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“You may indeed, Bray. Take this big one up to the room I showed you earlier, and we’ll bring the other two.” She watched as he manhandled the larger bag onto his shoulder. “Oh, and call down for hot water, Crownmist tea, and a tray of whatever Cook might have on hand. Lady Maelin will need something to tide her over until dinner.”
“Yes’m.”
He disappeared with his task and his burden, leaving Maelin and Darady grinning at each other.
“It’s so good to see you,” said Maelin once more.
“I’m happy to hear you say that” she replied, her smile fading. “I was that worried, when you left. Thought you’d never be back.” She turned towards the staircase.
“I wondered that myself,” sighed Maelin. “It wasn’t a happy time, was it?”
“Not for any of us, dearie...” Darady caught herself up. “But it’s Lady Maelin now, isn’t it? I must remember that.”
“I’ve been ‘dearie’ to you for as long as I can remember, Darady. Please don’t start being all formal with me.” Maelin chuckled. “I’m absolutely finished with that sort of thing. The Tidehold Conservatory, interesting though it was...well, the residents seemed to relish the formality, the strict hierarchy, the...the almost theatrical insistence on correct behaviour. There was a script and certain Wardens became quite unsettled when anyone deviated from it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Especially a young woman.”
“Ahh,” nodded Darady. “And I’ll wager a half-brass piece that you ran afoul of that script more than once.”
“You’d win,” laughed Maelin. “I tried to be respectful, I really did. But it was quite lowering to be looked down on simply because I was a woman. Several of the senior Wardens seemed convinced that being female rendered me incapable of independent thought. A few of them, of course, were utter idiots.”
“Not unexpected,” remarked Darady drily, wrinkling her nose. “Nothing more frightening to a man than a smart woman. Especially if she’s attractive to go along with it.”
“A very valid statement. And I have the scars to prove it. They put me in my place so many times, Darady. It was...difficult, to say the least.”
“And yet I heard nothing of any suspicious deaths?” The older woman chuckled.
“Tidehold Conservatory is the perfect place to hide bodies,” Maelin laughed back. “But never fear. I managed to learn a little self-control along with the oceanic currents and tidal patterns.”
“Good thing,” answered Darady, pushing open a beautifully carved door. “I think you’re going to need it, dearie. There’s been a lot of changes since you left.”
“I expected that,” replied Maelin, opening one of her smaller bags. “It has been quite a long time. But I think I’m prepared to adjust. As long as I have a breathing space to catch up with everything.”
“Hmm.” Darady sighed. “I’m sure you’ll catch up with no problem, but there may not be much chance for that breathing space. Especially when you meet the new Lady Theryn...”
“The new what?”
“Your uncle’s new wife, dearie.”
Maelin blinked. “I have an aunt?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “And she can’t wait to meet you.”
*~~*~~*
Meanwhile, in another very fine house not far away, a gentleman was finding himself on the edge of irritation.
“Another damned invitation,” muttered Lord Cyrus Drake as he flipped through the envelopes on the silver salver held by his butler. “Gerald. Something needs to be done. A fine, perhaps. A thousand brass pieces for holding more than two events per year.”
“Unfortunately, my Lord, that is unlikely to happen.”
“And why not?” Thick dark eyebrows rose above eyes every bit as dark. “I’ll wager there are plenty of gentlemen like me who would willingly part with the coinage if it meant not having to attend one of these damn things.” He waved the envelope between his thumb and forefinger. “And what the coggles is a ‘Create Your Mate’ ball? Do I have to make another tickerkin?”
Gerald, a remarkably upright and self-possessed tickerkin resembling a penguin who had obviously been blessed with an awareness of his own rank and prestige, managed a dismissive snort. “I very much doubt that particular task would be part of the evening’s entertainment, my Lord. Following your line of thought, the hosts of events such as these would hardly expect their guests to be able to assemble a simple gearcake, let alone a tickerkin. That task requires impressive engineering skills and an exquisite grasp of the mechanicals involved.”
“As you yourself personify, of course.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “Your perspicacity is faultless, my Lord.”
“Hmmm,” muttered Cyrus, frowning at the envelope he’d just opened. “This ‘Create a Mate’ affair...” he read the enclosed card. “Hosted at Theryn House.”
