The Scene of the Crime
By the time she reached the front door, Serendipity was crying. Pozzletot was one of the few beings in the world she could count as a friend, and the thought of him all alone up in the North Pole, in hiding somewhere, afraid for his life, brought a feeling of overwhelming despair. As her feet pounded up the steps, caked in mud by now, she did not even pause to think about what she was doing, where she was going, or what had happened there; she simply needed help--help that only Maevis could provide.
As she threw the heavy front door open, calling her friend’s name, rushing in as she did so, she nearly ran into Ms. Crotlybloom who had come to see what all the racket was. The older woman reached out a thin arm to steady her, but then gasped in horror at the sight. “Serendipity?” she asked, her eyes wide behind her wire spectacles. “Is that you, child?”
“Oh, Ms. Crotlybloom!” Serendipity exclaimed, bending over to catch her breath. “Where is Maevis? I need her help. Pozzletot has gone missing. I need her to help me find him.”
Ms. Crotlybloom was quite old--in her sixties at least--and had steel gray hair to prove it. She wore it, always, in a tight bun at the back of her head, and even though there had been no mistress of the house for her to serve for going on eight years, she always dressed in a proper black and white uniform of the house servants. She was short and thin but strong and sharp. Now, her piercing dark eyes studied Serendipity almost as distinctly as her thin hands steadied her. “Pozzletot? Who on earth is Pozzletot? And what in the world is that putrid smell? Do you have any idea how horrid you appear, child?”
Serendipity pulled her arm away, not wanting to hear any more criticism from this woman who had never cared for her either. “Where is Maevis?” she asked again, stepping around the housekeeper as she did so.
Ms. Crotlybloom caught her arm, squeezing sharply. “Maevis has gone to town, and you are tracking mud and filth all over my clean floors.”
For the first time, Serendipity surveyed the room. It was completely empty--not a stitch of furniture in the foyer or the great room where she now stood. The curtains were clean, but the rods were sagging, the plaster molding having broken off in several places around the ceiling, and the mantel looked as if it were about to topple over. Despite Ms. Crotlybloom and Maevis’s best efforts in keeping the house clean, it was certainly in disrepair as neither woman was capable of doing the type of work keeping up with a dwelling this size would require. However, despite the dilapidated appearance of the house, it was clearly important to Ms. Crotlybloom that it stay clean, and glancing down at the otherwise polished floor, Serendipity could see that she was, in fact, trailing mud in all over the place. Her feet were still caked in it, as was the hem of her dress. She stepped back into the foyer towards the mat in front of the door, which caused Ms. Crotlybloom to let go of her arm, and she shook it a bit, hoping the blood would start flowing into the section that had been squeezed to numbness. “I’m sorry about the floor,” Serendipity said, a note of panic still in her voice. “But it’s very important that I speak to Maevis as soon as possible. She has to help me get Pozzletot back from the North Pole.”
“The North Pole?” Ms. Crotlybloom repeated. “Child, have you completely lost your marbles at last? It’s February. Why would anyone concern themselves with the North Pole this time of year?”
Serendipity had no honest answer for that; why would anyone concern themselves with the North Pole any time of year? Nevertheless, she knew in her heart that is where she would find her friend. “I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. “Maevis knows. She’ll understand. She can read the letters…”
“Letters?” Ms. Crotlybloom asked, realizing for the first time that Serendipity held something in her hand. “Everyone knows you can’t read, Serendipity. If you could, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now, and my sweet lady of the house would still be with us.” The sharpness of the words cut right to Serendipity’s soul, the sting even more painful because of where she now stood, in the very same place where she had killed her mother and sisters. She said nothing, however, only hung her head, taking the tongue lashing she so deserved. “Give these letters to me, and let me read them for myself to see what sort of nonsense you are up to now.”
Serendipity looked up sharply and pulled the letters to her chest. “No,” she said sternly. “You shan’t look at them. They are not for you.”
“Pish posh,” Ms. Crotlybloom exclaimed, stepping towards her. “They are probably from some fool in town you’ve been fornicating with or a prankster of some sort.”
At the accusation, Serendipity’s mouth dropped open. “How dare you?” she asked. “You take that back right now!”
“I shall not,” Ms. Crotlybloom insisted, her nose in the air. “Now, give them to me this instance.”
“No,” Serendipity resolved. “I shall wait for Maevis.”
“Maevis will not be back for hours,” the older woman explained. “Give me the letters right now!”
Just then, Maevis entered through the door leading from the back part of the house, her shawl still up over her head as if she had come in a hurry from outside. “Serendipity?” she asked, rushing over to her ward. “What are you doing here?”
Serendipity had never been so relieved to see her friend in her whole life. “Thank goodness!” she declared, fighting back the urge to throw her arms around her. “It’s Pozzletot. I think he’s at the North Pole. Will you read these?”
Over Ms. Crotlybloom’s declaration that this was all a bit of tomfoolery, Maevis took the letters from Serendipity, only glancing down at her muddy feet for a moment. She looked from one letter to the other before reading them both aloud, one at a time:
“Dear Ms. Fizzlestitch,
I am afraid something unexpected happened when I left your residence earlier today. It seems one of your mouse friends snuck into my pocket. If you would like for me to return him, please drop me a line.
Sincerely,
Cornelius Cane”
Maevis paused between letters, a curious expression on her face as she glanced up at Serendipity, who had gasped at the mention of Pozzletot stowing away. She continued:
“I am afraid that’s not possible. He is hiding in the wall. You shall have to come and retrieve him.”
Again, Serendipity gasped. “What’s not possible?” Maevis asked, looking for clarification. “What did you ask him to do?”
“To bring him back.”
“How did you ask that?”
“I wrote it on a slip of paper and dropped it into the fireplace,” Serendipity explained, her finger hooked in her mouth.
“How did you ask that?”
“I wrote it on a slip of paper and dropped it into the fireplace,” Serendipity explained, her finger hooked in her mouth.
“And that worked?” Maevis inquired. “The letter went up the chimney?”
“Yes.”
“And how long until his response arrived?’
“A minute, two, perhaps.”
“Who is this Cornelius Cane?” Ms. Crotlybloom asked, still obviously agitated.
“He’s one of St. Nicholas’s associates,” Maevis explained folding the letters in half as she did so.
“You can’t actually believe that,” Ms. Crotlybloom exclaimed, her hands on her hips.
Maevis wrapped her arms around Serendipity’s shoulders, despite the hazards and filth. “I do,” she replied. “For many reasons none of which do I have the time explain to you. Now, Serendipity,” she said over the huffs of the offended housekeeper, “we need to get you cleaned up so that you can go to the North Pole to get your friend.”
Serendipity pulled away. “What? No!” she exclaimed. “Have you gone mad? I can’t possibly…”
“You can and you shall,” Maevis insisted. “It’s quite important that you retrieve your mouse before something awful happens to him. Can you imagine how afraid he must be, up there in that cold, unfamiliar place all by himself?”
“Well, yes, of course, I can,” Serendipity admitted. “But I told you, I’m not leaving.”
“You also told me you’d never step foot in Marwolaeth again either, and yet, here you are,” Maevis pointed out. Once again, Serendipity began to protest, but taking her squarely by the shoulders, Maevis turned the young woman to face her. “Look, Serendipity, sometimes we must face challenges we cannot imagine in order to what is best for our friends. Pozzletot is counting on you. You must do whatever it takes to find him.”
Looking into Maevis’s eyes, Serendipity realized this was an opportunity to help someone she loved--an opportunity she could not afford to pass up. It didn’t matter what happened to her; she needed to do what was right--for once. “Fine,” she finally acquiesced. “I shall go retrieve my friend, but once he is safely within my grasp, I will come back to Dunsford and resume my doll making--on my own--without St. Nicholas, or Cornelius Cane, or anyone else.”
“Very well,” Maevis agreed, smiling. In her mind she secretly hoped that Serendipity would reach the North Pole and decide to stay, As much as it would pain her to never see her charge again, she knew it would be best for all of them if she never returned to Marwolaeth Hall. “Now, Ms. Crotlybloom, go fill the tub. If our Serendipity is going out into the world, she must do so as presentable as possible.”
Both Serendipity and Ms. Crotlybloom began to protest. Maevis looked sharply at Ms. Crotlybloom, who was used to giving orders, not taking them, and she skittered off in a huff.
“I haven’t time…” Serendipity insisted.
“Serendipity,” Maevis began, her hands on her hips. “there are enough rumors about you in this world. We shan’t have you showing up at the North Pole looking the part of the mad young lady who is a danger to herself and others. Let’s give the world a glimpse at the real Serendipity Fizzlestitch.” As Serendipity opened her mouth to protest again, she added, “Besides, you smell worse than two reindeers in a pissing contest. We won’t have Santa Claus losing his lunch over it. Now, off with you, to the tub.”
Her head hung low, Serendipity went off to the tub, keeping her eyes on the floor and away from any and all reminders of all of the moments--both good and bad--that had transpired within these walls so many years ago.
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