Author's Note: Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80, who goes over these chapters, and to all of you readers who are still following this story! It's moving slowly, but we'll get to the end, sooner or later!
-L-
It has never been my way to go rushing headlong into something… a few minor spur of the moment assaults notwithstanding. But to pounce on a tip simply because it was given? No. Rather, I did what I do best: I waited, and kept my eyes open.
Thane Free-Winter did give the impression of a man with something on his mind… but it could just as easily be the cost of food or concern over the week's weather predictions. Nothing necessarily dire or sinister… although I did notice that when he looked at me, a little furrow appeared between his brows. A thoughtful furrow. But he said nothing to me, nor did he attempt to approach me, so for the moment I let him have his space.
The possibility that Niranye had thrown me a red herring existed… although I didn't think that was the case. Yesterday, she cheerfully arrived at Hjerim with an armful of books 'for the orphanage.' Inside the one she strongly recommended I read for myself before deciding whether it was appropriate, was tucked a sheet of paper full of neat handwriting, containing marketplace gossip.
Particularly of note, that Linwe had been in town and dropped off 'a consignment in good humor.' I took this to mean he didn't know he was being investigated by the Thieves Guild, and to be a sign of good faith on Niranye's part: see? I haven't snitched on you or anyone else!
In the meantime, festive preparations were ongoing. Ulfric, in a jovial mood I don't think anyone, even I, expected from him, had declared that he wished to throw a small fete in honor of Madame Roche-Guyon to celebrate the 'three out of six she didn't miss.'
I recommended he not phrase it like that to anyone who wasn't there. They might think he was being sarcastic.
This was mostly his own idea. The timing, however, was mine: Kanvanni and Zazaraya would be arriving in another two days, just when the fete would be happening. Therefore, they could be last-minute invitees. Ulfric wasn't looking forward to seeing either of them—apparently, he found the excess of personality wearing—but intended to gird himself for the fray… his phraseology.
I had to chuckle at that. Only he would treat a social event like a major battle.
The kitchen staff, well, the leadership thereof, was ecstatic, seeing this unexpected fete as the first in a line of events which would stretch through the last of autumn and into the winter season. Moreover, they saw it as being practice for when Ulfric was High King, at which point they would need to be at the peak of their career so as not to shame his house. The High King's table and celebrations must be second to none, and Heinrich was determined to get all the practice in that he could.
"And as Anne and Henri are such a large part of Madame Roche-Guyon's life, perhaps we ought to put aside the small dining room for you and your friends?" Ulfric asked Sofie, who was sitting in a large chair, her fancywork laid out over her lap, her tongue held between her teeth as she worked slowly and patiently at the pattern traced onto the simple white linen.
Sofie looked up with sparkling eyes, having remained politely silent unless spoken to, and smiled. "That would be splendid! I know Anne and Henri would enjoy it!"
Ulfric nodded.
"Perhaps Sofie would like to invite some of her friends from the city?" I prompted gently.
Sofie's face flushed, her brow furrowed, the sparkle in her eyes quenched with such rapidity that someone else might have immediately demanded to know what was wrong. Slowly, she shook her head. "N-no, thank you," she said almost inaudibly. She sunk her needle, then with an effort hiked a fragile smile onto her face. "May I be excused?" Her eyes pleaded with me not to make a fuss.
"Of course," I answered. "Shall I walk you home?"
Sofie nodded, shoving her needlework into the small basket she carried it in—at Mother's suggestion—and waiting by the door.
I quickly got up and left with her, stopping long enough to get our wraps.
"Do you want to tell me what you didn't want to tell Ulfric?" I asked, once we were out in the crisp evening air.
Sofie's hand tightened on mine. "It's nothing, really," she mumbled.
"It seems something to me, darling," I answered, squeezing her hand back. "But if you don't care to share, I won't pry."
Sofie sighed. Then, sadly, "I'm a lady now. I don't belong there anymore." The sniffle that followed said clearly that the words weren't her own.
I stopped walking to crouch before her, heedless of snow, slush, and skirt hems. "Says who?"
Sofie, face flushed and eyes teary, shrugged. "Some of their mothers. A Thane's daughter shouldn't be playing with the city urchins. I-I might agree, but… but I was one of those urchins for so long… and now I'm not…" She looked at me with something like desperation. "You-you understand?"
"I do," I answered, drawing her into a hug.
"I am g-grateful to be yours," Sofie whispered.
"I told you I understood, Sofie, my darling," I answered as gently as I could, kissing her cheek before wiping the tears from it with my cloak. "Did you find out how your friends felt about the matter?"
"I don't think they really know what to think," she answered, beginning to walk.
I padded along beside her, regulating my pace to hers.
"On the one hand, I'm still Sofie who played ball and things with them. On the other hand… I don't quite fit in anymore. And… do I put on airs?" she asked, sounding put out. She also sounded as if she mutinously didn't think she did.
"Certainly not—who said you did?" The very idea offended me. Sofie is a sweet-tempered, well-spoken young lady, not the least bit proud or haughty. Not that I've seen, anyway, nor that Mjoll, Svana, Suvaris or Aerin have ever complained about.
"Brimne's mother."
"Well, if you'd like, I'll write the invitations to your friends' mothers, and we'll see what happens." If they're vulgar, they'll jump at the opportunity to attend the adults' fete—because, of course, children shouldn't be too far from their parents. If they're well-bred, they'll write polite refusals and explain why—lack of a good dress, or whatever sensible reason for refusing. And if they're ill-bred, they won't say a word and will just let the matter lapse. "Or, if you'd prefer, we won't." I didn't like to see her so dejected. How long has this state of affairs existed without me knowing?
Three isn't exactly a party. Fortunately, Sofie and I talk quite a bit—or she talks quite a bit, and I listen—so I knew without having to think too hard how to fill out the numbers. Being an orphan child herself, Sofie has been every interested in Lucinda's Crèche, and the children who live there. Sympathy for her fellows. While I hadn't invited her to my first visit there, I did intend to bring her with me on subsequent visits, in the same vein Mother had Lucinda and I help her with charitable works when we were young.
"I was thinking it might be pleasant for you to make acquaintance with the children at the Crèche. Give them a more pleasant time than they've had in a while. Would you like that? To be the hostess to Anne's and Henri's guests of honor?"
Sofie immediately brightened, her eyes going round, her mouth breaking into a large grin. "Oh, yes! May I?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Of course you may. And you may even help me plan the event. You can't begin too young learning to host a formal occasion. Once you're older, you might be called upon to do so if I'm not in the city and your Uncle has one."
The idea clearly charmed her to no end, and effectively banished the rejection of her peers—or, rather, their families—for the time being.
Besides. Who would know better than a child what would make a children's party enjoyable? And one can never begin too early, learning how to write formal letters, and her penmanship and spelling are improved enough that she really ought to begin practicing writing beautifully and eloquently. As a lady should.
-L-
(Letter template.)
To Master and Mistress _ of Windhelm,
Please accept my invitation to you and your (child/children, as listed) to the festivities being held at the Palace of the Kings, Sun's Dusk 15, at six of the clock in the evening.
Sofie brought it to my attention that there is some question of the propriety of her associating with the friends of her younger days. Assure yourself that I have no desire to deprive her of her friends. I shall take your (child's/children's) attendance as a sign that you agree such snobbery has no place.
Sincerely,
Lady Leandra Stormcloak
-L-
(Letter template.)
To Master and/or Mistress _ of Windhelm, proprietor/proprietress of (insert business name)
Please accept my invitation to you, prominent members of the trade of the city of Windhelm, to the festivities being held at the Palace of the Kings, Sun's Dusk 15, at six of the clock in the evening. For too long, members of the trade have been neglected in favor of the noble calling of soldiers. This has been a grievous error in judgement, and it is my hope to begin to rectify the situation. I would be personally honored by your attendance.
(Optional) Should you feel unable to attend owing to the inability to find watchers for your child/children, please feel free to bring them along. My daughter, Sofie, will be hosting a party for the children of other guests in one of the anterooms, and believes that more would be merrier. I extend this invitation on her behalf.
Sincerely,
Lady Leandra Stormcloak
-L-
To Madame Ingina, Matron of Lucinda's Crèche,
Greetings and fortune be yours, Madame. I am writing to invite you, your children, and your charges to Windhelm on the 15th of Sun's Dusk to attend the festivities held by Jarl Ulfric. It is a semi-formal event, but the good clothes provided will be more than appropriate. As the event takes place later in the evening, and with the inadvisability of traveling in this weather at night, the Jarl intends to house you and the children overnight, so you may return to the orphanage in safety on the morrow, with an appropriate escort. I hope this will be the first of many pleasant revels.
Lady Leandra Stormcloak
-L-
(Letter template, written in careful penmanship.)
To (child's name here),
Greetings and salutations. It is my honor to invite you to the Palace of the Kings on the 15th of Sun's Dusk. My honored Uncle, Jarl Ulfric, will be giving a fete to honor one of his guests, and has permitted me to hold my own event for those not yet old enough to attend such grown up functions. It is my hope that you will please join me, and my friends, for an evening of fun, games, and lovely snacks. I hope that I can promise a splendid time for everyone.
Yours very sincerely,
Young Lady Sofie Grey
-L-
"It's not going to be a bad turnout for being on such short notice," I observed to Marguerite. She, Mother, Sofie, Anne, and I were sitting in the Roche-Guyon parlor, sorting the various responses to the messages sent out.
Standing off to one side were Jorleif and Heinrich, Jorleif because he was responsible for the household's budget, Heinrich because he was responsible for feeding everyone. In fact, he had co-opted Svana as extra hands, knowing her capacity for delectable desserts. She might not be trained in artistic expression when it came to food, but what she did make was always delicious.
Two of Sofie's former friends' mothers had agreed to let their children come—but I could tell from the gushing thanks that this was more for their opportunity to rub shoulders with the upper class than anything else. It was crass, quite vulgar in my opinion, but I could put up with crassness and vulgarity as long as they minded their manners while mingling with people of 'other kinds.'
The rest… oddly, their notes of polite decline held undertones of uneasiness, as if they expected me to take offense to the polite 'no, thank you, I don't think it would be appropriate,' and do something dreadful. I couldn't quite figure out where the fear came from, unless that Ice-Veins moniker (and grossly exaggerated soldiers' stories) had painted me in a bad light. Or just an intimidating one. I suppose most women wouldn't have executed prisoners en masse as I did at Markarth.
Still, better that they're afraid of me, than being reversely snobbish towards Sofie.
Of course, Zazaraya and Kanvanni would be there. But also members of the trade, which meant, aside from the usual Nords, quite a few Dunmer—including my dressmaker, who jumped at the chance when I delivered the invitation to her myself—and Niranye.
The eclectic guest list had its reasons, beyond trying to mend fences on some level with the local non-Nord population. There would be the necessary guards, members of the garrison, and this would be a very obvious way to show them that things were changing… and that they should be prepared to change with the times themselves.
Sofie was enraptured, and had been enthusiastic to the point of needing to nap twice a day, wearing herself out being helpful or just far more excited than I thought she would be. Mother pulled me aside one day to point out that Sofie was probably expecting her efforts to be judged by me, and that she was exhausting herself in an effort to ensure that—being so judged by someone she admired—the result was a positive one.
As it was, she was dozing over a book she was ostensibly reading, while Anne played her lute. All of us, Anne inclusive, pretended not to notice Sofie's drooping. But be sent to bed she would not!
Marguerite also dropped the same delicate hint, with no small amount of bemusement. 'Leandra, darling, little Sofie adores you! Of course she wishes to measure up to your standards, young as she is. She tries so hard to emulate you. It is adorable.'
I didn't think it a good thing for her to emulate me too closely, although I had noticed that she has adopted some of my speech mannerisms, and a way of moving here or there that looks remarkably familiar.
"Have you ever had anything to do with Khajiit merchant princes?" I asked Marguerite.
"Nothing at all," she answered, shaking her head. "I only know that they're shrewd and clever, and rarely venture away from their own interests."
That was the impression I had, too.
"Not to worry. The fete will be appropriate for anyone, members of the trade up," Mother put in. "You did acquire musicians?"
"I found a few," I answered. "No one from the Bards College, but a few locals. I was rather hoping Kanvanni might be willing to call his caravan's musicians in to… round out the mix."
Because if I have to listen to Age of Oppression more than once during the night… in fact, I'd probably better speak to the musicians and tell them I'd better not hear it at all. It will sour the mood of the fete, and no one wants that. The fete won't be a night for province politics.
"I'll keep an ear open, in case any traveling musicians happen to come through in good time," Mother volunteered.
"That would be appreciated." I looked down at my embroidery, a motif of gusting lines of wind carrying autumn leaves, which I was putting around the neck and hems of one of Sofie's over-dresses. She had already made me promise we would wear our matching lavender dresses, which I agreed to do.
I wonder, if I had known how excitable she would end up being, would I have encouraged her to take a hand in planning her little event? On the one hand, it's got her thoroughly wound up and tired out. On the other, she does seem to be working even harder to learn the kinds of things associated with such events. Her desire to manage her children's party as if it was as formal and grown up an affair as the one I was managing was obvious—though not to the point of pushing her to pretense. For instance, the refreshments were simple compared to what the adults would be having (or enduring) next door, there would be games aplenty, and probably lively romping once the initial solemnity of the occasion wore off.
At least, I hoped so. Adults can manage formal affairs, which are mostly business interspersed with requisite dances, but children should be allowed to play. I suppose Erald should be given the choice of whether he wants to stay with the children or mix with the adults. At seventeen, he's by far the oldest, and might prefer not to hang about with the younger children.
"And everything is in order, Heinrich?" I asked, turning slightly in my chair to face him.
"All in order, my lady," he answered promptly. "And thank you again, for lending Svana to me! She's been indispensable!"
From what I hear, she's no less an exacting general than Heinrich. She's been handling the basics, while Heinrich has been turning 'basics' into 'show pieces.'
And to think, less than a year ago, I was sending her to him for instruction, if she needed it!
"And the hall and antechamber, Jorleif?"
"Both are quite ready… Monsieur was most understanding about the new hangings." Jorleif had compromised with Monsieur: he would provide new covers for Monsieur's artwork—white, to make the room look bigger and tidier—if Monsieur, to preserve the secrecy of his art, would undertake to hang them all.
I think Marguerite talked to Monsieur, because he approached Jorleif last night, collected all the hangings, and this morning they were all up. By now, Jorleif has probably had the house servants festooning the place with evergreen garlands and the usual snowberry twigs.
"Sofie?" I called, raising my voice a little.
Sofie shook herself out of her stupor. "Yes, Mama?"
"Shall we go have a look at your fete's room? Anne, would you like to come?" Anne had been pitching in as much as possible, help Sofie hadn't turned down. Admittedly, they spent a lot of time giggling and imagining rather than doing, but I didn't care in the slightest. Let them play and laugh!
"Oh, yes!" Sofie called, bouncing out of her chair as Anne beamed, "Oh, certainly!"
The three of us headed down to the main hall, which did look quite festive and much lighter than usual with the new, pristine white hangings. The evergreen swags and the snowberry twigs were exactly where they ought to be, adding a festive touch of red and green. The tables had not been adorned with the red cloths usually used around Saturalia, but they would be tomorrow. And, doubtless, there would be centerpieces aplenty, independent of the food.
The anteroom in which the children's party would be held was also decked with garlands and snowberries, the space made larger by having the big table pushed against one wall, the chairs and benches against the other to leave a large space available for the games to take place in. Because it would not be used for anything before the party, the table had its red cover already in place, which lent a splash of rosy warmth to the stones of the castle.
We really must have some of these rooms plastered soon. Bare stone is so depressing.
Sofie was in full flow about what games would be played, and showed me that the necessary equipment for doing so were already cleverly hidden underneath the table, camouflaged by the tablecloth.
"It's going to be excellent!" Anne cried, bringing her hands together with enthusiasm.
"Of course it will," I answered, pulling myself out of my own thoughts to focus on the girls. "You two have worked too hard for it to possibly fail."
I prayed I hadn't just jinxed them by being so optimistic!