Filaria - Brent Hayward [36]
Miranda whispered, “What is it? Tell us what’s going on.”
Inside the room, those shafts of light pierced him now. Ludmilla followed, blinking. The Orchard Keeper and Lady exchanged a glance; Lady moved aside, bowing slightly, to busy herself with the laundry girl, scolding her, sorting the clothes into smaller piles and lifting one huge hand as if to cuff Ludmilla. She bared her big teeth.
The outfits were grey and worn. The clothes of a servant.
“We’re going to leave Elegia for a few days, my little Pumpkins. We’re going on a trip.”
Numb, Deidre wondered if she had heard right. Leave Elegia? A trip? Was it possible? Who would watch over the plantations? Who would distribute food to the people in the townships?
And what about the moth that Sam would be making her for tomorrow’s hunt?
Moving among the sisters, eyes averted, Ludmilla distributed the spartan costumes. Estelle and Voluminia protested but even their surly tones had changed to quieter ones, tinged with insecurity and compliance, their teenage facade of bravado crumbled.
Holding on to her own neatly folded set of clothes — studying the warp of the rough cloth as if it might make matters clearer — Deidre did not look up, did not want to see her father as he approached, but the Orchard Keeper gathered her in close, hugged her so tight in both arms that she gasped. He smelled of sweat and pomade and smoke. His uniform was crisp against her skin, his stubbled cheek, as he bent his face to hers, rough and hot. He whispered her name, told her that he loved her. The uttering of those words had become the most frightening moment of that frightening day.
Deidre could say nothing.
Her father stood, went over to Miranda to coax her away from the window — without touching her, of course — talking quietly, gently, reassuringly, leading her toward the open door where Ludmilla waited to hand her a change of clothes.
Fed up with all this, the cat, awake now, stretched, looked about haughtily, and said, “I’m leaving.” Dashing out the door, just as their father also moved out onto the dais, the beast vanished in search of a more peaceful spot.
Miranda stood pale and scared, dwarfed by Lady.
“I’ll be out here,” the Orchard Keeper said. “While you girls all get dressed.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
The four sisters glanced at each other. Having no recourse, they got changed, Lady and Ludmilla watching them surreptitiously, frowning at the lithe young bodies as they stepped from their clothes.
Deidre was used to Lady’s clumsy curiosity. She cast aside the frills and layers of her dress and petticoats and stood, finally, in the drab outfit, feeling vulnerable and demeaned. These new clothes were itchy against her skin and they stunk. Miranda’s outfit hung slack from her thin arms and chest. Deidre tried to smile at her sister, who was wiping her snotty nose on the grey sleeve; Miranda drew a deep breath and actually tried to smile in return. That gave Deidre a modicum of reassurance. Together they might be able to get through this.
From the door, Lady motioned. All the girls approached without any protest, not even from Voluminia or Estelle. Their faces as they passed Deidre looked white as milk.
Lady opened the door.
They left the anteroom.
From the railing, where he’d been waiting, the Orchard Keeper turned to lead the way. A series of archways equally spaced down the length of the wide dais overlooked the gardens of Elegia and the tangled woods beyond. The girls trudged through alternating shadow and light, in a stunned sort of silence, Lady shuffling among them, biting at her puffy lips and ushering the sombre sisters with slow movements of her hands.
The day was hot and quiet. The sun nearest Elegia was visible, hanging between two columns, where it always hung. Glancing up at it, Deidre imagined she saw activity, as if the sun were a candle flame, and midges had begun to circle it.
When she turned away, blinking, Ludmilla had vanished altogether.
Again Deidre thought back to the gram she’d watched in her sanctum. It had talked of war. Was that the