Chapter three
As the days grew colder, Lucinda's vocabulary increased, until she could converse like an adult. There was no doubt the child was graced, but as her eyes weren't settled, Elinor didn't want to give her up. Charlotte felt the same way too, surprisingly attached to the child. The babe was so innocent and sweet, and whenever Charlotte saw her, a warm, secure sensation slowly built in her chest.
Charlotte saw the girl clutch a quill to her chest. The papers were scattered all over the floor, and some were stuck haphazardly all along the walls, along with Elinor's own clumsy writing. Lucy's work looked something like this:
... The rain batters our window like an army hailing against the walls of a castle. Mamma finished her crochet today, it is so lovely. I want to try one myself but my hand is too fat for a needle, but mamma says it will stretch. Fancy that!. I learned a new word today, metamorphosis. It is when a dirty grub becomes a pretty butterfly. I like butterflies. I had a dream with butterflies in it the other day. I wonder why they have wings, when we don't...
"Mamma, today can we go look at the birds?" Lucy asked. She liked watching them fly about, and preen themselves. They were very pretty, like little lollies in the sky.
"No, Lucy, let's give you something to eat first." Elinor started unbuttoning her dress. Lucinda may be intelligent, but that didn't mean she could get away without a feed.
"But mamma, please… I want to go see them now…"
"No, Lucinda! Let me feed you." Elinor pointed to her exposed breast.
"Okay, mamma. But after can we see Clover and Thomas?" Clover and Thomas were Lucy's friends, children of 6 and 8 who didn't mind Lucy's peculiarity.
"Yes, sweetie. Now come here."
Another strange thing Charlotte came to notice was whenever she stayed in Elinor's room for the night, she had the most marvellous and wonderful dreams. She never could remember what they where. But how this related to Lucinda's grace, Charlotte had no answer.
Lucy sat in her carrier as she watched Clover and Thomas play hopscotch. It was a game she'd like to try for herself. But she had to sort some things out first. She glanced at her mamma, who was sitting out of earshot, distracted by her needlework. "Clover, can I talk to you?" She asked the small girl quietly.
"What is it Lucy?"
"Clover, what is a graceling?" Lucinda wanted so desperately to know. Her mamma and Charlotte refused to talk to her about it. But she could her them talking about it when she was pretending to sleep sometimes.
It was a question the girl found hard to answer. "Why d'you wanna know, Lucy?"
"My mamma told me about a graceling she saw when she went to get the milk last week. I wondered what the fuss was all about." It was an outright lie, but if Clover bought it, then the end compensated for the means.
"A graceling is a person who has a special ability. They're really good at a particular thing, like signing or dancing, or playing hopscotch."
Lucy thought as much. "So anyone can be a graceling?"
"No, silly. Otherwise I'd beat Thomas everyday!" She glanced meaningfully at her older brother.
"So how can you tell who is and who isn't then?"
Clover grinned. "A graceling has two different coloured eyes…" She overdramatically whispered. Clover was only verifying what she had guessed. Charlotte and Elinor's heated conversations? Arguments that suddenly stopped if they found out she was awake?
…Lucy overheard Elinor speaking about her eyes. "Her eyes are the same, look at her eyes," Elinor persisted…
"Really?" Lucinda considered her own eyes. "What colour are mine?"
"Blue," Clover said. "You're not a graceling. You're a baby."
"I once saw a graceling with one eye gold and the other silver!" Thomas called out. "He was in our home kingdom, Monsea."
"Clover, am I normal?"
"I never heard a baby your age talk, Lucy, but you look like a baby."
Lucinda was two months old.