Regnard bent over, examining Lenore’s feet. “Ortun, you’re right. These shoes are thoroughly worn out. How do you even keep them on your feet, child?”
Lenore froze, terrified to be called out in front of so many people. “Papa won’t buy us any others,” she admitted, cringing.
“Ortun, surely you’re joking,” Amelia asked. “It’s winter now. You can’t have your daughters traipsing around barefoot in the snow.”
Papa seemed more amused than angry. “Find out what mischief they’re up to and I’ll fix that. I’ll even buy you a pair, Millie! The prettiest slippers in all of Salann!”
Everyone laughed.
“No, I mean it, I mean it!” he cried gaily. “I’ll buy pairs for the whole table if you can figure out what is going on!”
“I don’t think I’d do well with shoes as dainty as Miss Annaleigh’s,” Captain Morganstin said, chuckling, as he leaned over to study mine. “But, Ortun, you’ve been exaggerating. These shoes look fine to me. There’s not a scratch on them.”
“That’s true, that’s true. Annaleigh is the only one who hasn’t come around asking for more,” Papa agreed, his eyes increasingly glassy. Morella set a glass of water in front of him, but he patently ignored it.
“How curious!” Amelia said. “What are you doing differently, Annaleigh?”
Camille’s stare weighed on me, and I raised my shoulders, admitting nothing.
“See? Can’t get a word from any of them!” To Morella’s relief, Papa sat down, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s maddening. I’m almost willing to offer up my estate to find out what’s behind all this!”
“Say, now, there’s an idea!” Captain Bashemk exclaimed, needling Ethan in the ribs. “Kill two birds with one stone! Whoever solves the mystery wins your blessing to marry one of the girls! And I’m sure we all know who he’d pick!”
He didn’t need to tilt his head to his right to indicate his choice, but he did. Camille. Obviously. She was the prettiest and the cleverest. And she was the daughter set to inherit Papa’s fortunes. Though the Salann Islands were small, we were mighty, and that could prove to be an enticement too great to ignore.
Papa downed the last of his wine and waved for a refill. Half of it was drunk in one large swallow. He blinked heavily, struggling to put the connections together. Finally, he looked up, smiling. “It’s not a bad idea, is it?”
I peeked down toward the triplets. They looked as bemused as I felt. What was going on? Surely Papa couldn’t be serious.
“Darling, perhaps we ought to save this idea for another time,” Morella suggested lightly. “We’re meant to be celebrating Pontus and First Night, aren’t we? I’d hate to offend our esteemed High Mariner….”
The priest waved her off, eager to watch this drama play out.
“We could send a messenger to the other lords of Arcannia,” Papa said, still thinking. “They could help spread the word. We’ll let anyone in the kingdom who wants to try his hand come and see.”
“Anyone at all?” Fisher asked, setting his wineglass on the table with a heavy thunk. He was the only one who knew our secret. “They wouldn’t have to be titled?” He waggled his eyebrows at Camille.
Ligeia elbowed him hard in the ribs.
Regnard nodded, his head going up and down with great care. Amelia shot Morella a look of apology. Was there any man at the table who wasn’t drunk now? Cassius sat perfectly still, but his eyes bounced around the table, following the discussion with interest.
“Better yet, better yet!” Captain Bashemk said, shouting in excitement. “Five strapping lads sit at this table. Let them have the first crack at it!”
“Six,” Sterland corrected from the depths of his wineglass.
“Come now, Henricks, don’t you think you’re a bit old to be chasing after young ladies?” Captain Bashemk said with a laugh.
Sterland leaned back in his chair, his mouth slack with inebriation, staring down the row of us. I looked away as his eyes met mine. Though he wasn’t a true uncle to us, not by blood, it still felt wrong.
“Hardly. In fact, if Highmoor is truly on the line, it’s only fitting I try my hand for her first. You owe me that much, Ortun.”
Regnard momentarily sobered, glancing between his friends. “Sterland,” he warned. “Not tonight.”
“I…owe you?” Papa bristled, his hand tightening around the stem of his wineglass. “I owe you nothing.”
“Here we go again,” Regnard muttered.
But Sterland wasn’t one to back down from a fight. “If not for you—”
“If not for me, what?” Papa snapped, his voice rising with the color in his cheeks. “If not for me, you’d have nothing. No education, no career. My family created you, and this is how you repay me? Harping on perceived injustices? Living in a delusional past? I’ve had enough!”
His knuckles turned white, squeezing the glass until it shattered, raining glittering shards. Blood welled up across Papa’s face. One of the flying pieces had struck his cheek, slicing deep.
“Ortun!” Morella exclaimed, dipping her napkin into water and trying to wipe the cut.
“Stop meddling with me!” he roared, lashing his arm out to knock hers aside. Heavy plates were swiped off the table and smashed to the floor.
“I…I’m sorry,” Morella said, sinking into her chair, looking small and so much younger than she was.
“Ortun, calm down,” Amelia ordered. “You’re drunk.”
“And if I am? This is my house. My home! You can all be turned out into the cold if you don’t like it.” He pointed an unsteady finger at Morella. “Including you.” He drained his wineglass in two slugs. “More!” he demanded.
As a footman raced over to oblige, Morella dabbed at her eyes, swallowing back tears. Though it didn’t happen often, Papa could fly into dangerous rages after drinking too much. They were like storms on the Kaleic Sea, ruining a perfectly sunny day with gale-force winds and biting rain, only to be over moments later. My heart went out to Morella, but it was better to just stay low and let his anger pass.
After a painfully long moment of tactful silence, Ethan spoke up, his voice cracking with bravado. “If you’re serious, my lord, I’d love to try and solve the mystery.”
No surprise there. I’d seen him taking in the beauty of Highmoor since his arrival, with eyes so wide, they practically bugged out of his skull.
“As would I,” Ivor said, his voice as gravelly as a crocodile. He winked at me, and I turned my head away.
“Splendid!” Papa’s voice rang out drunkenly above the guests.
Jules clapped his hands in glee. “When do we start?”
And just like that, Papa’s festive mood returned. He patted Morella on the back, whispering to her with apologetic, watery eyes. She dabbed at the cut on his cheek, all apparently forgiven.
“Ah, son, what fortunes could be yours,” Captain Bashemk said, wrapping his arm around Ethan to give conspiratorial advice.
Rosalie slammed her goblet down hard enough to silence the room. “Don’t we get any say in this?”
Papa’s eyes narrowed. “You had your chance and remained silent.”
“I don’t see why you’re upset,” Camille snapped. “I’m the one who has to marry whoever wins. Papa, you can’t be serious! Tell them all it’s a joke.”
“Why are you so sure you’ll be chosen?” Ligeia interrupted, fury flashing in her eyes. “I’d imagine someone ingenious enough to solve such a mystery might be interested in any one of us.”
As my sisters erupted into bickering, hurling insults and outrage at one another, I leaned back in my chair, wishing the padded seat would swallow me whole. First Night was a disaster. The captains’ wives watched the circus play out in horrified silence while their husbands shouted and cheered. In all the madness, Ivor crawled under the table to
further examine the shoes. When his hand brushed across my ankle and ran up my calf, I kicked out hard, not caring if it was his chest or face I struck.
Papa sat back in his chair and began to chuckle. His laughter grew louder until his expression appeared entirely deranged. Morella placed a hand on his arm, but he swatted it away, slapping at the table.
Verity caught my eye, confusion written across her face, springing me into action. I hurried to the far end of the table, where the Graces and the Morganstin girls sat. They didn’t need to witness such absurdity from so many adults.
“Come on, ladies.” I tried keeping my voice even. “We’ll have a special treat tonight.”
“What is it?” Verity asked, perking up as she slid from the tall chair.
“Sweets in the classroom,” I made up, praying Papa and the guests wouldn’t think to carry their festivities into that area of the house.
“Oooh!” Honor breathed, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, I’ll show you where!” She grabbed one of the girls by the hand, and they all raced out.
Following them, I spotted a butler hurrying down the hall with a decanter of brandy.
“Can you let Cook know the children will be eating dessert in the classroom tonight?”
He grasped at the decanter’s neck, looking a bit panicky. “Brandy isn’t meant to be served until after dinner, in the library.” He bit his lip.
“Did Papa ask for that?” He nodded and I sighed. The last thing the room needed was liquor on top of all that wine. “Why don’t you let me take care of it,” I said, grabbing the bottle. “Ask Cook if she can ready coffee and madeleines for the guests in the hall. Tell her to make it especially strong.”
He hurried back to the kitchen. I stood in the hall for a moment, tapping at the bottle as I pondered my next move.
“That was expertly handled,” said a voice from behind me. Cassius stood under an arched window. “You’re not going to take that and run, are you?” he asked, indicating the brandy.
I let out a small laugh, but it contained no joy. “No. I was wondering how to keep Papa from noticing its absence.”
“It has gotten a little…spirited in there.”
This time my laugh was real.
“Will Sterland be all right, do you think?”
I nodded. “Something like this always happens whenever he visits Highmoor.”
Cassius offered me an easy smile. “It’s a wonder he ever dares show up.”
Memories of past fights—Sterland’s eyes bright with indignant anger, Papa’s face red and quivering with rage—surfaced.
“He and Papa have been friends for a very long time, ever since they were young boys. It’s just…something they do. Sterland was even engaged to my aunt Evangeline.”
“I didn’t realize he was married—”
“He’s not. Evangeline died before they were wed. He never got over it. Highmoor has always been like a second home to him…. I’m sorry for all that nonsense with the contest and the shoes.”
He waved aside my concern. “People need ways of entertaining themselves. This isn’t the worst thing they could be doing during Churning, or so I’ve heard.”
“Is this your first?”
A roar of laughter burst from the dining room, and Cassius drew me to a bench down the hall, away from the noise. I sat, leaving the bottle between us, but then wished I hadn’t. Without it to hold, my hands felt too free and I didn’t know what I ought to be doing with them. I studied his, so loose and relaxed against his knees, and placed mine in an approximation. They still felt wrong.
“It is. Camille said the true festivities begin tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ll go over to Astrea in the afternoon. There’s a bazaar and contests. Lots of vendors selling food. The pageant begins after nightfall. It’s so beautiful. There are puppets that look like jellyfish and great paper lantern whales that float through the theatre. Words can’t do it justice.”
“And after that?”
“More celebrating. I’m not sure how long Papa will want to stay…. It gets a bit out of hand, but it’s the first break the fishermen and mariners have had since Westerlies.”
“That’s the start of the fishing season?”
“When Zephyr wakes Pontus, bringing warm winds to thaw the ice. Pontus uses his trident to shift warm currents back to us. The fish return, and the kelp grows green and thick.”
Cassius leaned in, one of his hands bumping against mine. “You know, most people call that spring.”
“Not in Salann,” I managed to stammer. When his hand returned to his knee, my knuckles felt its absence keenly.
“I’ve noticed things are done quite differently here.” He looked at the architecture above us. When he studied Highmoor, it wasn’t with the same open hunger as Ethan. “Camille will inherit all this, isn’t that right?”
The last person I wanted to be talking about in a darkened hallway with Cassius was Camille.
Papa’s voice rose, booming down the hallway. “Damn this coffee and damn these madeleines! Where’s my brandy? I asked for brandy!”
With an inner sigh, I stood up. I didn’t want to end our conversation, but I also didn’t want the staff being blamed for something I’d done. “Looks like I’ve stalled long enough.”
He stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Haven’t you heard enough about shoes for one evening?”
He smiled and I wanted to race back to him. “Why are yours the only ones undamaged?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Why? You’re not planning on taking Papa up on his challenge, are you?”
He looked back up at the ceiling. “I might. It is an awfully beautiful house.”
“Oh.”
It was a punch to my stomach. Of course he’d go after Camille. It was foolish to assume otherwise. There was an attraction between us, I knew it, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the allure of the Highmoor estate and the Salann title.
“Where’s the brandy?” Papa roared. There was a great clatter and crash. The poor butler was probably surrounded by broken saucers dripping in hot liquid.
“I need to go.” I snatched the bottle from the bench and hurried down the hall.
“That didn’t go quite as I envisioned,” Morella admitted, twisting her fingers in the fullness of her nightgown.
After dinner, Papa and the captains went on a drunken tour of the house, looking for clues to help the lads solve the mystery of the shoes. A butler said they’d fallen asleep in Papa’s study, sprawled across any surface remotely comfortable enough to lie upon.
I knelt beside the chaise, setting out the lotion and oil for her nightly massage. “Not at all.”
She leaned back on the chaise, thrusting her belly out to a more comfortable angle. I could feel the hard bodies of the twins beneath her tight skin and took care not to prod at them too much. For the moment, they appeared to be asleep.
“I’m sure all will be well in the morning.”
Dipping my fingers into the pot of lotion, I concentrated on her calves, wondering how to bring up Papa’s outburst without causing her more distress. Her legs were swollen fatter than stuffed sausages, her ankles nearly unidentifiable.
“I don’t think Papa was serious about that contest, do you?”
My initial instinct was to write it off as a joke. It was insane to think Papa would give away his entire estate to the one who could tell him we were dancing through our slippers. But he’d changed so much in the last few months. His emotions swung from excessive highs to raging lows, like a bobber caught on waves far too large.
“You know him better than I do, I fear.”
Her voice sounded so sad, I raised my eyes to study her face. “Is everything all right, Morella? Between you two, I mean. Papa didn’t mean anything he said wh
en…”
I wasn’t sure what to say to make any of it better. I wished Octavia were here. She’d been so much better at these sorts of things, always ready with the right words.
Morella played with the end of her braid, weaving it through her fingers. “I think so. Everything has been so out of sorts since Eulalie…Ortun hasn’t exactly been himself. He has outbursts…says things he doesn’t mean. It’s his way of grieving, I suppose. That’s all.” She smiled and repeated her last sentence quietly, reassuring herself.
“If you ever wanted to talk about it…” I picked up the other leg, beginning tender ministrations on her foot.
“You’re very kind, Annaleigh. So very different from your sisters.”
“They’re not—”
“I didn’t mean they’re not nice. They are—mostly—but you’ve got a softer heart than any of them. I know we’re not particularly close, you and I, and I’m sure there are times you don’t even like me…but you’ve stepped up so many times for me…the kelp lotion, the massages, planning out this week when it should have been me doing it.”
“You needed your rest.”
She placed her hand on the top of my head, stroking my hair. For the briefest moment, I remembered Mama doing that, and my heart grew tight. “Thank you.”
“I knew it was important to you. I’m sorry tonight was such a disaster.”
Morella shook her head. “I imagine it will be one of those stories we laugh about many years from now.”
“Many, many years from now.”
She closed her eyes, settling further into the pillows as I worked on her foot.
“I wish things could be different,” she admitted softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I know I’ll probably only ever be a stepmother to you, but I wish…You’re the kind of person I wish I could be friends with.”
I stopped the massage. I’d never considered what a lonely life Morella led. She married Papa and moved so far away from all the friends and family she’d ever had. The only people to keep company with now were her servants or stepdaughters. We were too isolated to go into town every day for teas or dinners, but even if we weren’t, who would she visit? Eulalie died so shortly after her arrival, Morella had no time to make friends in Astrea.
House of Salt and Sorrows Page 19