Sorry, last time I left out this: Disclaimer: The OCs and plot belong to me... but everything else belongs to Kristin Cashore :)
Chapter Two
The days quickly passed for Elinor. The matron watched, satisfied, as the girl shed her shell of grime and shame. Elinor regained her confidence, and with that, came a healthy glow to her cream skin. Her hair was now in soft locks running down her back, and her eyes had regained their luster. No one could guess who she was, or where she'd been, the things that had happened to her. She wore white or teacup blue; the dresses were borrowed from the mayor's wife, who'd recently had her second child. Elinor was due for her first.
Her labour was short, and before Elinor knew it was over, she held a babe in her arms. She had never held one so young before. Her arms trembled, her knees shook. She wanted to run away from this thing; curl up somewhere safe and never have to look at it again. A babe… how could she provide for a babe when she couldn't even look after herself? It happened too fast. She felt dizzy...
Its eyes were dark blue, like hers. Elinor suddenly was swept up in a torrent of emotion; she felt savagely protective for this babe who had brought her such pain, a humble love for it because she knew it would bring her happiness, a little bit disgusted at the way it was conceived, and ashamed that she wouldn't be able to provide for it better. Elinor's cheeks burnt with the shame of it all. That's what her father told her, her emotions were shameful. The mewling merely grumbled in her trembling arms. It didn't cry. Instead, the more Elinor looked at it the more she was disturbed by its quiet, reproachful gaze. It was as if the babe was analysing Elinor. But the matron swept it out of Elinor's arms before she thought any more about it.
"It's a girl!" The matron, Charlotte, exclaimed. "What are you going to name her?"
The thought never occurred to Elinor. What should she name her? Bethany, like her mother, or Lucinda, after her sister? Both names she would've gladly given to her daughter. Her mother and sister didn't need them any more. "Lucinda. After my sister."
Charlotte knew from the start the baby, Lucinda, was different. She had an intelligence and eerie patience to her, as if she were putting up with the matron's attempts to clean and dress her. The babe had two dark blue eyes, like the night sky, like her mother. But still, she had to check.
On the third day after Lucinda's birth the mother deemed the weather warm enough for a stroll about the gardens. "Can I ask you to look after Lucy for a while? I think some fresh air would do me good," Elinor asked.
Although Charlotte had reservations, she believed it was the best thing for Elinor. She took the babe from Elinor's arms, and watched her walk out the door. Lucinda had been fitfully asleep, but as Elinor left, blinked herself awake. The matron put her in the cot by Elinor's bed. She sat on the nearby armchair to go on with her needlework, but soon had to put it down. The babe was making the grumbling sound again. Lucinda made the sound– somewhere between a mumble and a moan (but not a cry, she never cried)– she always did if something wasn't right. Sighing, Charlotte went to the cot, and carried the babe in her arms back to the armchair. The little one was cosy and warm, wrapped up in a bundle of cloth. She glanced down at the babe, and what she saw drew icy fingers down her spine. Charlotte realised that this was the first time she'd held Lucy when Elinor wasn't there. A sickly feeling, fear, stirred in her gut. The babe was frowning at her.
"Where is my mother?" The babe asked. "Where's mamma?"
Charlotte cried out, and almost dropped the baby.
"I want mamma."
Charlotte fled to fetch her mother.