Beware of Me

By Poppy Hollingworth

You may know about Queen Victoria. But you don't know about her sister, who would do anything to take Victoria's place as Queen. Murder, a twisted love triangle, and the gradual drift towards insanity all lead to the secret tale of Irene. Beware of Me brings forth the untold story of a woman's desperate attempt to re-write history...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304700377

Book preview

Beware of Me

Foreword:

As a sixth grade language arts teacher I had read countless student papers with titles like Why I want a dog, My Favorite Memory Growing Up, My Favorite Author, My Favorite Food, and my personal favorite.. What I Did Over Summer Vacation.  After several years of this routine I wanted to change things up, so I asked my students to write a poem, and not just any poem, but a free verse.  I knew if I assigned a rhyming poem I would be doomed to read 150 poems with each stanza ending with words like cat, bat, mat, rat, fat…  So a free verse would at least lend itself to creativity. 

At the end of three days my students turned in their poems, and as I read through them, elated for the change of pace in content, I came across a poem written by Poppy.  I read it once, and then again.  I was dumbfounded, how had I gone three months into the school year and not realized I had the most talented young writer I had ever seen sitting in my classroom?  To be honest I don’t remember the words of her poem, but I do remember the emotions on the page, a hopefulness that resonated with a person much older than 11.

It was from that point that I created my mission; to get this author to compose as much as possible… and I did.  Everything she wrote was astounding, not a single lemon in the bunch, and each story, each poem, more profound than the former.  She was an artist, gifted was an understatement, and I was always happy to share her work with any and every colleague who would take the time to read something magnificent.  The year ended, Poppy moved up a grade, and I welcomed a new group of students.

It was much later that Samantha contacted me to let me know her daughter was no longer writing.  Her new teachers didn’t seem to appreciate her talent, and therefore it began to slowly fade away.  She had one simple request; can you get Poppy to write again?  I had gone into administration at this point, so the idea of teaching, even with just one student, sounded like a wonderful idea.  Besides, who was I to turn away a chance to work with such a talented writer?

So Poppy and I met, talked about some poem/short story ideas, and then it hit me…. She had yet to write an actual story.  So our charge was set, and weeks quickly turned into months, and then one day… Beware of Me was born. 

Congratulations Poppy on finishing your first book, because a writer… no, artist… as talented as you should have many more books to come!  Thank you so much for the honor of working with you – it was truly quite a blessing –

Ryan Steele

I dedicate this book to you

I might not know you

You might not know me

But you have a book dedicated to you

I want a book dedicated to me

I want to feel special

Do you feel special?

I’m jealous now

So I dedicate this book to me

But isn’t that selfish?

Oh dear, now you’re upset

But I have a solution

I dedicate this book to us

I dedicate it to all the special people

Chapter 1:

Envious

Gently, I light a candle and stare onto the street below my bedroom window. The once grey cobblestones are now black and thick with sludge. Mess lies everywhere and ragged children race after each other, their bones protruding from their bodies. A drunken man stumbles down the street calling out for a person who doesn’t exist.  Racing through the crowd a scrawny little girl clutches a basket containing a tiny loaf of bread tightly to her chest. One lone woman stands at the corner of the square reaching her hands out imploringly to the passersby.

No money, she cries. No money. I smile a little. I wonder what it would be like to have to stoop so low as to beg like that.

Me poor child is sick. Please, kind sir. Give me a penny. She obviously needs some assistance. I turn around and find a coin on my table. I pick it up and throw it out of my window. It hits the woman on the head and she scrabbles on the floor to retrieve it. She stands and I cannot help but laugh at the bruise already upon her right eye. I turn and see my sister looking at me disapprovingly.

Sister, that was cruel and uncalled for, Victoria scolds, her brown eyes piercing my colder ones.

I cackle once more purposely to annoy her and reply, Victoria, you know that she was delighted to receive a small coin for her begging. Victoria gives me another withering look.

Perhaps, but I doubt she is grateful for her headache. I sigh in frustration and turn my back on my sister.

She frustrates me, Victoria; she is the wonderful one of the two of us. She has always been loved more than I. I wish that it was merely because she was born first. That she will be Queen. But no, there is something about Victoria. Something that everyone finds lovable and sweet.

Her eyes are big and can fill with tears whenever she wants. Her hair is long and soft. She has arms and legs that are cushioned with plump, pale flesh. All the signs of the rich.

If I were not dressed finely, I could be mistaken for one of the middle class. No matter how much I try, I cannot grow bigger. My hair is thin and always looks dirty. My eyes are tiny and my lips are thin and puckered like I have eaten something horrid. It is no small wonder that I am not noticed whilst standing beside Victoria.

I hate her. I know that you should not hate a sibling, but I do. With Victoria being around me, I am never noticed. My sister is Princess Victoria. I am the one behind her. Everything that I have done throughout my life has been compared to how Victoria would do it. My sister can laugh and cry at the right moments. She was born thanking the midwife for taking such care of our mother. It is believed that she speaks French better than those in Paris. Rumors say that even at twelve she has half the kingdom after her hand. As long as Victoria is in front of me, I will never be noticed.

It used to be that I had a lingering hope that she would become her old self again. Because we used to be friends, many years ago. Once, we were inseparable and did everything together. We played games that made me laugh. We talked so often; I was always smiling.

Then one day, everything changed. Victoria didn’t want to pretend to be poor. She told me it was tasteless and we were above that. I kept on playing though. I hoped that Victoria would come to her senses and join me again. But it had stopped being fun. You cannot laugh without another person. I stopped my games and began to stand in corners to watch my sister. But she was so different. That was not Victoria. That was a doll, a doll that was being told how to dress and what to say. A doll that enjoyed all of that. That was the spark that began my hate. The first flame was when Victoria began to grow up.

Victoria? Victoria? Irene, where is your sister? Nanny Hogg enters the room and looks at me without much pleasure.

Here, Victoria comes in and curtseys to our nanny.  Nanny Hogg returns the gesture and steps forward excitedly.

Get out of the way Irene dear, I have something to tell Victoria. Insulted a little at my casual dismissal I gather my dolls and step to one side. I do not leave though. I want to know what it is that is causing so much excitement.

What is it? Victoria asks. She pretends to be thrilled but I can hear the boredom in her tone. She gets gifts every other day. It is a usual occurrence. Nanny Hogg does not notice though, and once she has caught her breath she speaks as if she is giving the most wonderful news.

Oh, its new dresses for you, my Lady, Nanny says, her eyes wide as she searches for Victoria’s approval. Victoria does not say a word she simply nods, indicating she is interested. Nanny, giddy with excitement, places her heavy arm on Victoria’s shoulders and leads her away. I follow because, although I tell myself it is not true, I am interested. I have rarely seen a room of dresses for just one person.

We walk into a room of the palace I have never seen before and I look around. This room is filled to the ceiling with elegant gowns. There is a dark blue one with diamonds sewn in so it looks like the night sky. A pale pink one with delicate silk buds creeping up the skirt. At the side of the room is a light green one that has a cloud of darker flowers dotted about sparingly at the top of the skirt that gradually grows larger until there is an excess of them around the hem. The most beautiful one is in the corner and Victoria notices it the same time as I do and rushes forward to check if it is real.

It is made of delicate silk and is a deep rich purple. The hem and neckline are trimmed in white lace and the sleeves are long and stroke the floor. Victoria immediately orders every male out of the room and commands that Nanny dress her in this new gown. The minute it is on I realize that that dress is made for her; it is in a style and color that complements her every curve.

I let my eyes linger over the fine gown purposely designed for my sister. I allow myself a glimpse of my impossible future, if I were to be queen, and given a garment created especially for me. I sigh heavily and dismiss the thought from my mind.

What will you do with the dresses you don’t like? I ask Victoria, curious despite myself.

Oh, just keep them in my wardrobe, she replies waving her hand carelessly. I’ll find a use for them one day.

If you do not wish for all of them, then perhaps might I have one? I say, trying desperately to sound casual. My question is rewarded by a disapproving frown from Nanny.

Irene, you should not ask your dear sister to give up something new of hers just because you want it, she chastens, her thick eyebrows drawn together.

That is right Sister darling, Victoria murmurs from where she is admiring her reflection dreamily. I love you dearly but you can’t honestly expect me to give you my gift just because you wish it yours!

I wasn’t asking for something big, I mutter grumpily, Just something that you might never wear. Finally, Victoria tears herself away from the mirror and gives me a soft, patient look.

Sweet Irene, an event may arise and one of these would be the perfect dress for me to wear. I cannot risk letting you have one. Besides, all you have to do is ask, and a dressmaker can make you a lovely one.

Nanny, can you get a dressmaker to sew me my very own gown? I would love a blue one.

Sister! Victoria looks at me reproachfully. You cannot now. All the dressmakers worth their salt are making gowns to impress me! If you were to ask for one, the quality would not be as refined as it would be another time.

This is how it always is. The minute I want something for myself Victoria makes up some excuse and denies me the pleasure of what I want. I look up frustrated and see that Victoria is admiring herself again. Our conversation is over.

I take my leave, I stand up and curtsey before I move to the door.

Irene? Victoria is watching me through the mirror. Don’t get upset because of a small incident like this.

I am not upset.

That is good. She turns completely and gives me a radiant smile. I know that you want a dress dear and I will give you one of my older ones.

She smiles gently at me and goes back to her reflection. Nanny scurries after her, leaving me standing alone at the door. I wonder if that was as kind a gesture as she intended it to sound. I know that she will give me the worn, elderly gowns. The ones that won’t fit me. And of course, all the dressmakers in the kingdom are focused on my lovely sister.

Years go by and as we grow older I hate her more and more. In three years I have never received anything new and only have objects that are out of style or those Victoria no longer wants. A seamstress is never there or is always busy with the future queen. So, I have painstakingly learned to sew and have had to take in dresses myself like some common maid. I do indeed have a maid of my own but now even she is busy with Victoria. Both of us are coming to marrying age, and Victoria has taken the attention of my maid, telling me I am so clever I can adjust my dresses myself. I would tell her that she could go to her first ball in a rumpled rag and young men would still simper over her, but then she would tell our parents, and they would scold me for being so cruel. At times I understand why it is no small wonder some people take their own lives.

~~~

Tonight is the first ball of the courting season and the palace is frantic with preparation. New gowns are being made and old ones are being redone in the latest fashion. All for Victoria. Even I am given a new dress. It is beautiful but it does not suit me. The color is too pale for my already washed out skin. Most of the time though, I sit by my window and watch all the bustle, listen to the cries of admiration as Victoria tries on new dresses, and try not to yawn as my sister practices what she will say to the different eligible young gentlemen.

Tonight, as I step into the ballroom I know instantly that I do not belong here. As I have grown older I have become even less sociable than I was before. This night is going to be all chatter. Victoria, of course, is beautiful and I am looking as miserable as ever. Her new gown is an elegant purple one with golden embroidery. I feel awkward in my unflattering one. I stand partially behind a large plant and try to remain unseen as I watch Victoria flirt outrageously with different young men. I am completely ignored, which is how I prefer it. I have absolutely no interest in marriage at all.

There is one suitor, George, who Victoria seems especially attracted to. He is certainly not handsome, but contains a strange charm with curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He and Victoria would suit each other. But there is something about George that I don’t trust. His actions aren’t always as attentive to Victoria as they should be.  His words are kind but often seem forced. A smile is forever on his lips but does not reach his eyes. The only time he appears genuine is when he mentions that she will be Queen.

He kneels at her feet and whispers that although he is unworthy could he perhaps be her King? Victoria laughs not realizing how serious he truly is.  I think his blatant obviousness is why she likes him best. She finds humor in his bluntness and thinks his desperate hints at marriage sweet. I do not understand. When we were young she always told me that she wanted someone who loved her to be her husband. She said that she didn’t want some fool that just fancied himself married to a Queen. By doing this, she is going against nearly everything that happened when we were children. It is so painfully obvious that Lord George does not care at all for her. It is the crown that makes his heart beat.

One night, I finally ask her what she thinks and the conversation that follows is so strange that I wonder if it is a dream.

Victoria, why do you seem to favor George when he is only after your crown?

Because Sister, he has a sweet heart at his core.

It is a sweet heart buried beneath the dirt of lies and greed.

Victoria gives me a disapproving glance. Don’t be rude. He is lovely to me and besides, I feel it is beneficial to marry him.

I simply look at her. She is obviously waiting for me to prompt her into giving me her reasons. I would hate to give her satisfaction but whatever I think I am curious. What reasons?

As he tries for my hand so openly, he greatly desires to be king. He must have wonderful plans for the kingdom if he tries as hard as he does. She giggles a little and carries on. He is also handsome is he not? That makes it easier. I think that together, we will make a beautiful pair.

I cannot believe this.  My sister might just marry George out of vanity! The only fool bigger than him is her for wanting to marry him.

If a court jester can live a happy life in a world of lies then you should have no difficulty! I stand suddenly and leave the room. What happened to my sister? She was never so foolish!

A Page out of George’s Journal

Stage 1 in becoming King:

Victoria is wonderfully gullible and is falling into my trap effortlessly. She seems to like me best out of the rest of her suitors. I of course have the advantage of being incredibly good looking. If only her sister, Irene, would keep her distance.

She does not seem to like me, Irene. Rightly so but she has no proof to hold against me. In fact, Irene seems suspicious of everyone. She is a thoroughly interesting character. Sometimes I wonder if I would be happier if Irene were heir to the throne. She would be a much better challenge. Not as beautiful but definitely not as boring. When Victoria talks each word slowly becomes a muddle in my mind. Pushing together until they are just a waterfall dripping out of Victoria’s mouth. It isn’t even in full flow which is even more pathetic. Sometimes she looks at me sharply and asks if I am at all interested. I answer yes and that seems to satisfy her. Day after day she rambles on about the duties of a Queen until my head feels like it is about to cave in. Of course I know that she is to be Queen. Why else would I wish to marry her? For her wonderful wit and attention gripping thoughts? Not likely. If she weren’t next in line for the throne I wouldn’t bother even looking at her.

Anyway, nothing is in my way and I should be King shortly.

Chapter 2: 

Deception

For the first time in ages, our parents actually want to see us! And they bring good news, at least for Victoria. They announce