Chapter 23 #2
He made her repeat simple phrases at first. Greetings. Pleasantries. He corrected her mercilessly, making her say the same sentence again and again until her mouth was dry and muscles she hadn’t even known existed ached. All the time he never looked up from his silver.
“That’ll do,” he said finally, some hours later.
“I’m still not saying it right, am I?”
“No, but I’ve run out of silver to polish and we’ll be starting on dinner preparations soon.”
She hadn’t noticed James was already packing away the polish, cloths and brushes, and preparing to leave. “Might I trouble you to tutor me again tomorrow?”
James considered her. “All right. So long as it doesn’t interfere with my duties.”
“Of course.”
James left, and Aoife went in search of Clara, finding her in the servants’ hall sewing padding into the hips of one of Aoife’s dresses. Aoife cleared her throat to draw the maid’s attention.
“Can I help you, miss?” Clara asked. She was much more formal when there were others around.
“I’d like to speak to you in private, if that’s all right. In my room.”
Clara put down the dress, stabbing her needle into a cushion before rising and following Aoife upstairs.
Up in her bedroom, Aoife spread gowns across the bed and asked Clara to explain the different styles, why some were more appropriate at lunch while others were dinner dresses.
The names of all the parts of the dress, why some had higher waists than others, why Clara had taken a dress out of her wardrobe last week saying it was the wrong colour.
Aoife learnt the empress had criticised that particular shade of red, so now none of the women in the kingdom could wear it.
The dinner gong rang, interrupting Clara’s explanation of the difference between a petal sleeve and a circular cup.
“Can we continue tomorrow?” Aoife asked.
“Are you sure? You don’t seem all that interested.”
“I’m not, but I think I need to know it all the same.”
“All right,” Clara looked at the dresses spread out on the bed. “So which one are you going to wear tonight?”
“You want me to decide?”
“If you’ve been paying attention, it’s easy.”
Aoife took a deep breath and ran through what Clara had told her. Finally, she picked out a dress in a shade of deep plum with lantern sleeves.
Clara smiled from ear to ear. “He’ll like that.”
Clara was right. The moment she entered the drawing room, Halverton held a drink out to her, saying, “You look exquisite.”
Aoife curtsied demurely.
“These flowers, are they your arrangement?”
“They are, my lord.” Aoife said, remembering every tip James had given her on pronunciation.
He studied them for a moment. “I must confess I know nothing about it myself, but they do look pleasing.”
“Thank you, my lord. I chose the Caerth lily, as it’s your favourite, and set it with dawnstar, which marks new beginnings. The greybind is for loyalty. It’s meant to hold the arrangement together.”
Halverton was looking at her intently.
“My lord, is something the matter?”
“Your accent.”
“My lord?”
“It has improved.”
“I’ve been practising.”
“Very good.”
With that, he turned to the drinks trolley to refill his wineglass. She knew he was impressed.
The next few days progressed in the same way.
On the second day, when she found herself with time on her hands as James and Clara were both busy, she sought out Alton, who was more than pleased to talk her through the paintings in the house.
He readily pointed out who the lords, ladies, emperors and empresses portrayed in the portraits were, and why Lord Halverton had chosen them to hang in his house.
Some were admiration, others as reminders.
There were no painting of his family, though given he had never mentioned them it was hardly surprising.
After a week of these attempts at becoming more the woman Halverton wanted, Kit found her one afternoon as she was reading in the library.
“I hope I’m not interrupting, miss.”
Aoife laid down her book. “Not at all. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, miss, I wanted to offer my services. I heard from some of the others that you want to become a real Eldrossi lady.”
Aoife wasn’t sure how she felt about wording it that way, but he wasn’t wrong. “That’s right.”
“Well, it’s customary for girls in Eldross to learn a musical instrument. Most of them learn the pianoforte.”
Aoife knew what that was only because there was one in Halverton’s drawing room and she’d asked Mrs Harrow about it.
“I’m not sure I’m musically inclined.” She told him. The fisherman, Tomás O’Healy, played the fiddle and Gwen played the riddle drum, but music hadn’t been an option for her growing up. She liked to sing and dance at any feast or celebration, but she’d never even tried to play herself.
“The basics aren’t too hard. I can teach you if you’d like.”
They spent the next hour in the servants’ hall practising on a small upright piano.
Kit sat beside her on the bench, endlessly patient, correcting her posture, guiding her fingers to the correct keys. Her hands cramped by the end.
By the end of the hour she could play a C scale cleanly, both hands moving together without thought. It wasn’t music. But it was a start.
Several times over the next week she felt as if she were watching herself from a distance. She was outside her body, watching as a woman who held her face spoke with an accent that was not her own about topics that held no interest to her. A creature of poise and grace, and calculated devotion.
At first, Aoife had thought of her only as the stranger. But the longer the performance continued, the clearer the distinction became. This was the woman Halverton wanted. The polished lady he believed he was shaping.
Lady Eva.