Tea, Murder and Immaculacy

At the ripe old age of three, my mother imparted an essential pearl of wisdom onto a proper young lady such as myself.

Whenever one has guests, one must always offer them tea.

As a small child, I took those words as gospel. I still do, only it took me several years to understand how tea could be used to my advantage.

A cup of tea can hide a moderate dose of poison.

And no one ever refuses a cup of tea.

I sipped my own, poison free, cup of tea as I silently judged the state of my father's extensive garden. After his passing a year ago, his estate had been left to my stepmother, who had promptly run off to London a week after the funeral with a good portion off my inheritance and found a new beau almost immediately.

It wasn't hard for her. Despite my father having been almost eighty-five when he fell off the perch, darling step-mummy Cordelia was barely a month older than myself. And a widowed twenty-eight-year-old was a magnet for rich, middle-aged men.

My tea was bitter and cold when it hit my tongue. In a manner that would have been enough to make my mother roll over in her grave, I spat the tea back into the cup and shoved it at the maid hovering a few feet behind me. She took it and promptly disappears to the kitchen.

I picked up my skirts and descended the few steps that led to the pathway. I had made sure that the place hadn't fallen into disrepair even though I wasn't the one the house and gardens had been entrusted to. The grounds were immaculate to a degree that earned an awed twitch of the lips from anyone and everyone who laid eyes on it.

The pathway I stood on led to a fountain some fifty steps away. Both sides of the path were rimmed with symmetrical rose bushes and just past those are cherry blossoms spaced evenly apart but close enough that their branches entwined overhead to create something eerily beautiful.

A snow-white petal floated down and landed on my shoulder. I blew it away with a tiny puff of breath, watching as it continued its journey to the ground. I took the left path around the fountain, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the trickling water. I paused momentarily to swipe a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear and simultaneously restoring perfection to my twisted updo of blonde hair.

The abundance of female relatives I possessed had always been jealous of my looks. When I was just old enough to have a suitor, my aunts had commented on how soft and fair my features were whilst my mother nodded and smiled vainly. When I was of the age where looks really began to matter, cousins of the same age would give me poisonous smiles when I would receive more glances from men than them. Every compliment came with an undertone of hatred and when I confided in my mother my uneasiness at it, she merely convinced me that I should be happy.

The path I was on rejoined its right counterpart and soon I was being led straight towards a picturesque gazebo with jasmine crawling up its sides. Inside it there was a table prepared for tea and cakes, complete with everything needed for tea and cakes expect for the tea and cake themselves, which would be brought by two maids when requested.

I was inspecting a polished silver fork when the hasty footfalls of the maid who took my cup came from behind. I turned to find her stop just short of the gazebo and curtsey. I waved dismissively at the gesture and wait for her to speak.

"Your stepmother has arrived, madame," The maid said.

I put the fork down and made my way toward the maid. "For heaven's sake, don't call her that. My father is dead, and she has moved on. She is nothing but a burden now."

The maid dipped her head at me and fell into step behind me. This time I took the right path back. I usually switched between pathways when I walked in my father's garden - it was something I had done since I was little.

Back at the house, I went inside to find Cordelia already in the living room waiting for me.

"Cordelia." I smiled, but didn't even try to bring an ounce of warmth to the gesture. "Do come in."

"Drop the sarcasm, Lillian," Cordelia said. "That is no way to speak to your stepmother. And you don't need to invite me in, this is my own house."

She threw her shawl at my maid and as she let it go, I noticed the distinct lack of a wedding ring on her left hand.

"Considering you no longer wear the ring that signifies your marriage to my father, you will not be considered my stepmother by myself or anyone else on this estate," I remarked.

Cordelia stalked toward me, swaying her hips in a way that would not have been accepted by any member of high society had they been witness to such a movement.

"You speak as though I were disloyal, and you owned this house." Cordelia's brows furrowed slightly in feigned concern. "Neither of which are true. My ring is back at my brother's apartment in the city. It seems I forgot to replace it after I last bathed. As for that second part it seems I need to remind for a second time that your father left me this house, not you."

Instead of retaliating I met her smug gaze which hovered less than an only a few inches from my own. It wasn't until there was a small shuffle from the waiting maid that I let a smile split my face in two and said, "Shall we have tea?"

"I thought you weren't going to ask." Cordelia returned my grin and pushed past me to the garden.

I followed silently, allowing her to make her own way to the gazebo. She walked fast with an air of disdain that told others she had better places to be. I, however, took my own time, enjoying the same stroll I'd had barely five minutes prior. Mostly it was to vex my 'stepmother'.

Once I was seated opposite Cordelia in the gazebo, I motioned for the maid to serve the tea. She ran off to collect it from the kitchen, leaving Cordelia and I alone.

"So, my dear stepdaughter, how have you been?" Cordelia started. I slide her a sideways glance, studying her form. It was obvious why my father had selected her to be the new parental figure in my life. She had raven black hair and large grey eyes. Her skin was smooth and pale with a just enough freckles to be considered cute. Her lips had been the envy of every girl at her and my father's wedding. According to my younger cousin Edaline, she was "even prettier than you, Lily".

"Well enough for someone who's parental figures were both dead and wasn't left anything in either of their wills." I pursed my lips in an attempt to hide my anger.

"Oh, darling, you mustn't trouble yourself with such affairs." Cordelia reached over and patted my hand, feigning sympathy. It everything in me not to reach across the table and slap her.

"I assure you, I don't."

At that moment, the maid returned with a tray of cakes, teacups and a steaming teapot.

"Thank you." I grabbed the teapot and began to pour two cups of the dark liquid. Steam curled from the cups in a mesmerizing curl that wafted up into the rafters of the gazebo before dissipating into the cloudy autumn sky. "Sugar?"

"Of course," Cordelia said sweetly. "A lot."

That suited myself nicely.

I heaped a teaspoon with the white powder from the sugar bowl. If someone were to have looked close enough to see that the sugar crystals weren't sugar crystals at all, they might have grown concerned, but I had faith Cordelia was vain enough to not care about the sugar.

She nodded in ill-received gratitude. My smile was hardly a smile anymore, but rather in the transition phase between smile and snarl.

"Do you not take sugar with your tea, Lillian?" Cordelia asked.

I gripped my teacup in my right hand, silently begging for her to take a sip. "No, not usually."

As Cordelia raised the cup to her lips, anticipation and excitement bubbled up inside of me, threatening to make an appearance in my face, but I shoved it down inside of me. But I didn't have to do much shoving, because the emotions faded when Cordelia returned the cup to her plate.

"I just find it so sad," Cordelia sighed.

The urge to roll my eyes is overpowered by the suspicion that comes from her words. "What is?"

Cordelia rises from her seat, tea in hand, and walks over to wistfully examine a trestle of jasmine behind me. "The obvious, blinding fact that you hate me."

Before I can react or reply to her words, Cordelia's pale arm clamped around my shoulders with a surprising amount of strength for a woman who looked so delicate on the outside. Her hand twisted around so that she could pry my mouth open whilst holding me in my seat with her forearm. I buck against her and clench my mouth shut, but she digs her nails into my face, forcing her fingers between my teeth and tipping my head back. My chair works to her advantage - without the ability to stand or move my arms, it is impossible to defend myself. My body fights but my mind watches helplessly as Cordelia lifted her cup of tea to my lips and poured its contents into my mouth. Then she threw the cup away and used her free hand to pinch my nose, making so that the only way for me to not choke to death is to swallow the poison and breathe.

"Here's where I'm nice," Cordelia hissed in my ear. "You can choose. Suffocation or poisoning. Either option will do for me."

The longer I panic and think, the weaker the muscles in my throat grew until the point where they unintentionally released, and the tea flooded down my throat.

The moment my mouth emptied, Cordelia released me.

"There's a good girl."

I gasp for air, sucking it in and blowing it out like I can't get enough. I feel sick and I know I should force myself to throw up, but my throat and lungs hurt too much.

"H-how-" I croaked out.

"How did I know?" Cordelia said, watching my suffering with a small smile. "I didn't know for certain. But you have a terrible poker face, darling. I could tell you hated me, and you seemed all too excited for me to drink my tea. And who doesn't take sugar, unless said sugar is poison? Anyways, I guess we'll just have to wait and see whether or not I was right. If you poisoned my tea, you'll die. If you didn't and I put you through all through that for nothing, I apologise in advance. But I highly suspect that the latter option isn't true."

Then she lapsed into silence. Defeat washed over me and I slumped back in my chair. It didn't take long before I began to feel nauseous. My head began to throb as well and after several minutes of excruciating pain an uncomfortableness, my breath caught randomly, and it became increasingly difficult to breathe. My hands and legs trembled uncontrollably. The shakes slowly took over my whole body and my vision tunneled.

I'm momentarily distracted from my death by the scraping of Cordelia's chair on the floor of the gazebo.

"It seems the time has come for me to take my leave." Cordelia approached me and with a soft shove, pushed me off my chair. The ground grazed my face, and my eyes fought to meet Cordelia's. Not a single hair was out of place on her head. A million different emotions bubbled up inside of me and I couldn't understand how she could look so immaculate after committing impending murder. "Thank you for the tea, Lillian."

As I suffocate, I watch Cordelia's retreating form through the table's legs until my eyes go out of focus and my whole body seizes.

As my heart stops, I see Cordelia's beautiful face sneering at me from above.

As I die, all I think about is Cordelia.

And how much I hate her.