by T J Muir
“Do you want to go for a walk? Help me explore and look around?” she asked. She assumed it was okay to take Tilly around the property.
The stick paused and then was dropped. Tilly straightened up, wiping her muddy hands on the front of her coat. Her hands came away, leaving two filthy streaks on the jacket. Diya grimaced at the grimy mess and hoped Marrick was right about her not having to do the washing.
Trying to remember what the grounds had looked like on the map, she looked around, deciding where to go. There was a driveway that ran from the circle at the front of the house down to the lane. She could just make out a stone gatehouse tucked off to the side. Behind the house she could see several buildings and what looked like gardens. Beyond that she thought she could see neat rows of bare trees. “How about this way?” she said, turning towards the outbuildings in the back. Tilly walked past her and up the narrow lane. She looked down at her soft boots, hoping they would stay dry. They walked along a low stone wall that enclosed a small garden or what would probably be a garden in the summer. It was all bare, dead and still black. Past the garden was a gate which Tilly was already halfway over.
She wondered if it was broken, but when she got closer, she could tell it wasn't even completely shut. She smiled. Despite not speaking, Tilly seemed healthy and active. They passed a few small sheds and storage buildings and then came to the barn which was a solid building, made of stone but not like the cements and stuccos back home. All of the stones were different shapes, sizes and colors, although mostly different shades of grey. From inside the barn, she could smell hay, grain and the pungent scent of manure. The idea of walking into a herd of animals distressed her, but since Tilly had headed into the barn without a look back, she felt obligated to make sure she didn't come to any harm.
There was a center aisle going down the right side of the L shaped building where Tilly was petting the red nose of a fat pony. Further down the aisle she thought she heard more horses, but she decided she would stay by the door, close enough to keep an eye on Tilly without the risk of getting hurt. While she was standing there, the sun came out from behind a cloud, warming the area around her. She was content to stand there, soak up the warmth and make sure there were no injuries.
After a while she got bored and felt her eyes getting heavy. “How about we walk around some more?” she said. She hoped the girl would be agreeable. She wasn't sure what she would do if Tilly refused, but the girl rubbed the pony's forehead and kissed it on the nose, laying her cheek against its head for a moment and then turned to follow Diya.
She followed the lane around the barn and along the pasture. She could hear some goats and cows, but they must have been in a further field. The lane turned and they walked along a hayfield, down towards the orchards, and then back toward the front of the barn. By the time they got back to the barn, her boots were soaked, and her feet were getting cold.
“Ben? Is that you?” A loud voice called out, words slurring. A man came out of the barn, swaying, and then grabbed hold of the door to steady himself. He looked over towards Diya and then stumbled forward as he walked toward her, unsteadily. “You're not Ben. I'm looking for Ben.”
“I haven't seen him. He's not here.” She could smell the alcohol on the man's breath. She looked over at Tilly who had shrunk away. The man was a stranger or perhaps dangerous. Diya moved sideways, keeping herself between the two.
“I'm looking for Ben!” the man repeated, louder now, looking over his shoulder. “Ben!”
Diya took a step back, startled by the noise. She had seen a few roaring drunks at parties and knew how quickly they could get out of hand.
“Tilly, why don't you run ahead and see if Korina can put the water on for tea?” She had no idea how Tilly would communicate the request, but she mostly wanted to get Tilly out of the way. Tilly ducked around the half-open gate and headed back to the house. Once she was gone, Diya turned back to the intruder.
“Gotta find Ben!” he shouted, becoming angry.
“I think you need to leave. Ben isn't here.”
“Go get Ben. Now! Ben!” he hollered, lurching toward Diya.
“You need to leave. Now!”
“No. You leave!” he said, weaving and trying to poke an angry finger at her chest.
Diya took a step back to avoid the man's waving hand. A man came running around the corner of the barn. “I'm so sorry,” he said, going past Diya and grabbing hold of the stranger. Was this Ben? The man was burly, well muscled, and smelled like livestock.
“Unka Chak,” the man said, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulder and losing his balance. “Ima lookin fer Benny.”
He got a firm grip on the intruder who was calmer now and looked over at Diya. “I'm a right sorry, miss. Zaylin don't mean no harm. He does this sometime since he come back from soldierin. He don't mean nothing, no harm. I'll take care on it.” Then he turned his attention back to the man, leading him into the barn. “C'mon, letsa get ye dried off.”
Diya shook her head, pushed her hair back and then headed back to the house. As soon as she got inside, she peeled off her damp clothes and headed straight for the stove, hoping to warm herself back up. By the time she got back to the house, exhaustion had crept into Diya’s bones. The days were so short! The sun had already set, turning the dull grey and pewter tones at every window into somber darkness. Korina was there, looking expectant.
“Tilly come a runnin in and lookin all worried like.”
Diya looked back towards the barns. “Yes. Well, we had a nice walk, but when we were coming back, there was this man. He was quite drunk and hollering for Ben.”
Korina frowned and slapped her wooden spoon down on the cutting table. She headed straight for the door and hollered. “Ben!”
A moment later she heard thumping, the clatter of something being dropped and then the door opened. A young man with dark red hair and freckles came in, wiping his hands on his jacket.
“I got the wood like you asked,” he said. “Was there somethin else?”
“You can bring that wood upstairs, and then you can march yourself right out to the barn and do something about that cousin o yers. He showed up here drunk and hollering! And a good thing it h'aint a happened when Ashok were home... That boy’s gonna get you fired. You hear? You tell him he wants to come round or if he wants to work, he has to show up clean and sober not reekin o liquor.“
“I'm sorry. You know that’s just how he is. He just needed someone to help. I'll talk to him though.”
“Hrmph. You best do that and right fast too. Be bad enou with the Beddo comin round soon. Don't need any more trouble.”
Ben hung his head, feeling guilty or just acting the part, Diya couldn't tell which. “I'll do it. I'll make sure he understands. Was there anything else?”
Korina eyed him for a moment, then glanced over to Diya. “You can get the fire goin in the room for Cassie here.”
Ben looked over at Diya without quite raising his head. It felt like the way a lot of the boys looked at her when she was younger, shy but curious and assessing. He nodded. “I'll get right on that. Right now,” he said and then hurried down the hall, looking relieved.
Korina turned back to Diya who was visibly shivering now. “Get yourself upstairs and washed up and get into some warm clothes. Mistress Jinna wants to speak with you before dinner. Oh, and dinner is in the study.”
Hot water had been one of those things Diya never gave a lot of thought to. Now she relished in the feel of it on her cold hands, holding them under the faucet as they warmed up. Then she filled the wash bowl and put it down on the floor. There was no stool in the bathroom, so she sat down on the floor and dipped her feet into the hot water. Her toes began to sting, but they warmed up after a little while. Then she scrubbed up and ducked back into her room where a fire was burning.
Wanting to make a good impression on Jinna, she took longer going through her clothes than she intended. She wanted to dress in her nicest clothes but tried to balance that against her desire to
stay warm.
She picked a dusty blue shirt with matching leggings. She added a green skirt over it with an embroidered lavender vest. She slipped on a pair of low suede boots that she only wore indoors and ran the brush through her hair. Satisfied she looked her country-best, she headed back downstairs and paused in front of Jinna’s doors.
Pushing aside a moment of doubt, she knocked firmly, louder than she’d intended.
“Come in,” she heard from inside the solid oak door.
Surprised by a tiny squeak as she opened the door, Diya walked into the master suite. A wave of warm air hit her as soon as she stepped inside. The room felt comfortable, reminding her that she’d felt chilly ever since her arrival and making her miss the bright sun back home. Jinna was nestled on her daybed in the far corner of the room where the sunset splashed a bit of rosy light through the glass windows.
There were two easy chairs and a low table in front of her with a pot of tea, but only one cup was set out, Diya noted. A few books and a handful of papers were piled within reach as well as a game board of the beans-game that looked like it was in progress.
Diya moved closer to sit on the nearest chair. Jinna sniffed, a clear look of disapproval on her face. Suppressing her own snort of derision, Diya met her stare without looking away. One part of her brain was annoyed at the woman’s insolence, while another part took in the details she hadn’t been able to notice from a distance. Her hair was a dark coppery color, but it didn’t have the rich lustre that the twin’s hair had. Her dark green eyes had flecks of grey in them and a fiery spark, but they looked bruised and tired. There was the same contradiction throughout her body. Appearing vibrant but frail, she was a woman who would have been a force to reckon with had she not been debilitated by the lung sickness that was clearly taking its toll on her.
“Sea silk,” Jinna coughed.
“Oh, yes,” Diya said, touching the embroidered vest and smiling. Perhaps the two of them would get on after all.
“The shirt, also. Expensive, that, for an ordinary merchant’s daughter.”
She’d won no points with Jinna by taking the time to change.
“They were presents for my dodecca.” This was just a small lie.
“Not very practical for this area.”
Diya had found that the silk was actually fairly warm when worn as an underlayer, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Instead, she nodded, agreeing. “I do find that I need an extra layer of clothes up here or two. I have not adjusted to the cold yet.”
Jinna laughed. “This is far from cold. This is mild weather. Spring. Wait until winter, then you’ll see cold and snow too. Lots of it.”
From Jinna’s tone, winter and snow were not being bandied about like a welcoming invitation—more like a dire warning.
“I did spend some time in Oldfall, years ago,” Diya added, hoping that would thaw this icy audience. “Studying art.” Diya didn’t remember it being too bitterly cold. Then she remembered, it hadn’t been winter, and she’d bundled up heavily whenever the wind blew.
“Art.”
There it was. That same tone of derision that Korina had at first.
“Nothing useful there. I suppose your family indulged you, knowing you’d just find a wealthy husband and make babies in the end.”
Diya bristled and bit back her anger. Deep inside, she was knew Jinna had just spoken the complete truth of her life, and Diya had no answer to that.
“So, your family disproved of your romantic attachment and sent you away. Was there a child?”
“What?” Diya blinked, as her brain tried to follow this conversation. “Oh,” she said, gasping in shock and embarrassment. “No. I was not pregnant.”
“Lucky, then. Still there’s a chance for you to make that decent marriage. You’ll stay away for a respectable amount of time, and then your family will summon you home. There will be a flurry of social events before they make an official announcement.”
Diya shrugged, shrinking from the scrutiny. Would Jinna think Hak’ket was a decent marriage? Would she see the so’har’s heir as someone to covet? She repressed a shudder. She couldn’t see herself with anyone besides Jedda, but she had no way of making that happen. She also knew how close to the truth Jinna’s words were. Had it not been for Hak’kar’s devious plans, that would be exactly how the situation would play out. Diya had seen it happen before, with other girls.
Jinna poured tea for herself, holding the steaming cup between her hands. The woman looked thoughtful, watching the wisps of vapor swirling upward. Then she looked up. “Are you settling in comfortably?”
A quick mental recap of her arrival and experiences flashed through Diya's mind. “I am, thank you. Better than I expected.” That was a blatant lie. Diya knew she had no idea what she was doing or what was expected of her. The children hated her, and it was always cold. She didn’t feel settled, and her life was anything but comfortable.
“How are things with the children?”
The inevitable question. “Well, it is still very new for all of them and for me. I am trying to get to know them better.”
By the slight narrowing of Jinna's eyes, Diya suspected that Mama was very well informed for someone who was infirm. If she remembered correctly, Letta’s primary responsibility was helping to look after Jinna. There was a good chance that Letta kept Mama up to date with every little detail, no doubt making sure to put Diya in a bad light. Taking a sip of her tea, she considered Diya for a moment.
“The children are all energetic. The twins especially. And independent. A little strong-willed sometimes. Pasha is very sensitive and caring, and Esha is clever and outgoing like her father.” She paused, wheezing slightly, and sipped her tea.
Diya could hear the thin sound of her voice. Her speech lacked force even though she was well spoken, and her mind was sharp. How terrible that must be for her, Diya realized, as well as frustrating. She looked bitter and angry but had nowhere to vent her frustration.
Diya could tell that Jinna was trying to catch her breath, and she filled the awkward gap in the conversation. “Tilly is also a very unique child. She showed me around the estate today. We had a fine walk through the barns and the orchards.” Diya recalled the unfortunate encounter at the end of their outing and hoped that news hadn't already reached Jinna.
“Tilly,” Jinna said, as though one word summed up the entirety of the child and the dilemma. “I'm glad to hear things went well with Tilly. She loves wandering around outside and going all over the place.”
Recalling Pasha's warning about Tilly going up on the roof, Diya cringed. She had visions of Tilly running off all over the place: into the forests, down to the village and falling into the river.
Jinna's voice was already sounding more tired. Even this brief audience had taxed her energy. Diya didn't want to stress the woman's health but understood from years at home that a servant never terminated an audience. Fortunately, she was saved from that dilemma. Letta came in, carrying a dinner plate. The girl smiled brightly at Jinna, but Diya also caught the scowl directed at herself.
She ignored the silent jibe. Letta was a servant, nothing more.
“On the small table here is fine.” Jinna said, stifling a cough.
After a moment, Jinna turned back to Diya. “I’m tired now. You may go.”
“Please let me know if you want anything or if you have any particular instructions regarding the children.”
Jinna nodded in acknowledgement but didn't reply, so Diya left without pressing it further.
Jinna was dying. She was dying slowly perhaps, but she was still dying. Some cold or infection would cause the lung sickness to flare up or a pneumonia would set in. The truth was that everyone seemed to know, but no one wanted to put it into words. She felt a wave of sympathy for all three of her charges who were slowly being robbed of a parent they adored. Diya’s impression of Jinna was a woman who was sickly and bitter, with little that was likeable, but she had seen the looks on all three faces. T
he woman must have been an incredible mother before she had become ill. Tilly was probably too young to really understand what was going on but Esha and Pasha seemed acutely aware of the unspoken truth.
She heard the twins in the study and braced herself as she walked in. Their friendly chatter stopped as they looked up, watching her. Diya looked around the room composed of dark walnut and oak. A sideboard had wine and brandy set out on a silver tray. She detoured to pour herself a glass of wine before taking the seat that Korina had set for her. The three of them watched her for a moment more before turning their attention to their dinner. In the middle of the table was a platter with hot sliced ham as well as large acorn shaped vegetables heaping inside with some kind of stuffing.
“Oh, this looks delightful. What is it?” she asked, as she scooped one of them onto her plate.
“Acorn squash, stuffed.” Esha's response was flat and minimal.
“It looks wonderful and hot!” She looked around the table. “No salad?”
All three of them looked up as though she had asked a foolish question.
“We always have lots of salads back home, greens and olives with nuts and bits of orange in them.”
“You’ll have to wait at least three months before anything comes up.”
It must be too cold for fresh foods or even simple greens for a salad. “Oh, I never thought of that. We have all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables all year round.”
“Must be nice.” Esha mumbled.
“Why don't you go back there?” Pasha asked, his tone sharp.
The twins mumbled under their breath to each other, but it was just loud enough for her to hear.
Diya decided to ignore them and took a bite of the squash. It tasted better than she expected. The squash itself was sweet and buttery with hints of honey around the edges. The stuffing was bread and rice, blended with ground sausage, and mixed with nuts and some kind of berry. While she ate, she looked around the room. “This reminds me of the room where my family would share meals,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Our house has less wood and the stone is marble and imported, blue-stone, but this is a lovely room.”