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bouteillebleuThere's still more to come. Part 2 was a little slower than I'd like (both in how long it took to write, and in how fast it moves). On the plus side, kittyfacet!
Ten days before the midsummer ball, and Lady Aravina's household is loud with preparations. The last of the tradesmen are still arguing their case in the side parlour, when Aravina rises and curtseys.
"Gentlemen, thank you for laying out your terms and offers so thoroughly. I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to, but Ser de Bridgemont will hear your summaries and judge accordingly." She nods to the young man sitting in the chair next to hers, who crooks an eyebrow and a slight smile, then nods.
"As you wish. Well," he says, turning back to the tradesmen, some of whom are looking disappointed that the noble lady is leaving and with her their chance to appeal to anything other than price. "Shall we summarise?"
Aravina smiles as she leaves her cousin arguing with the tradesmen, confident and evidently not willing to accede to any of their ridiculous - and expensive - suggestions. Brushing a little plaster-dust from her skirts, she makes her way to the only place in the house that is not full of bustle and noise.
----
The house has a library, small by the standards of her father's home in Flambard but as large as Aravina can reasonably manage here. Two maids approach her with problems on the way, and are swiftly directed to talk to Emma instead; a manservant with a more difficult question delays her for several minutes and is then sent to carry the decision to the cooks, and Aravina opens the door to the library with a quiet sigh of relief.
The girl made of opal, Potch, looks up from her desk. "Oh!" She looks flustered, and starts moving books from the desk to stack them against the table leg. Aravina waits patiently until a few minutes later Potch uncovers a large ledger on the desk, and smiles.
"Have you had a chance to look through the accounts?" Aravina asks her. Potch nods, and opens the ledger carefully, then stands and curtseys.
"The last four months' accounts all balance. Before that, there are mistakes in the additions. A few of them look like they could have been misread numbers, but that doesn't explain the rest. I've made notes of them and where the mistakes stop." She steps around one of the stacks of books on the floor, pulls a small sheaf of paper from underneath another book, and hands it to Aravina.
"Four months ago, four months ago... Nicholas did suggest some changes to the household staff then, I believe," Aravina says, taking the seat that Potch has left, and tapping one finger on the desk in thought. "I wonder..."
"The handwriting for the last four months is different from the rest of the ledger. It's neater and rounder. Here." At this point Potch turns the ledger back a few pages to the point between the months. Aravina studies the pages for a while, then nods.
"Yes, that's Nicholas's handwriting. I didn't realise he was doing the accounts himself - I thought he'd appointed someone else to do them." She looks up, and smiles. "He will, however, be pleased to hear your news. The last steward left in some disgrace, but I'd thought he only owed debts to his own creditors. To steal from his own household..."
"...is an insult to the Teacher and the Merchant," Potch finishes, and Aravina looks at her, surprised.
"I didn't realise you- oh dear." She looks at the stacks of books by the desk, and on the desk, and raises an eyebrow. "How many of these have you read?"
"Ah, I've read all of these - should I put them back on the shelves?" Potch looks down at one of the stacks of books, her smile a little embarrassed. "I would have put them back sooner, but nobody's come into this library for the last three days, and I wanted to reread Orian's Five-Fold Theology now that I've read this summary of Flambard's legal system..." She nods towards the door. "And then several hours passed and you arrived. Would you mind if I kept the Orian out for now?"
"Of course not - do read it. I don't believe anyone else in the household has read it since we arrived, save perhaps Reverend Fenwick before his sermons."
Potch starts to carry the books over and stack the shelves. She works quietly, and Aravina leafs through the pages of notes on the accounts while she waits.
"What would you like to do?" she asks, abruptly, as Potch is placing the last book on the shelves. The book is pushed into place in a shorter, thoughtful silence. Aravina taps the desk again as she continues.
"Since you've been in service here, you've learned accounting and penmanship and deportment and etiquette more quickly than anyone I've known. You've kept the library well - you've certainly spent more time here than any of my relatives ever did in theirs. And these notes on the accounts may let us remedy all the mistakes and dishonesty that the old steward ever did." She pauses. "Is there nothing else you wish to do? You would make an excellent secretary for anyone in the New World, but..." Aravina's lips twitch into a slight smile. "I fear you would be bored, and this house has shown me that boredom leads either to foolish behaviour or to vice."
Potch has been listening quietly, hands held behind her back. "I... enjoy the time I've spent in this library, reading as much as I can. There's so much to read about, so much to know."
"Have you left the library in the last week?" asks Aravina. When Potch shakes her head, Aravina smiles, and closes the ledger in front of her.
"I have a request for you. After so long in this library, learning all you can from reading, you should spend a while learning people. You've noticed all the bustle around the household this month, haven't you?"
"I don't think there's anywhere in the household I could miss it, even here. Emma mentioned that it was a ball - is it just to meet and dance, or is there more to it?"
"I should hope there's more to it, otherwise I'll have invited most of the notables in the New World for nothing." Aravina stands, brushing a little of the remaining plaster-dust from her lap. "Not all of them will be as interesting as your books have been, I'm afraid. But they are people whom it's important, and useful, to know."
Potch hesitates to reply, and casts a glance at the bookcase next to her that indicates where she would far rather be spending the time. Aravina presses on.
"There are a few people I would like to introduce to you, and you to them. Reverend Fenwick, for example - you and he could discuss theological matters. And a young man from the Malathian colony who's met others like you. And," she adds, raising a hand to forestall Potch's question, "I have a request for you before the ball that you might find interesting. That is, if you don't mind."
----
"But of course, if he doesn't reply to my letter in time, then the food will have to go to another colony. It's a pity, but what can you do?"
"-and he didn't realise, you see, that they've improved the design of these pistols substantially since he bought his."
"Lady Aravina! How wonderful to see you again! Could I speak with you a while?"
Most of the guests are already present by the time Lady Aravina enters the ballroom, and the musicians have already tuned their instruments and are playing something sprightly and new from one of the Terino conservatoires. Her entrance doesn't cause too many heads to turn - the ball has nominally been hosted by her cousin, Nicholas de Bridgemont, who is in one corner fending off an admirer with valiant good humour - but the young woman greeting her, her dress an unfortunate shade of dark pink that does nothing for her complexion, evidently has more serious matters on her mind than simply where Aravina found such an excellent lutenist.
"Ah, Lady Cecilia, I'm glad you were able to attend. I'd be delighted to speak with you - here, there's an excellent sofa by the window." She moves purposefully across the ballroom, stepping elegantly past couples listening to the musicians and small groups in earnest discussion, and Lady Cecilia looks at her in surprise for a few moments, then hurries to follow her.
They talk for a few minutes, of nothing of consequence. Lady Cecilia praises the choice of colour in the ballroom and the positioning of mirrors to suggest space, and asks a few questions about Nicholas de Bridgemont's eligibility. Aravina accepts the compliments graciously, dissuades Cecilia as best she can from hoping for Nicholas's attentions, asks after her family, and then bids her a polite adieu and goes out onto the balcony.
She passes the governor of the Flembic colony, who is talking earnestly to a man in an ill-fitting frock coat whose pale chin indicates that shaving is something he does infrequently, if at all. The governor notices her as he heads into and she out of the ballroom, and bows in passing; the man he is talking to lifts his hat slightly, and they pass by.
The balcony is cool and quiet in the evening breeze, after the warmth and noise in the ballroom. The vines that the gardener was training on the wall trellises are winding into the plain pillarwork, and Aravina breathes in the scent of their flowers as she looks out over the gardens.
A cat is sunning itself on the balcony near the vines, but as Aravina walks over it rolls to its feet and pads towards her along the parapet.
Aravina smiles as it nudges her hand, and strokes the cat behind the ears. "Did you happen to hear the name of the man talking with the governor?" she says, quietly. The cat dips its head, mews quietly, and then looks a little irritated and almost crosses its eyes in an attempt to glare at its own jaw.
"...I'll ask you later, then," Aravina replies, and glances back towards the ballroom. "Would you like to come in to listen to the musicians and watch the dancing, or would you prefer to stay here?"
The cat mews decisively, and curls up on the parapet once again. Aravina nods, and with a smile still on her lips she turns back to the ballroom. A portly, bewigged gentleman and his much younger wife pass her as she steps through the doors, and before the sound of the music swallows up the balcony's calm she hears an exclamation of "Oh, look, Lucas! Isn't it beautiful?" and a slightly worried meow from the cat.
Ten days before the midsummer ball, and Lady Aravina's household is loud with preparations. The last of the tradesmen are still arguing their case in the side parlour, when Aravina rises and curtseys.
"Gentlemen, thank you for laying out your terms and offers so thoroughly. I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to, but Ser de Bridgemont will hear your summaries and judge accordingly." She nods to the young man sitting in the chair next to hers, who crooks an eyebrow and a slight smile, then nods.
"As you wish. Well," he says, turning back to the tradesmen, some of whom are looking disappointed that the noble lady is leaving and with her their chance to appeal to anything other than price. "Shall we summarise?"
Aravina smiles as she leaves her cousin arguing with the tradesmen, confident and evidently not willing to accede to any of their ridiculous - and expensive - suggestions. Brushing a little plaster-dust from her skirts, she makes her way to the only place in the house that is not full of bustle and noise.
----
The house has a library, small by the standards of her father's home in Flambard but as large as Aravina can reasonably manage here. Two maids approach her with problems on the way, and are swiftly directed to talk to Emma instead; a manservant with a more difficult question delays her for several minutes and is then sent to carry the decision to the cooks, and Aravina opens the door to the library with a quiet sigh of relief.
The girl made of opal, Potch, looks up from her desk. "Oh!" She looks flustered, and starts moving books from the desk to stack them against the table leg. Aravina waits patiently until a few minutes later Potch uncovers a large ledger on the desk, and smiles.
"Have you had a chance to look through the accounts?" Aravina asks her. Potch nods, and opens the ledger carefully, then stands and curtseys.
"The last four months' accounts all balance. Before that, there are mistakes in the additions. A few of them look like they could have been misread numbers, but that doesn't explain the rest. I've made notes of them and where the mistakes stop." She steps around one of the stacks of books on the floor, pulls a small sheaf of paper from underneath another book, and hands it to Aravina.
"Four months ago, four months ago... Nicholas did suggest some changes to the household staff then, I believe," Aravina says, taking the seat that Potch has left, and tapping one finger on the desk in thought. "I wonder..."
"The handwriting for the last four months is different from the rest of the ledger. It's neater and rounder. Here." At this point Potch turns the ledger back a few pages to the point between the months. Aravina studies the pages for a while, then nods.
"Yes, that's Nicholas's handwriting. I didn't realise he was doing the accounts himself - I thought he'd appointed someone else to do them." She looks up, and smiles. "He will, however, be pleased to hear your news. The last steward left in some disgrace, but I'd thought he only owed debts to his own creditors. To steal from his own household..."
"...is an insult to the Teacher and the Merchant," Potch finishes, and Aravina looks at her, surprised.
"I didn't realise you- oh dear." She looks at the stacks of books by the desk, and on the desk, and raises an eyebrow. "How many of these have you read?"
"Ah, I've read all of these - should I put them back on the shelves?" Potch looks down at one of the stacks of books, her smile a little embarrassed. "I would have put them back sooner, but nobody's come into this library for the last three days, and I wanted to reread Orian's Five-Fold Theology now that I've read this summary of Flambard's legal system..." She nods towards the door. "And then several hours passed and you arrived. Would you mind if I kept the Orian out for now?"
"Of course not - do read it. I don't believe anyone else in the household has read it since we arrived, save perhaps Reverend Fenwick before his sermons."
Potch starts to carry the books over and stack the shelves. She works quietly, and Aravina leafs through the pages of notes on the accounts while she waits.
"What would you like to do?" she asks, abruptly, as Potch is placing the last book on the shelves. The book is pushed into place in a shorter, thoughtful silence. Aravina taps the desk again as she continues.
"Since you've been in service here, you've learned accounting and penmanship and deportment and etiquette more quickly than anyone I've known. You've kept the library well - you've certainly spent more time here than any of my relatives ever did in theirs. And these notes on the accounts may let us remedy all the mistakes and dishonesty that the old steward ever did." She pauses. "Is there nothing else you wish to do? You would make an excellent secretary for anyone in the New World, but..." Aravina's lips twitch into a slight smile. "I fear you would be bored, and this house has shown me that boredom leads either to foolish behaviour or to vice."
Potch has been listening quietly, hands held behind her back. "I... enjoy the time I've spent in this library, reading as much as I can. There's so much to read about, so much to know."
"Have you left the library in the last week?" asks Aravina. When Potch shakes her head, Aravina smiles, and closes the ledger in front of her.
"I have a request for you. After so long in this library, learning all you can from reading, you should spend a while learning people. You've noticed all the bustle around the household this month, haven't you?"
"I don't think there's anywhere in the household I could miss it, even here. Emma mentioned that it was a ball - is it just to meet and dance, or is there more to it?"
"I should hope there's more to it, otherwise I'll have invited most of the notables in the New World for nothing." Aravina stands, brushing a little of the remaining plaster-dust from her lap. "Not all of them will be as interesting as your books have been, I'm afraid. But they are people whom it's important, and useful, to know."
Potch hesitates to reply, and casts a glance at the bookcase next to her that indicates where she would far rather be spending the time. Aravina presses on.
"There are a few people I would like to introduce to you, and you to them. Reverend Fenwick, for example - you and he could discuss theological matters. And a young man from the Malathian colony who's met others like you. And," she adds, raising a hand to forestall Potch's question, "I have a request for you before the ball that you might find interesting. That is, if you don't mind."
----
"But of course, if he doesn't reply to my letter in time, then the food will have to go to another colony. It's a pity, but what can you do?"
"-and he didn't realise, you see, that they've improved the design of these pistols substantially since he bought his."
"Lady Aravina! How wonderful to see you again! Could I speak with you a while?"
Most of the guests are already present by the time Lady Aravina enters the ballroom, and the musicians have already tuned their instruments and are playing something sprightly and new from one of the Terino conservatoires. Her entrance doesn't cause too many heads to turn - the ball has nominally been hosted by her cousin, Nicholas de Bridgemont, who is in one corner fending off an admirer with valiant good humour - but the young woman greeting her, her dress an unfortunate shade of dark pink that does nothing for her complexion, evidently has more serious matters on her mind than simply where Aravina found such an excellent lutenist.
"Ah, Lady Cecilia, I'm glad you were able to attend. I'd be delighted to speak with you - here, there's an excellent sofa by the window." She moves purposefully across the ballroom, stepping elegantly past couples listening to the musicians and small groups in earnest discussion, and Lady Cecilia looks at her in surprise for a few moments, then hurries to follow her.
They talk for a few minutes, of nothing of consequence. Lady Cecilia praises the choice of colour in the ballroom and the positioning of mirrors to suggest space, and asks a few questions about Nicholas de Bridgemont's eligibility. Aravina accepts the compliments graciously, dissuades Cecilia as best she can from hoping for Nicholas's attentions, asks after her family, and then bids her a polite adieu and goes out onto the balcony.
She passes the governor of the Flembic colony, who is talking earnestly to a man in an ill-fitting frock coat whose pale chin indicates that shaving is something he does infrequently, if at all. The governor notices her as he heads into and she out of the ballroom, and bows in passing; the man he is talking to lifts his hat slightly, and they pass by.
The balcony is cool and quiet in the evening breeze, after the warmth and noise in the ballroom. The vines that the gardener was training on the wall trellises are winding into the plain pillarwork, and Aravina breathes in the scent of their flowers as she looks out over the gardens.
A cat is sunning itself on the balcony near the vines, but as Aravina walks over it rolls to its feet and pads towards her along the parapet.
Aravina smiles as it nudges her hand, and strokes the cat behind the ears. "Did you happen to hear the name of the man talking with the governor?" she says, quietly. The cat dips its head, mews quietly, and then looks a little irritated and almost crosses its eyes in an attempt to glare at its own jaw.
"...I'll ask you later, then," Aravina replies, and glances back towards the ballroom. "Would you like to come in to listen to the musicians and watch the dancing, or would you prefer to stay here?"
The cat mews decisively, and curls up on the parapet once again. Aravina nods, and with a smile still on her lips she turns back to the ballroom. A portly, bewigged gentleman and his much younger wife pass her as she steps through the doors, and before the sound of the music swallows up the balcony's calm she hears an exclamation of "Oh, look, Lucas! Isn't it beautiful?" and a slightly worried meow from the cat.
