Vermilion ~ Twenty-Eight: Lady

[annarti.livejournal.com]

The lady glanced at her son’s empty seat at the table. The diners had all finished their main meal, but half his steak still sat abandoned on his plate, and he had been planning and looking forward to this for so long now.

‘If you’ll excuse me a moment,’ she said with a polite smile, then rose from the table and slipped through to the afters room where she had seen him disappear several minutes ago now, longer than it should have taken to learn how Mistress Dunhuin was faring.

He wasn’t there, only a few of the servants were left feeding the fire and preparing the room for after dessert.

‘Do either of you know where Master Candlewood has disappeared to?’ she asked them.

One shook his head; the other nodded and pointed out the other door. ‘He’s gone to the kitchen, my lady. Mistress Dunhuin is allergic to mushrooms so he’s telling Cook to throw out all the mushrooms in the kitchen.’

‘Thank you, my dear,’ the lady replied, biting back a quiet groan. The castle had servants and messengers to take care of business such as that. He should be attending to his guests.

She debated sending a messenger to fetch him, but knew he was unlikely to listen unless the words came from her own lips, and so she left into the hallway with the intention of visiting the kitchen herself.

Her son was already back upstairs, though, approaching from the other end of the hallway. Mistress Dunhuin, it seemed, had been moved from the cold hallway, hopefully back to her rooms. He smiled with open relief when he saw his mother approaching.

‘She’ll be fine,’ he told her, as though he thought that was what she was chasing him for. ‘But the healer says to keep all mushrooms out of the kitchen for the week she’s here.’

The lady nodded. ‘Very good, but you really shouldn’t abandon your guests like that, dear. Your absence has been noticed.’

He cringed. ‘It has? I didn’t think I was gone for long. My apologies, Mother.’ He gestured to the front doors. ‘Shall we?’

She nodded and followed his lead, pausing as he set his hand on the door handle. ‘You’re doing an admirable job, my dear. I’m sure every lady and mistress in the room is chasing you now.’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘And don’t I know it,’ he said. ‘Mother, I hope you haven’t been spreading any rumours?’

She widened her eyes as though she had been doing nothing of the sort. ‘I’ve only mentioned that you were looking for a wife,’ she said. ‘And that you were the one to organise this event, not your father or I. I may have mentioned the two in the same breath and allowed them to draw their own conclusions, but, well.’ She smiled and reached a hand up to brush her son’s face. He had grown up well. ‘I have only your interests at heart, my dear. I only wish to see you do well.’

Her son took her fingers in one hand and kissed them gallantly. ‘I know, Mother, and I thank you.’ He gave her a genuine smile of thanks.

‘Incidentally,’ she said with a slight wave of her hand. ‘The younger Mistress of The Birches has been asking after you rather incessantly. I should hope you’re paying her your dues?’

He grinned. ‘Yes, Mother, her and everyone else. My, but you’re a sly woman.’

‘One must be if one has eyes on the best.’

His grin broadened, and he pushed the door open and stood aside to usher her back into the room. As they both walked the long table back to their seats, the young master paused beside Mistress Dunfuin’s family, presumably to reassure them that their daughter’s health was being well attended to.

The lady took her seat back beside her husband at the head of the table. Despite this being her son’s party, lord and lady still took the place of honour.

‘All is well?’ her husband murmured to her as the waiter pushed her chair in.

‘Yes, quite,’ she replied, with a bright smile to the guests around her. ‘She is in good health, but the healer insists she sit the rest of the evening out.’

‘Oh, how terrible,’ Lady Greendale said with concern. ‘Still, we can’t let one outlying incident mar such an otherwise outstanding celebration.’ She lifted her glass in a toast before passing it to her lips.

Lady Candlewood smiled modestly in reply. It hadn’t escaped her attention that her son’s seating arrangements had placed her so close to the mother of the young mistress who sat at her son’s left elbow. ‘Thank you, my lady, though I’m afraid I can claim little of the credit for the evening.’

‘Yes, you mentioned that earlier,’ Lady of The Birches added. ‘It is a commendable achievement, to wrangle so many staff for an event and yet still have such time for guests. You have taught him well, my lady.’

The lady smiled more widely. ‘Ah, now, this much I can take credit for!’ she admitted. ‘He has grown up well, hasn’t he?’ She smiled at her son, listening with rapture to something one of the guests was telling him as he finished his steak. ‘It is a skill we nobles all must learn,’ she said, ‘and one my son has been only too eager to dive into. He has asked advice, of course, as this is his first event, but he has quite taken to the task as a dragon to the skies.’

The ladies around her tittered.

‘Oh, quite,’ Lady Greendale agreed. ‘He was born for such entertainments. But what of his faults, my lady? All men have them.’

Lady Candlewood shook her head and took up her glass to delay her response. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare!’ she cried. ‘Certainly not on his night of nights!’

‘I only wish my three might take some initiative,’ Lady of The Birches. ‘My youngest didn’t even deign to come, I’m sure you’ve noticed. The other two, well, they like to trail on coat tails, let’s leave it at that.’

Lady Candlewood gasped, along with the others listening to their conversation. ‘You would speak so ill of your children?’

‘Perhaps I am being harsh,’ Lady of The Birches apologised with a shake of her head. ‘I only meant it as a compliment to your son, my lady. They are good girls, but, well, for living so close to Candlewood, it seems I almost must needs force them to come here.’

‘Oh? But I thought your eldest was quite taken with the castle.’

‘I know mine is,’ Lady Greendale broke in, then imitated her daughter. ‘Oh, Mother, look at the view! Oh, Mother, isn’t the garden splendid?’

The lady grinned. ‘They match well,’ she said. ‘They both enjoy the gardens and the outdoors, I think.’

The empty plates were cleared, and the sommeliers moved in once more with Candlewood’s only dessert wine. Their climate better favoured the reds that had been showcased with the steak, but every Llayan winemaker had at least one sticky white in the cellar. As with the rest of the meal, the dessert had been chosen to match with the wine, and not the other way around, reflecting a profound change in Llayan dining.

‘This is last year’s late harvest semillon,’ the sommelier introduced as she poured the pale golden liquid into Lady Greendale’s glass. ‘It may be Candlewood’s only dessert wine, but it is nevertheless an exceptional drop. Richly fruited, you’ll doubtless pick up notes of dried apricots and orange peel, perhaps a hint of vanilla and toasted almonds.’

‘Ooh, yes,’ Lady Greendale agreed as she swilled her glass and buried her nose in it. ‘Definitely the apricot, and maybe a little other citrus, as well. Lemon, or grapefruit, perhaps?’

Lady Candlewood smiled. She had never been able to pick up all the complexities quite so well as those around her, but she was happy to leave them to their discussion.

‘Very good, my lady,’ the sommelier agreed with a proud grin. He had been dutifully praising her all evening, but then, Greendale was far better known for its wines than Candlewood. They had not one, but three wineries close to the castle.

Next came the desserts, introduced as apricot and apple tarts with orange cream, all of it lavishly enhanced by the matching semillon and decorated with a pastry cut out in the shape of the candlewood leaf.

‘What a touching finish to the meal,’ Lady Greendale announced, halfway through her tart. She stood then with her glass raised and turned to the table until she had all their attention. ‘I think I speak for all your guests, my Lord and Lady Candlewood, and not to mention young Master Candlewood. This day, ending in a fabulous meal, has done great credit to your town. To the Candlewood Autumn Festival!’

The lady stood with her husband to accept the accolades.

‘Here, here!’ cried one of the lords down the table. ‘And may there be many more!’

Comments

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

(Hear, hear!)

You can't half tell this story was written by a foodie. X3 Hey, it's better than calling you a wino.

It all helps lend a lovely touch of upper class to the descriptions. Have you ever thought about coming up with non-French district alternative names for some of the drinks? It could be rather classy if different countries have different names for their wines ...

(Then you could have a Ni-yanaise, which would be the equivalent of cask wine and still scorned in favour of beer :D)

[annarti.livejournal.com]

I'm South Australian, it's expected of me X3

Now there's an interesting thought. All I need to do is give them names that at least sound like they could be a wine. I may well take you up on that suggestion X3

(alkjsdghlasdgasd <3 <3 YES. SO MUCH YES XDDDD)