The Fear

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 293
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

It had been a good Christmas. Things had seemed very bleak since the plague and the fire... She was still surprised she hadn't gotten sick, she was the first to catch a cold when the weather turned colder and she was the last to get rid of a cold when summer was on the way. She had lost her older brother and thankfully no others and the plague was well and truly in the past now. It was a blessing she had Jane, Robbie and Victor's sweet boy to busy herself with when Will was off at Hogwarts, she was sure that without them she would  have had far too much time to stew on the loss of her brother. That and the fear that accompanied the fact she was with child for a second time.

The last time she was quite sure she wasn't going to make it, she had even managed to wake up at her own funeral but she had survived. Maud wasn't sure what to expect this time, was she sturdier than last time? Would she be okay this time now that her body knew what it was doing or would she die because she simply wasn't strong enough? Stronger women than she had died.

Thankfully, she was busy enough that she could push the fear to the back of her mind most of the time. She was successfully doing so at that precise moment as she gazed contentedly at Robbie and Vicky as they played. Sadly her contentment was about to be cruelly disrupted. There had been a knock at the door and it had been answered but Maud was blissfully unaware until... "Mother?!" She straightened up in her seat and felt the color drain from her face.

  

[Velda Aesalon]

Though she did not plan her days with the intention of sneaking up behind people Velda often found she had a habit of doing so. Whether it was her quiet footing as she approached the dining table and made people stutter into their morning tea, or in her library where apparently people didn’t expect her to just simply be there, everyone’s ongoing surprise at her presence was somewhat vexing. Especially when it came in the form of one of her own children! Surely she had to be welcome somewhere!

“Hello dear,” wrapping a hand around the back of Maud’s chair she used it as leverage to lean down and press a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, ignoring how much it felt as though she was blocking her daughter’s escape route. Things with Maud had always been odd – even if she was the child Velda thought all things considered she was the least ashamed of – and they promised to be much the same. Oh well, she sighed to herself, she was here now and determined to impose her will because Merlin only knew the last time Maud had been in this condition and ignored her it had ended in a rather unfortunate funeral that had somehow ended more disastrously than even Velda could have direly predicted.

“You look terribly pale Maud, I do hope you’re looking after yourself. Or getting the cook to at least, you certainly don’t look quite so many weeks gone, but then you always were a slight thing.” She took a step back, all the better to observe Maud properly and immediately rolled her eyes. “You have been eating properly haven’t you? I have no wish to attend another funeral so soon my dear so please don’t oblige me.”

  

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 248
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

Before she knew it was happening, her mother had seized her and planted a kiss on her cheek. The suddenness of this startled her somewhat but then a lot of things startled Maud. She grew more uncomfortable still as her mother pointed out her pallor and scrawny figure despite the fact she was definitely plumper than usual. She had admittedly been off her food for a long while - longer or not than the last time, she was unsure - but she was eating plenty now. Plenty for her, anyhow. She did now wonder, however, if perhaps she wasn't eating as much as she ought to be. "I- I have, Mother, yes. Plenty." She looked down at her lap feeling rather guilty now.

Maud then realized she probably ought to invite her mother to sit down or else chastised for poor hosting. "Won't you please sit, Mother?" she asked tentatively, looking up from her lap to look at her. Maybe she would announce that she was only dropping in for a moment to frighten her and would be leaving in a moment. Maud doubted this and then felt incredibly guilty for hoping it. She was supposed to think only good things of her mother, her mother was the woman who had given her life and looked after her well enough that she hadn't died, not that she'd been much help for her father but that was another matter entirely that brought Maud even more feelings of guilt.

  

[Velda Aesalon]

Velda resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she straightened back up and realised that, as she had predicted, Maud was as jumpy as ever and with no especially clear reason. She was being pleasant wasn’t she? It was usually a chore to be this cordial to anyone let alone one of her own children and she felt a stab of annoyance. Which wasn’t unusual really. But she didn’t really want to upset Maud – had never really wanted to upset any of her children but especially not her more sensitive daughter – it was just that inevitably, without really meaning to, she simply did.

Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. She was far too old to break habits and Maud was altogether too nervous!

Without passing comment she took the seat offered and folded her hands neatly in her lap, eyes roaming over her daughter as she did so, trying to think of how best to broach her next question without upsetting the girl. She did look terribly wan whatever Maud might say and she would be an even worse mother than her children thought her if she ignored it.

“I won’t be stopping long,” she offered, hoping it might make Maud stop looking quite so skittish. “I thought it would be nice to see each other, it seems like so long doesn’t it? How are you feeling about the baby?”

With any luck it wouldn’t be quite as terrible as last time. Her second had been easier after all: at least the birth had, afterwards was another matter.

  

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 247
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

Maud felt guilty for the relief she felt knowing it would hopefully be a short visit. She did love her mother, but she also feared the woman, deeply. That made her feel terrible too. She oughtn't to suspect her own mother of murder but she did and it made her feel like the most ungrateful, disloyal daughter ever. At the same time, if her mother really had killed her father...

"Good," she replied meekly, not sure what else to say. Of course she had her fears, more of them than she cared to acknowledge, but she didn't want to be chastised for worrying herself into poor health. "H-Have you been well, Mother?" Maud raised her right hand and proceeded to anxiously gnaw on her thumbnail, not even registering that she was doing it. Chewing her nails had been a childhood habit she had long grown out of.

  

[Velda Aesalon]

Whatever it was she had done –

No, scrap that. She knew what she had done but that had been years ago and if Maud actually knew about that then surely she would be bolder for having that knowledge rather that looking like a dormouse about to be pounced on like a tiger at all times? Whatever the reason was it apparently hadn’t bothered her other children enough to make them behave themselves: at least Maud would never bring scandal on their name, even if she did insist on looking like a ghost and behaving like a child!

“Perfectly well thank you dear,” without comment she reached over and wrapped her fingers around Maud’s wrist, pulling her hand away so she couldn’t bite her nails. “I’m much more concerned for you,” she said with as much softness as she could muster, taking Maud’s hand between both of hers. “Is he looking after you?”

  

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 214
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

Maud let out an involuntary squeak as her hand was relocated against her will. She gazed at her mother with a look on her face like a deer caught in headlights. "O-Of course he is!" she stammered, feeling a great need to protect her husband against any degradation of his character in the eyes of her mother. Would her mother resort to murdering him if she were to give a negative answer? "He looks after me very well, Mother, and I know he always will." She believed it, she hoped her mother did too. Maud might be intimidated by the woman, but the whole murder suspicion business aside, a lot of it stemmed from a terrible fear of disappointing her. She wanted very much to earn her mother's approval in everything she did, whether she realized it or not, and she wanted her mother to think highly of Will too.

"Are you- Is it lonely at home?" she asked, suddenly struck with guilt and sympathy for her mother who now lived alone. Maud had thought she would end up a spinster and be left to keep her mother company, she would likely always feel a twinge of guilt for marrying, even if she hadn't been the last of her siblings to do so.

  

[Velda Aesalon]

As far as her children’s spouses went she had to admit that Maud’s was a considerable cut above the rest and by some distance the most desirable as a relative. On the other hand there wasn’t exactly a great deal of competition when it came to her forced relations! At least he wasn’t notably the child of a whore, which was something she supposed.

“Lonely?”

The thought was odd and certainly not one she had considered before. For six years she had enjoyed peaceful summers and untroubled Christmases and though she had been alone – blissfully so! – she hadn’t considered whether she was actually lonely.

“It would certainly be nice to see a little more of you,” she said with utter honesty, rather surprising herself by how soft her voice came out, but she had nearly lost Maud and she hadn’t entirely allowed herself to think about that. She cleared her throat abruptly. “And your brother and sister of course.” Although the former at least came with a slightly unfortunate adornment!

  

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 158
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

The guilt remained. It was true she didn't see as much of her mother as maybe a daughter ought, but she had gotten very good at finding excuses not to and minimizing her consequential feelings of guilt. It was quite easy with her mother working at the school, too easy. "I'm sorry," she murmured, hanging her head in shame. She was a terrible daughter. "I shall try to visit you more often, once I'm well again, I mean." Maud meant once she was no longer expecting and recovered enough to pay visits, assuming she didn't die first.

A thought then occurred to her and it spilled forth before she could stop it. "Can you- Do you know of a way to tell if... to tell if it's a girl or a boy?" Maud blushed and started messing with a button on one of her sleeves to distract from her own embarrassment. Why she was embarrassed, she didn't know.

  

[Velda Aesalon]

“My dear, if I knew that then I certainly would not be working in a school library I can assure you!”

She chuckled dryly and ignore entirely the fact actually she didn’t need to work at all. One of the few good things Victor had ever done for her was to leave her extremely well provided for – not that he had known he was leaving at the time of course! – but without the students to rouse her ire every year she would likely die of boredom.

“There are old wives tales about the shape of your stomach and what food you crave but I’ve had two of each and never noticed the slightest bit of difference. Well,” she added with a small shrug and an inevitable pang as she thought about her first born. “Apart from Victor nearly killing me.”

  

[Maud Rutledge]

TAG: Velda
WORDS: 175
OUTFIT: HERE
NOTES:
DATE: December 30th, 1884

Maud blushed a little at her own silliness. Of course, if there was a way then everyone would surely know about it. She was quite glad her mother hadn't been librarian when she had been at Hogwarts, she would probably have avoided the place like the plague and never passed her exams.

Her thoughts drifted to her lost brother at his mention and she felt suddenly very melancholy. She could still recall his last moments like they were yesterday. It was imprinted on her brain. Sometimes she had dreams about the day he had died right in front of her. She wanted very much to think of something other than Victor at that moment. "I sort of want a girl," she admitted a touch sheepishly. Maud felt a little guilty for voicing a preference when she wouldn't love the child any less for being a boy, almost as if she was concerned the child could hear her and would be upset if it knew it wasn't a girl. Which was ridiculous, but Maud is ridiculous.