Chapter 62
"Shall I open the gates, my lady?" Andrew asked.
"You may return within and take your rest, Andrew," I replied. "I thank you for your service today, as always."
"It is my pleasure." He inclined his head and withdrew, leaving Romeo and I alone.
"It is not proper to visit a lady at such an hour," I said. "The night is bitter, and the snow continues to fall. You ought to leave."
I do not understand this man. When the mistress of a residence denies entry, the proper course is to depart without protest. Yet he remained, pressing Andrew for two full hours until I could endure it no longer. Such conduct was unbecoming.
"I came to give you this," he said, extending a red rose through the iron bars. "The flowers have gone to sleep with the season, so I cultivated this one for you."
"Flowers are still in abundance, Lord Lake," I replied. "They are kept in greenhouses."
At once, I saw the effect of my words. It was as though I had struck him.
"I must rise early on the morrow," I said. "I would take my rest now. Pray excuse me."
I left him there and returned to my chamber. Yet sleep did not come. For a long while, I lay awake, my thoughts drifting again and again to that white and radiant greenhouse within the palace of Dunverra.
---
"Whom did you pray for today?" I asked, walking at a measured pace through the halls of the House of Gab beside Charles.
"I prayed for Ed," he said. "He remains frightened of nobles."
"That he is," I replied softly. "He has yet to mingle with the other children. He keeps to himself, and during lessons he asks nothing, unlike the others. More often than not, he weeps alone."
"But we have at least one person who is no longer sorrowful."
"And who might that be?"
He smiled, neat and sincere. "You, Sister Naevia. I no longer hear sadness in your voice."
His words drew a small smile from me. "Perhaps it is due to your constant encouragement."
"I am glad I could make a difference in someone's life. You do not know how happy that makes me."
"I can see that you are very happy."
"Yes-oh, Her Grace mentioned that you have a daughter of five years. I wonder if I might be fortunate enough to meet her."
The fragile smile on my lips vanished. "She is no longer with me."
"Has she passed?"
"No. She is with her other m… her father. She is with her father."
"Do you see her often?"
"No. I do not."
"You ought to," he said with gentle conviction. "My mother once told me that watching me grow was the greatest joy of her life."
"I… I find myself unable to feel a connection with her."
"Have you tried?"
Silence answered for me.
"You have not," he said. "Then begin with something small. It may feel awkward at first, yet you will come to it. I cannot imagine a life without my mother. She loved me, even in my blindness. I believe your daughter desires a mother who loves her just the same."
She has a mother who loves her. I have witnessed it myself. The length of time Yseldra wept upon first beholding Aelunira could not be feigned. Such grief, such devotion, could only be born of love. By now, Aelunira has likely forgotten me. She is perhaps surrounded by gifts and favors, her days filled with warmth that I never gave.
"Sister Naevia, can you promise me you will begin to build a bond with her?"
I could not refuse Charles. Not when he regarded me with such tender sincerity.
"Yes," I said quietly. "I give you my promise, Charles."
When I returned home, I withdrew to my study. I seated myself and drew forth a blank sheet of paper, yet my hand remained still. I did not know what to write. Charles had said to begin small, and so I resolved to send a letter. Yet even that seemed beyond me.
If I were to write that I missed her, it would be false. And to build a bond upon falsehood would be a cruelty.
I dipped my quill into ink and began.
'Dear Aelunira Ashcroft,'
Was she still an Ashcroft? Or had she become a Valebrinth?
I set the page aside and took a fresh one.
'Dear Aelunira Valebrinth,
I write to inform you that I have made the acquaintance of a boy of fourteen years at the orphanage in which I serve. He is of kind disposition and has expressed a wish to meet you one day. Lynda speaks of you often and misses you dearly. Perhaps you might visit her before you depart to Dunverra.
Your mother,
Naevia Ashcroft.'
I folded the letter, set it within an envelope, and sealed it beneath the Ashcroft crest. I handed it to Neal, who waited beyond the door, then returned to my chair. The morning paper lay before me, still unread.
For many months, its pages have been filled with accounts of the upcoming spring tournament within the Landfox Kingdom, known as the Contest of Champions. Two men face one another in combat, and the victor advances. This continues for a fortnight. The winner is granted ten thousand gold coins and a rose made of gold, meant to be presented as proof of bravery to someone.
I glanced toward the four chests that had arrived not long ago. They were filled with gold coins. I begin to suspect that House Ashcroft possesses a fortune greater than that of the Landfox crown itself.
"My cousin's joining the tournament," I heard Neal say beyond the door. His voice was faint, yet it reached me. He spoke with Andrew. In the past, I would seek Neal when needed, yet now he stood ever outside my study when I am within, resolute in his duty. Andrew would often linger to speak with him.
"It's dangerous," Andrew replied. "There'll be blood for sure."
"I told him so, but he won't back down. He's been training hard. Says the gold's nice, but it's the golden flower he wants. He's in love with a noble, and her house said they'd only allow it if he proves himself by bringing it to her."
"Hard life for folk like us. We're lucky, truly. House Ashcroft treats us proper. Not like we're dirt."
"I'm grateful our lady took us in."
"About those chests that came in, when do you need my help?" Andrew asked.
"Our lady has not given orders yet."
"Neal," I called.
He entered at once and inclined his head.
"Have the chests taken to the vault."
"If I may, My Lady, the vault is full."
"Then have it expanded."
---
How could this be?
I stood within the warehouse that held the provisions for the children of the House of Gab, and I was struck with horror. Crate after crate lay spoiled. The scent alone was enough to turn the stomach.
"What has occurred?" I asked as Katelyn tore through the crates in frantic haste.
"It's those rats," Katelyn spat, pressing a hand to her brow in anger.
"What rats?"
"Cunshin rats. Filthy, poisonous things. They make the food rot." She turned to me, her distress plain. "What are we to do, Lady Naevia? There are so many mouths to feed."
For a fleeting moment, my thoughts turned to the many chests within my home, filled to their brim with gold. Yet I cast the notion aside at once. Millicent had entrusted this duty to me. If I were to simply purchase food, I would bind us to that dependence. We would never improve. I must find a means to earn coin.
For now. I have no choice but to host a charitable gathering and seek donations from the nobility. If it were I alone who extended the invitation, few would attend. Yet should I invite Millicent… they would come without hesitation.
"I shall host a charity gathering at my residence," I said, steadying myself. "I will see to it personally. Do not be troubled. For now, gather what remains and remove it from the warehouse. Send for rat hunters at once."
I returned to my office and set to writing. Two dozen invitations I prepared, each name chosen with care. I appended the list of those invited, for I wished it to be plainly seen that Millicent would be in attendance.
When I had finished, I gathered the letters and made for the hall. I must have Neal deliver them without delay.
By fortune, Millicent had come to the orphanage this very day. She was seated upon a bench beside Charles, her back turned to me. This was perfect. It would be far better to speak with her directly than to rely upon parchment.
"You have done well," she said to him, her voice warm. "I knew you would. I am certain, deep within her heart, she loves her child. Were it not so, she would not have resisted parting with the child in the first place."
"She possesses a good heart, Your Grace," he replied. "I shall do my utmost. I truly wish for her happiness."
I clutched the letters tightly within my hands. How could they extend such kindness to me when they scarcely knew me at all? If those who barely knew me could strive so earnestly on my behalf, then I must strive as well. I must. I must not fail them.