible hills, Arlenegarten sat nestled in a lush valley just outside the city.

It was surrounded by a forest of ancient pines and elm trees that were currently shedding their gold leaves across the cobblestones. The main building was a sprawling manor of grey stone and wrought iron accompanied by high arched windows and corridors that curved in ‘S’ shapes designed to prevent students from running.

Elizaveta walked through the courtyard clutching her leather portfolio of sheet music to her chest. She hummed under her breath. She watched the other girls, faceless blurs of black fabric giggling as they reunited after the break. She wondered how they could harbour such effortless joy, while she just drifted among them.

I guess it makes sense.. She thought. It’s our debutante year. The year of the auction.

That’s what it was, a parade of flesh and etiquette. In Schutzlestadt, families poured money into the institution so their daughters could learn to pour tea without spilling, speak two more languages and waltz without stepping on toes. All this just to be sold off to the highest bidder when they turned twenty, often to some wealthy titled heir looking for a broodmare with good table manners.

Elizaveta’s fingers tightened on her portfolio. She closed her eyes, imagining blinding lights and the melodic ring of her soaring voice. She wished so dearly to capture the hearts of an audience that loved her every note, but each passing day that dream felt increasingly brittle.

The bell rang. It was time for the assembly. The Grand Lecture Hall was a large space with a domed ceiling painted with cherubs and clouds darkened by decades of candle smoke. Rows of desks faced a raised podium. Elizaveta took a seat near the back, near the tall windows that overlooked the gardens. She opened her notebook staring at the blank page.

The room filled with the rustle of skirts and murmurs, and it was then that the heavy double doors at the front of the hall groaned open and silence fell.

The headmistress walked in her cane tapping on the floorboards. Though, no one was looking at her.

Trailing behind her was a girl who looked as if she had been cut out from the pages of a fairytale.

Elizaveta stopped breathing for a second. An involuntary reaction, a biological response to seeing something so irritatingly symmetrical.

The new girl was tall, taller than Elizaveta by a head. The way she walked had this gentleness to it, as if the air around her was water and she was merely drifting through it. Her skin was porcelain glowing under the gaslights. Her hair, a dark, rich brown, was woven into intricate waterfall braids that met at the back of her head, leaving silky strands to frame a face that seemed incapable of holding a bad expression.

“Ladies.” Madame Lynne’s voice scratched the air.

“We have a transfer student joining the third-year cohort. This is Madeleine Isabeau, from the House of Isabeau in Dorse.”

A ripple of whispers went through the room.

Isabeau. Aristocracy and old money.

Madeleine turned to face the class. When she lifted her gaze, Elizaveta felt a jolt of shock. The girl’s eyes were turquoise, a shocking, vibrant blue-green, but the centers were shattered with a brilliant golden yellow, a central heterochromia. Her eyes looked like they could tell a story on their own... a story Elizaveta refused to read.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all...” Madeleine said, airy and light. She had a French lilt that made the words sound soft. “I hope we can get along.”

And it seemed she was irritatingly charming too.

Elizaveta felt a hot acid burn in her chest.

A visceral rejection.

Look at her. Elizaveta thought, gripping her pen. She stands there like she owns the light shining on her. She mustn’t know the first thing about hardship. She’s a doll. A hollow doll.

“Lady Isabeau..” Madame Lynne continued, consulting a ledger. “You have been assigned to Dormitory 4B. Your roommate and academic partner for the upcoming term...”

Wait... 4B? Elizaveta’s heart hammered against her ribs.

Please, no. Don’t say it.

“...will be Miss Elizaveta Laidengard.”

It seemed hell had frozen over. Elizaveta froze, her face draining of what little colour it had. Across the room, those turquoise eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Elizaveta. Madeleine offered a small smile.

Elizaveta did not smile back. She stared, cold and unblinking, until Madeleine’s smile faltered and she looked away, confused. The rest of the day was a nightmare. Every class Elizaveta attended, Madeleine was there.

Madeleine knew the answer to the stupidly obscure treaty question before the professor had even finished asking it in history class. Even in literature, her analysis of the poem of the day was so profound and so eloquently spoken that the professor actually applauded. The other girls flocked to her. They complimented her hair, her posture and even the way she held her quill.

Elizaveta sat in the corner. The girl had done nothing to her, but Madeleine’s very existence felt like an insult.

By the time the afternoon bell rang, signaling the end of classes Elizaveta was exhausted. Up next was the setup period for the new dormitories and she would drag her feet up the spiraling staircase to Room 4B, hoping against all odds that there had been a mistake.

There was not.

The door was open. Inside, the room had transformed...well on one side at least. The empty side was now occupied. Expensive leather trunks sat at the foot of the bed. A vase of fresh white lilies... (where had she even found those?) Sat brightly on the nightstand.

The floor Matron was behind her holding a tray with a sealed letter.

Madeleine took it with a polite nod but as her eyes surveyed the page, her expression quickly became sour. Madeleine hastily folded the letter away. It was a reminder of her duty as a princess, but even more so, it was a reminder that her time here was merely a stepping stone for her. Nothing more, nothing less.

Madeleine cleared her throat and quickly went back to unpacking a stack of books. She had removed her jacket, revealing the pristine white blouse underneath. She looked up as Elizaveta entered.

“Hello~” Madeleine said, her voice gentle and expression hopeful. “Elizaveta, was it? I am so glad to finally speak to you properly. I apologize for the intrusion of my things; I tried to keep them to my side as much as possible.”

Elizaveta did not answer. She walked to her own bed, threw her bag down and began aggressively rearranging her pillows.

“I... I noticed your sheet music...” Madeleine tried again, gesturing vaguely to the case on Elizaveta’s desk. “I have long admired those who sing. I play a bit of piano myself, though not very well.”

“It’s not a hobby.” Elizaveta snapped. She turned, glaring at the taller girl. “It’s a discipline. And I don’t like people touching my things.”

Madeleine blinked, her long lashes fluttering. She took a step back, her hands clasping together in front of her waist. “I would not dream of touching it. I only meant to make conversation.”

“I’m not here to converse.” Elizaveta said. “We are roommates because the school mandates it, and we are partners because the register says so. That doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Just... stay on your side, Isabeau. And don’t pity me with that look.”

“Pity?” Madeleine looked genuinely baffled. Her eyes searched Elizaveta’s face. “I don’t pity you. I just-.. did I do something to offend you? If my arrival has upset the order of things, I truly apologize.”

“Your existence upsets the order of things.” Elizaveta muttered under her breath, turning her back to her.

She heard Madeleine draw a soft, shaky breath, but the girl didn’t retaliate. She just went back to unpacking with a suffocating silence.

Elizaveta couldn’t stand it. The air in the room felt too thin with Madeleine in it.

That night she grabbed her coat and fled.

She wandered the school grounds, the autumn chill biting through her stockings. She walked past the greenhouses and down toward the service gates. She needed to feel the cold, something other than the crushing weight she felt inside.

She sat on a bench near the entrance, taking in the orange sky, watching the fog roll in from the city of Schutzlestadt.

What is with her? All of it must be an act. She talked to the dark.

Suddenly, a car stopped down the service road. It stopped near the gate and a figure hopped out.

Elizaveta squinted. The figure was dressed in a dull grey coat, carrying a heavy canvas bag. The person moved quickly, checking over their shoulder, before ducking into the shadows of the wall, seemingly trying to change their shoes.

Elizaveta leaned forward. As the figure passed under the gaslight of the gate, the hood fell back.

It was Madeleine.

But... not the Madeleine of the classroom. This was a Madeleine that looked exhausted. Her hair was slightly frizzing at the temples the perfect braids loosened. She was stripping off a rough stained apron and stuffing it into her bag, revealing the school uniform underneath.

Elizaveta froze in the shadows. She watched as the ‘Princess of Aeiren’ rubbed her ankle, wincing in pain, before composing herself and slipping through the side door back into the school.

Elizaveta waited until she was gone, her heart pounding.

A job?

She had seen the logo on the apron before she stuffed it away, it was a maid’s apron from a hotel in the city. And under her arm, she had been clutching a garment bag from a popular dress up shop in the district. It was the kind of place that hired girls to stand for hours and pin hems for rich matrons.

The ‘Princess of Aeiren’ was working manual labour in secret?

Elizaveta sat back on the cold bench. The image of the doll cracked just a fraction, though, a darker confusion took root.

Why? Elizaveta thought, shivering as the wind picked up. Is it a game to her? Slumming it with the commoners? Or is the porcelain cracked all the way through?

She stood up, brushing the leaves from her skirt. It was time to go back to the room, back to the girl who was lying to everyone.

She turned and walked back toward the lights of the school, dragging her shadow behind her.