Chapter Nine

Facing her dressing table mirror, Lina sat, deep in thought.

“You’re still thinking about Eliot and those letters, aren’t you?”

Raising her brows, Lina met Minette’s gaze through the mirror’s reflection and nodded. Usually when she was with her best friend, conversation barely ceased. But this time, Lina kept lapsing into silence, preoccupied with thoughts of Eliot’s letters. “I still can’t believe Grandmother took Eliot’s letters. Why would she do that?”

Continuing to brush out Lina’s hair, Minette shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. She’s always ignoring him but taking his letters must mean she’s interested in things that concern him.”

“That’s what I thought – ouch! Minette. You don’t have to scrape the hair off my head.”

“Oh, sorry.” She didn’t sound contrite. “I’m so used to the way I brush my own hair. There. Better?”

“Much better, thank you.” Lina’s posture relaxed.

“Be grateful you don’t have a curly tangle like mine.” Minette’s bundle of glossy, short black tight curls fell just past her shoulders.

“I wish my hair bounced like yours.”

“It looks nice, I’ll give it that. But it’s a horror to brush out every morning.” Minette held her hand out for the ivy-green ribbon Lina had been curling around her fingers. Winding sections of Lina’s wavy dark auburn hair and the ribbon together into a neat braid, she then pinned it up. “I know it’s not my place to say.” Her movements slowed. Averting her gaze, she lowered her voice. “I’ve never liked your grandmother.”

Lina reached back to touch her friend’s hand resting on her shoulder. “I’ll never tell Mama, but I’m beginning to think I don’t care much for Grandmother at all.”

Minette squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t understand why she’s so horrid to Eliot.” She replaced the brush in its designated space in the middle of the neatly arranged dressing table.

“At least Grandmother is better behaved when you’re here.”

“All thanks to Mother having been one of the queen’s ladies,” said Minette, grinning as she dropped a curtsy.

Lina was ever-thankful about that for Climence obviously held Minette’s mother’s past relationship with the queen in high regard.

“There’s more you’re worrying about, isn’t there?” said Minette as Lina pushed the chair back.

“I know the letters are about Eliot’s father’s business in Salmarin,” said Lina, her mouth turned down. “What if, what if he wants to go there? What if he leaves?”

“Oh, Lina, you can’t blame him if he does. He must be so curious about it, I know I’d be.”

Slouching, she looked up at Minette. “Sometimes I think about what our lives would be like if Papa was still alive. I wonder if we’d still be living here. If Grandmother would be nicer. Then I wonder if Eliot thinks the same thing. His life would be so different if his father was still here.”

“It certainly would,” said Minette as she frowned. “But, if Eliot’s father was still alive, then, then you probably wouldn’t be here.”

Lina grimaced. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” Sighing heavily, she got to her feet and smoothed the skirt of her pear-green gown. “And you’re right. Who could blame Eliot for wanting to go to Salmarin? The way Grandmother treats him, why wouldn’t he want to go? But I hope he doesn’t decide to live there. Not yet.”

“Don’t worry,” said Minette, hugging her. “If he does go, it’ll probably only be for a visit. He hasn’t finished his apprenticeship, remember. And when we sit for dinner, we’ll be either side of Eliot as we always are.”

“His bodyguards,” they finished in unison as they giggled.

Hand in hand, they left Lina’s chambers and were halfway down the curving staircase when Minette said, “Who’s that?” They both came to a stop.

A young man in a faded charcoal frock coat with frayed cuffs was stepping out of the morning room, bowing as he left. Turning to follow Perrin to the door, he glanced up and paused, shoulders back, posture straight. Smiling slightly, he inclined his head. Perrin coughed loudly, holding the door open, and the man walked out the door.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before,” said Lina, feeling inexplicably warm. His colouring reminded her of the driftwood on the beach at Old Haven.

As they stepped off the last step, Climence came out of the morning room, followed by Marcelin.

“And I say again, it doesn’t concern–Ah, Lina, my dear,” said Climence, interrupting herself.

“Who was that?” asked Lina, noticing her mother’s angry expression.

Hands on her hips, Climence exclaimed. “Am I not allowed to do one thing without being questioned? First, your mother, now, you.”

Bewildered, Lina glanced at Minette who looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “I-I was only curious. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Climence, patting Lina on the cheek but smiling at Minette. “You caught me off-guard.”

Lina suspected Climence only apologised because Minette was there. She opened her mouth to repeat the question, but her mother’s warning look stopped her. When Minette squeezed her hand, she gave up and led the way to the garden room, so-called because its doors opened out into a small, simple garden.

No flowers decorated this garden, which Climence had allowed for the siblings’ play when they’d been children. Sometimes Lina wondered if her grandmother had forgotten about this patch of garden for it remained as it was. A broad oak tree retained pride of place with two stone benches in attendance. At the other end was a dainty wrought-iron gate, which led to an even more secluded part of the garden.

Eliot, sat on the grass under the tree, stared into the distance instead of the open book in front of him.

“May we join you?”

Startled, he looked up at them, smiled and indicated they sit.

As they made themselves comfortable on the grass, adjusting their skirts, Lina said, “You seemed to be very far away.”

“Far away?”

“Far away in your thoughts.”

“Ah.”

When he didn’t say anything else, she reached over and placed her hand on his. “Thinking about the letter?”

His only reply was a smile.

Lina tried to quell her worry, unused to him being this quiet in her company, but didn’t say anything about not wanting him to leave. Despite what she’d said to Minette earlier and despite understanding his reasons, she didn’t even want him to visit Salmarin in case he decided he wanted to stay there.

Sitting back, she picked up the book he’d let fall to the ground. Flicking through the pages of the treatise on merchant law, she handed it back to him. “Do you have to remember all of it?”

“Only the important laws. But when I hear Uncle Bertran quote names, titles, decisions from memory alone, even some obscure laws, I wonder how he does it and then despair I’ll ever remember any of it.”

Lina and Minette exchanged bewildered looks. “I’m glad that sort of thing isn’t expected of me,” said Lina.

“We need to remember different kinds of things though,” said Minette and Lina raised her brows. “I sometimes find it bewildering watching Mother run the household, planning every small detail. She knows where everything is, what food needs to be bought, who needs to be paid, everything. Sometimes I think it might be easier to remain on my own and never marry because I think I’ll only make a mess of it all.”

In that moment, it occurred to Lina that Marcelin didn’t have a household to run for Climence took charge of everything. But if Lina didn’t learn from her mother, how would she know what to do when she had her own household to run?

“What’s the matter?”

Lina turned to Eliot.

“You look as if you’ve had the most awful thought.”

“Mama doesn’t run a household,” she said, eyes wide. “That means I won’t know how to do it.”

“I’m sure Aunt Marcelin knows what to do,” said Minette, taking Lina’s hands in hers.

“Yes, you goose,” said Eliot, grinning. “Mother isn’t empty-headed, and she spent her time with her grandmother, remember.”

“She’ll help you,” said Minette. “And I will too.”

“I, I suppose you’re right.” Taking a deep breath, she visibly relaxed. “It’s all her fault.”

Raising his brows, Eliot said, “Her?”

“Your grandmother,” said Minette.

“She has to control everything,” said Lina, crossing her arms. “And she’s so rude. Earlier, I asked her one question. She chastises me then apologises, which I know she only did because of Minette.”

“I have my uses,” said Minette solemnly.

“What was the question?” said Eliot, chuckling.

“Oh yes.” Lina instantly forgot her annoyance. “We saw a man coming out of the morning room, about your age, I think. I’ve not seen him before. I was curious, so asked her who he was but she didn’t answer. Even after she apologised. I was about to ask again, but Mama gave me one of her looks.”

“Mother was there?”

“She came out of the morning room with Grandmother,” said Lina, nodding. “She didn’t look happy.”

“What did he look like?”

Between them, the girls described him.

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Do you think Grandmother might be planning something?”

“Like what?” said Eliot.

“I don’t know. Why did she react angrily instead of simply answering me? And why did Mama look angry?”

Eliot shrugged then Minette said, “Maybe he was looking for work. It is the time of year when there are more day labourers on the road.”

Lina’s whole body sagged. “Oh. That doesn’t make it a mystery at all.”

They laughed at her clear disappointment.