MATILDA (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

CHAPTER 3: A POLITE AND SUBCONSCIOUS MANNERISM

He sashayed towards the door and as though he was about to conduct a speech, he prepared himself: "Hello. Hello, hello, hello." Each repetition was dictated with a new rendering. Matilda looked at him in confusion, when Count Olaf noticed her look, he shot her a sharp glare before lifting a hatch and peering through the peephole. He then proceeded to unlock the multiple barricades that prevented any form of unwanted entry. The strange man swung it open with an enthusiasm that did not surface on his weathered face and its tattooed smirk. Peering around the lanky body in front of her, Matilda was able to see the strangers situated on the rotten porch that had thoroughly expired due to the weather exposure. The ashen wood gleamed with moisture from the early morning rain that was followed by grey clouds that shrouded the city, all the way to Briny Beach. Despite the miserable mood of the day, the waters reflection seemed iridescent, shattering and spreading fractures of light.

In the doorway stood three, no four, people whom Matilda nor Count Olaf had ever set eyes on. Through the space between Count Olaf's arm and body, Matilda surveyed the 'permanent visitors'. There was a sickly-looking man who stood proudly with his large, prominent bowler hat and a luminous badge that refracted the little sunlight there was to offer; the badge brazenly stating 'BANK'. A clean-pressed, grey suit wore tight on his body, blending him into the nature of the day, his tie and neatly trimmed moustache screamed business. Three children stood alongside him; contrasting the banker, the children wore colourful clothing the seemed to exude child-like wonder and innocence. A boy, about Matilda's age, stood confidently in a red sweater and a grey jacket with rimmed glasses that mounted his nose. His dark hair rested gingerly on his forehead, his eyes, which were enlarged by the lenses of his glasses, were luminescent. They were the colour one would see in a piece of freshly polished wood and through amber, as the light shone at just the right angle. Their potential energy and spark could be imagined, but in the view of recent events, they had grown dull with anguish.

Near him was an older girl, dressed in a pink spotted dress and a blue jacket. She shared the same dark chestnut hair as the boy, a fridge coated her eyebrows and eyes were the colour of a blue-sky charging into a storm. In her arms rested an infant, a small, young girl dressed in yellow and stripes with her minimal hair follicles bunched into a single sprout. Opposing the other children, the baby had pale blonde hair that was nearly invisible, similar to the boy, her eyes were an inky brown that protruded in contrast to her fair features. Their clothing suggested that they had decent financial support and their clean skin dictated a home. Despite this, their faces were forlorn and downturned. Yet, they were beautiful.

The appearance of these children caused Matilda to look down at herself: the ratted, blemished clothing, the marked and dirtied knees and, as she wiggled her toes, the shoes could be seen splitting in two. Nudging her simple and overly large white socks with her shoes, she made sure that it they were long enough to conceal her abuse. Twiddling with her sleeves, multitudes of fluff, dust and crumbs were released into the thirsty air; the particles refracting in the light. Matilda didn't raise her head again. In her observation she had missed the intricate greeting Count Olaf offered. And the distasteful gazes that met his presence.

"Renowned actor and your new guardian," he rolled his r's and flourished his hand at the mention of his career. With the lack of response, he glanced down at Matilda giving a look with a raised eyebrow as if to say, 'what are they waiting for?'. A brief sigh exited his lips before he proudly stated: "You're welcome," in a pompous attitude. The girl stuttered a 'thank you' in return, her eyes twitched in confusion as the boy and the baby observed incredulously. The banker seemed pleased with the girl's utterance, which was in fact a polite and subconscious mannerism. "Please, come in," he said sweetly. His demeanour dropped briefly as he stated, "and mind you wipe your feet on the mat, so you don't track in any mud.". The next words ignited perplexity and horror within Matilda at the realisation of his notions and the devastating effects that would ensue. "And don't forget your enormous fortune!". He stepped aside for the strangers to enter and gestures magnificently around the room, forcing Matilda between him and the splintered wall. Their feet created crunches and scuffles as the dried leaves that littered the floor were disturbed by the wicked movement. As the children entered, their faces displayed the disgust and terror that was woven into building; their feet treading cautiously and their breaths hitching. Count Olaf turns to the banker, during their brief discussion the children peer around at the silenced girl behind Count Olaf. Matilda felt their stares but did not dare to meet their gaze. Their eyes lingered on the unravelling threads of her clothes and the way her feet were constantly pulling her socks up. Curious. The banker's, who she now knew as Mr Poe, abrupt coughing interrupted the interaction, allowing Matilda the alleviation of the children's stares. Mr Poe varied his gaze across the house, "It does seem to need a little work". Looking around, the children and Matilda could not agree more.

"Well, I realize it's not as fancy as the Baudelaire mansion, but perhaps, children, with a bit of your money, we'll be able to fix it up, make it nicer." Baudelaire's. Matilda has never heard the name mentioned by Count Olaf before. Such an extravagant name had never passed her lips; it was a name that could be seen in books and stories, fictional and enviable.

"Count Olaf, the Baudelaire fortune is not to be used for such matters. The Baudelaire will is very specific as to how the children are to be raised in case of an unfortunate event." Mr Poe retorted, in a matter-of-fact attitude.

"Ah, yes, the fire." This simple statement was impenetrable, yet Matilda knew this man well, and her suspicions were heightened at the way in which this bearer of evil spoke. His sympathetic voice was as though someone had tried to add an inordinate amount of sugar to a piece of broccoli to enhance its taste. With no success.

"They're to be raised by their closest relative." Mr Poe continued, ignoring Count Olaf's strange interruption.

"That is I, Count Olaf." It was not his best acting; Matilda was certain that they bore no relation to the three wealthy children situated in their foyer.

"And every cent of the Baudelaire fortune is locked up until Violet comes of age." Again, Mr Poe disregards Count Olaf's inclusion. He inches towards the banker, leaning close to his ear and whispers,

"Which one is Violet?" the ignorance of the man inhibited him to see the obvious and make clear, intellectual connections. To Matilda, the answer to this question was obvious.

"The eldest."

Count Olaf growls lowly and gruelling at the revealed information. "Alright then," he mumbles as he rights himself up once more, inhaling in the process. "Well, I hope I can prove myself to be the father you never had." This sends a stab of pain through Matilda.

"We had a father." The boy speaks up his voice even and his brows set in determination.

"Yes, I know. And a mother. Remarkable woman. Flammable." The children looked at each other in bewilderment, Matilda had no doubt that they were able to sense Count Olaf's crimes. Matilda glances up to view the glance and unwillingly makes eye contact with the children. She stared deep into their eyes, intending to gain knowledge, as their eyes raked her form, coming to meet her piercing eyes once more. The Baudelaire's could see the torment and agony this young girl had been through; her hopeless gaze and the sunken skin that enclosed her bodies terrain. They could only wonder what had led her to this terrible fate. Throughout this encounter, Mr Poe abides his exit reluctantly as Count Olaf pressured him out of the door.

"G-goodbye, Violet. Goodbye, Klaus. Goodbye, Sunny. I hope you'll be happy here. I'll still check in on you occasionally. If you need anything or have questions, you can-" Mr Poe stuttered as he was pushed out of the house and was cut off by the slamming of the grooved door. As the door crashes shut, Count Olafs deceitful skin is peeled away to reveal a truly malicious being underneath.

"Well, children, before I give you a tour of your new home, aren't you going to say, "How do you do?" to your new guardian?" an intense, scraggly eyebrow cocked mischievously.

"How do you do?" Violet answers.

"How do I do? Better and better, Baudelaire's. Better and better." He snarls, bending over and coinciding his horrid breath with the Baudelaires essence.

A/N
Hiya,
So sorry everyone! It will be slow updates between school and such!
Thanks Lovlies!