…Hello? *echo*
Where IS everyone? I miss you guys… and your stories! Anyway, this is the very first (only?) entry for Calcifersgrl's Howl's Moving Castle challenge fic. Hey, anyone know if you can move fics and save your reviews?
Alert! Alert! This HMC fanfiction is not, I repeat NOT from Sophie's point of view, but that of another canon character! If you have a heart condition, an ulcer, are pregnant or think you may be, or have any other condition which shouldn't be exposed to new and unusual things… Well, I HOPE you can deal with this. This has been a Caudex public service announcement.
Disclaimer: DWJ owns the recognizable people, and Billy Shakespeare owns his bits. So, that leaves me with a nameless man, two nameless apprentices at Cesari's, a nameless youth, and Lizzie, the only character with the privilege of her very own name. Good times.
Requirements for Calcifersgrl's Challenge
1. Sophie cannot wind up running away or leaving the Moving Castle to get away from Howl - and this must be Sophie/Howl really. And must be a little fluff in it!
(Umm… oops. They're barely in it. There's a little fluff, even if it's not for them.)
2. Must be beta-read.
WHAT YOU MUST INCLUDE:
1. A goat must appear in the story.
2. Sophie must, accidentally or otherwise, hit Howl with a frying pan.
3. Someone should discover a unique talent.
4. There must be something, be it a single line or a whole sonnet, from Shakespeare.
5. Something must happen to an article of Howl's clothing.
~*~*~*
By the third or fourth time it happened, he was sure that he wasn't imagining things.
The new girl at Cesari's wasn't wearing her real face.
Michael sat at one of the small tables inside the shop, took another bite of his cake, and studied her carefully. As it was, she was a lovely creature, with curly black hair, blue eyes that matched her dress almost exactly, and a most captivating smile. However, this was the fifth night that he'd seen her, the second that she'd smiled at him, and he was beginning to see hints of an entirely different girl hiding underneath.
It was plain as plain that it was some sort of disguise spell. The mystery lay in why she wore it, whether it was in vanity or to conceal her identity. Michael rather doubted that Market Chipping was the sort of place that would be embroiled in intrigue. That was why the moving castle was here. He craned his neck to see around the growing evening crowds and caught sight of the girl, black curls combed over her shoulder, wrapping up a loaf of bread for an older woman. In that brief instant, her spell faltered again, and Michael was afforded with a full view of her. And he'd thought that her disguise was pretty.
She was actually quite a bit shorter, a good deal more slender, and as fair in coloring as her disguise was dark. Any trace of curl was gone from her pale blonde hair, and as she looked over the crowd for the next in line, he glimpsed her eyes, pale gray and large in her small face. The moment passed and she became her darker counterpart again.
Since no one else reacted to the amazing shape-shifting girl, Michael concluded that it was something that only he could see. At least now he knew that the spell wasn't kept up out of shame of her looks. Now he was really curious, but he couldn't exactly just walk up to her and ask. He always got tongue tied around pretty girls, and he didn't want her to think he was some sort of brainless lunatic. He needed a plan. Michael cast about thoughtfully for a moment before finding inspiration on the back of his empty pastry bag. He rummaged through his pockets, eventually producing a much battered quill pen, enchanted to never need ink, and set to work. He had a fair hand at drawing; though, he thought a bit fretfully, it was much easier when the subject was clearly visible and reasonably stationary. However, he was recipient of only one more complete look at her and several maddening hints of fair hair or large eyes, and she flitted about at great speed, taking and filling orders with a constant smile. Her image stuck with him though, and he finished his drawing in record time.
Michael waved it about a little to dry it and added a hastily scrawled question mark for good measure, which he then smudged with a careless sleeve. He stifled a foul word by stuffing the last of his cake into his mouth and peered at his work critically. A bit smeary perhaps, but it was still clearly her face, and the question mark next to it remained quite legible. He folded it neatly and went to the counter. After a moment, a pretty blonde came to help him, and he gave the picture to her with the request to deliver it to the curly haired girl. She winked knowingly and sped off. The girl's spell flickered again when she was given the note, and she smiled at him as she went to lean against the back wall and unfolded the paper. Her smile dropped away as she studied it, and her eyes shot back to his in astonishment. There was a flurry of movement and a whispered conversation, and she fairly flew around the counter and seized his arm.
"Come on! Hurry, I'm on my break!" Her voice was firm and sensible. Somehow that surprised him. She led Michael into a back room full of fragrant pastries and cakes waiting to be taken up front. She shoved a small stool at him and seated herself on another.
"What is this supposed to be?" she asked, waving his drawing in his face. As he'd expected, Michael's ability to speak failed him. Of all of the possible outcomes he'd imagined, this hadn't been one of them.
"Err…"
"Well?" she demanded. Her hands were restless, worrying the paper and clutching at the folds of her skirt until she settled them round her knees and began to twiddle her thumbs very fast. Somehow, that put him back on firm ground. She was just as nervous as he was.
"I—I wanted to know why you are using a disguise spell." he replied, so quietly she had to lean forward to hear him. "I still do."
"Why? I've never seen you before in my life." She looked prepared to brain him with a pastry rack and make for the door.
"I want to know why I can see through it." he hastened to explain, "I mean… I'm going to ask about it when I get home, but anything you tell me might help. I've never heard of this happening. I'm only an apprentice you see, and—" he sighed and flung his arms wide ineffectually. Why did his brain always fail him when he most needed it? At least his voice hadn't added insult to injury and squeaked in the middle of his sentence.
"You study magic?" she asked, leaning further forward on her stool and propping her chin in her hands, thumbs somehow whirling still. At his nod she continued, "I was going to, but I found that I liked this much more." Michael couldn't imagine how that was possible and objected, which lead to a debate over the worst apprenticeship possible. He couldn't think of a more tedious prospect than a lifetime of candlestick making, while she strong-mindedly declared that there was nothing worse than being apprenticed to the family business. Michael soon forgot his awkwardness. She was obviously clever; she had a smart answer for everything and a sly sense of humor. She was good at arguing, and it seemed that she actually enjoyed it. He saw her face several more times while they talked, and by the time someone came to tell her that her break was over, he couldn't believe that he'd ever thought that her disguise was beautiful. It was pretty enough, to be sure, but not nearly so much as her proper form.
"I like you." she declared as she made to rise, "I want to see you again." Nothing could have pleased him more.
"I'd like to see you, too." he assured her. "Could I have a name to ask for when I come?"
For the first time since she began, her thumbs stopped twiddling. She stood quickly and wiped her hands on her skirt.
"Oh! I forgot. My name is Lettie. Lettie Hatter." Her smile seemed to be a part of her regardless of her disguise. She offered him her hand. Michael carefully stored her name away in his mind. Unless he really worked at it, he was terrible with names. He didn't want to forget hers.
"I'm Michael Fisher. Pleased to meet you." He stood as well and they shook hands. Howl probably would have kissed it or something similar, but Michael knew that he would ruin any elegant gesture of that sort.
They parted at the door, and he walked away from Cesari's with satisfaction. He'd had an enjoyable dinner and an even more enjoyable conversation. That it was with a pretty girl was an additional bonus. He hadn't stuttered once. All that remained was to figure out why he could see through her spell. If he was lucky, Howl would be at the castle later, rather than…wherever it was that he went. Howl would know what it meant.
"What does it mean? It means that you have an unusual talent, actually." Howl hadn't shown up until that morning and he was in no mood for civil conversation until well after dinnertime. Apparently, he had just broken things off with a girl who lived north of Porthaven. It always took at least a morning and some ribbing from Calcifer before he was himself again. About a year before, Howl had apparently decided it was time to seek out true love or some such, and had begun courting girls and then dropping each to take up with another, after he'd worked them up enough to leave them sufficiently heartbroken. Michael didn't know what to make of Howl's odd behavior, but he wished that he'd stop. Whenever the girl's angry champions couldn't find Howl to dismember, they consistently came to the conclusion that roughing up his apprentice would do just as well.
"Can you do it?" Michael asked. He stepped over an overturned stool to reach the book he wanted, sliding a bit over the greasy, soot coated floor.
"Of course I can." Howl replied matter-of-factly. There was no danger of false modesty from him. "But it's definitely an uncommon ability." He paused to study the spell he was working on, squinting a little. It must be, Michael thought idly, just about time for Howl to renew his vision acuity spell. Without it, he would need glasses for reading, and Howl's vanity would never stand for that.
"Anyone with a bit of training can see when a spell like that is being used, especially by someone who doesn't know what they're doing." Howl continued in what Michael thought of as his master-to-apprentice voice, "But it's unusual to be able to actually see through it. You need the ability, and some sort of connection with the caster."
"What kind of connection?"
Howl took the time to think while he scribbled something illegible in the margins of his paper. "Anything really, as long as you know them. A friend or relative, or even an enemy, I suppose. But most people under that sort of spell don't want to be recognized, so don't do anything stupid. I don't want to have to get up early some morning to identify your remains. When did you figure out you were seeing through one?"
Michael had anticipated a question like that, and had already thought up an appropriate answer. "Yesterday morning, actually, yours started flickering. I've been wondering about it since." Howl's spells were strong, and they weren't exactly disguise, but Michael had lived with him for three years. It was certainly possible.
"Really?" called Calcifer wickedly from the fireplace, "Is that what you were smiling about? Now, if you had asked me, I would've said that you'd come back from seeing a girl and were thinking about her. Mooning about all afternoon just like Howl. Will you need your own guitar, do you think?"
Michael didn't like or understand the feeling of heat creeping up his neck, and he knew that they could see it. He mumbled a "No one asked you." anyway, knowing that that would be enough for Howl. He, at least, Michael thought with a sideways glare at the grate, understood the value of a secret. As far as Howl was concerned, as long as Michael learned what he needed to with a minimum of troublemaking, he could do as he liked. Michael planned, for the first time, to take full advantage.
It took Howl a full week to find another girl to chase, but Michael was ready. The first day that he was left to himself, he finished the work left for him in record time, left plenty of logs within Calcifer's reach, and nearly flew out the door. He ran the full two miles to get to Cesari's just after noon.
"Michael!" Lettie called with a smile, "I didn't think that you were going to come!" She had a way of speaking with such excitement that one always felt important in her presence, regardless of who they were. It was a slow day, so Michael was allowed to lean against the counter and talk with her all afternoon, about whatever they liked. It was a bit disconcerting to discover that Lettie was already certain that she wanted ten children, but he only had to see her firm gaze, blue and gray by turns, to know that she was strong-minded enough to be sure of what she wanted. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor man who would try to convince her otherwise.
She didn't like to talk about her family much. It was the only topic that unnerved her enough to still her restless hands. Michael found something odd about that, though he wasn't quite sure what. In turn, he didn't reveal exactly who he was apprenticed to. The castle hadn't been in Market Chipping long, but Howl was already well-established as a heart eater and soul stealer. Michael expected uncles armed with pistols any day now. He didn't need the addition of Lettie's parasol wielding mother.
They continued to see each other almost every day for several weeks. There were some days, like this one, that were so busy that they never spoke at all, and Michael simply sat at a table and watched her. He was seeing Lettie's actual face more and more often as they got to know each other better. Her disguise appeared only rarely, usually when he called her by name, or they talked about something that made her nervous. Michael's thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.
"You using this table for anything son?"
And that was that. Michael was only allowed to stay as long as he didn't interfere with custom. He gave up his chair and headed for the door.
"Michael!" He looked over his shoulder at Lettie, waving over the counter. "My day off is tomorrow. Come find me!" He grinned at her and kept walking. He very nearly walked into the door on his way out.
"Where do you go every day?" Calcifer whined, "You never stay to talk to me anymore." Calcifer was bored, and being bored always made him nosy. Michael averted his eyes as he answered.
"I go to the bakery in Market Chipping. The girl there is the one who gives me cake to bring home. She's really interesting."
"Really? Pretty too, right?" Calcifer asked, leaning forward with an inquiring lift of his green flame eyebrows. Michael nodded slowly and Calcifer bent his head over his logs, crackling with laughter. Michael wished that he had the pan nearby. He could have made something to eat.
"No wonder you didn't say anything! Don't let Howl know. He'll charm her and steal her out from under your nose!" Michael hadn't thought of that. Howl might not do it on purpose, but steal Lettie he could, very easily. It wasn't as though Michael was much competition. Michael found that this did not sit well with him at all. Until that moment, he had only considered Lettie a friend. Now, it was rapidly becoming clear that while that was nice, he thought that she'd make a nice more-than-a-friend, too.
"Are you going to give me that log, or just look at it?" Michael blinked and saw that his hand had frozen, log and all, halfway to the fireplace. He passed it to Calcifer mutely and stretched out on the floor, arms behind his head, and watched the play of shadows on the ceiling.
"No, it's Lettie's day off." The girl at the counter, whose name he couldn't remember, shook her head, setting her braid swinging. "She'll be in the dorms. Go round the back and knock." Michael thanked her and left, rolling his shoulder to relieve the remaining stiffness from sleeping on the floor. Howl had been nice enough to pretend not to notice. He must by now, Michael thought, be wondering about his apprentice's apparent descent into madness.
Michael went around the shop to the back door, stepping around the baskets of day-old baking left out for the poor. It was already open, and Lettie was leaning against the doorway, thumbs twiddling, eyes focused skyward. He cleared his throat loudly to get her attention. She jumped in surprise and looked over at him. Her face brightened.
"There you are. I've been waiting."
"Are you in a hurry?" he teased, "The town isn't going anywhere, you know."
"I know." She smiled and turned her eyes skyward again. "I was just watching the clouds. I think it's going to rain today." Since the clouds were the high wispy kind, Michael didn't think it was likely, but didn't comment.
"Did you have someplace you needed to go Lettie? We can go anywhere you want."
Her forehead creased and she twiddled her thumbs thoughtfully. "I thought that we could just walk around, if that's alright."
That suited him fine, and they set off, slowly making their way around town, Lettie's thumbs keeping perfect time with her steps. Once she stopped and bought a spun sugar rose for each of them, despite his protests. She immediately started sucking on the stem of hers, but Michael had never cared for that kind of sweet. He decided to save it, and put it in his jacket pocket, hoping that it wouldn't melt.
They crossed Market Square again and Lettie led him purposely into a different area of town. After about two blocks she stopped.
"Oh look," she said with some surprise, "The hat shop is busy. I guess I won't stop in after all."
The small shop, connected with a weathered, homey looking house was indeed bustling. Through the front window, Michael could see a single harried looking assistant working her way from customer to cash box to out of sight all together and back again.
"Sophie looks tired." Lettie remarked, "Everyone's after new hats for May Day, I imagine. I hear people raving about the hats she makes all the time."
"My birthday is on May Day." Lettie looked up at him with an alarming amount of interest. She would have likely started in on all sorts of plans if Michael hadn't waylaid her immediately.
"Who is Sophie? A friend of yours?" Actually, he was more inclined to believe that they were sisters or cousins. In the glimpse that he'd gotten of her, he'd determined that they had the same point to their chins.
Lettie faltered, her thumbs going still and her disguise becoming visible.
"Yes. We've been friends for as long as I can remember."
Something about this was growing more and more disturbing to Michael. Her explanation was perfectly plausible he supposed, but her reaction didn't add up. He considered all of the other times her disguise had popped up when she was nervous. But that wasn't all. Her thumbs…
"That's it!" he cried exultantly. Lettie shot him a mystified look.
"You stop twiddling your thumbs when you're lying, or telling a half truth." he announced. Michael was at first proud of his deductive skills. Then he saw her expression and wished that he'd kept his mouth shut.
Her eyes, gray again and ice cold, narrowed dangerously. Her hands settled on her hips and she titled her head back to glare at him fiercely. She barely reached his shoulder, but Michael took a step back in spite of himself, holding his hands up beseechingly.
"Lettie—"
"How dare you?" she asked in a piercing shriek. Michael took another step back and tried to shush her, but she wouldn't be quieted. "Are you suggesting that I am not a liar? Not just a liar, but one who lies often enough for you to pick out a habit I have while I do it? I…I have never been so…" she gestured wildly for a moment, trying to pull a word from the air, then stopped and drew herself to her full height. "You are a… a fiend Michael Fisher, and I never want to see you again!"
With that, she spun on her heel and stalked away, leaving Michael surrounded by a group of glaring onlookers. Even the goat that had wandered curiously into the crowd was fixing him with a reproachful look. Michael groaned inwardly and wished that the ground would just open and swallow him up. He thought that Lettie was being terribly dramatic, but even he knew that telling her so wasn't the way to make things better. He'd figure out how to apologize later. His major problem lay in that the way home was the same way that Lettie had gone. Michael didn't want to look like he was chasing after her, but a sufficiently circuitous route would take hours. He weighed his pride against his feet. Pride won, so he turned himself around and trudged toward the castle from the opposite direction.
It took three hours to get there, and the sun was beginning to set. Michael was fully prepared to simply collapse into bed and bemoan his existence. He was becoming more and more certain that he'd never done anything quite so stupid in his life. When he arrived, he was astonished to see a familiar blue clad figure walking patiently behind the castle, thumbs whirling. When she caught sight of him, she broke away to meet him.
"I was right then. You're Wizard Howl's apprentice." Michael was first surprised that she'd taken the time to figure it out, nodded dumbly, and was then overcome with panic. Had Howl seen her?
"You shouldn't be here! It isn't safe. He eats hearts, you know."
"I don't think anyone's home." she assured him. "No one answered when I knocked."
"You knocked?" Wonderful. Just wonderful. Michael raked one hand through his hair, searching for something tactful to say. "You knocked. What were you thinking?" There, that wasn't so bad.
"I was thinking to come apologize to you." she replied tartly. "I doubt you would have let him eat my heart." She gestured to the ground hopefully. "Could we sit for a minute?"
Michael knew that it would mean more walking to catch up with the castle later, but he found himself sitting anyway. He picked up a blade of grass and twirled it idly between his fingers.
"What do you want Lettie?" he asked without taking his eyes off the grass, "Or whoever you are. I'm willing to bet Lettie isn't your name."
"I told you. I wanted to apologize. You deserve an explanation." She stopped twiddling her thumbs, reached out and caught one of Michael's hands between hers, making his pulse jump pleasantly. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. But you've caught me, you see, and I didn't really think you would."
"What," he retorted, pulling his hand away, "I'm too dense to notice? Just because I decided to trust you doesn't mean I'm stupid, you know."
"I know that! That isn't what I meant at all. But no one else has caught on, not even people who've known me for my whole life. I didn't expect you would either." She rested her head on her bent knees with a sigh. They sat in silence for a while.
"So can't you just tell me the truth now?" Lettie looked so miserable that Michael couldn't find it in himself to be angry. After a few false starts, he reached out and awkwardly took her hand again.
"A lot of what I told you was true." She said at last, her eyes focused on the red of the setting sun. "I was going to study magic, and my sister Lettie was going to work at Cesari's after our father died. We wanted to switch places, so I used a spell to look like Lettie and she like me, and we did. It would have been easier to just pick what we wanted, but Mother decided for us. She chose magic for me because I'm the youngest of three."
Michael understood now. Lettie was the youngest, the one who would seek her fortune. The real Lettie had been set up for a fairly ordinary life.
"And who was the girl in the hat shop?" Michael thought that he had a fairly good idea. Lettie suddenly looked furious.
"She's the eldest, so she's stuck with the family business, and acts dull all the time when she's not! She's clever and nice and good at lots of things, but she's resigned to never doing anything. Lettie and I weren't. We've switched places, and she can have all of the adventures she likes. I just want a home and a family. Maybe Sophie will see that it doesn't matter when she was born and finally do something with herself!"
Lettie's face went red, and the hand that Michael held curled into a fist. She looked ready to march down the hill and shake some sense into her sister that very minute. Michael held her hand a bit tighter, just in case. "So if you're pretending to be your sister Lettie, who are you?" She hesitated.
"I don't think I should give you my real name yet. You could slip up, and no one knows that I'm me, not even my mother. I don't want my sister to get into trouble; it was my idea in the first place. Once the spell's worn off—that should be in two or three month's time," she added, "I'll be able to tell you. Can you wait, and call me Lettie till then?" she gave him a hopeful, beseeching look from under her lashes that, in Michael's private opinion, would put Howl's best effort to shame. Michael didn't really need to consider it at all, but he pretended to for a long moment.
"I suppose so." A delighted smile lit up her face.
"Good." She slid a bit closer until their sides touched. "I was afraid that I'd driven you off, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen."
That problem solved, they continued to talk until the castle was nearly out of sight, well after dark and almost past Lettie's curfew. Lettie's disguise didn't appear even once. Michael refused to let her walk home in the dark alone, so he escorted her back. He promised to try and see her to make plans for May Day, and in turn exacted a promise from her that she would not come to the castle again. She might be certain, but Michael had no confidence in his ability to prevent Howl from eating her heart, or stealing it. And somehow, after a very confusing, rather embarrassing conversation, Lettie gave him another promise of a different sort, and then…well, he hadn't meant to kiss her, but it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. In trying to find an adequate way to express his joy on the way home, Michael made the discovery that he was really very good at cartwheels. After making sure there was no one around to watch, he turned four in a row just before the castle door. By then, he was more than happy to fall into bed. He did remember to remove the rose from his pocket first, and put it safely away in a box, which he stowed under his bed for lack of a better place.
He roused again at sunrise. With only a week until May Day, they were being overwhelmed with orders from Kingsbury for fireworks spells and glamour spells for last year's clothes. Howl took in Michael's haggard appearance with a smirk, then shoved a book across the workbench wordlessly. Michael accepted it, once again grateful that Howl didn't care what he did. In between knocks on the door, Howl gave him a lesson on how to save a botched spell, or at least prevent it from exploding.
As it turned out, they remained terribly busy until May Day dawned, at which point they simply stopped answering the door. The few times he had tried, Michael could barely get inside of Cesari's, much less hold a conversation. He and Lettie were restricted to a series of lengthy notes exchanged when Michael could get close enough the counter. They were ordinary letters, discussing their days and making plans for later that week, but Michael didn't want to just throw them away. In the end he simply put them in the box with the rose, thankful that there was no one in the castle nosy enough to go looking for them.
As it drew closer to evening Michael grew more fidgety, pacing furiously about the castle. He planned to leave the castle a bit before sunset, and if he was lucky, Lettie would get her break and they could visit the fair. Howl had left hours before, advising Calcifer to not blow the castle apart with fireworks on his way out. He hadn't bought any new clothes for May Day. Michael was fairly sure that Howl didn't own anything except his best clothes.
As per the unspoken agreement made when Michael first became his apprentice, Howl's birthday present to him was two suits of clothing and a few coins to spend that evening. This method prevented any worry over choosing something appropriate, which suited Michael just fine. He put on the nicer set, a suit in plum colored velvet, and perched on the arm of the chair beside the fireplace, swinging his legs impatiently. Calcifer started setting off fireworks long before dark to try and distract him, the explosions shaking the castle. It helped some, but Michael still cast anxious glances out the window, willing the sun to sink faster.
Finally it was late enough and Michael ran out the door with a hurried goodbye to Calcifer, descending the dusk coated hills into Market Chipping as fast as he dared in stiff new shoes. He walked through the streets quickly, avoiding strolling pairs and ducking beneath maypoles being carried to the square. He paused at a booth to buy a present for Lettie, a blue silk hair ribbon that matched her dress, to give it to her that evening. It seemed like the sort of thing she would like. Cesari's was already amazingly crowded when he arrived, mostly filled with men and boys not much older than he, and most of them vying for the attention of a single lady.
Lettie was in full form this evening, taking and filling orders at top speed, her brightest smile on her face, and shouting to make herself heard over the rabble. Michael nudged his way to a place at the front counter and watched the crowds shout out to Lettie, and watched her call back cheerfully. She was clearly enjoying herself. Suddenly, next to all of these other people, he felt very small. One cracking young voice raised itself over the din.
"Would you consider marrying me, Lettie?" The delivery was a bit spoiled by the young man in question laughing at his own joke, but the room fell silent all the same, awaiting her answer.
That's right, Michael remembered with a sinking feeling, the marriage proposals. Lettie, as far as most people knew, had received ten such proposals, eleven if he counted the teasing proposal just made. It had been a bit of a joke between them for a while, but now Michael wondered if she was regretting accepting the twelfth one that no one else knew about. Five years was, after all, really a very long time to wait, especially when she had other offers of greater quality. He heaved a sigh and waited for her response. Lettie finished twisting a bag and handed it across the counter before beaming at the entire room.
"It's nice of you to offer, but I'm really awfully young yet. Maybe you should ask me another time."
"How about tomorrow?" came the rejoinder, and the place was roaring again
Michael happened to catch her eye and she winked at him before returning to work, and he felt relief wash over him. Resigned to waiting, he propped his elbows on the counter and joined the shouting mob. The first time he called her, Lettie spun in surprise before rolling her eyes and gesturing for him to be patient. After that, she didn't even glance his way, until a female voice beside him started calling her as well. Michael turned to see and stared in spite of himself. A glance to her chin confirmed that this was Lettie's eldest sister. If he could just remember her name!
She actually looked like a fairer version of the real Lettie in her height and frame, the cast of her eyes and the shape of her face. But the eyes searching the crowd were more green than blue, and her reddish blonde hair fell in longish waves rather than curls. She would have been quite pretty if not for the fact that she looked terrified. The wretched looking gray dress she was wearing didn't help matters much, either.
Lettie froze. She had told Michael that she was terribly nervous about going to her sister to tell the truth. The problem appeared to be out of her hands now. Lettie rushed over to seize her sister's arm and, shooting an apologetic glance at Michael, disappeared into the same room where she and Michael had first spoken.
There wasn't much point in staying now, he thought gloomily. Lettie was using her break to talk to her sister, and she probably wouldn't even set foot outside the door until morning. He pushed through the line that, by then, ran clear out the door, and paused in indecision. Just because he couldn't spend May Day with Lettie didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it. He ran his fingers over the ribbon in his pocket morosely, and after a moment or two of watching the revelers realized that he simply didn't want to stay without her. How silly. Did he really want to go home and sulk because he had to share Lettie with her own sister? That sounded like something Howl would do. Even as Michael decided to stay anyway, his feet carried him across the square in spite of himself. Calcifer was still setting off fireworks. His were louder and brighter than the ones going off in the square. At least Michael would have some company for the evening. Calcifer had no sisters.
Howl turned up very early that morning, spent two hours in the bathroom, and went out the Market Chipping door again before sunrise. Michael was still asleep when he returned, but Calcifer reported gleefully that Howl had come back in a vicious mood, his sleeves badly torn, hair disheveled, and with the sole of one blue boot flapping loose. He had, Calcifer had reported gleefully, been out looking for something and gotten into some sort of fight along the way. Michael rather suspected that Howl had perhaps been searching for a someone, probably a she, and judging from the amount of snarling and sulking Howl did that afternoon and the days following, it had not gone well. Howl didn't fail often, especially with ladies. Michael found himself very glad that Lettie had been inside working all evening. Either one of her faces would have been just the thing to attract Howl's attention.
Just to be safe, Michael kept to the castle for a while, doing most of the work and taking pains to avoid Howl as often as possible. Howl's moods never lasted for long though; after a time he seemed to get over his failure, and set out to catch a girl who, apparently, lived out on the moors. Michael intended to go to Lettie that same day, but kept being delayed until finally the sudden appearance of a strange old woman prevented it altogether. Sophie had ample amounts of the audacity and nosy nature that most old women seemed to possess, going so far once as to hit Howl across the shins with the frying pan, though she swore up and down afterwards that it was an accident. Her obsession with cleaning was annoying, but Michael privately thought that Howl was long past due to meet a female who wasn't instantly charmed by him, so he just stayed out of the way and watched the fireworks. Sophie and Howl had done more arguing in the past week than Howl and Calcifer had so far that year. The castle was descending rapidly into a very tidy sort of chaos.
He finally had enough and escaped the castle early one morning, before Sophie could wake up and ask where he was going. If he had counted right, it would be Lettie's day off, and, at the very least, he could give her the hair ribbon. Braving the unusually wet, cool day, he arrived at Cesari's back door and knocked loudly. Then he waited, rubbing his arms as a brisk wind swept over him. A young lady with a long, thin nose and quantities of auburn curls answered the door. Michael searched his memory for a long, awkward moment before he recalled her name.
"Hello Lizzie. Is Lettie about?"
She frowned in consternation, glancing up the stairs before leaning a bit closer to him and whispering worriedly, "Yes, Michael, she is, but I don't think you want to see her right now. She got a letter from home, you see, and now she's in a dreadful state. She's scared all of the other girls out of the room with her carrying on, and she won't say what's wrong!"
That didn't sound like the Lettie he knew. She was given to the occasional fit of tears or temper, but never as badly as Lizzie was suggesting, and she never had any qualms about announcing exactly what was bothering her. Something must be terribly wrong.
"Would it be alright if I went up to see her?" Lizzie looked visibly relieved, and stepped aside to let him through.
"If you like. She's alone. Go right at the top of the stairs, but knock first." He nodded distractedly and took the stairs two at a time, pausing to knock and receive a sniffly "Come in." before he entered.
Lettie was sitting on the second to last bed in a row of six, dressed to go out and clutching a much abused piece of paper. She jumped to her feet when she saw him, passing the back of her hand over her eyes.
"You shouldn't be in here. If Mrs. Cesari sees you—"
"I'll leave if she does." he assured her. Her blonde hair was in disarray, and in her haste she'd done up the ties of her pale violet cloak wrong. He reached down to redo them. "What's happened?"
"It's my sister. She's gone missing, and no one's seen her in days, and it happened while she was in the shop alone! My mother is frantic, and—"
"Which sister is this?" Michael interrupted. He finished with her cloak and started to lift his hand to smooth her hair before he caught himself and let it drop to his side instead. "The other Lettie?"
Lettie wiped her eyes again. "No, the one in the hat shop. Sophie. You remember, she was here on May Day?"
"I remember." Michael was at a loss. He had no idea of what to say to her. He tried to remember one of Howl's odd sayings; it seemed there must be one that would comfort her, or at least something funny he could recite to cheer her up. But all he could recall was 'the first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers'. That wasn't particularly helpful. And 'E two, Brute' or something like that, but he didn't even know what that meant. "Maybe…maybe she's gone off to seek her fortune like you wanted her to." Lettie straightened her spine and scrubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks.
"I hope so!" she said fiercely, "I hope she shows everyone how much the eldest of three can do! Of course," she sighed, sinking onto the bed, "Mother will worry about her failing, or being hurt. She probably has a reward out already. I have to go convince her not to take to her bed. That's where I was going when you came." She stared off into space with a hopeless air about her for a moment, then reached down to fasten her shoes.
Michael shifted his weight restlessly, looking aimlessly around the room. On the little table beside the bed was a small color drawing, the sort that might be kept in a scrapbook or a convenient drawer. He recognized the faces; it featured the three sisters. He took a subtle step closer, and saw that their names and ages were written underneath. It must have been about a year old. Though he craned his neck, Lettie's name was obscured by an errant handkerchief; all that he could make out was either an "A' or half an 'M'.
"I'm leaving now. You probably ought to, too. If one of the girls finds you up here you'll leave through the window." Lettie's face was composed now, and she led him towards the stairs in a businesslike manner.
"I could go with you if you like."
Lettie laughed. "Thank you, but Mother already has enough to deal with, with Sophie gone and the wrong daughter coming home. If I brought a boy home…You would never speak to me again if I put you through that. But," she paused at the head of the stairs, stretched up, and planted a kiss squarely on his gaping mouth. "It was very kind of you to offer." She grinned at him and ran down the stairs, slamming the door behind her.
Michael remained frozen at the top of the stairs until Mrs. Cesari found him there and threatened to set upon him with a broom. He ran out into the still wet streets obligingly, started to head towards the castle, and changed his mind. He set about walking the perimeter of the town, contemplating the possibilities. He'd keep an eye out for Lettie's sister, even build a location spell for her if he had time. Howl might help if he pestered him enough, though that was unlikely. Howl hated being committed to doing anything. Sophie said that he slithered, and Michael quite agreed with her. Sophie…he'd talk to her, too. She was from here, and old women always knew everything about other people's business. Maybe she knew something about Lettie's sister… why did he have such trouble with names? Michael suddenly remembered what Lettie had said about her mother. He'd never speak to her again? How bad could the woman possibly be? He was suddenly very afraid.
~*~*~*
I think I have to apologize to Martha's mother. She kinda morphed into Mrs. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice….