by Robin Trent
"No, mistress. I'll get it right away," Rebecca murmured, curtsying before she re-entered the house. She resisted the urge to pinch Helen as she walked by. Now she knew why Nikolai didn't like the woman. If first impressions were any indication, this was not going to be a fun visit. Rebecca prayed Helen's stay would be brief.
Supper was served at half-past seven in the dining room. The country house was decorated simply. The table was set, and the china was white and unadorned but serviceable. Elizabeth had always loved the country house even though her mother was loathed to bring her there as a child. That was something else Elizabeth had never understood. Why her mother hated the country when the English garden was filled with such delicate flowers, which scented the air, and it was so drowsy and quiet. Nothing could be more pleasant. Elizabeth looked across the table at her mother, who sat stiff-backed, lips pursed like she perpetually sucked on a lemon. Her mother's disapproval was evident, although Elizabeth was unsure as to what was so displeasing.
"The soup is cold,” Helen said.
"It is supposed to be cold. It is chilled soup." Elizabeth felt like she was stating the obvious.
"I don't like cold soup." Now Helen sounded petulant.
"I'm sorry, Mother. Would you like me to have Rebecca cook you a hot soup?"
"Don't be ridiculous. It will take too long, and then the rest of the supper will be cold." Helen scowled.
"How was your trip, Helen?" Nikolai asked in an attempt at pleasant conversation.
"It was a trip. I got from one destination to another. So it was successful," Helen said.
It was growing more and more obvious to Elizabeth and Nikolai that Helen was not going to be pleasant. The soup was cleared away, and the main course of lamb chops and herbed potatoes was set before them. Elizabeth felt a slight clinch in her stomach muscles as she waited for more criticism.
Nikolai decided to ignore Helen and speak with his wife. "Lovely meal, sweetheart. You did a wonderful job planning it. This looks delicious." Helen made a humph noise in response.
"Thank you, my love. I am glad you are pleased." Elizabeth smiled mischievously.
Helen looked back and forth between the two like she was at a tennis match and realized she had been shut out of the conversation. She smoothed the cloth napkin in her lap as she contemplated her next move. "Your father has gone on vacation to India again. Hopefully, he will enjoy himself since this may be his last trip."
Elizabeth's fork stopped in mid-flight and hovered about her neck as she brought her surprise under control. "Oh? Why would Father stop traveling?"
"Well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but we are getting on in age, and the trips have always been so expensive. Arthur and I have decided that we need to make some changes in our lives." Helen looked down at her plate and vigorously cut into her lamb chop with her knife. She swooped a bite into her mouth and sat back, satisfied as if she had just accomplished a most difficult task.
"Mother?" Elizabeth knew there was more to be said.
"We are thinking of selling the cottage along with several other properties." Helen reached for her wine and took a drink as she let that piece of information sink in.
"You are saying we have to move?" Elizabeth asked.
"Well yes, Elizabeth. Either move or purchase the property yourselves."
"How much time do we have?" Nikolai asked. Both women turned to look at him now, one with disgust, the other with sympathy.
"Well, we haven't any buyers yet. You can stay until the house is sold. That could be weeks, or months, or possibly a year," Helen said.
"Curious that you would do this to your own daughter," Nikolai mused aloud. Helen looked affronted, but Nikolai paid her no mind.
"She may be my daughter, but she is your responsibility."
Nikolai sucked in his breath. He had so many words for this woman, but he knew he couldn't say what he really wanted to because it would make it harder for his wife. He glared at Helen as color heightened his cheeks.
"We will have to discuss this and let you know our decision, Mother," Elizabeth said. She didn't know what else to say.
"Well, it's rather obvious what your decision will be, is it not?" Helen asked.
Elizabeth looked up at her husband's pained expression. "There is no such guarantee about what our decision will be. We will discuss this later." And that was final as far as Elizabeth was concerned.
Helen opened her mouth to continue the conversation, and Elizabeth began talking to Nikolai about the latest local gossip, refusing to look at her mother or engage her for the rest of the meal.
2
Helen approached the nursery and saw Elizabeth sitting in the rocking chair with Euphemia on her lap. She pushed the door open further so that she could make her presence known. Elizabeth looked up at her mother and smiled briefly. Then she went back to tending her child. Helen was being left to make her own decision to come into the nursery or not, and it made her uncomfortable. Becoming frustrated with herself for feeling this way, she walked in and sat down on the chaise lounge, the only other seat in the room.
"Would you like to hold her?" Elizabeth looked directly into her mother's eyes.
Helen reached out, and Elizabeth rose to place the baby in her arms. Walking over to the bassinet, Elizabeth retrieved Ophelia and then sat back down again.
"Twins. It must be a lot of work to have to do everything twice." It was not recrimination, just Helen wondering out loud.
Elizabeth nodded.
"You always were trying to do everything in a hurry," Helen joked.
"Yes, I suppose," Elizabeth said with a laugh.
Helen watched her daughter holding her granddaughter and felt a pang of regret. So young, and with two children, where were they ever going to go? She gazed down at the sleeping Euphemia, tiny fist balled up in her mouth. Helen may dislike Nikolai, but he and her daughter made adorable children. Absolutely stunning. Helen rocked and pulled Euphemia a little closer and higher, adjusting the baby in her arms. She looked up to see her daughter staring at her.
"It does my heart good to see you holding one of your grandchildren," Elizabeth said.
"They are beautiful, sweet children." Helen paused. "Elizabeth, I want you to know that your father and I are not trying to be mean in selling the house. We can't afford to keep it any longer."
"It's all right, Mother. We'll get along. It's been lovely living here, but I guess I knew it had to end someday." Ophelia fussed a little in Elizabeth's arms as if to protest. "There, there." Elizabeth soothed and comforted her baby.
The noon-time sun was dazzling. It was the perfect day for a picnic. Nikolai and Elizabeth decided this would be their last outing together until his return from Egypt. Not far from the house was a small hill with a large old oak tree whose branches swelled above the ground to form a perfect cover. A light breeze blew in from the west and carried with it the smell of salt air and lilacs.
Nikolai set up his easel and was painting a portrait of Elizabeth. John Barlow brought a smaller table with chairs up to the hill and set them on the shady side of the tree. Elizabeth and Helen had carried baskets with sandwiches, cake, tea, and assorted salads, now spread out upon the table.
"It's hard to believe this will be our last time together for a whole five months. Whatever am I to do without you?" Elizabeth asked. She was working on needlepoint, and the sound of the needle piercing the fabric, the feel of the yarn pulling through, all served to soothe her nerves.
Nikolai grinned from behind his easel as he dotted the canvas with paint. "I am sure you will be glad to be rid of me and have the house all to yourself."
"Nonsense. You know I adore you." Elizabeth smiled serenely at her husband.
Helen rolled her eyes. Nikolai and Elizabeth had been carrying on like this for days, more than likely to annoy her. No one in their right mind did this much ogling after they were married. It was unseemly. Helen also knew if she said anything about it, things would only get worse. So she held her couns
el.
Elizabeth focused on her needlepoint as Nikki painted, until she decided she needed to rest her eyes. Bending over to place her work in her basket, she spied movement in the woods. Standing straight up, she shielded her eyes to get a better look. A flash of red and the sound of running gave her a start. "Nikki, have the neighbors' children been playing in the woods?"
"I have no idea, why?" Nikolai peered around his painting at his wife.
"I think they are spying on us. I just saw someone short with a red hat running through the woods."
"Well, I guess you scared them off, my dear," Nikolai said. "The children run all over the countryside, you know."
"Animals." Helen puffed up her shoulders. "Their parents should have better control over them."
Elizabeth changed the subject as she returned to her seat. "Mother, I need to go into town the day after Nikolai leaves. Would you like to accompany me and go shopping?"
"See, I knew it. As soon as my back is turned, you'll be spending every last dime on expensive shopping sprees," Nikolai ribbed. He knew his wife was a careful shopper, but he had to tease.
"Well, if you made enough money to support your wife, you wouldn't have to worry about how much she spent shopping.” The angry retort flew out of Helen's mouth before she could think to stop it.
"Mother! Shame on you!" Elizabeth turned three shades of red and wanted to sink into the ground.
Nikolai stood, ready to blast the old bat back to hell. "Helen, I have been a generous host, and I have tolerated many indelicacies from you, but now you go too far. I am more than capable of maintaining my own household and supporting my wife.”
"Stop it. We need to stop it. Mother, refrain from any more outbursts, please. Nikolai, my dearest, ignore her." Elizabeth had risen and strode over to place a hand upon her husband's arm to calm him, then turned to Helen. "Mother, please let us have what little happiness we have left before Nikolai leaves. That was uncalled for."
Nikolai smiled at Elizabeth and sat back down. His gaze became distant as all the pleasure had left his painting. He knew it probably was wrong to feel this way, but he was more than prepared to leave for Egypt and not return until that harpy shrew was gone. His wife could handle her mother. Nikki was the main object of her attacks, and he felt it was best to remove himself from the picture.
Elizabeth returned to her needlepoint and tried to make small talk. She chatted about everything and nothing: weather, birds, flowers, whatever would keep the silence at bay. But more importantly, to keep any more interactions between her mother and her husband at a minimum. Her husband was going away tomorrow, and she would miss him terribly, and this was not how she wanted her last day with him to go.
Prophecies can rule the world or ruin it. Or at least make such a mess that it becomes tough to sort things out later on. And it isn't just the prophecy itself that causes the problems. No, it's those that are trying to either prevent or fulfill the prophecy. Rather than wait and see how things turn out, beings will always try to control events if they think they can.
Titwell had climbed up to the second-floor landing even though his exhausted little body had had enough. "This should have been over years ago." He sighed, trying to catch his breath. People who live in the country rarely locked their doors, and this house was no exception. It was easy enough to enter. Now he just wanted to get the test over with and leave.
Across the hall was the door he sought, and he squeezed into the nursery. He leaned his umbrella up against the door jamb and sat his traveling bag down on the floor next to it. With no more fanfare, he began his task. Standing in the middle of the room, he surveyed the child's crib, stroking his grey beard. It was big enough to hold him, but he was going to have to be careful not to disturb the little one.
It was an auspicious night for the testing as it was a true blue moon. As opposed to a "not true" blue moon, and if you didn't know the difference, then there was no point in explaining. In the silver hue of the moonlight, Titwell made his way across the nursery to the crib. The white lace curtains stirred slightly as a soft summer breeze blew in from the west. He hitched up his red pants, straightened his brown jacket and began his climb.
Being a reasonably spry fellow, it didn't take long. Soon he was sitting upon the edge of the crib’s rail looking down upon the sleeping babe. The child had sweet rosy cheeks and a little bow mouth and wore a snowy white bonnet. He wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl, not that it mattered.
To him, there was nothing remarkable to note, only that this child had been born at the correct time, under the right sign. The queen never told him more than that. Just go to some particular house at the appropriate time and administer the test. The test was not a difficult one; he only had to sit and observe. It was more annoying, really, than anything. Titwell had "administered" so many tests he had lost count.
It was almost 13 o'clock by Sidhe time on the night of the Full Moon. It was a magical time and a magical hour, even though humans were utterly unaware. Titwell softened his gaze and stared until he could see the crisscross grid of light that covered everything. Placing his hand on the railing, he sent energy into the network of lines and down to cover the sleeping child. The grid lit up, and Titwell tweaked it to receive the moonlight.
The moon cast its frosty glow upon the child's bed, and Titwell sat and stared. At first, there was nothing, and he thought this might be another false hope. He had sat and stared at so many babies over the years. Oh, the Oracles were always saying a child has been born who may fulfill the prophecy! And off Titwell had to go to observe and report. For the fae, it made sense to use a house brownie for this task, even though this wasn't his house. Because he was assigned to carry out these tasks for the kingdom, he was currently a house brownie with no home. For a brownie, this was a pitiable state indeed.
It started as a tingling on the tips of his ears. He sniffed the air, and there it was: magic. There's nothing quite like the smell of magic, somewhere between ozone and an approaching thunderstorm. Titwell turned ever so slowly to get a better look. The baby had been sleeping up until now. At first, he heard a gurgle, which quickly turned into a delightful laugh as the baby started to move and kick out her legs.
Titwell lost his balance and slipped down between the bars and the baby. He landed with his head facing the opposite direction of where he'd been sitting, and when he looked up, there it was. The glow. A blue-white light all around the baby's exposed feet and legs. Moonshine. Only someone who had fae blood had the glow called Moonshine. And only someone with the sight could see it in the light of the moon.
Titwell sat up and smiled. He looked back at the baby, now with fondness. He'd finally found the one they were looking for. Not only did this mean wondrous things for the Elphame and human worlds, but it also meant that Titwell had finally found a home.
Excitedly, he climbed out of the crib and dropped to the floor. He started to run for the door, but ended up skidding across the newly polished floor. He landed hard as he slid into the door, and sat there rubbing his head. He listened intently as he knew he had made quite a racket and fully expected the mother to come running to the nursery.
A soft cooing started in the room, and he shook his head. He knew where the baby was located, and this was coming from the other side of the room. What was that noise? It couldn't be. There, sitting on the floor near the window on the opposite side of the room, was a bassinet.
Titwell slowly rose and tiptoed over, grabbed a handful of white gossamer material, and lifted it back to peer inside. There, lying nestled in the knitted folds of another blanket, lay a beautiful child. The bassinet was out of the moonlight and he couldn't tell if this child was also an Emissary. Another noise, this time coming from the hallway, and Titwell realized he had indeed awakened the mother.
He shrugged his shoulders. There were two children, but the prophecy only spoke of an Emissary, not Emissaries. He'd done his job, and the queen and the court could sort out the rest. Titwell tiptoed across the roo
m once more, this time carefully. Hiding behind the door, he waited for it to open.
The mother immediately crossed the room to the crib. Titwell grabbed his bag and slipped out. It wasn't until later that he realized he had left his umbrella in the nursery. With a sigh and nod, Titwell became invisible and slipped down the stairs and out the front door.
Elizabeth woke at the sound of scrabbling feet and something being knocked over. She immediately thought of rats and rose out of bed to don her robe. "Where are you going, my love?" Asked Nikolai sleepily.
Elizabeth smiled at her husband as she cracked the bedroom door open. "I'm just going to check on the children, sweetheart. I'll be right back." She made her way to the nursery in the dark, feeling her way along the railing of the upper floor. Quietly opening the door, Elizabeth tried not to disturb the girls.
She bent down to kiss Ophelia in the bassinet and felt a breeze. As she approached the window, she could have sworn she saw someone crossing the yard outside. The shadow was gone just as quickly as it came, and Elizabeth promptly closed the window. She stood and stared out for a few more moments but saw nothing. It wouldn't do to be getting all skittish now that her husband was leaving. What would he think? After making sure Ophelia was snug as a bug, she checked on Euphemia. Effie was sound asleep, although how she could be in such bright moonlight was beyond Elizabeth. She walked over to the curtains to pull them shut.
Moving towards the door, Elizabeth felt a sharp pain in the bottom of her foot. She opened the door and lit a candle on the dresser and lifted her foot to look. There on the floor, underfoot, was a child's size red umbrella with a wooden handle. It was small enough to look like a toy, but she couldn't remember any of the girl's baby outfits containing such an item, and it would be years before they could carry an umbrella. Elizabeth propped it up against the wall in the corner, where it would be out of the way. She would have to ask Rebecca about it in the morning.
