Vermilion ~ Eighteen: Orphan

[annarti.livejournal.com]

‘Oh, dear brother, you look exhausted!’ The young mistress set her place with a bookmark and looked sympathetically up at her foster brother. ‘This day has truly sapped your energy, hasn’t it?’

He smiled sheepishly where he stood in the doorway. This was the noble family’s own private chamber, where they might expect to find a little peace away from guests. With all the guests readying themselves for the evening, the mistress had decided to take a little time for herself, not expecting anyone else to disturb her, least of all her foster brother. He had been waiting for this day for months, and she was surprised to see him neglecting his guests for even a moment.

‘It’s been, well, it’s been a day, that’s for certain,’ he agreed, ‘but no. I found myself caught up in a sparring match with the guards at the front gate.’

She grinned back at him. ‘My brother, sparring?’ she said with a giggle. ‘Now, there’s something I would like to see!’

He gave her a child’s pout. ‘I spar,’ he countered. ‘With Father, every now and then.’ He delved into his pockets and pulled out four brightly coloured silk purses. He held them up on display, then set them on the low tea table beside her tea cup. ‘All returned,’ he said triumphantly, with a distinct air as though to change the subject. He fairly flopped down on the settee opposite her and poured himself a cup of tea, though even as he stirred in his sugar and milk, he looked faintly troubled.

The mistress studied him for a moment before realising what the problem must be. ‘And the culprits?’

He sighed, and she knew she had guessed correctly.

‘I don’t know, truly. I’ve given myself the week to delay any decision, but I believe I shall talk with Mother and Father first. I’ll admit to being out of my depth in this case. I’ve never been robbed, to my knowledge.’

‘Nor should you have reason to have been,’ she agreed with a frown. ‘The townsfolk love and trust you more than I would have thought possible.’

He shrugged one awkward shoulder and set his spoon on the saucer, then lifted the tea to his lips, blowing on it slightly. ‘That’s what troubles me most about this whole affair,’ he confided. His dark eyes were worried when he looked up from his tea. ‘Do you think I’m too friendly with them? Too lenient?’

She frowned and thought on his question a moment. Though she had been fostered to the Candlewood Castle, she had been raised as one of the noble born and was as clear and learned on the customs as her foster brother. Her mother had died in childbirth, and her father of an illness when she was less than a year old. As Llayan custom dictated, her local lord and lady had taken her in and raised her as one of their own.

‘Perhaps a little,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t think for a moment that such friendliness was the cause. Would you or I steal from a close friend?’

‘No,’ he agreed, then he shrugged and sat back in the settee. ‘Still, that’s for later, and for Mother and Father more than for me. Tell me of your day, dear sister. This may be my occasion, but you’re quite welcome to catch the eye of anyone you please, none the less.’

‘Any but one,’ she corrected with a cheeky grin. She, among all the nobility here, was the only one to know of her brother’s intentions for this party, and she, among all of Candlewood, was the only one to know exactly where his affections lay. He needed an ally, he confided with her just yesterday, and he needed her to hold the secret as tightly to her chest as he had.

He took a modest sip of his tea, eyebrows raised in question as though ignoring her comment.

‘Well,’ she said as she smoothed out her skirts. ‘As it so happens, one has, though perhaps not one you might suspect. Our head gardener, of all people, asked me for tea when the week is ended. He was very gallant. He swept his hat off and offered me a flower to match my dress.’

Her brother smiled over the rim of his tea cup. ‘I thought I had overheard whispers of the sort,’ he said. ‘It’s a brave man, to realise he has as much right as anyone in this castle to my sweet sister’s hand.’

She nodded and smiled in thanks for his approval. Now she knew she wasn’t overstepping her bounds—and indeed, her brother had confided in her, so it was only fair she returned the favour—she continued her thoughts of the afternoon, and those she had been trying to set aside by losing herself in a book. ‘In truth, I accepted only out of politeness, and I think he knew as much, too. The more I think on it, though, the more I believe this could be more of a match than I had imagined.’

‘Quite so,’ he agreed with an obvious shrug. ‘Don’t be afraid, little sister. Have tea this week. You might have obligations to our guests, but so too to our townsfolk, and even more to your own life and happiness.’

She tinkled a laugh and shook her head. ‘I don’t know about a life just yet, brother mine! But I will see him tomorrow morning and arrange our tea for the afternoon. In the gardens, where he’ll be more comfortable.’

‘And you, too, I’d imagine.’

‘And you?’ she asked. ‘Aside from the unfortunate interruptions, how has your day travelled?’

He cringed at the word ‘interruptions’ and set his tea down to count on his fingers, still gloved even indoors and in the presence of only his sister. ‘Yes, leaving aside the theft and Mistress Dunfuin’s boots and all of Candlewood having found me out…’

‘Only Candlewood,’ the mistress interrupted with a grin. ‘Our guests are none the wiser. I’ve been spreading rumours of my own.’

Her brother smiled widely in profound thanks. ‘Lovelier by the day,’ he proclaimed. ‘In any case, I can overlook my own interruptions, as you so delicately term them.’ He sat thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Yes, I believe it has gone well. I bought a gift, on Mother’s insistence.’

‘And on mine,’ the mistress said indignantly. She softened her smile when she recognised his unease. ‘You’re still a bundle of nerves, aren’t you?’

‘Wouldn’t anyone be?’ he replied, shrugging off her concern with raised eyebrows.

She shook her head and moved to sit beside him, holding one gloved hand in her bejewelled fingers. ‘But mostly Mother’s, you’re right. I don’t believe someone such as you would need any gift to open a courtship. Brother, all you need give is a smile and you’ll capture any heart you desire.’

He smiled again at her words, a watery thing that made her wish she could fight his battles for him.

‘Now, let’s see that gift of yours,’ she said with an impish grin.

‘Right, yes.’ He drained the last of his tea and set the cup back on the table, then disappeared briefly into his chambers. Once he returned, he had removed the red coat the townspeople knew him for, but still wore those white gloves. They might well call him Vermilion in town, but around the castle he was more often seen with those self-conscious white gloves than the coat.

‘Here it is,’ he said, presenting her with an exquisite golden bracelet.

She gasped at the beauty of it. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she chimed. ‘I saw this in the jeweller’s shop yesterday and thought of you. She will love it.’ She stood on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He was looking at the bracelet in her fingers with some trepidation. ‘Here, brother, what did I say? Just be you. She will love you.’

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, as he always did when he was nervous.

‘And take your gloves off,’ she advised him.

‘But—’

‘I know, and you’re the only one who notices, trust me. The more she sees of you, the more likely she is to give you her affirmation. Just for those few moments, set aside your flamboyance, your mask, your gloves, and be the man I see, not the man you present to the world. Be you.’ She pulled his hand from his pocket, opened his palm and placed the bracelet in it.

He returned her with a light peck of his own, on the tip of her nose as he had done when she was a child. ‘Eight years younger and eight decades wiser,’ he told her.

‘Only in one subject,’ she said with a smile. ‘You.’

A light knock sounded on the servants’ door before it swung open to admit her brother’s valet. He bowed to them both before announcing the master’s bath was ready.

‘Perfect timing,’ her brother said with a bright grin. ‘Thank you.’

‘There it is again,’ the mistress said, pressing her thumbs into his dimples.

His grin broadened at her touch. ‘It’s quite genuine, I assure you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and make myself presentable for the assembled masses.’ He took hold of her wrists and pulled her hands from his face. ‘And thank you,’ he said. ‘I will take as much of your advice as I am physically able.’

‘Then I have prepared you as best I can.’

He smiled again and made for the door to his own chambers. With one hand on the door frame he gave her a last smile of thanks, then slipped through.

‘Good luck, big brother,’ she whispered.

Comments

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

Do the local nobility take in all orphans? That would seem to make for a crowded castle ...

I really like the dynamic between these two. And the low-key mystery is holding up very well. You've written a very free-flowing story that holds attention despite containing no explosions or mass poisonings (leaving out the paperwork was probably a masterstroke there too).

[annarti.livejournal.com]

Mostly they go to gay couples or couples who otherwise can't have kids, but if there aren't any around at the time then they go to the local castle :D

(I'll bet the paperwork will come later. After party. Party > Paperwork *sage nod*)