Beatrice Baudelaire Novels & Stories

I know those heels. Beatrice Sinclair walks in the way she always walks into this house, like the deed is in her name and I am a guest who has overstayed. Grey coat, pearl earrings, bag in the crook of her arm, lipstick perfect because Beatrice is always perfect. She looks at me first. Then past me at the table. Her eyes move slowly across everything, the candles, the two plates, the full untouched wine bottle, the whole careful humiliating effort of this evening, and something settles in her expression that has never once in five years been sympathy.

"Isn't your beloved one in the mansion? Buddy?" Beatrice burst into laughter. The poodle dog, a birthday gift from her grandfather, whom she named Buddy, had suddenly won her wholehearted affection. Besides the small size of Buddy's body, for some reason, Buddy's pleading eyes always managed to evoke sympathy from Beatrice. It made her unable to scold Buddy even when the dog misbehaved.

Her eyes darted between Jacinda and me, the unspoken desire to see her grandchild weighing heavily upon her. "I want to see my grandchild before this time next year," Madame Beatrice asserted, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. With those words, she abruptly stood away from the table, leaving her meal untouched. The room fell into an uneasy silence as we watched her exit, the weight of her unfulfilled expectations lingering in the air.

Either way, had she not, I fear Tremaine would have had the canvas burned, or worse—mocked before others until its dignity crumbled into ash. When I reach the attic door, the hinges groan, but everything inside remains unchanged, as though no one has dared to disturb it for years. That is the way of attics. They hold memories in the same posture forever, untouched, while the world below shifts and forgets. My stepsisters have no love for this place. I doubt they could find their way here, even if ordered. Anastasia has little patience for dust, and Drizella even less for words on pages. Sometimes I wonder if they can even read.

She left the room and almost immediately, a second girl entered. The girl that walked in was young, presumably ten and eight years of age. She was moderately attractive and had short, greasy hair. Her height was alright for a girl of her age and her eyes shone with compassion. "Good day, Lady Beatrice. I am Lucia," she said. The Marquess asked me to come help you with your wash." Lucia led the way and Beatrice followed. In the washroom, she poured some quantity of scented salt into the tub and helped Matilda to take her nightdress off, leaving only her chemise.

As I look down my eyes widen at what I see, and he continues to speak. “That is a picture of us and the people we told you about. Their names were Henry and Miranda Grayson and their little girl there in their arms is Christina Angela Grayson.” My head snaps up to meet their teary gazes as they tell me this. I know the faces in this picture because they match the faces in the picture I have at home. “Does that mean that you’re Mr Brown? The candy man.”

I pulled her into me and we lost ourselves to each other. ***** It was the most beautiful morning of my life. I was so happy... I had already made the bookings and reservations for a one-month long honeymoon in Australia. I was very excited about this real honeymoon. I would not have believed it just 6 months back that very soon I would be bewitched by a very beautiful, simple, pure and innocent girl. Thank you, God, for that accident on that rainy night, I have been bewitched by an angel since then... The End

Then Magdalena rented some old car so that getting around would be easier for her. Sona really was at home. Her way of life was written all over her face. She smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and was dressed in cheap, vulgar clothes. Aunt Tamia was awake too, but she could not get out of bed. Tamia was very happy to see Sara, but the same could not be said about Sara, she was frightened. Age had made Tamia’s deformity even worse. The poor woman was horrible to look at, but she was still the one Magdalena loved most in her family. More precisely, she did not love anyone else at all.

Beatrice forced a smile on her face, trying to iron herself clean in the situation. However, Mrs. Will was not willing to let her off just like that. "But still, you should have persuaded her more, Mrs. Gray. Rose is the oldest daughter of the Gray family and her mother is first madam of the Gray family even before you assume that position. It's your responsibility to make sure that the eldest daughter who is making her first appearance to the public looks more stunning than she already is. Besides, Rose here doesn't look like a difficult child to talk to.” Mrs. Will harshly said as she casted a questioning gaze at Beatrice.

Beatrice added on a serious note. Madeline closed her eyes briefly and sighed heavily. “...It's over for me...” And, she felt Beatrice squeezing her hand. “I assure you Madeline that it's not the end of the world.” Beatrice put on a nice smile and sighed as she turned to look at a picture frame on her desk. Madeline had seen the frame but not the picture in it as it was backing her. Beatrice took the picture frame and showed Madeline. It was a picture of a cute little boy smiling happily and playing in the pool with his floater. He also had chestnut coloured hair and bright eyes like Beatrice. It only took these few seen qualities to know what was up.