Capítulo 1: Chapter 1
Arturo Carandini, 8 years old.
The door drew the attention of Arturo and his younger brother Alessandro- the only source of entertainment at that moment in time. They were bored, as they anticipated for their mother to walk through the closed doors.
Alessandro averted his gaze from the door and sighed, allowing his head to strike the table, drawing his brother's attention. Arturo tore his gaze from the door to look across the table to where his annoying brother was sitting. The table was bare of food, only shiny décor to fill the void.
"When will she arrive?" Arturo heard his brother mumble under his breath, lifting his head from the table while Arturo decided to send a glare his way.
Alessandro then rested his chin on the table, peering directly at his brother, who sat opposite him on the dining table, ignoring the glare his brother had.
With narrowed eyes Arturo opened reluctantly opened his mouth "I won't answer you if you don't talk properly; if grandfather heard you mumbling, you'd know what would happen." he snapped not exactly pleased with having to wait himself, he found himself folding his arms against his chest as he rested his back against the chair.
His younger brother, Alessandro tried to roll his eyes discreetly, but not discrete enough.
"I'm merely trying to ensure you don't get in trouble again because if you get in trouble I get in trouble." He spoke once more after seeing the look his brother had given him.
His younger brother huffed in annoyance, "I hate grandfather, it's always Carandini this Carandini that- I understand we have a reputation to uphold but no one will see us in our own home! We could definitely have been finished eating by now if she was on time then we could have been off racing on the brooms" Alessandro complained, as he leaned back into his chair with a dramatic sigh, as he turned his gaze towards the door again.
Arturo remained silent; it was clear that his brother was simply hungry and therefore grumpy-where was their mother?
Was she unwell?
Was she sleeping?
He drummed his fingers on the table. His mother was clearly depressed, as she had always been. Lunch with the woman was the most time they ever got to spend with her in a day, so they were expectantly awaiting her arrival before they could eat.
Even yet, he hadn't seen her since yesterday. She had always been pale in comparison to them, owing to their Italian ancestry, while their mother was of just German ancestry. She had been paler than usual, emphasizing the bruised patches on her arms.
Lunches with her were always sombre, with awkwardness reigning supreme- they barely knew her, just as she barely knew her own children, since she avoided them so much, that even the slightest eye contact made her uncomfortable.
It irritated Arturo greatly to know knowing his mother loathed him, not just him, but his brother as well, yet she was still expected to have lunch with them- he knew it, it was on his grandfather's orders, even if he didn't want himself or his brother to know. That was the only act of kindness he had ever seen his grandfather do, and he was a ruthless man.
He assumed his mother despite them for a variety of reasons, one of which was their blood. They were Carandini's, a family that several either fear or respect—the name alone held a great deal of power.
The House of Carandini is an Italian pureblood family, one of Europe's oldest pureblood households, with a family line that can be traced back for several generations- generations that could bath in their riches.
He knew she despised them, but he disregarded it, hoping that one day, those eyes filled with a cruel gaze would transform into something else, something he knew his brother wanted but tried to hide.
"Brother." He heard Alessandro whine out. The rhythmic thumping of his fingers came to a halt as he shifted his gaze to him.
"I'm hungry, can't we just eat without her… it's not like she wants to be near us anyways."
He remained silent once more. "..."
"Grandfather would want us to wait, he'd want us to learn discipline and wait," Arturo responded after a brief pause.
Brown eyes glared into green eyes.
"Why does it matter if we wait or not. I don't care if we get in trouble, mother will bear the brunt of his rage because she's already 30 minutes late!" Alessandro just wanted to eat, why must he have to wait for someone else?
The green eyes tore away from the glare, Arturo thinned his lips as he looked down the dining hall, staring at the deep red drapes hung over the large windows.
His younger brother was right if their grandfather heard of her behaviour... She had never skipped lunch like this before, and it was not something she would do.
"Alright, I'll go and fetch mother," Arturo finally said, pushing his hands away from the dining table, which in turn pushed the chair out and he stood.
"Then we can finally eat!" Alessandro exclaimed a grin taking place, replacing the frown he had forced on, hoping it would get his way.
Arturo nodded seeing his brother elated. As he was ready to step towards the door, the door opened. It was a woman, their governess, Lina. She strolled in gracefully as her long dark green dress flowed along with her just as graceful. Her dark hair as always was tied up high in a tight bun, while a pair of dark eyes peered down at him, noticing him. Her brow slightly raised; her lips thinned in a line. She took care of them; she was everything his mother was not. When much younger the woman had done mostly everything for them. She read to them, answering all the questions they had, even then Arturo never understood why she answered his brothers' stupid questions. She had taught them how to dress themselves how to read, how to write. Never once losing her patience with them.
Not many had governesses, but not many didn't. Some relied on house elves, but the House of Carandini had to be different—no, his grandfather had to be different. They had house elves, yes.
His grandfather had once told him that house elves were nothing more than creatures whose sole purpose was to clean the floor we walked on. They weren't worthy enough to set their eyes on them.
As she stood in his path, he spoke.
"I'm getting mother." He responded to her unsaid question. At this answer, her gaze continued to dig into him, after only a few seconds of silence she spoke.
"It's fine, there's no need. You must have been waiting for her to start eating, just start, she can eat later" came her reply as she placed her gentle hand on his shoulder attempting to redirect him back towards the table where his brother was grinning stupidly at her words looking right at him as if to tell his older brother 'I told you so!'.
Without a chance to respond his brother filled the silence that would have been filled by Arturo if he had spoken a second earlier.
"See I told you!" his younger pointed an accusing finger at him. He so badly wanted to smack his hand away but looked away from the boy, in doing so he also shrugged the hand Lina had placed on his shoulder off.
"Ped!" his brother's voice sounded out again.
With the name called out, a crack was heard and before you knew it, one of the two house elves popped into existence at the call. Its head faced downwards when associating with its master.
"Yes, young master Alessandro? what shall Ped do for you" the voice was steady and squeaky just as always.
Alessandro of course scowled at its response, "What do you mean what can you do for me?! I obviously want food, make the food appear!"
Arturo toned out his brother and fixed his gaze to Lina. It was usually Elm that had the food appear. If his brother had just called Elm like he should have then the food would already be there for him to eat but instead, he was giving out to the other elf.
"I'm going to get her" he spoke firmly, standing his ground.
The woman had been also staring at Alessandro but now at Arturo. Another sigh came from her. "You're grandfather-"
He didn't give her a chance to continue, knowing all too well what was about to be said.
"I don't care about grandfather; I'm going to get her." He spoke more forcefully this time, his stare tense—a gaze that reminded her of someone—her teeth clenched against each other. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage as a frown settled in place.
She didn't say anything else but stepped aside. With her, out of his way, he saw the end of the hallway through the door, and he felt a pang of guilt coarse through him as he saw the flash of disappointment in her face. It had been there for a second and the next it was gone.
She walked deeper into the dining hall to make sure the younger Carandini wasn't going to make a mess. Arturo watched as she walked away, he wanted to apologise, but couldn't bring himself to do so. Before he knew it, he was walking down the lit-up hallway, the hallway decorated in all kinds of reds.
She focused on Alessandro, who was now staring up at the ceiling with his head resting on the back of the chair, a spoon sticking out of his mouth.
She chastised him.
As Arturo barely made his way out, he could hear his brother complaining in response, it was mumbled. Of course, his brother had decided not to finish the food in his mouth before speaking, as usual.
Arturo proceeded down the long corridor, still awaiting the steps that would lead him to his mother's chambers. Her room was separated from the other occupied bedrooms by a large distance.
He disregarded the moving artwork and the juvenile taunts that tried to get his attention as he walked. He wasn't interested in a discussion at the moment.
He understood that his grandfather was a strict man, there was no doubt about the man being scary either. He was barely home yet when he was all he did was scold both him and his brother. It was always a 'life lesson' in the presence of his grandfather. It seemed like there was no end to the lectures, it was hard to please the man, let alone see him smile. There was always a scowl on the old man's face, all it was doing was ageing his face more than it needed to be, his grandfather was young, barely having any greying hairs to be seen.
Lina had once said the man had a permanent frown on his face. When they were younger, they had thought the man hated them, but Lina would often speak against it, saying he cared deeply for them, but Arturo had a hard time seeing it to be true.
He wondered how life would have been if his father had not died.
If his father had not died, his father, Gennaro Ernenegildo Carandini, would have been Lord of this house; he knew this because his grandfather had told him that he was ready to hand down the title before the catastrophe that stole his father's life occurred. His grandfather thought that his father was ready for such a heavy title, he had said that he had proved himself worthy.
He finally made it to her bedroom and stood right outside of it gathering some courage as he stared at the familiar door. The bedroom was on the complete opposite side of the manor where barely anyone walked through these halls he was now standing in.
Slowly raising his hand into a fist, he banged on the wooden door, one he hadn't knocked on in years; he used to knock every day when he was younger, yearning for his mother's attention, but that came to a halt when he finally understood.
"Mother," he called out as he knocked, waiting patiently for a response. He expected her to respond, but she did not. He was standing there in complete silence, unsure whether to knock again or not, when he heard a loud shout from downstairs- his grandfather had returned, and he was clearly not pleased.
He knocked again, deciding he had nothing to lose, before pulling the handle and opened the door.
"Mother?" He yelled out, his brow furrowed, perplexed. She was not in the room.
He moved in slowly, taking careful steps; it seemed strange to be back in there. The lights were turned on, and her bed was properly made, most likely by one of the house elves.
Looking around, he noticed that the enormous bookshelf she had in the corner was untouched, with no books out of place- it was neat. He knew how she read, how she would carefully run her finger across the page, following the words with her finger, afraid of losing her place.
It was her way of escaping reality he had remembered her saying a long time ago, he wasn't sure why he remembered it.
He was now standing behind the armchair that fronted her bookcase, which he had forgotten about. He began remembering how, when he was five, he would come into her bedroom unannounced and sit on the same very chair, demanding her to tell him stories, times when he had yet to notice the gaze in her eyes.
He brushed his hand on the chair's royal blue velvet coat... which was as velvety as he remembered.
The blue chair complemented the navy walls.
He remembered her sitting in the chair while he sat on the rug in front of it, watching at her tiny pale hands as she crocheted, staring at them as they moved ever so slowly. He'd never understand why it captivated him; perhaps it was because it was his mother doing it, and it was one of the few ways he could spend time in her presence.
He shifted his gaze to his right and looked at the door; it was her bathroom. The door was creaked open just enough for some light to shine through.
So, she was in there?
"Mother?" he called out loudly, waiting again for a response.
With a few steps taking he was at the door, he knocked on it- no answer.
He pushed the door open revealing the large private bathroom, decorated in white marble- white marble that was now painted in red and broken glass alongside a broken picture frame.
His gaze was fixed on the floor, and he followed the red stains that covered it until he came to a halt. Slowly raising his head, he was confronted with his mother, who was resting in her bathtub, which was in the centre of the bathroom- his mouth felt dry as his mouth fell open.
Her hand was dangling over the edge of the tub, her wrists splattered with crimson paint—her paint.
She was wearing a white dress- one now ruined.
She was paler than she had ever been, her eyes were open staring idly to the side, "...Mum?" he called out again, considerably softer than before, his voice trembling as he spoke.
No answer.
He looked into her lifeless eyes, staring at the very eyes which he had inherited from her. The usual vibrant green eyes were devoid of emotion and liveliness.
He reached for her hand hesitantly, it was cold. He shivered as he clutched it, it seemed bizarre that it had taken her death to have physical contact with her, with how distant she always was.
It wasn't a surprise that he couldn't recall the last time she held his hand, but it hurt him to know that it had taken death for it to happen.
He couldn't stop the sobs that escaped his lips. He dropped her hand as he took a step back, repulsed by the motionless corpse, only to slip and fall on the 'paint'.
He was on the floor, he used his hands to help himself up, only for the tears to pour from his eyes at a much faster rate, he continued to take steps backwards as he stared at his hands.
"Red," he muttered, disgusted.
"Get it off," he sobbed, his cries growing louder as he tried to wipe his hands on his grey sweater; his throat hurt, his chest felt heavy, and his vision was blurred.
He was walking backwards out of the bathroom until he collided with something, he turned around- it was his grandfather.
He was stood tall, his wavy dark hair neat as usual. His hard gaze staring at him, the very same colour as his brother's eyes, a dark brown.
The man gazed at the bathtub before he looked down at his first grandson with his typical severe demeanour and asked, "Is this why you're making such a racket?" He questioned; his disappointment as apparent as day in his tone.
He began to tremble; his grandfather was disappointed in him, why?!
"She's dead!" he cried out at his grandfather; did he not care? He saw her body did he not?
Before anything else could be said he felt a sting on his face as he had turned to the side. His grandfather had just slapped him. He was stunned, his hand instantly rose to touch where had been hit, he could feel it tingle as it continued to hurt.
"Stop sobbing! You belong to the Carandini family. I will not have my heir be so frail, sobbing over some insignificant wrench, come." He let his grandfather lead him away, while he held in his sobs, trying to blink away the tears.
"Get Alessandro for me." When he heard his grandfather's command, he looked up, startled. He was speaking to one of his men; he had no idea what to name them, but they were always around.
"Why?" he asked his grandfather, his brow wrinkled, why did he need to call for his brother?
His grandfather sighed angrily, "So he, too, can know what death is. So he can see how pathetic she is" he said, sounding as if it was the simplest explanation that would put an end to any questions that needed to be answered.
"No! He understands what death is; don't make him see her like that, please!"
His grandfather's disappointed expression had now changed into one of rage, "Don't ever speak that word again, you're turning out to be more of a disappointment than I imagined. I hoped that having your mother nearby would help your development. Perhaps she was stifling it." His grasp on his arm became tighter.
'Carandini's don't plead' he repeated in his head, a saying his grandfather had drilled into his head, ignoring the tightened grip of his grandfather.
"Elm!" His grandfather, Ermenegildo called out. At that moment a crack could be heard before the man as Arturo paid more attention to the wall in front of him.
The house elf he'd summoned appeared with his head down, taking care not to glance up without permission.
"Yes Master?" it croaked out.
"Clean the mess," Ermenegildo demanded while he looked to the side to stare at another man, in deep red robes. As he looked to the man nothing was said, but it seemed as though they were speaking through their eyes.
The man in the deep red robes nodded his head in understanding and walked off.
—
He assisted his brother in washing his hands, his hands drooping over the sink in thought.
"…Why did mother do that?" Alessandro asked, his eyes welling up with tears as he looked up at his brother.
"Stop crying... She's not worth your tears. She never cared about us; therefore, we shouldn't care for someone who was so frail- she did it because she was pathetic enough to choose death over us." Arturo snarled and scrubbed even harder.
Alessandro turned his gaze to the mirror in front of them, which was just above the sink.
He stared at his hair with furrowed brows.
"I wish I had your hair…"
Arturo looked up to the mirror himself and stared at the reflection of both himself and his brother. He understood why his brother had only said that. He had inherited his hair from their 'mother', dirty blonde, while he himself had dark brown hair, like his father before him and his grandfather.
As he stared, he noticed the differences even if they looked alike.
While Arturo had dark brown hair, his brother had blonde hair. Arturo's eyes were a similar shade as his mother, green. While his mother's green eyes had been more brighter, his were a much duller colour and darker. His brother had gotten the dark brown eyes from their Carandini side.
As he continued to stare, his brother spoke again.
"I wish we had a strong mother..." Alessandro said as he returned his focus to the sink, watching the blood swirl into the drain.
Arturo's hands stopped moving as he contemplated his brothers' remarks, "...I wish we had a stronger mother too." He said as he began to rub the stains from his brothers' hands once more.
Alessandro leaned hesitantly towards his brothers' shoulder, causing Arturo to tighten up at the strange act.
"You won't leave too, will you?" Alessandro asked quietly.
"No… now get off me," he answered, shrugging his brothers head away.
One would take offence to the act, but Alessandro smiled as he moved his head away.
Arturo couldn't help but wonder what his grandfather would now do with his mother disgracefully committing suicide. He knew his grandfather would not wish for his mother's unexpected death to tarnish their family name. While she was not a Carandini by birth, she was still one through marriage and she had produced a Carandini heir… and a spare.
His grandfather will undoubtfully deal with the situation, but he was curious how he would explain her death if not admitting the woman was so weak, she decided to take her own life leaving her children behind.
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