Hope Before The Fall

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

She saw the dust on her night table the moment she came back to her room. 

Her maid must have found the pouch in her skirts and taken it out for her. 

The pouch was worn and the leather dull under the flame of her night lamp. 

The dust was an unwelcome reminder. 

The girl had forgotten about the Sorcerer, as if the interlude of the past months had never been. 

She buried the pouch again in the pocket of her gown and dropped to her bed. 

Then she pulled her necklace off, her palm guarding the crystal stargaze from the light. This keepsake didn’t disturb her so much, the stargaze a talisman of the moment her destiny changed. 

The silver links of the chain were cool, trailing down her arm while she traced the crystal tiers with her fingertip.

Tonight, supper had been long. 

She and her father talked well past dessert, just as they had the night before. She was still uncomfortable around him, and the Patron was hardly more at ease than she. 

But he was persistent, skillful in preventing the awkward pauses which might have dammed the flow of conversation. 

The topic tonight had been safe, her father discussed the season, confiding that he was thinking about adding to his estate with one in the southeast.

“Properties like this rarely come to purchase,” he said. “However, his son is frivolous and prefers city life.”

“But it’s far from here. How can you watch over both?”

“It would be foolish of me to attempt it,” the Patron replied. “Frankly, I think this would be ideal for you.”

The girl said nothing, just set down her fork and stared at him.

“The estate’s small,” he continued. “But the soil is so rich you could grow just about anything. There’s also a nice copse of woods, perfect for riding and hunting.”

“It’s a long distance.” 

“Yes, but not so much I couldn’t guide you through any concerns until you were ready to run it on your own. That shouldn’t take long. You’re very capable.”

“You would need at least one full day’s travel if you run the horses hard. But more likely it’s a two day journey.”

“And that would serve you well, don’t you think?” The Patron spoke softly, eyeing her with raised brows. “Are you really so attached here?”

The girl chortled before she could stop herself, glancing to the attendants just as their eyes flicked to each other.

“No, Papa. Of course I’m not.”

They sipped their wine without speaking for a few minutes.

“Good society there from what I’ve heard,” the Patron mused. “The people are said to be quite eccentric, but charming.”

“You don’t think they’d wonder about an unmarried woman as one of their Patrons?”

“You would be properly introduced, so what is there to suspect?”   

The girl scarcely tasted the last bites of dessert, her mind digesting her father’s plan. 

As one of the most respected Patrons on the continent, an introduction from him would be invaluable. 

And although he hadn’t said so, she suspected the people there had heard nothing about her. At least not yet they hadn’t.

“I must admit this sounds intriguing, Papa. But scandal can travel to great lengths.” 

“How unfortunate it is that you’re right,” the Patron said, glaring at the servants until they began to fidget. “Really, the consequences for gossip can never be severe enough.”

His tone was mild, but the faces of their attendants paled. 

The girl suppressed the urge to chuckle, the thought crossing her mind that such restraint might kill the Cook.

“Thank you, Papa. I’ll think about it.”  

The girl still couldn’t believe how quickly everything had changed. 

When she opened her eyes just before the lunch hour, the smiling warmth of her maid was the first she saw before the servant wished her a good day. 

The stable hands had been deferential when she came to the barn, her favorite steed ready for her. 

She hadn’t gone to the village yet to see how she fared with the merchants, but she was certain they would be courteous when she did. 

Just like that, her ostracism lifted as word spread that the Patron was speaking to her again. 

Yet the girl knew she would always be marked. 

Her father’s suggestion was really too wonderful, and she needn’t worry about the taint spreading any farther.

The girl sighed, turning her head to see the candle melt dripping from the night lamps to the floor. 

Startled, she looked out the window and saw the moon at its peak in the sky.  She must have fallen into a daze. 

The hour was much later than she thought. 

But on this night, she was in her room, instead of the Caverns. The blessed relief made her fall back on her bed.  

She could feel the soft wool of her nightclothes, laid out over the quilts. 

Still dressed in her dinner gown with tiny beads embroidered in the pale blue silk, the girl tried to muster the strength to get up and change. 

Instead she picked up her baby blanket, now a throw in the middle of her bed. Deep green with yellow stitching, it was the only splash of color in a sea of creamy quilts. 

Her mother had knit the blanket in the early days of her pregnancy, leaving behind the only gift the girl had from her.

“For my little one, with love,” her mother had stitched more than twenty years ago.   

The girl caressed the words, the sun yellow thread bright amidst the forest green. Then she smiled and closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Mama,” she murmured.