Chapter 10 #2
Aoife stared at the table setting. A dozen items of cutlery laid out around her bowl.
Halverton lifted a round spoon. “Enjoy your meal.”
She took the same spoon from beside her bowl and ate.
As they ate, he talked. Or rather, he performed.
He told her tales of Eldrossi history, of generals and poets and ancient houses. He spoke of battles fought on foreign soil, of victories won through decisive cruelty. He laughed lightly at his own stories, glancing to see if she would laugh too.
When she didn’t, his smile tightened.
He asked her questions: where she’d learned her letters, how her family lived, whether she’d ever travelled. Each question sounded innocent on its surface, but beneath he was probing: What do I have to work with? How much do I have to fix?
Aoife tried to answer plainly, but with each truth she offered, she sensed him slotting it into place, building his idea of her like a puzzle he meant to solve and rearrange.
More food arrived: roasted pheasant, stewed vegetables rich with spices; not one dish she recognised. She ate what she could. He watched.
After the main course, he reached across the table and brushed a crumb from her cheek with his thumb. The gesture was gentle, but it left her cold.
“You should know,” he said softly, “you are striking in candlelight.”
She forced a smile, thin as paper. “Thank you.”
He leaned back, satisfied.
The door behind Lord Halverton opened silently as James slipped out with the empty dishes.
Aoife stood quickly. Halverton rose too. “Excuse me, my lord. I need to freshen up.” Clara had taught her that was what Eldrossi ladies said when they needed to leave the room.
Halverton merely nodded and sat down again.
Aoife walked calmly to the door, but as soon as it closed behind her, she sprinted to catch up with James. She reached him on the stairs down to the kitchen.
“James,” she said in a loud whisper.
He turned on the stairs, face still a perfect mask.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Your wrist. Is it all right? I can take a look if you’d like. They say my mother was the greatest healer Briartha has ever seen, and she taught me everything she knew.”
James’ mouth was a thin line. “No, thank you.” He smiled insincerely and turned to go downstairs again.
“It’ll get harder to work if it keeps swelling.” James didn’t turn, didn’t even stop walking. She jogged a few steps to catch up. “Cool it, rest it, if you can. Keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”
He stopped then, and she nearly ran into him. He turned. “I don’t need help from you.” His voice was still calm, his servants’ mask still perfect, but every word was full of venom.
Aoife took a step away. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.”
James turned and walked away again. This time, Aoife didn’t follow.
She slipped into the dinning room with a polite smile.
By the time dessert was served, Aoife could barely stomach a mouthful. It was too rich, too sweet, and she’d already eaten more than she ever had in one sitting.
“Come,” Halverton said once the last dish had been cleared. “There are things you must learn.”
He offered his arm. She took it because refusing wasn’t an option.
He walked her through to what he called the drawing room, though she couldn’t see any drawing implements anywhere.
The room was grand in a muted way. Gilded-framed landscapes hung on the walls: Eldrossi estates, foreign rivers and mountains, but nothing of Inis Morra. No trace of the land around them reflected back.
Kit, the footman, and Mrs Harrow were already in the room, standing in the corners like pieces of furniture. Aoife couldn’t imagine why they were there.
Halverton gestured for her to take a seat in the armchair by the fire and sat down opposite her.
“If you are to appear by my side, we must fix the way you speak.”
“What’s wrong with the way I speak?”
“You sound like a Morran commoner.”
I am a Morran commoner; she thought, but did not say.
“You must learn to speak like a lady, or no one will ever believe you are one.”
She couldn’t at present imagine who she could need to convince. There wasn’t a soul for miles who didn’t already know who she was and that she was not a lady.
He walked her through the pronunciation of certain Eldrossi words, correcting her on every second syllable.
“No. Rounder vowels. Softer consonants. Again.”
She tried. He frowned.
“Your people speak too quickly,” he said. “It makes the words incomprehensible.”
Aoife inhaled sharply but repeated the phrase, slower this time.
“Better,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.
He gestured, and Mrs Harrow stepped forward, silent as a shadow.
“Mrs Harrow will continue your instruction from here.”
Aoife was handed into Mrs Harrow’s care like another chore.
“I shall be in my study,” he told Mrs Harrow. “Please tell Alton I will go up in an hour.”
Mrs Harrow curtsied, and he left the room.
Aoife sagged in her chair as Mrs Harrow asked Kit to take the message, and he left the room.
“Straight back, miss,” Mrs Harrow instructed as soon as he was gone.
Aoife sighed, but did as she was told.
“Chin up. Shoulders relaxed.”
Aoife obeyed. “Is this necessary?”
“Lord Halverton has standards to uphold.”
“For who? I can’t imagine you and the other staff care whether I slouch or not.”
“Well, he does, miss.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone coming or going from the estate. What does it matter how I dress, how I sit, or how I say my vowels?”
Mrs Harrow looked behind her, checking that Kit hadn’t returned and slipped silently into place. She lent down to Aoife. “You didn’t hear it from me, but we’re due to have visitors next week. Visitors his lordship is hoping to impress.”
“Why?”
Mrs Harrow straitened. “You ask an awful lot of questions.”
“Is that another thing ladies don’t do?”
“No, they do not.”
“Because most ladies are born knowing these things.” Aoife pointed out. “I’m like a mortal in the Otherworld here. I don’t understand any of the rules and routines, and most of all, I don’t understand why any of it matters.”
“I suppose it doesn’t,” Mrs Harrow said after a pause. “So you should stop focusing on why and start thinking about how. We have ten days to make you a lady.”
“And if we fail?”
Mrs Harrow smiled, but there was darkness behind her eyes. “We won’t fail.”