My hands and wrists began to ache one morning as I used one of Dr. Thorpe’s old knives to chop henbane stalks, a task usually performed by him. Running my fingertips down the blade I was disappointed to find how dull it had become. Some herbs have thick stalks that are made even tougher with the drying process, making the chore more difficult. As I continued to toil with this, the clinic doors opened briskly and in stepped Lord Beaumont. I had not seen him since I removed his sutures weeks ago. Wondering why he was here, I set down my knife.
“Good morning, Miss Evelyn,” he said politely.
“Good morning, my lord,” I said cheerfully. “How may I help you today?”
“Actually I am not in need of any help this day,” he said flashing me a smile, moving to lean on the counter between us. “I came to see how you were doing. I know that Dr. Thorpe was your mentor.”
“Yes, he was a good man.”
“I am relieved to see that Princess Emeley and Sir William have allowed you to stay at your post.”
“Yes . . . so am I. I am very fortunate. Though it has been very slow since his death.” Lord Beaumont was one of the more pleasant people I enjoyed talking to. He never appeared to look down on me. Even though he seemed nice, I still did not trust him . . . or anyone else here.
“You may see more of me, Miss Evelyn,” he continued coyly.
“My Lord?” I asked in confusion.
“Seems Lord Crievan has assigned me to help look after the East Village.”
“What exactly is his role?”
“He is one of King Edreyan’s oldest and most trusted advisors and heads the council.”
“Oh?” I picked up my knife and began to chop the herbs again; hoping Lord Beaumont would take a hint that I did not have all day to stand around chatting. He watched me for a few moments and then picked up one of the other knives and felt the blade.
“How are you able to work with such blunt blades?” he asked after a moment.
“Well, I have no choice. These are all that I have right now,” I stated plainly as I continued.
“If you would spare them for a day I could have my man sharpen them for you.”
The offer took me by surprise. No one besides Dr. Thorpe had ever offered to help me here . . . but should I trust him? I set the knife down. “How much, Lord Beaumont?” Everything had a price. For a few seconds he almost appeared a little offended by my question and his blue eyes studied mine for a moment.
“A hay penny, Miss Evelyn,” he said straightening up.
A hay penny? That was nothing, so it seemed he hadn’t been meaning to charge me anything but was willing to play along to satisfy my insecurity. I looked down at my dull equipment, feeling the ache in my hands for having to work so hard. “All right,” I said pulling out a small cloth bag and placing both knives inside. I handed him the bag. “Thank you, my lord, that will be helpful.”
Flashing me another confident grin he said, “you are welcome. I will see you tomorrow.” I curtsied to him and he left, letting Sam in as he walked out.
“What did he want?” she asked coming to stand by me.
I apprised her of what happened. “Well, I hope he comes back with them,” was all she said.
“So do I,” I mused.
The following morning as I finished up with a patient with a worse than usual case of head lice, Lord Beaumont strode in. I greeted him politely.
“Good morrow, Miss,” he said pleasantly. “I have brought your blades back just as I promised.”
“Thank you!” I had to admit, his punctuality surprised me. He placed the pouch on the counter and motioned for me to inspect them. I pulled out the same two knives I had given him yesterday, only they shone like new . . . and were sharp as promised.
“Wow, thank you, my lord,” I said with a smile, which he returned. I reached in to the pocket of my apron and brought out a hay penny. “For your service,” I added. Our fingertips brushed as I handed it to him. He held it up and grinned at me.
“Thank you, Miss. Well, I must be going back to my patrol. Perhaps I will see you around the village in the near future.”
“That would be nice,” I said, giving him a pretty smile. A new patient walked in holding a rag over her hand as Lord Beaumont turned to walk out. I shifted my focus to the young woman that had come to see me, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him set the hay penny on the windowsill before he walked out. Through the windows, I saw him look back and smile.
Chapter 13
I breathed in the evening air, daydreaming about the prince during the beginning sunset as I swept out the dirt that had migrated into the doorway. I had my back turned to the village while I used my broom to brush off the wooden step that led into the clinic. An unfamiliar voice startled me and I gasped; nearly jumping out of my skin.
“Excuse me, Miss Remington?”
After turning and catching my breath, I recognized the man I had sometimes seen at court during my visits with Princess Emeley. “Yes?” I replied, hoping he wasn’t in need of medical care. Sam and I had already closed up shop and she was already off on a date with Sir William.
“I don’t think we have been formally introduced. My name is Adam Thornton,” the tall, slim human with blue eyes and hair much redder than my own said plainly.
I remembered him now. “Lord Thornton, what can I do for you?” I said, leaning my broom against the door and curtsying as per the custom.
He offered me a friendly smile. “Actually, I came to ask you for your help.”
“What kind of help do you need?” I hid the suspicion awakening in my mind. I had a thing about not trusting strangers.
“I have seen you at court, and also at one of Princess Emeley’s banquets. You seem to garner attention wherever you are,” he said as I waited patiently for him to finish, wondering exactly what it was that he wanted. “However, I noticed that you did not dance.”
“Dance? Of course not, I do not know how to do the dances of this court, or this world for that matter,” I replied.
“Precisely,” he continued. “Would you dance if you learned how?”
“I’m not sure . . . I guess so . . .” I stammered, confused as to what the whole point of this conversation was about.
“I came here to ask you if you would be interested in taking some dance lessons with me.”
I momentarily had to suppress a laugh. Dance lessons? Was he interested in me and this was his way of asking me out? Lord Thornton seemed nice; however I was simply not interested. The reality of my situation was my best excuse. “Lord Thornton, I can barely afford to keep myself afloat. I have no money to spare for such a frivolous thing,” I replied sincerely, keeping my tone respectful.
“Yes, I do realize your situation,” he continued sympathetically. “If you agree to take lessons with me and Madame Isabel Eveas, I will pay for them.”
“Lord Thornton, I appreciate your offer, however I . . .”
“Miss Evelyn, . . . before you decline, think about the doors something like this could open for you.”
Growing impatient with this whole conversation I asked, “what is this really about?”
He paused and took a deep breath in. “There is a lady at court that I would very much like to dance with, however I am new to Eteryn and do not know the dances very well either. She does not seem to acknowledge that I exist, but . . . people notice you.”
I figured it out quickly. “Just so I understand, you think that if we learn to dance together, and then dance at the banquets that the lady you are interested in pursuing will notice you and grant you a dance?”
“Yes, that is correct,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Everyone will notice me if I am dancing with you.”
I smiled with relief that he was not interested in me and then paused to think. If I learned to dance, would that increase my chances of the prince noticing me? I couldn’t explain my obsession with him, but something deep inside me begged me to consider this offer. Take this opportunity to use him like
he wants to use you, the devil on my right shoulder seemed to whisper to me. I mulled it over for a few moments before I said, “I will be happy to help you, Lord Thornton. When do we start?”
He smiled happily. “Madame Isabel conducts her sessions on Monday and Wednesday evenings.”
That is convenient, I thought realizing that there were never banquets on those two nights.
“I will pay for the lessons, however, it will be your responsibility to obtain a gown suitable enough to be socially acceptable,” he said.
I looked down at my dark uniform. He was right. I couldn’t wear the one semi-acceptable dress that I already wore to the banquets to dance lessons. I needed something nice enough to pass Madame Isabel’s inspection. I had heard whispers of her. Supposedly she was tough to please.
“I will find something,” I replied.
“Excellent! I will make the arrangements and pick you up in my carriage on Wednesday at six o’clock sharp,” he said enthusiastically.
“I look forward to it,” I replied, wondering what I was getting myself into.
∞
Later that evening I stood in front of my armoire looking over the few outfits I possessed. There was my everyday dress, the black chemise and burgundy overskirt with the gray leather bodice that laced up and my dark black veil that I used as a bandana. Then there was my worst dress, the cornflower blue one with stains and patches here and there. I used that one for my dirtiest chores, or picking herbs, or digging in the dirt and what not. Finally I looked at my nicest dress, a worn dark cream colored one with a few light pink small flowers embroidered here and there. This was the one I used for my most formal duties, like visiting the princess at the castle and attending church. Although it was almost pretty, I’m not sure if it would do for dancing lessons. I considered myself lucky, some people didn’t even own more than one or two outfits, and yet here I was, criticizing my choices. When you are used to having numerous options for every season, having only three choices seems disappointing. I wanted another dress, something pretty to present myself in.
I sat on the side of the bed and emptied my change purse into my hand. I had just recently spent most of my own savings on a second pair of boots that should last me through the winter and I had two crowns and a few hay pennies left. Since my meals were provided for me at the cookhouse and the clothes I wore had been handed down from other servants, I really had no idea what a nice dress would cost. I decided to find out. I put the coins back in my purse and placed it in the drawer on the small bedside table. I blew out the candle and snuggled beneath the covers. I didn’t wait up for Sam anymore, I never knew if and when she would come home from Sir William’s company.
∞
I set out for the seamstress in the upper-class part of the village near the castle at mid-day when a majority of my chores were done and Sam could cover for me. It had been a slow morning for patient visits; a trend that I hoped would reverse itself soon. The dirt road transitioned into paved cobblestone as I moved into the wealthier sector near court, near where Sir William lived. This part of the village had everything that we had; a baker, a cobbler, a candle maker, and so forth, but they were more affluent. I guess the nobles and their servants had to shop somewhere. They probably never set foot in the local marketplace that I was used to. The streets and air smelled cleaner here and fortunately no one paid me much attention as I meandered over to the shop and stepped in.
“Good day, Miss,” a young woman sitting next to a dress form embroidering an overskirt said to me in greeting as I entered.
“Good day,” I replied as I neared her. Her shop seemed about the size of our clinic, and neatly arranged with a nice selection of dresses and accessories. There were a few noble women with their backs to me perusing the selection. I couldn’t tell who they were as their heads were covered in veils. I took a deep breath and let out a soft sigh as I looked around. A few of the gowns were beautiful, in fabrics of pretty colors with a nice sheen to them. I knew right away that this was a long shot.
“Excuse me?” I asked softly.
“Yes, how can I help you?” the seamstress replied politely. At least she didn’t gawk at my worn uniform.
“Can you please tell me how much it would cost to buy a dress suitable for taking dance lessons? Nothing fancy, just acceptable.”
The seamstress nodded her head and rose to drift over to a rack and pulled out a simple purple dress. It was modest and plain, but respectable. “Something like this would suffice,” she replied lifting it up so that I could see it.
“How much does it cost?”
“It is a simple gown . . . fifteen crowns, Miss.”
My heart sank. Fifteen whole crowns. I would have to save for weeks before I could buy something that cost that much. I only inherited eight crowns from Dr. Thorpe. I smiled and thanked her politely, quickly exiting the shop. Dance lessons were supposed to start tomorrow night. Sadly, I thought of the dark cream colored dress in my wardrobe. It was the best I had, but not nearly as nice as the one the seamstress showed me. My instincts told me I should call the whole thing off. I observed the upper class around me, bustling about the paved streets as they walked with their servants at their heels. I felt awkward and out of place here, and suddenly very homesick. I was not one of them and I didn’t belong here. I should just come to grips with the fact that I needed to let go of my fantasy of dancing with the prince and focus on finding a way home instead. I passed back onto the dirt roads and into the part of the village that I was most familiar with, the poor part.
My feet carried me through the marketplace. I glanced at the booths as I passed on my way back to the clinic. Some of the vendors had dresses for sale, but they were all the same shape mine were in or only slightly better. Although the local seamstress had warmed up to me, I didn’t want to check her selection. Sam looked up as I opened the front door to the clinic and shut it behind me. “No luck, Evie?” she asked out of curiosity even though it was plain to see. She didn’t stop pulverizing the herbs in her mortar and pestle.
“No,” I mumbled as I dug out my own supplies and started the same task. The hard work seemed to calm me. Only a few patients trickled in the rest of the afternoon. Some in need of remedies for minor things like cuts and headaches. A little while before sun down, Sam and I meandered to the East Wing Cookhouse to meet up with our group of wayfarers for supper. I ate and drank in silence, only paying half attention to what they were all talking about as I tried to figure out what to say to Lord Adam Thornton tomorrow.
The morning sun did little to cheer me as I busied myself with my duties. Sam left to gather herbs mid-morning. I was in the middle of steeping some yarrow when the door swung open. Much to my surprise it was one of the nobles and her servant.
“Lady Aryn,” I said in astonishment as I curtsied reflexively. “How may I help you?” I asked as she walked towards me and pushed her sheer veil back off of her head. I wondered why she was here. The nobles seldom visited my clinic, except for a few women seeking what passes for birth control here on the down low, but Lady Aryn was already pregnant. I hoped she was not having any issues with that. I am a poor substitute for a midwife.
“Good morning, Miss Evelyn,” she began as she approached me, her servant trailing behind. I noticed that he carried a large cloth bag in his hands. “I am not here for health reasons,” she elaborated looking me up and down. “I was at the seamstress yesterday when you were there inquiring about a dress.”
Embarrassment immediately flushed my cheeks and I looked down shamefully for a moment. She probably wondered why a servant who lived in poverty would even dare to step a foot in there and ask about pricing. I had only my ignorance to blame. Back home, I had never lived off of so little before.
I looked back up at her. “I’m sorry my lady, I did not see you there,” was all I could think of to say. There were women in the shop with their backs towards me. She must have been one of them.
“So you are in need of a dress for dance lessons
with Madame Isabel,” she continued nonchalantly. I nodded.
“Well, I recently had my servants sift through my wardrobe and I found a few gowns I no longer need. We are almost the same size. I thought that perhaps you might be able to use them.”
I simply stared at her, wondering if this was some kind of game, or if she wanted something from me. She must know I didn’t have any money.
“They are from a few seasons ago, and a little out dated of course . . . so no one from court would likely remember that they were mine,” she added quickly.
“That is very thoughtful of you, my lady. How . . . how much are you selling them for?” I asked bluntly.
“Sell?” she asked with amusement. “I would never dream of selling them to you or to anyone . . . why, they are practically moth eaten!” she exclaimed in astonishment. I sensed that she was putting on some kind of act, as if she were covering up her generosity by portraying it as charity for me. I didn’t know if that drama was directed at me or for her own servant to witness. With a sweep of her hand she motioned for the servant to set the garment bag down on the counter next to me.
“I must be going now, Miss Evelyn, I am sure I will see you at court soon,” she said as she pulled her veil back up onto her head.
“Thank you, Lady Aryn!” I blurted out with a smile and curtsied respectfully as she turned on her heel and marched out.
I rushed to the window and watched her step into her fine coach. She turned to look back at me and I swear I saw her smile before she was settled and out of view as they shut the door and drove on. Bewildered, I ran to the counter and pulled open the garment bag. Lady Aryn was a half-vampire like the princess. All three of us were similar in height. Maybe that’s why she would donate to me; her dresses would be too long for most of the humans here. The first gown I pulled out had a mild sheen to it as if it had been woven into a fine sateen finish of light silver. It had a full skirt and matching bodice, perfect for a banquet. Moth eaten, my ass, I thought to myself as I looked the dress over. There wasn’t even a spot on it. I had to admit though, it was even more beautiful than what I saw yesterday. I carefully folded it up and pulled out the second gown. This one was not as fancy, in fact it seemed a little too practical for Lady Aryn. The full underskirt was cream colored with a dark purple overskirt that parted in the middle with a dark purple colored bodice. I knew immediately that this would be the one I would wear to dance class. I felt elated when I saw that there were two pairs of matching shoes and some undergarments included in the bag. I whispered a “thank you” to no one in particular, reeling from my good fortune. But why? Why would Lady Aryn help me? I wondered. She didn’t sell them to me and acted as if no one would want them. Clearly, I would owe her some kind of favor in the future. I pondered over what it would be.
The Twilight Star Page 13
