Clara got to work that morning in high spirits. It was her eighth day working as Isabella's Nurse. A couple of days ago, she got introduced to Isabella, and received the shock of her life. Having met the little sweetheart before now, she thought their second meeting will be laced with familiarity and acceptance, but she was damn wrong.
When they got to Isabella's room, they met the curtains down, the room dimly lit and empty, aside the presence of her huge depressing looking teddy bears. There was a noticeable movement from a door which Clara later found out leads to Isabella's playroom, and Clara realized that someone had been behind the door watching and listening to them all the time. Slowly, a figure came out from behind her playroom door, and the dim pink light fell on her face.
"Oh, there you are. Come along and get acquainted," Bennet said. "You should have been down here with Beatrice to welcome your Nurse, you know. You remember Miss. Clara from the park."
Isabella continued her slow forward movement. Once she got close to them, she paused and her dark, brilliant gaze fastened on Clara, who was standing alone, a little forlornly, in the center of the room.
"You don't have to dress like you're going to the Opera, just because you are my Nurse." Isabella said. "How long are you going to keep up with such outfits anyway." She said, and burst into laughter.
"Isabella, remember your manners, please." Beatrice said, and for the first time, Clara wanted to thank Beatrice from the depth of her heart. But one look at the woman set her thoughts straight.
Isabella turned and fled back to her playroom and the peals of her derisive laughter came echoing down to them until the door to the room got slammed, and there was silence.
Clara on her way home that day was restless, she didn't picture Isabella to be so ill-mannered.
Her nerve had been shaken by that wild laughter, and there had been something hostile about all three of them at that moment. The child running away, Beatrice displeased but unsurprised, and Bennet, his dark face cold and taut as his worried gaze rested critically on Clara.
"Isabella is a precocious child," Bennet had said then. "She probably thinks you're going to get all the attention. I find it difficult with her as well. It's been hell trying to be in her corner and I'll be honest, my relationship with her has not recorded any new milestone. It has remained the same as it was three years ago. I hope you understand and treat her kindly."
Clara had nodded and assured him that she will do her best, and that was exactly what she has been doing since she resumed working with them. It's been tiring and tough trying endlessly to get Isabella in her corner as well.
Clara had wondered why Beatrice seemed so unfriendly. But having spent a couple of days in the mansion, she knew that there was no need stressing herself with such thoughts as Beatrice might be worse than she thought earlier.
Isabella was in bed reading a paperback novel propped against her knees, and as Clara came into the room she thrust the book under her pillow.
"Hello," Clara said, "I thought to check up on. Do you want to come to your playroom now?"
"Did they send you to come spy on me?" asked Isabella.
"They? Who is they?" Clara asked, smiling. "Actually, I'm here on my own. Do you want us to talk instead." She sat down on the side of the bed and drew the book from under the pillow. "Goodness! Where did you get this? That's such a big book and for your age? This is too much for you Bella."
"Don't call me that. Are you going to tell them about the book?"
"I apologize. But why should I tell them? The book won't hurt you. I just think it's quite voluminous and would take ages to read." Clara replied.
"How do you know it won't hurt me? Have you read it?"
"No, but it seems to follow the usual fairytale pattern.
"Just like my father, you don't believe in fairy-tale also? Well I do, if you don't."
Clara laughed. "What extraordinary notions you have about your father," she said, shutting up the book and returning it to its hiding place under the pillow.
"Bennet is not such a great father" his daughter remarked.
"You don't say that about your father, Bella, he loves you, even if you think otherwise." Clara was startled in spite of herself.
"Don't call me that please. Stop"
"I'm sorry, it just slipped. I won't call you that again." She reassured Bella.
"Fine. Anyway, Bennet doesn't love me, if that's what you think." The child said with an air of conviction. "When you've lived in this house a little while, you'll see for yourself. You don't like the house, do you?"
"Well, I have only worked here for a couple of days, but I think I love the house. Although it's so big and not what I'm used to." She replied honestly.
"That's right, it's not what you're used to. Why don't you go away then?"
"Why do you want to get rid of me?" Clara retorted, with a cute smile.
"Bennet is not a good man," said Isabella, like a character out of her novel.
Clara looked at the strange, lovely little face. So angelic and innocent, yet with a sharp mouth. Suddenly she felt sorry for the child. It was natural, after all, that having been shut away with grown-up people for so long, she should nurse some funny ideas about them. Loosing her mother two years ago, probably wasn't helping matters either.
"I think you are very fond of your father, aren't you?" she said gently.
She felt she had been slapped when Isabella replied with dispassionate calm, "No, I hate him-and he hates me. We only play for the camera" Isabella replied, and Clara realised that the books the little girl have been reading have great influence on her already.