Sunday, August 23, 2009

DAHLQUIN, continued 3

Eloise and her mother dropped off another basket of herbs in the kitchen, it smelled divine, roasting mutton, fresh bread and the most hearty, meat and leek gravy. The preparations for the feast were well in hand, and Eloise hugged Margaret, kissing her in appreciation; travel and confinement forgotten. The cook patted the girl’s cheek leaving a flour handprint.

The seneschal thanked Eloise for the ledger, pleased the accounting was in order. “She’s got potential,” he addressed Lady Anne, who clutched her little dog in the crook of her arm.

Bolstered by the praise Eloise continued to sing and dance her way towards the residential chambers.

“Come, Mother, what a night this will be,” she held her hands out encouraging her mother to spin and twirl with her. Her two large dogs moved ahead, investigating.

“Eloise, not now,” her mother directed. “This is no time for such frivolity. These men and their purpose are yet unknown.”

“Aye, and we their hosts! What entertainment, we will sing…and dance,” Eloise said, arms over her head as she pirouetted right into one of the pages, leading the six knights to the baths, her father and Reginald behind.

Eloise bounced off the boy in surprise, and into the practiced arms of Sir Davydd.

She stared into his green eyes topped by prominent red eyebrows, an eager grin spread across his face as he steadied her.

“Eloise!” her father and mother gasped simultaneously. The little dog, Sylvester growled from Anne’s arms.

Recoiling from the admonished tones of her parents, Eloise studied Sir Davydd, he was not the pretty one she heard about.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said politely, “I am so sorry, are you hurt?” She brushed him off, and tidied his surcoat.

Davydd laughed, “Takes more than a fine dance to ruffle my feathers. No harm done. Are we to see some more?”

Eloise flushed pink further highlighting the white flour handprint; nodded to the other knights and stepped back. “Mayhaps, tonight. Mother and I love to sing and dance,” she added, enthusiasm building, she dared a glance up.

Hubert moved in, “I do apologize, sir, my daughter is…exuberant.” Everyone heard the pause as Hubert hesitated for a suitable word. He glared at his daughter before turning his attention back to his guests. This was not the time or place to present his wife and daughter to these strangers. Both women wore aprons, had dirt under their fingernails, with flowers and rosemary woven in their hair like two vulgar May Queens. This intrusion forced his hand. To dismiss his women would be rude. He must make the proper introductions all around; and he did, grimly.

Nor did Hubert appreciate the leering glances cast upon his daughter by his guests as each took her hand ceremoniously. Except Byron; he seemed offended, and Hubert knew that look as well. Not everyone loved Dahlquin, and many suspected his women of witchcraft.

“Please, take your leave, we will see you at the feast,” Hubert said, signaling the pages escort the knights to the baths. Best they were contained elsewhere.

“Ladies, I look forward to this evening,” Davydd said, “Mayhaps you could teach me a dance step or two,” he addressed to Eloise.

“But watch your toes, he’s a bit heavy on his feet!” Ioan teased.

Was Ioan the pretty one, Eloise wondered? He did have large brown eyes, but pretty like a woman, none of them fit that description.

“Lord Hubert, you have been blessed,” Davydd said, “tonight we shall dance like never before,” or ever again, he thought with deceitful satisfaction. “Ladies,” he bowed and left with the others.

Eloise blushed and bit her bottom lip with anticipation. What fun, already she played the music in her head, practicing the steps. She reached for her mother’s hand to proceed to the residential tower. They, too, needed to freshen up. Instead her father gripped her arm painfully.

“Have you gone daft? Flitting about when there are serious matters to consider.” Hubert peered at her, his stern brow knotted with fury. Few people had the audacity to meet his gaze on a normal day, only Eloise had the unadulterated gall to do so now; and she only chest high.

“Nay,” she said, offended. “Mother and I have been exceedingly busy with”

“You embarrassed me,” he cut her off, “and continue to do so.”

“I would be a gracious hostess, as you and Mama taught me,” she huffed indignantly.

“Eloise,” her mother said, taking her arm. “Not now.” But Eloise shook her off without a glance.

Reginald tried to catch the girl’s eye, to distract her from this foolish impudence; he adored Eloise and wanted to help manage that Dahlquin spirit, but she was locked on her father.

“Taught you to prance about as an uncouth…public woman!” Hubert’s voice was livid; he fought for appropriate language.

“Uncouth! Mama never…I would sing and dance to make you proud!” she interjected. “Seems my only purpose.” Rather than send her to a university, they insisted she slave away in domestic servitude.

“Ellie,” Reginald warned, shaking his head. She needed a mate, and children-sons of her own to vent that energy. Of course, in the eyes of her uncle, no one was good enough for her. Who could love her as she deserved and shelter her as Hubert and he did?

“Dahlquin is,” again Eloise didn’t finish.

“I have indulged you too long,” Hubert said, his hand clenched in a fist.

Anne bit her bottom lip, sighing audibly.

Contempt mixed with anger covered Hubert’s face, but Eloise didn’t recognize it.

“Indulged! You teach me rule, tell me to be strong, then yell at me,” Eloise carried on, ignoring her mother, provoking her father.

“Eloise!” Reginald called, reaching for her, to put a hand over her mouth, something, “Stop this foolishness.”

“Indulged!” she cried again, mistaking her father’s prolonged silence for license to continue. “Nay, I work too hard! Trying to make you proud. Indulged! Everything I do is for,” she didn’t finish.

“Enough! You will take your meal in your chambers.” Hubert’s voice was flat, without emotion as he withdrew, turning his back to her. The worst, he was barely in control. Eloise knew not to speak now. No one was that stupid. As an only child and heir to Dahlquin, her father taught her from an early age about management. Eloise was a bright girl and Hubert lavished education on her. It was awkward, and at times a dangerous game to allow a woman, even a noble lady to learn or do too much. Despite the very clear messages of station and function, the laws and rules were ambiguous and inconsistent, so easily twisted and manipulated by the upper classes as best suited them.

Disappointment was not adequate, horror too dramatic. But somewhere between lay her feelings. Eloise had argued with her father in the Great Hall. Tensions were high with all the excitement and she went too far.

Too late she heeded Reginald’s plea, now he shook his head and shrugged at her. The disappointment in his brown eyes brought tears to hers.

Eloise looked to her mother. Anne made no attempt to intercede either. This was between Ellie and Hubert. Although she needed Ellie to assist her as hostess of Dahlquin, Anne would never argue with Hubert when he was in such a state. With a heavy heart Anne watched Eloise stalk off to the residential tower. Life was full of hard lessons.

Back in her chamber Eloise’s nurse brushed out her long, amber hair. Should have been for the banquet, but now it was simply a routine before bed.

“So soft it is,” the nurse commented. She felt compelled to break the brittle silence crackling between them. “Luxurious as silk, dear.” Eloise did not answer. “Always liked this color on you, too,” the elderly woman commented regarding the gown. “Highlights your blue eyes and white skin.”

“They’re blue gray,” Eloise corrected. Who cared? No one would ever see them save a handful of kin in the residential tower.

“Aye, so they are. All the more desirable, too.” Her young charge had many admirable attributes. The lady was a little shy of medium height. Like her mother she was trim and modestly built. What she lacked in womanly bosom could always be enhanced, or padded. Where her mother was the quintessential noble lady, quiet, subdued and elegant; Eloise mirrored her father in action: Loud, robust, challenging.

“Your father wants only to protect you, dear,” the nurse continued. “To insist on singing may have been overlooked. But dancing, before strangers, is a bit provocative, sweet one, truly.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “Not you too.” The girl sighed. “Dancing and singing are suitable forms of entertainment for guests. Mother and I sing all the time, it’s no sin.”

“Aye, the singing,” the nurse offered, “your father might have agreed to that, later, if he saw fit. But you insisted, nay demanded.” The nurse wiped a tear from her eye. “Lucky you are not to be beaten beyond recognition. Your father is tolerant; patient as a saint with you.”

Eloise frowned, wiping her own tears. Why was it always her fault? Surely she was the patient one, in a world so full of restraint and confinement. Often enough she was compared, unfavorably to her saintly mother. But now her father, too. In silence the nurse continued to brush out the girl’s hair in long gentle strokes.

“Please, go,” Eloise said. “Don’t miss the banquet.” Music, distant but joyous haunted the chamber, reminding Eloise what she was missing.

“With you here alone! Nay, we’ll dine together,” the nurse answered. Faint laughter joined the music.

“Please, you can tell me what I missed. I won’t be alone,” Eloise pointed to the pair of hounds. Dragon, yipped in her sleep, massive paws flicked as the prey fled before her in the dream. Beast stretched out before the hearth. “I’ve some confessing and penance to do,” Eloise sighed. “And tell Margaret to wear the new apron!”

The nurse frowned and started to disagree.

“Don’t add guilt to my disappointment.” The Lord and Lady Dahlquin saw to it Eloise never suffered alone, her actions had serious consequences for many people; this burden of responsibility came with her noble birth. “Please go, you and John.”

“I won’t be late,” the nurse said, closing the door behind her.

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