Author: Tristraam
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VIII
Alethea entered the house cautiously – Not stealthily, because that would have been too obvious. She set the bulging sack of vegetables down, turned around and carefully closed the door.
“Do you realise what time it is?” came a gentle voice from behind her. There was no menace in the voice, but a tingle ran up Alethea’s spine just the same. Her mother was far too subtle for threats, and she had a particular talent for disguising sourness in even the sweetest of comments. She could hide a lemon tree in a sugar cube.
“I’m sorry, mother. The market was very busy today, and I didn’t even get to speak to Mister Tillswain until mid…”
Briel’Trice held her hand up regally, silencing the child.
“The Brol’arns will be here in three and three-quarter hours, and you will be responsible if the meal is not ready for their arrival. Now take that sack into the kitchen and help Mrs. Thistledown with the preparations.”
“Yes mother,” said Alethea obediently.
“And once the meal is prepared you will proceed upstairs. You will wash thoroughly, you will groom yourself, and you will then put on the dress I have laid out for you.”
“Yes mother.”
“Once you are dressed, you will come down and wait quietly in the sitting room for our guests’ arrival.”
“Yes mother.”
“Good. Now go.”
Hoisting the sack over her shoulder, Alethea walked toward the kitchen, ensuring that her gait was anything but a trudge. Her mother would have picked up on that immediately. Besides, the kitchen was one of the few places in the house where she felt safe. Her mother never came in there.
“I’ve got the veg, Mrs. Thistledown,” she called as she stepped into the earthy warmth of the scullery. A broad and pleasant aura of scents always hovered above the kitchen like an angel’s halo.
“Set ‘er down by the chopping board then, lassy. No need ter strain yerself, “ came a plump and kindly voice.
From behind the washbasin, an elderly halfling appeared, her soapy hands still clutching a dinner plate.
”Ach! That’s a big load yeh got there! I didnae think we was cookin fer an army. How’d yeh manage ter carry all that?”
“It’s not that heavy. And every load looks big to you, Hazel Thistledown!”
The two exchanged stares for a moment. Suddenly the old cook burst out laughing, nearly dropping the plate she was holding.
“Yer got me there, yeh cheeky lass! Only twelve year old an yer already a head an a bit taller than this old mare. Now set that sack down a’for yeh injure yerself!”
Dropping the sack, Alethea reaches into it and begins unloading the vegetables onto the sideboard. “Mother told me to help. What would you like me to do first?”
The halfling’s eyes move to the kitchen door, and a comment hovers on her lips for a moment. It remains unsaid as she turns to the young girl with a sigh.
”Well, I guess those taters needs a peelin’. If yer grab a stool, I’ll get yer a knife. Then yeh can tell me all ‘bout yer day! Did yer see old Bolger Tillswain?”
“Yes,” replied Alethea as she picked up a short stool and carried it over to the cutting board. “I talked to him for a while.” Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she adds, “That’s why I was late.”
“Ha! I new that old flirt were still there!” cackled Mrs. Thistledown gleefully, ”Trust a Tillswain to hang on a decade longer’n necessary! So… did he mention me at all?”
IX
Three hours later, having served her sentence in the kitchen, washed, groomed herself and dressed in the atrociously ladylike dress her mother had laid out for her, Alethea stood fidgeting in the sitting room, a look of discomfort etched on her face.
“Now remember. They are Lord and Lady Brol’arn. Not Mr and Mrs. You will curtsy to them when they come into the room, and keep your eyes lowered. Speak when spoken to, but at no other times. At dinner, you will sit up straight, be silent and respectful, and never, ever finish what is on your plate. A few bites of each course should be enough. You can gorge yourself after they leave.”
Briel’Trice stepped back, eyeing the girl up and down.
“Stand up straight. That’s better. I wish we had time to do something about that hair of yours, but it’s too late. We’ll have to hope the Brol’arns are a bit short-sighted.”
The sound of an approaching carriage interrupted her examination.
“They have arrived,” Alethea’s mother said calmly. “Now remember what I have said. Wait here while I have Mrs. Thistledown get the door.”
A feeling of dread filled the young girl’s belly as she stood there, all her efforts focused on not fidgeting. Mrs. Thistledown walked past the entrance to the sitting room towards the door. Her head turned and she gave a wink and a subtle smile to Alethea as she passed.
Hearing the creak of the door opening, Alethea closed her eyes.
“Welcome to House Ilen’thre, my Lord and Lady. Come this way and I’ll show you to the parlour,” came the voice of the old halfling.
Alethea took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
--continued--
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