Anastasia's next glimpse of her new stepmother was at the joint meeting the full Council of the Empire. The season had ended at midsummer but instead of enjoying the sparkling sun and cool sea breezes at Vorkleves-de-la-Mar on the gulf du Nord Anastasia was stuck in hot, humid Vorbarra Sultana playing hostess for Count Xavier as Yelizaveta was now spending 26/10 at Ezar's bedside, and with most of the Counts still in town due to the Emperor's imminent demise it might as well have still been the season damn it. Anastasia was feeling even more anti-social than usual with Rene back on his ship instead of at his wife's side making Vorbarra Sultana bearable. Roland too had disappeared into the hinterlands to train up a new draft of recruits leaving little Marjorie Voraldin visibly mopey. And she had Anastasia's full sympathy .
The joint meeting was a full dress occasion with the Counts and Ministers in their state robes and their ladies seated in the gallery in court gowns and jewels. Anastasia had elected to wear Mama's yellow diamonds with her old gold and ivory satin. She entered the gallery on Lord Rodrick Vorkleves' arm, spotted Marjorie Voraldin, adorable in green and emeralds, and instantly sent her escort to claim the seats next to the girl. Anastasia followed with more deliberation for the sake of her gown and settled into the chair beside Marjorie's. The two ladies admired each other's dresses and jewels then proceeded to introduce their companions.
"This is Kristina Bernadotte," Marjorie said indicating the blond a few years older than herself sitting at her left hand. "She's from Earth, an anthropologist studying our colorful natives."
"Really?" Anastasia looked at the girl with surprise and interest. She would never have taken Kristina for an off-worlder for all her unusual coloring. She looked too comfortable in her billowing pale green and white silk dress, suitable for a lady in attendance, sitting with back straight and hands folded in her lap like any Vor bud but her ice blue eyes were wide and her lips parted as she stared past Marjorie at Rodrick spectacular in his red and blues. Looking to her left Anastasia saw her brother in law was similarly entranced. Really, the Vorkleves boys were falling like dominoes!
The benches around them gradually filled with other Vor ladies and their escorts. The dowager princess made her entrance with the heir and took the chairs set on either side of the plain camp stool that was the official seat of the emperors of Barrayar. A screen was set up and Ezar appeared looking like Death in full regimentals. Yelizaveta wasn't visible but Anastasia knew she would be hovering just out of pickup range, ready to pounce along with a medical team the minute the session ended.
Down below the men went through the choreographed steps of formally ratifying measures long since decided through discussions and deals made in their ladies' drawing rooms or the privacy of their own libraries. The Emperor informed his loyal councilors of his wishes in his own inimitably intimidating way and the majority obediently voted their agreement with the exception of a handful of principled – or insane - ultra-conservatives who abstained; Vortrifrani, Vordrozha, Vortugalov and Vorbrecken sounded off like men, but Vorfolse was barely audible and clearly scared to death.
After the vote Aral Vorkosigan rose to make a graceful, modest little speech of acceptance and Anastasia was forced to acknowledge a stirring of pride. Her father was now Lord Regent of the Empire! – assuming he could keep it. The Vor game was nothing if not unpredictable and nobody could ever be quite secure in his gains. Anything could happen once the old Emperor was dead. Grimly Anastasia picked out one by one those Counts who would surely make trouble if they saw the chance, beginning but alas not ending with the pretentious Count Vordarian.
After a few more speeches the meeting broke up. Yelizaveta got Ezar back into his bed, Princess Kareen took her son home for his nap, and the Counts, ministers, their ladies and their aides trooped from council chamber to the great hall for luncheon after which the men went back to their business and the ladies retired to the white drawing room to partake of tea and coffee by and indulge in political gossip.
Anastasia soon found herself back in Marjorie's company and her Terran friend's "An anthropologist from Earth," she said to Miss Bernadotte, trying not to sound incredulous.
"We've been studying the pastoralist culture of the Voraldin downs," the girl explained then smiled at Marjorie. "But I couldn't miss the chance to witness a historic occasion like this. I was interested to see how similar your political system is to ours at home."
Before Anastasia could follow that up she spotted her stepmother hovering uncertainly at the edge of the crowd with her woman attendant, both wearing ordinary visiting costumes instead of court dress. Anastasia frowned disapproval then was caught by a sudden, horrible thought; did Cordelia have a court dress? Had anybody thought to explain the intricate social code requiring different costumes for different occasions and even times of day to her? Knowing menthe answer was probably no.
"Excuse me, I see my stepmother," she said to her companions and crossed the room to Cordelia trying to decide what she should call her. 'Lady Vorkosigan' sounded stiff and unfriendly and the poor woman had problems enough without worrying about a hostile stepdaughter. 'Mother' was right out. "Good afternoon, Cordelia," she said. "Do you take coffee or tea?"
The new Lady Vorkosigan was supplied with a cup of black coffee and introduced to Marjorie and Kristina. "How is the Council of Counts and Ministers like your government on Earth?" Anastasia asked the latter curiously.
Cordelia looked startled and interested. "They have monarchies on Earth?"
"Oh yes, very ancient ones. I'm from the United Kingdoms of Scandinavia and your joint meeting of Counts and Ministers is almost identical to our opening of the Grand Council of the Three Kingdoms." Kristina explained. "You see each kingdom and protectorate has its own legislature – not unlike your Parliament of Aldinburgh, Marjorie - headed by Viceroys of the royal family or elected leaders depending on their individual constitutions. Every year representatives of each member state meet with the King and his privy council to ratify treaties and discuss joint issues and the like." She twinkled at the Barrayarans, "We get ourselves up in archaic fancy dress too and put on quite a show if I do say so myself!"
….
The last thing Anastasia wanted to do was play social godmother to the new Lady Vorkosigan but the good name of her birth House was at stake so she invited herself home with Cordelia. As soon as they'd settled themselves in the drawing room Anastasia raised the question.
"Cordelia, has anybody explained your duties to you?"
The Betan woman looked dismayed. "Aral said I could live a private life."
"That's what I'm talking about, your private social duties as the lady of House Vorkosigan." Cordelia stared blankly. "You have been introduced to Madame Beeton at least?"
"Who?"
"Oh God!" Anastasia said with deep feeling and reached for the bell. A footman appeared, "Ask Madame Beeton to step up to the drawing room if you please, Feodor" The man vanished and Anastasia turned back to her stepmother. "Madame Beeton is our housekeeper. You should have sent for her to give your orders when you took up residence."
Cordelia was shaking her head helplessly. "I didn't know."
"How could you?" Anastasia glared at the Droushnakovi, "Couldn't you have told her?" the woman blushed.
"Drou just got here herself -" Cordelia began defensively.
"And she's a bodyguard not a lady's maid," Anastasia finished on second thoughts and nodded an apology. "I beg your pardon, Droushnakovi."
The woman glowed with pleasure, as Anastasia had known she would, at being treated like an armsman. Then the drawing room door opened to admit a tight mouthed little woman in a respectable dark silk. "Beetie, can you believe it," Anastasia exclaimed energetically, "poor Lady Vorkosigan didn't know she had a housekeeper until I told her three minutes ago!"
Justified offense morphed into sympathetic dismay on the housekeeper's round face. "Oh my, isn't that just like a man! And I was just wondering if I should be so bold as to present myself."
"The Count-my-grandfather and milord father haven't told my milady a single thing," Anastasia continued warmly. "Why she doesn't so much as have a proper court dress, and I'm sure she hasn't sent out her cards."
"Oh my solemn word!" the good woman gasped, completely appalled.
Droushnakovi was beginning to look a little dismayed herself at such an abyss of ignorance and Cordelia downright bewildered. "What cards?"
The other three women winced. "Sit down, Beetie, we definitely need to have a good feminine coze," said Anastasia.
Cordelia was vastly relieved to discover that she could continue to leave domestic arrangements entirely to Beetie and took in the dress code without a blink, she was former military after all so the concept of different uniforms for different occasions wasn't strange to her, but she seemed unable to get her head around the intricacies of card leaving and calling etiquette.
Anastasia took a deep breath and a firm grip on her patience. "Never mind all that, let's just stick to what needs doing right now. You should have sent Gran'da's card, Father's and your own by hand of an armsman to all the Counts' houses upon taking up residence. Since you didn't I think it would be best for you and me, Cordelia, to jointly give an evening reception to celebrate Father's new office," she shot a look at Beetie who nodded approvingly.
"Good thinking, milady. That'll make it look less like a mistake."
"Exactly," Anastasia agreed. "The last thing we want, Cordelia, is for Vor society to get the idea you don't know what's due to it and to yourself."
"That would be very damaging to our standing," Beetie agreed like the loyal old retainer she was.
Cordelia straightened, eye brightening. "I see! All this complicated etiquette is important politically."
"Extremely," said Anastasia, relieved her stepmother was beginning to understand. "Politicking doesn't happen in the Council Chamber, Cordelia. It happens around our dinner tables and in our drawing rooms. If you aren't on visiting terms with the Countesses and ministers' ladies they won't accept your invitations and Father won't be able to talk business with their men off the record and informally."
"I get it," Cordelia said leaning forward intent and interested. "So how do we go about throwing this reception thing?"