Margeline Finnicktoff is another important character to my story surrounding the girl who came to Bedlaam. Born to a family highly esteemed for their winery skills, Marge possessed a snobbish distaste for anyone or anything she deemed beneath her. Naturally, one expected this from a high nosed wine brewer's daughter as the Finnicktoffs were recognised for their fiery tempers and disregard for tact of the smallest kind. It's said she obtained this distaste from her father who drank his entire family to poverty and due to shady financial dealings, lost the family business as well. Marge was therefore sent to Bedlaam where Mrs. Ivanhallow with a heart full of compassion, welcomed her warmly. Marge's only relative who held close to his remaining fortune was an old uncle who sent her expensive parcels once a year. But her five years at Bedlaam did not do much to improve her expressive temper I'm afraid.

Marge sprinted for the black feline who had gotten onto the table, but he sprang out of her reach in a flash. The trio sailed about the room upsetting tables, benches and dishes. Everyone scattered to the walls for a safer view of the unfolding mischief. The freckled-faced girl screamed at the top of her lungs while the elder one cursed and swore each time the creature evaded her.

"I'll kill it! I swear I'll kill it!"

"Don't touch him!"

I was pressed against the wall with everyone else who had no intentions of intervening.

"Marge, it's just a cat for pity's sake!" I said as she passed me in pursuit of the flying furball.

"She'll kill it this time for sure. Hell's in her eyes."

"Wasn't it always there, though?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Is that a knife in her hand?!"

"Yep, a sure sign she'll kill him this time."

"Where's Ms. Petruny?!"

"Oh, I can't look!"

Harriet reached out to grab the girl.

"Marge, stop or you'll hurt someone."

Marge tore out of her grasp, determined to catch her prey.

"Come here you filthy rogue!"

Amid all the chaos, our stranger hadn't moved from her spot on the floor. She observed everything with a calm disposition that eventually turned to a frown. Suddenly, she flexed her forefinger and as if by command, the cat, who'd been oblivious of her the whole time, sprang deftly into her arms.

A silence fell upon the room as she stroked his coarse fur with steady hands.

Marge, with flames flaring from her nostrils, went straight up to her with clenched fists.

"I'll only say it once, tramp. Hand over the cat."

The silence was so thick, it was as if time froze and not even a whistling kettle could have broken it. The girl only hummed soothingly as her long fingers caressed the cat with a tenderness that seemed unnatural to her disheveled appearance. Like Marge, she gave me the impression of someone that disliked or cared little for all things, particularly naughty felines. But there was something else about her too, something I couldn't put my finger on.

"Did you hear me, minx?"

The girl slowly got to her feet still cuddling the cat. For a moment, her queer, sun-beamed eyes locked onto Marge's. The tension in the room was as thick as the silence and everyone stared from one to the other in hushed anticipation.

"You have frightened the poor thing and I have just managed to calm him down. Isn't that right, Cabbage?" The cat purred in response, nuzzling against her bosom. Her bright eyes fixed on Marge whose confidence wavered slightly as she stepped back before regaining her courage.

"You are angry, Miss Finnicktoff. You're in no condition to care for this poor creature—"

Marge's laugh was a cruel and mocking one.

"Care for it? Unless your idea of caring for it means skinning him alive then you're right as Gordorf's rain." Her smile fell in an instant. "Hand over the feline, mountain witch."

The stranger watched Marge carefully and tilted her head slightly. I couldn't read her expression but a myriad of feelings seemed to flash across her golden eyes. Her voice held a hypnotic echo.

"You may have him, Margeline Finnicktoff. Simply take him."

Marge is naturally a pale creature with snappish black eyes and dark hair to match, but she whitened so much then I thought she may faint. Her fists were clenched so tightly one would expect them to shatter like porcelain. She gritted her teeth.

"I said to hand it over."

Whispers scurried past my ears.

"Oh, dear, not a very good first impression to make on Marge."

"You wouldn't want to be on her bad side, but it's too late for that one."

"I'm glad she's not cowering like the rest of you. She's fearless!"

"Or plain stupid."

One can calculate Marge's patience metre by how she flexed her fingers before clenching them in a ball. She took a step, ready to pounce at the girl but suddenly froze in place. There was something awkward and rigid about her body as she stood there staring at the girl before her. Our stranger did not budge, and only looked Marge in the eye as the cat purred incessantly in her arms, twisting about in a world of glee, caring little that his pursuer stood barely a foot away.

"What is this?"

Ms. Petruny's husky voice caused all heads to spin in her direction. Her eyes, burning with rage, darted over the scattered dishes and table cloths.

Marge gave an imperceptible shudder before straightening her back. She and the newcomer slowly stepped back, never taking their eyes off each other. Only when the girl lowered her gaze did Marge carefully hide her trembling hands in the folds of her dress.

Ms. Petruny's powerful voice cut through the air again.

"Someone best explain themself."

The little girl who'd been clinging to Marge poured out a shortened version of what happened. The woman's eyes darkened even more.

"I want this mess cleaned up this minute!" She stormed past us, grabbing Marge by the arm. "And you will go and help Miss Partridge scrub those pots in the kitchen since you're only fit for trouble." She shoved the girl away towards the corridor while everyone stood by gawking.

She turned back to us. "Did I not say to get this place cleaned?" Like rats, everyone scurried about to their tasks. The stranger slowly approached the freckled-faced girl and handed her the black bundle of fur.

"You ought to keep a fair eye on the ones you love, Phoebe."

Phoebe's gaze widened. "You know my name? Who told you?"

"Your friend Cabbage here did."

"But... how did you—?"

The girl shook her head and smiled. "I believe he would very much appreciate some warm milk. It is rather cold tonight."

Phoebe, unsure of what else to do, nodded before turning away.

Carefully smoothing down the delicate folds of my dress and holding up my head, I marched down the aisle ignoring the silent stares of the others as I passed.

"I have yet to welcome you to Bedlaam, friend," I said pleasantly.

I thrusted out my hand.

"Malia Malstoyke, but everyone calls me Lia, and I am awfully pleased to make your acquaintance."

After some hesitation, she accepted the proffered hand. I was instantly aware of how cold and rough hers were.

"Pleasantries, Miss."

I allowed her a moment to take in my dress and neat jewels before offering a friendly smile. With a wave towards the others going about their tasks I said,

"Pardon their hostility, dear. They are a suspicious lot and tend to be," I dropped my voice and tapped my temple, "a little foggy in the clouds up here. But don't worry about any of it, mind you. They'll come to accept you by and by—they always do."

The corner of her lip turned slightly upward.

"You sound certain."

I brushed imaginary dust from my sleeve.

"Of course I am. Mrs. Ivanhallow bids them to."

"Very few have simply accepted me, Miss Malstoyke. Why should anyone here be any different?"

Leaning my head to one side, I watched her closely for a minute before answering.

"Because an unusual flower has been planted in their garden and though strange there is something special about it that draws one near."

Somewhat startled by my response, she finally raised her head—a pair of deep, golden eyes stared out from a dirty face. And forcing myself not to be entranced by them, I looped my arm through her own.

"Now come," I said, guiding her towards the stairs. "Considering your appearance, you must have had quite a day. We'll have you cleaned up in no time! It's a good thing I have something set aside that you can wear—quite comfortable in fact, I'm sure you'll love it."

"You are very kind, Miss but I will be all right on my own," she said, pulling away with a worried look. "You need not trouble yourself with me.

I held her fast and gave her my most animated laugh.

"Trouble? Nonsense, dear! I am delighted to make myself useful. I sometimes wonder if it's my calling to help the wandering lambs that stray onto my path—considering how much I enjoy it. I suppose it is what comes from being my father's daughter."

I leaned closer.

"And you haven't known trouble until you've met Eres Dacklefoy. Now there's one made for fun and games, I tell you."

I nudged her but she hesitated for a minute.

"If you are...absolutely certain...?"

"Completely."

And with a sisterly pull, I led her away from prying eyes with my idle chatter. Ms. Petruny's thunderous voice reached us as we swept up the stairs.

"I want those dishes scrubbed thoroughly, miss. Thoroughly!"

Then,

"I'll tell you this once, Miss Partridge: if I so much as see that man Henfield around here again I'll give you a good lashing on your backside. Straight I will!"

The girl turned bright, widened eyes to me. "Does she mean what she says?"

"Goodness, no! Something dreadful has to have occurred for her to get the paddle out." I quickly changed tactic when her eyes grew wider. "But it never does come out even when Petruny's wildly vex. So don't you worry. You're as safe as ever here."

I gave her a warm smile.

~

The bath was drawn and a fire burned cheerfully in the grate and I smoothed out the wrinkle free dress on the bed once more before turning to the girl who stood in the centre of the room. I tried not to frown at the living arrangements: bare weather-worn floorboards that creaked under pressure, sloping ceilings with its shadowy beams and aged, peeling wallpaper that once represented a field of sunflowers gave it an eerie feeling and I shuddered despite the warmth of the fire. I forced a smile.

"It isn't the best but it's the only room that doesn't leak," I said, glancing at the high ghostly ceiling above. "But it's quite nice during the daytime."

"I think it is fine," she said in her quiet way, slowly taking in everything. "I've been in worse places," then after a thoughtful pause, "This is not bad at all."

For some inexplicable reason, a shiver ghosted across my skin raising goosebumps over my flesh and at the same time, her gold eyes met my own. I shook the feeling off, certain it was the room. I refused to hug myself, forcing myself to look agreeable instead.

"Now," I said, crossing the room to her, "you just clean yourself up and join us downstairs for tea when you're done. I'll have a nice seat near the fire saved for you."

She shook her head avoiding my eyes again. "Thank you for your many kindnesses, Miss, but I do not think I shall come down this evening. It is not that I am ungrateful to you—"

I took her hand and patted it saying, "There's no need to explain. I understand completely and agree you ought to get some rest."

I sighed.

"What a pity I'm leaving tomorrow. I should have liked to take you to see Aunt and Uncle but it must wait 'til I return."

With a nod, I continued to the exit then stopped in the doorway, "Wait a minute, all my chatter has made me so rude! Pray, what is your name, dearest?"

She turned her back to me busying herself with a gray sack I'd noticed on the floor earlier. And with a smile in her voice, "Tomorrow, I shall tell you."

I stared a moment in silence.

"Tomorrow? But I'll be gone for Leers first thing! And not to mention Ms. Cotts will be escorting me to the station—a dreadful woman she is!" I wrung my hands. "Not that she's bad, mind you, just that she frightens me so! Oh, do give me a name to take. I should like to tell Papa and stepmother about you."

"Tomorrow, Miss," she repeated without turning around. "I shall tell you tomorrow."

Though the tone was soft and patronising, there was something finalising about it that one dared not pursue the matter. After some hesitation and seeing she was absorbed in whatever contents she kept in her little bundle, I moved to shut the door but saw an unnaturally shaped shadow outside. She whipped her head around when I cried out and with a trembling finger, I pointed to the window.

"Did you see that? It was something...strange. Just outside the window."

She smiled as though sympathetic to my shaken nerves. "You must be seeing things." She glanced at the rain slashed pane, misty with fog. "It is dark outside, there's nothing to be seen." She paused, then narrowed her eyes at me. "And if you are trying to frighten me it would be a wasted effort. I have seen things I am most certain would frighten you."

I shook my head. "No, no, no, I am certain I saw something, right there." Her gaze softened and she took a step towards the window then stopped suddenly. I clutched at my skirt.

"Can you see something?" I whispered.

After a minute she turned to me with an unnaturally reserved countenance. There seemed to be a flicker of mischief in her gaze. "No, there is nothing there. You must have been seeing things."

"But—"

"Goodnight, Miss Malstoyke." She turned her back once more as though I did not exist at all.

"She's a queer one," I said to myself as I went away. "She is a little frightening and yet there is a charm to her I can't help admire. It's almost a drawing sort of...power, perhaps."

Then I remembered the incident with Phoebe's cat. Cabbage doesn't like anyone yet he ran into the arms of a stranger and purred too! I frowned. And there was something at the window, I know it! Yet she was so cool and reserved about it and put me out of the room. And she said something about being in worse places...what could that have been? Or what could she have meant? And why didn't she tell me her name? It would have been the proper thing to do. Why must she behave so mysteriously? Not to mention her eyes! They were unusual, like those of some creature straight out of a story book.

I smiled in spite of the puzzle before me.

Looks like I've been put to finding things out....