by M. J. Haag
“Hugh would probably like a biscuit,” Kellen said softly.
I smiled at my sister's cunning. The stall that sold the best biscuits belonged to a nice, old man tending a booth off the beaten track, away from prying eyes that might witness any scuffle between two mourning girls and a bunch of bullying boys.
“Hugh rarely gets a biscuit. You're very kind to think of him,” I said.
We continued down the main thoroughfare, past our group of tormentors. It didn't take long for the boys to start following us again. Kellen and I wove our way through the crowds around the vendor stalls and took a left down one of the side streets.
The scent of butter and baking bread tickled my nose. The best biscuit vendor didn't charge much, which enabled everyone to enjoy his creations. Unfortunately, catering to the lesser folk meant others refused to patronize him.
When the man saw us approaching, he smiled and readied six biscuits. Enough for everyone in our household. He knew us well.
“Good morning, Ladies,” he said, already holding up the bundle.
“Good morning.” Kellen handed over the necessary coin with, perhaps, a little extra.
A scrape of noise from the alley’s entrance briefly drew the man’s gaze, and I knew a conflict would be unavoidable before returning to Maeve. Kellen understood the same.
“Would you happen to have any day-old biscuits?” she asked. “I do enjoy feeding the songbirds.”
“My biscuits never last that long,” he said. “However, I do have a few that are too hard to sell. My grandson is trying to help with the baking, but he doesn't have the eye yet to know when to remove them from the oven.” He showed us a dozen dark brown biscuits.
“We'll take all of them,” Kellen said.
The baker handed over the bundle, which I accepted while Kellen gave another coin.
“Thank you!” I called as we moved away.
Happy that we’d helped the baker as much as he’d helped us, Kellen and I moved down the alley at a brisk pace, not toward the main thoroughfare but deeper into the quiet areas that would bring us back around to the cobbler.
I knew the boys were following and hoped the baker wouldn’t pay them any attention. It didn't take long after we rounded a corner for the boys to start heckling.
“Which do you think will speak to us today?” Alfie asked.
“It will be Cinder for certain,” Carver answered. “Snow never speaks. Frozen lips, that one.”
“At least for us.”
“Maybe today that will change. What do you say, Snow? How about we try a kiss to thaw that heart of ice?”
Laughter echoed behind us, and I untied my bag of biscuits.
“The birds would have liked them,” Kellen said.
“I'll save what I can,” I said.
Gripping a biscuit, I turned and threw in one fluid motion, immediately reaching for another.
The first brown projectile hit Carver square between the eyes and exploded in a cloud of caramel colored crumbs. He cried out and clutched his forehead.
The second biscuit was already flying through the air and hit Alfie in the temple because he had turned to look at Carver. Alfie grunted and clutched his head.
Grinning, I looked at Samuel. He knew what was happening and batted away the biscuit I'd aimed at his head before it could connect.
“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to try taunting us again after the pot,” I said. “But, perhaps it only addled your wits enough to think you can win this.”
A slow grin spread on Carver’s face, and a tingle of awareness alerted me that we were no longer alone.
I pivoted on my heel and saw Maeve striding toward us. Her gaze swept over Kellen and me before focusing on the boys.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
All three boys shrugged, their expressions innocent.
“We don't know why they started throwing biscuits at us,” Alfie said.
“Neither one is stable,” Carver said.
“Mental, they are,” Samuel added.
“I know very well they are quite stable despite the recent passing of their mother,” Maeve said. “I'm curious why you thought to torment two grieving girls. Perhaps you are the ones without wit, and it would be best that I do speak with your parents. I would like your names, please.”
Panicked expressions blossomed on their faces before they turned heel and ran.
Maeve looked at both of us.
“Are you two all right?” she asked.
I felt a little guilty that she was concerned about us when we were the ones who had enabled this trouble.
“Yes,” Kellen said. “We’re well. Those boys said nothing they haven't said before.”
“You think they would be smarter and stay away, given your sister’s accurate aim,” Maeve said with a small smile at me.
I grinned in return.
“Now, I think it's about time we did something so these boys no longer bother you. Do you know their names?”
Kellen and I both gave hesitant nods.
“If you would be kind enough to direct me to the first home, I will indeed speak with their parents.”
At each home, we stood behind Maeve as she recapped what she had seen and explained how the boys had been following us during multiple visits to town. When she suggested that the boys were teasing us because “the dear lads” didn't know the proper way to court a young woman who held their interests, I wanted to hide in my room for a good year. That she then offered to teach the boys the proper practice of courtship and suggested that the boys could renew their attempts at courting once they understood the rules only made my mortification worse. Thankfully, she reiterated such a courtship could not be before our mourning periods were up.
We left stunned parents in our wake. I heard one woman say to her husband that he better get the lash out and find their boy. If I hadn’t been so horrified about the talk of courting, I would have laughed.
Back in the carriage, Kellen and I quietly stared at Maeve.
“You don't really want them to court us, do you?” I asked.
Maeve laughed.
“As a well-dressed woman of means, if I’d gone into those homes accusing the boys of bad behavior, I doubt they would have been punished. There’s a line between those with wealth and those without. However, because I went in there as a woman of means and treated those parents as if we were equal, they listened. They will see a ruined chance at a good match—because distaste was clearly on your faces—and those boys will not be able to sit without pain for a week.”
I leaned back into my seat, grinning.
“That is truly brilliant.”
“Thank you,” she said.
It was good to know that Kellen and I would be able to return to town for the dresses without needing to worry about the usual harassment. If only Maeve could so easily deal with the other issues in my life. That thought robbed me of any remaining humor, and I looked out the window.
I desperately wanted to confide in her. She’d handled the situation with our tormentors with a cleverness I admired. But more importantly, she hadn’t thought for a moment that Kellen and I were the problem. Yet, it was that strength of conviction that stayed my tongue. Would she be a strong ally and as passionate as I was about uncovering Mother’s murderer? Or would she be like my father and ardently insist on my silence?
Unable to risk the latter, I made up my mind. I alone would continue to bear the burden of knowledge that someone had had a hand in Mother’s death. And, I alone would risk myself to expose that person.
Tonight, I would go to the king’s estate. My mother’s murderer would be named before I slept.
Chapter Seven
“Thank you for another lovely meal,” I said to Judith as she took my plate.
I nudged Kellen under the table with my foot. As usual, she didn’t acknowledge it.
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” I said standing.
Maeve frowned and glanced at
the fading light through the window.
“Are you certain you want to walk now? It will be dark soon.”
“It's the best time of day to walk. I'll be fine.”
“Perhaps you should take Hugh with you,” she suggested as Judith picked up Kellen’s plate.
I didn’t miss the poke that Kellen gave Judith and suppressed my grin.
“There's no need to worry, Maeve,” Judith said. “Eloise has walked these woods in the dark plenty of times. There's nothing for her to fear.”
“Go on then,” Maeve said kindly, “and enjoy your walk. Don't stay out too long, though, or I will worry.”
It felt odd hearing those words. My mother hadn't ever worried about my excursions.
Giving Maeve a small smile to show I appreciated her concern, I followed Judith from the room.
“What are you two up to now?” Judith asked when the door closed behind us.
“Up to? I only wanted a walk alone and, given the time of day and Maeve’s good sense about appearances, didn’t think she’d approve.”
Judith snorted as I grabbed my cloak.
“So you thought to pull me in?”
“You’re a solid voice of reason, Judith. That’s why we always pull you in.” I grinned and waved goodbye before letting myself out.
The cool night air wrapped around me as my humor faded. I set out for the king’s estate, forgoing the pig and using the path to Mother’s grave. The moon’s full light guided me easily to the mound of dirt and the small pear tree that was thriving. I paused for a moment to speak to Mother.
“Lady Grimmoire was a sight to see, today,” I said softly. “It’s nice to have someone champion us. But it should be Father here. I try not to be angry with him. You know I do. But how can I not?”
The wind shook the sapling, and I noted the tiny branches protruding from its wisp-thin trunk. “Don’t worry about Kellen or me. We’re fine. And I’ll keep my promises. I love you.”
With that, I continued on my way, following the same route as before. I knew most of these woods as well as I knew the corners of my own home.
Weaving through the trees, I slowly made my way toward the king’s estate. The low murmur of voices, the soft baying of dogs, and the occasional snort from a horse reached my ears before I saw the torch lights through the branches.
I stepped behind a thick tree trunk and pulled the dark hood over my head before peeking out to watch the people move about. Many of them wore caps with the king’s crest. None looked as small as the boy who’d delivered the necklace, however. That didn’t mean he wasn’t here, only that I needed patience or perhaps courage to steal into their ranks.
The men moving about the yard were taking pieces of furniture and trunks off the back of several wagons and carrying them into the large retreat.
Kellen and I had always wanted to explore inside but had never been brave enough to break a lock. I couldn’t say if it had been due to fear of the Crown’s wrath or Mother’s.
Amidst all of the workers, I spotted Kaven. The cap was missing from his head this time. So was his jacket. My stomach tightened at the sight of the light cloth straining against his arms as he carried an oilcloth covered painting toward the retreat. He really needed a better tailor…the ass.
“What are we looking at?” Kellen asked suddenly.
I jumped and turned to smack her arm. She grinned at me.
“Pull up your hood and stand behind a tree. We’re going to get caught if you’re not careful,” I said softly.
She moved to the other side of me, still smiling.
“Quite the din they are making. Not conducive for the mending of a broken heart. What do you see when you stare out there?” she asked.
Kellen’s appearance changed my plans for the evening. I couldn’t very well lurk closer and search for the boy without her demanding to know why. So, I moved away from the tree and tugged her arm to indicate I was ready to leave.
“Nothing that interests me.”
We didn’t speak again until we put considerable distance between us and the retreat.
“Why did you follow me?” I asked.
“I was curious what warranted a kick to my shin at dinner.”
“The scare you gave me while feeding the pig warranted the shin.”
She chuckled.
“When I ran into Kaven, he was hedgy about how many men were with him. I want to know why.”
“And did you learn why?”
I shook my head.
“Perhaps it’s just me, but something feels wrong about the king’s sudden use of the retreat. Why now?”
“You mean, why right when Mother dies?” Kellen added softly.
“Yes.”
She exhaled slowly.
“You’re angry, Eloise, and you want someone to blame. Please believe that I understand. But, finding blame will not change what’s done.” She reached out and took my hand in hers, stopping our progress.
“Don’t let your anger goad you into something you will regret. I can’t lose you, too.”
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her fiercely.
“Never, Kellen. You will never lose me. I swear I will never act so rashly as to cause you pain.”
She hugged me in return.
“I believe you.”
I turned this way and that before the mirror. Black wasn’t my color. My golden hair and naturally sun-kissed skin robbed the look of its intended severity.
“You look lovely, Miss,” one of the girls kneeling at my feet said.
“Thank you,” I replied automatically. I didn’t care how I looked. I hated the dress and what it meant. But, I would endure.
Beside me, Kellen scarcely moved as her skirt was likewise hemmed. Unlike me, the dark color suited her. Pale and regally elegant, my sister would cause many a head to turn while wearing that dress. Not something she would enjoy. Thankfully, our time in these frocks would be short, and there would be more to our day than fittings.
As Maeve had predicted, the arrival of condoling visitors wasn’t yet finished. So, she’d sent us to town to fetch our mourning garb without her. Neither Kellen nor I minded the chance to escape. In fact, I was quite looking forward to a stroll through the market.
“We’re finished, Miss. Would you like us to wrap your other dress?”
“Please,” Kellen said, answering for me.
I realized, then, that our walk through the market would be done in our mourning dresses. It killed some of my anticipation.
I glanced at Kellen in the mirror and met her gaze. I knew she understood and felt the same.
When we left the shop, we returned to the wagon with our dresses.
“Where did Judith go?” I asked Hugh, who was charged with watching over any purchases Judith brought to the wagon.
“There’s some cook she knows in one of them fancy houses. She went to ask for a pastry recipe to impress Lady Grimmoire.”
“We’re going to walk to the market,” Kellen said.
He nodded and remained quiet as we left him.
One of the best things about Hugh was that he didn’t judge us or try to dissuade us from our actions. When I’d asked him why, he told me that was what parents were for. After that, Kellen and I started bringing Hugh treats. He knew a bribe when he saw one and happily ate what we brought and kept quiet about any antics he might overhear or see.
Kellen and I had barely reached the edge of the market when we spotted Carver. He stood in his usual place. As I watched, a woman walked past, and the boy bowed formally. When he straightened, I saw his bruised cheek. He looked across the way at an older man who sat on a short stool. The man’s scowl never left his face as he nodded at the boy.
I thought of Maeve’s explanation the day before and guilt slowed my steps.
“He was not beaten because of us but because of his own actions. The bruise is his consequence, not yours,” Kellen said.
She looped her arm through mine and propelled me forward. When we came a
breast with our tormentor, she stopped and faced him.
He bowed low.
“Miss Kellen. Miss Eloise. Please forgive my coarse behavior these past months. I hope when I come to call, you will be able to look at me with favor.”
“Do not come to call, and I will find much favor in your lack of presence,” Kellen said.
If it was possible, the boy’s expression deadened further; and I felt a wealth of pity for him despite Kellen’s warning not to.
“You can call on me,” I said. “Do not expect to find favor after only one courtly bow and a few kind words, though. The deeds define the man, not the pretty words that fall from his lips.”
Nudging Kellen, I started us on our way again.
“You were too kind to him.”
“Perhaps kindness is what he needed. In all the trouble we have caused, never once did Mother or Father raise a hand to us. How differently would we have behaved if they had?” I asked then shrugged. “Does violence beget violence? If so, does kindness then beget kindness? I believe Mother thought so.”
Kellen was quiet for several long moments.
“You’re very like her,” she said finally.
“How so? I’ve never seen Mother throw biscuits at anyone.”
A smile briefly tugged Kellen’s lips.
“Your temper might get the best of you, but you do think of others and how they feel. Mother did that.”
“You do, too.”
She didn’t answer.
After doing a loop of the market, we returned to the wagon and found Judith waiting with Hugh.
“We’re sorry we took so long,” Kellen said.
“Nonsense,” Judith said. “It’s good for both of you to be seen. Maeve will be pleased you walked the market with your new dresses.”
I looked down at my skirt and realized I’d forgotten what I wore. How would I ever survive three months of nothing but black? The constant reminder of what was now missing in my life would eat holes through me.
“We’re ready to leave if you are,” Kellen said, releasing me so she could climb aboard the wagon.
I joined her, more than ready to return home so I could escape into the woods once more. Side by side, we silently endured the jostling return to the estate. Kellen excused herself to further organize the attic, which I knew meant she was still reading Mother’s letters.
