“Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?”
He should have known she was a witch. Looking back now it seems so obvious. The way she carried the wind in her stride; the way the ringing of bells followed her as she passed them on still days. How the croaking of toads and singing of crickets accompanied her timid steps. This nothing girl. This mouse. How could she enchant him so?
It’s irritating to think of now as he sits in a train on his way home for the first time in over a year. Summer is steadily ending and the season’s changes are settling into the golden leaves and cold night air. Merope, that awful girl, will have a child by the new year. It makes him feel sick. Will it carry his family name? Will it have his father’s eyes?
Merope Gaunt came to his attention after her father and brother were sent to prison. It was the talk of their town. The Gaunt family was disliked generally and no one was shocked to hear they’d been escorted away by some strange looking authorities, but it was a sad thing in any case that a young girl was on her own. At least that’s what his mother went on and on about as they walked through their blooming garden the week after it happened.
“How old is the girl then?” His father, Thomas, asked as he examined a sprig of lavender pulled from the pathway.
“Hardly fifteen.” His mother replied with a lamentable sigh. Her long blue skirt gently billowed in the breeze. Mary Riddle loved a tragic tale. It gave her something to pity and something to fix.
“Unfortunate.” Thomas replied disinterestedly. Glancing up at his son he asked, “Didn’t you have a run in with Old Gaunt’s mad son?”
He had. Hadn’t he? Tom couldn’t really recall the incident. Only that it had something to do with Gaunt’s sister.
“Yes.” Tom answered. “Cecilia and I were walking on the far side of the property in sight of their…shack. He had nailed a snake to the door. It was a rather dreadful sight.”
Cecilia hated the Gaunt shack. Tom remembers the sneer on her perfect mouth and the way her lovely golden hair framed her rosy cheeks. He bought her a pearl and amethyst broach she wore that day and every day since she had gotten it. He knew Cecilia expected him to marry her as she spoke to him endlessly about her favorite cut of stone and color of diamond.
“Poor girl,” Mary said wistfully, “To have to grown up amongst such madness. We should offer to help the little dear.” She added excitedly as if the idea had just been born from the tender charity of her heart and was not a calculated plan she conceived of carefully during their quiet morning breakfast.
“Oh no, Mary. No. I won’t be bothered. Her family has a vicious strain of madness and the entire town knows it. I’m not going to meddle in the affairs of madmen or their daughters.” Thomas stood now at full attention, sprig of lavender forgotten. But Mary did not back down.
“Nonsense, Thomas. We have a household position open right now. The girl could use a job. Something to give her a lively hood. She’s a plain little thing and there isn’t a boy or man in town who would make her a proper wife anyhow. Come now, Thomas.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t take in a stray. I have enough to worry about without some willowy girl haunting about the manner.”
Tom looked over to his father unimpressed. He hadn’t anything to worry about. Their money was old and securely invested. He had a son to inherit his titles, deeds, and estates. Thomas Riddle Sr. was a man of leisure. Nevertheless, Tom kept his mouth shut.
“She won’t be haunting about the manner, darling. She will be a new maid. Miss Parker will be leaving soon on her honey moon, she can train Miss Gaunt before she leaves.”
“Mary, this is my house and I will not have you ordering me about. I said no and that is final.” His father stomped off in a huff with Mrs. Riddle trailing right after him. Tom heard his mother’s incessant chatter and his father’s defensive rebuttals for days following their conversation in the garden.
Needless to say, the Gaunt girl was offered a job the following week. The next time Tom saw her she was clutching her new uniform in her arms as Mrs. Riddle lead her into the library where he was reclining on a forest green chaise longue with his nose buried deep in a book.
“Now, Merope, as our replacement for Miss Parker, you will be in charge of the Southern wing. The Southern wing includes the library, two guest rooms, the blue parlor, our small gallery, the sun room, and of course my Tom’s rooms. Miss Parker will be here soon to go over your duties with you in a more detailed manner.”
Tom tried to focus on his reading as his mother continued instructing Merope but couldn’t help but glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was fidgeting and wore a look of utter contempt on her face. Not that his mother noticed. She was busy basking in her own self importance as she prattled on and on about the kind of condition she expected her staff to keep the manner in. Tom turned his head slightly as he heard the wind chimes beside the window softly begin to sing.
“It’s not Meer-rope, madam.” At her voice the chimes stilled.
“I’m sorry?” His mother clasped her hands demurely.
“My name is Mare-OH-pee, madam. Not Meer-rope.”
“Merope…what a lovely name. Shall we—” Thomas called out for her in the distance and irritation flashed in Mary’s eyes for a moment before it was gone. “Coming, darling!” She called out cheerfully. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” She glanced austerely at Merope before quickly leaving to find her husband. At the sound of his mother’s retreating footsteps Tom spoke to her for the first time.
“She means it’s a strange name.” Tom said as he lowered the book from his face and stared at the timid girl as she stood amongst the mahogany shelves. She wore a long-faded skirt that might have been blue a one point but was now a shabby grey. A ghost of a floral pattern was noticeable even from Tom’s distance. Her blouse was in a similar condition and seemed to nearly swallow her slight frame.
“Pardon me?” She asked in a small voice, blushing rather vividly. The glow of her emotion made her skin turn pink and her dark eyes seemed impossibly bright.
“I said you have a strange name Mare-OH-pee.” He felt a draft in the room flutter a page of his book.
“My mother named me after the stars. Tom is a name someone might give to a stray cat, isn’t it?” She asked rather defensively and it startled him. As an irritated expression settled into his features, he saw a disappointed frown draw upon Merope’s. She looked at him as if he were an annoying child or a particularly uninteresting photograph. It infuriated him. A stray cat? He was a Riddle! He opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but Miss Parker came in before he could utter a sound.
“Oh, hello there, Tom! I didn’t know you were home today. I saw Miss Cecilia in town and figured the two of you were out and about.” She smiled cheerfully and then turned her attention to the girl. “And hello, Miss Gaunt! Mrs. Riddle told me I might find you here.”
While exchanged greetings, Tom sulked in by the window and pretended to read again. He didn’t know why her expressions had bothered him so much, but he’d never had a girl look at him like that. As he read and reread the same paragraph over and over again he felt the tingling of her dark bright eyes staring at him.
“Pardon me, Mr. Riddle. For disturbing your reading.” She turned to follow Miss Parker and Tom found his eyes trailing after her lithe figure as she walked into the hallway, the tail of her long brown braid shining down her spine.