Serendipity had every intention of returning to her cottage and sending another letter to Mr. Cane as quickly as possible. However, once Maevis and Ms. Crotlybloom decided to take on the project of scrubbing years of filth and grime from her--her skin, her hair, her fingernails, between her toes, everywhere--her return had been quite delayed. It had taken both of the older women with brushes, combs, and eventually scissors, to work her hair into what could potentially be called “suitable” again. Her flesh was red and sore, not only from the warm water (which had been switched out three times) but also from the intense scrubbing.
Once the torturous bath had been completed, she needed a few moments to collect herself before pulling her abused body out of the tub. Even the promise that Maevis would help her dress in a gown she had laid aside (it had been Serendipity’s mother’s at one time) and a new pair of boots, did not result in a hasty exit from the cooling water. No, Serendipity needed a moment alone to recover from the ferocious attack, so she sat in the somewhat muddied water and tried to gather the strength to disembark as the dull gray suds collected around her thin white calves and danced around her elbows.
The longer she sat, legs crossed, hugging her knees to her chest, staring intently into the dancing embers of the fire in the hearth, however, the more inclined she was to reflect on the last time she had been within these walls. She had never given much thought to this particular room, as it was only used occasionally, but it was joined by her parents’ chambers, and she had many fond memories of running in early in the morning and leaping atop her snoozing father, always to her mother’s chagrin. Her very own room was just above this one, and that had been her place of solace for so many years following her father’s death. It was the one place she could go to be alone--from time to time--without the constant nagging of her mother or the harsh words from her sisters. How many hours had she sat near the window, looking out at the sky, wondering if her father was looking back at her?
Her mind flickered to thoughts she’d rather not attend to as she walked through the hallways s in her mind. Just down the hall from where she was sitting, beyond the wall in front of her, was the room she would avoid at all cost—the kitchen. The location where she had inadvertently changed everything. How many times these last eight years had she asked herself why she hadn’t been more careful? She knew it was necessary to study the two canisters ever so attentively. She had asked her mother so many times not to keep the rat poison so close to the baking goods, had even moved it herself several times. It was almost as if her mother were tempting her fate, daring Serendipity to make the costliest error imaginable.
From time to time, another question appeared in her head: had she done it on purpose? No, of course not! Despite the difficulties of living with a mother who had no problem voicing her opinion when it came to Serendipity’s shortcomings and two sisters who berated and belittled her from the moment they crawled from their beds in the morning until they finally went to sleep late at night, she had not done it on purpose. It had been a simple mistake. Two similarly colored canisters, both labeled with words she could not read, no one to help her…. She had made a careless mistake--but it was, in fact, a mistake, an accident.
And yet as she sat there in the discolored water, her legs crossed in front of her, her thin arms hugging them close to her chest, her sharp chin resting on one knee, she still knew she would never be able to forgive herself. No matter how many people explained to her that it wasn’t her fault, nothing could take away the images of her family writhing around in pain on the floor, the contents of their stomachs emptying rapidly as they both cursed her and prayed to God for mercy. “Serendipity! What have you done? Foolish child! You’ve killed us all…”
“Are you about ready to get dressed?” Maevis had entered so quietly, Serendipity had not even heard her until she was standing right next to the tub, towel in hand, ready to help her out of the low-sitting contraption.
Serendipity did not pull her eyes away from the fire, despite the surprise of unexpectedly hearing her friend’s voice. Maevis waited patiently, accustomed to long thoughtful pauses in the conversations she had with the tiny young thing sitting uncomfortably in a pool of lukewarm water which was still anything but clean even after being changed out so many times. At last, Serendipity said quietly, “Maevis, I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Maevis disagreed. “The Serendipity I know can do anything she puts her mind to.”
There was a small splash in the tub as Serendipity flung her hand out of the water in protest, turning her head at last to look into Maevis’s eyes. “Who, me? Don’t be ridiculous. When have I ever....”
“Lots of times,” Maevis interrupted, dropping down to sit next to the tub on the floor despite the small wet spots which had formed from drips and other wayward droplets of water. “When you were a little girl, it was all I could do to keep you from climbing up on the windowsill in your bedroom so you could see out across the tops of the trees, especially if you knew your father would be returning soon. You insisted on learning to play the harpsichord when your fingers weren’t long enough to reach the keys properly--even without sheet music....”
“I was a silly little girl then,” Serendipity said dismissively.
“You were a little girl, often silly, but very intelligent--and creative. If I, or your mum, told you no, you’d find a way to do it anyway, whatever it was. And it’s the same today--with the dolls. Whatever makes you think you can put together all of those dolls, ship ‘em out all over the world, dressed in fancy frocks with stylish hair is beyond me. But you’re doing it. Because you’ve set your mind to it.”