It is Starday, shortly before None.
The doors of the Lower Music Room stand open to receive the invited guests. To the one side stands the lugubrious Gaston, readuy to act as usher and guide people to their seats.
Within, the room has been transformed. Two thirds of the way down, a pair of deep blue velvet curtains have been hung, decorated with occasional golden stars and a rather wobbly unicorn - Hope's taste in the positioning is impeccable, but her motor skills in cutting out need a little further development. Great banks of flowers have been arranged at the front of the stage area, and in the window alcoves - Solace's delicate hand is notable in this.
Behind the curtain, all is chaos and confusion. Hope sits meekly in the chair where she has been told to wait, with Philip, Leif and Brooke seated on a rug beside her, under the firm gaze of Nanny Starch. But she has no jurisdiction over the young hooligans of pages that Pert has rounded up who seemed to be everywhere at once in a state of suppressed excitement while Crotchet, the much harassed music master, attempts to keep order.
Not far behind Nanny Starch stands Nurse Winter whose gaze seems to be watching the other performers and chaos as much as she does the twins.
There are a group of shy and somewhat over-awed orphans from Garnath who will be singing several folksongs, the youngest of whom has attached herself to Hope and watches her almost worshipfully. Hope, in response, is solemnly friendly.
The rest of the orphans sit quietly, whispering among themselves, while the pages dash silently about and, much to the dismay of Crotchet, endeavour to peep between the curtain and ascertain the size of the audience.
The other side of the curtain, all is calm and tranquil. In the front row, three comfortable armchairs have been arranged - the first two slightly forward of the third - one and two being intended for Vialle and Flora, while the third is for Harmony Vesper. Beside these is a chaise longue and here reposes Solace, dressed in a soft pale blue silk gown, with a brilliantly coloured shawl draped over her legs. At the head of this is a small pouffe, decorated in damask. Before the guests arrive, Lucas is sitting here, talking to Solace quietly. He is wearing a costume that might have been favoured by a denizen of late fifteenth century Florence, severe enough in its tailoring to have gladdened the heart of Savanarola, but sumptuous enough in its decoration and jewelled adornments to have drawn the praise (and perhaps the envy) of the Medici.
Of course, this entails wearing hose. But then, Lucas has legs that look good in hose.
Behind the front row for distinguished guests, several rows of comfortable armchairs and sofas have been arranged in a loose semi-circle, cunningly arranged so that everyone has an excellent view of the stage. At the back of the room there is a small bar serving light refreshments and some alcohol in the form of some rather fine wine. This is manned by Lucas's chef and foodtaster, Gouter, his slightly jaundiced complexion speaking volumes as to an unfortunate episode in Shadow long ago.
Paige emerges from behind the side curtain, flanked by a servant of obvious duties. Since her return from Altamar, when about in the City, she was regularly seen with a bodyguard, whether the Ranger or today's escort, Mace. In the space of ten steps to Paige's seat in the second row, nearest Solace, he had pulled at the uncharacteristic starched collar of his shirt, twice already.
Paige greets both her cousin and his wife with gentle kisses on both cheeks. "I suppose one can't be as fashionably late when they're forced to deliver the performers," she jokes.
Solace returns the kisses - Lucas rises and bows formally as he kisses Paige's hand with something of a flourish. After all, he's dressed for it.
"If one is early," he says compacently, "then, within a week, it will be all the rage throughout Amber to be early at social gatherings ... and will cause all sorts of headaches for poor hostesses, for half her guests will insist on arriving when she's taking her hair out of curlers and pulling her second stocking on."
As Paige and Lucas speak, the other guests begin to arrive: various notables from the city and Garnath whom Lucas has invited.
Merlin is among the first, with a warm greeting for Paige and a pleasant one for Lucas and Solace. He is particularly solicitous of Solace, and draws Lucas aside to offer to examine her again, if such is advisable--or to examine Lucas' quarters for any sorcerous agency of which Solace's collapse might be a side effect.
"Thank you," says Lucas, with real gratitude. "I'm not sure whether - at the moment - I want to subject Solace to the rigours of a second examination. But an examination of my rooms at this time will certainly not come amiss."
Also arriving early is Lady Vesper, who stays at the side of her dear chick, and tells everyone who approaches about her concern for her dear daughter's health. And indeed, she has been around altogether too much to suit Lucas, not to mention the rest of the family, of late.
Lucas greets her with unfailing politeness.
"I have a treat for you, belle mere," he tells her. "I am in hopes that your special friend Lord Vere is coming. And you'll be able to have a lovely chat after the concert is over. I'm sure there'll be so much for the two of you to catch up on."
Vialle and Gerard arrive together, and make pleasant social chatter with everyone before she is escorted to her seat. Gerard will be at one side in his wheelchair, which will give him a less desirable view but will keep him from blocking anyone else.
Lucas, the perfect host, has made sure that this is close to Solace - and also that Gerard is supplied with a beaker of his favourite grog, mixed just the way he likes it. He also spends a few minutes talking quietly with Vialle, making sure she is comfortable, and give him brief (and amusing) comments on the feast of entertainment that lies before her.
Florimel is fashionably on-time. She is dressed in green, as always, and somehow strikes the perfect note of formality for the occasion, regardless of the fashions the others are wearing. A quick greeting and kiss for Solace (and a polite but much less warm greeting to Lady Vesper) later, and she is beside the Queen, cheering her a little by whatever news she has.
Their arrivals are mingled among the crowd of other invitees, each of whom also offers a respectful greeting to Lucas and Solace and a purse for the orphans.
Lucas has a word and a smile for them all - often a little joke. This is Lucas being the charming family man; any more caustic remarks are reserved to be shared with certain members of the family.
Hannah comes in only about five minutes early. She has braided her hair and looped it into a low bun. Instead of the blacks and browns she has been wearing, today she's in a blue blouse that brings out the color in her eyes, with a long black skirt.
Hannah greets those she knows and is happy to be introduced to those she doesn't. Hannah even has an approving smile for Lucas, and high praise for Solace and her work on this project.
Paige greets her new cousin warmly, with a kiss on the cheek if Hannah doesn't seem to mind. If she does, Paige will demur.
Hannah will allow, and kiss back.
Hannah does ask Lucas, "Will we get a chance to meet all the children later? I'd like to, anyway."
"Certainly," says Lucas. "The royals, the pages and the orphans, if you wish. I'm sure they will all appreciate compliments. It's a common failing."
"I'm sure you'll have a chance to see the twins if you're staying about the castle, in fact..." Paige considers for a moment. "Perhaps you might find some time this weekend to look over the children for me. Midwifery is one thing, but where my children are concerned, I'd love a second opinion.
"Sorry, too cliche, isn't it? Being asked by people you've just met at an event to diagnose people and maladies you've never seen," she chuckles.
Hannah laughs. "Not at all, makes me feel right at home. Twins, eh? Lucky momma."
A few minutes after Hannah arrives Vere walks in, followed by four Rebmans. Vere's eyes flick over the room, identifying everyone and analyzing social currents instinctively, before leading his me to the Queen and Solace. He bows. "Your Majesty, Lady St. Just, may I be allowed to present my tanist, Castor, and three of my captains, Aurelius, Numitor, and Octavius?"
Brennan sweeps in a few minutes before the appointed play time, and if he's at all discomfitted attending a children's musical, it shows only when he catches Lucas' glance and waggles an eyebrow. He scans the room thoroughly and efficiently, settling on Vere and his aquatic entourage. Even if he hadn't already had reason to speak with Vere, the entourage would evoke enough of his curiosity to bring Brennan along.
After making his greetings to the Queen and Solace as well, Brennan greets Vere with an offered handshake, and a quiet, "Vere, I understand congratulations are in order!"
Vere accepts the handshake and smiles in answer to the the congratulations. "Your Majesty, Lady St. Just," he says. "By your leave."
He leaves the Rebmans to continue speaking with the Queen, if she so desires, or to mingle, if she dismisses them, and walks a short ways off with Brennan, finding a wall where the two of them can converse while maintaining a good view of the rest of the room.
Brennan observes, in this, that some things never change. "Congratulations, then. Be proud-- I'm sure Gerard is. I understand you made it all the way to Rebma and back?"
"Not a difficult task," Vere replies with a smile. "The stairway is now in Corwin's domain. It will be interesting to discover whether there is also one in Random's new kingdom, or if Paris gets Rebma and Xanadu gets Tir. Or perhaps they will have to arrange for a weekly exchange of visitation rights?"
"No news about Tir, yet, except that Dworkin assures me it's still out there, and more or less in the same state as it was prior to the Sundering, just somewhere else."
He observes his men for a moment, before adding, "For a variety of reasons I thought that Rebman troops would be a wise choice for the warband I have assembled." He cocks his head to one side and looks at Brennan, "I do not know if family gossip has yet widely spread the news that there is civil war in my mother's homeland?"
"Some has reached me-- Jovian has mentioned it-- but not the details, and I have't made it my business to spread gossip." Brennan cocks his head, "Why Rebmans, though?"
"I am hoping to not only aid my mother in overcoming the rebellion, but to also begin the process of opening the Isles up to the greater universe. Rebma's society has more in common with the Isles than either Amber or Corwin's Paris. The men should have less trouble adapting, and it should be easier portraying them as heroes in the mode of the Isles. That is, as brave and honourable men, who yet know their proper place in regards to their female superiors." Vere smiles. "Lasting change should come slowly."
Brennan raises an eyebrow. "What does Rebma get out of all this?"
"Ah, that is the question, isn't it? I put it to the queen that she would have the gratitude of a fellow monarch, one who ruled over a realm that produced a Queen of Amber, and two Princes. That there are numerous trade opportunities, and that Rebma will be positioned to be a patron to the Isles as their influence expands. I am paying large husband prices to the families of any of the warriors who do not return, and, of course, there exists a strong possibility that many of them will end up becoming husbands to women of power in the Isles, fathers to the next generation of priestesses and nobles of the land. She seemed amenable to these arguments. What else she may have seen to raise her interest..." Vere shrugs. "The Queen of Rebma is a canny monarch, and I do not claim to understand her."
Brennan seems a bit skeptical of all this, but then, Brennan always looks skeptical about something.
[Vere] lifts an eyebrow then, and asks, "You've spoken with Dworkin recently? I very much hope to have that chance at some time. I have been assured that he is the one person who may know enough of the Pattern to be able to tell me how various methods of healing great injuries will fare upon it."
"More than likely he is," Brennan says, "but good luck getting an answer out of him that you can use and understand at the same time. Usually, those are mutually exclusive for Dworkin."
"But you received such information as the continued existence of Tir na Nog'th. So obtaining useful information from him is possible, even if difficult."
"I can't use the information if I can't get there," Brennan says, "Which, to date, I still cannot. Ultimately, something's going to have to be done about that. Major metaphysical landmarks shouldn't go wandering loose."
"Let Cambina know that Dworkin says Tir still exists, and I suspect she won't rest until she's found a way to get there." Vere glances around the room. "It appears she was unable to attend the concert." There is a very faint trace of humour in his voice.
Brennan smiles. "She already knows. Why do you think I asked him? And, no, she had other pressing business to atend to." Brennan's delivery is perfectly straight. Butter would not melt in his mouth.
"There is always so much to take one's attention, is there not?" Vere observes. He lets his eyes wander over the crowd once more. "Does Lilly no longer serve as the Queen's bodyguard, or does she too have pressing business where children's concerts are concerned?"
"Xanadhavian extracurriculars," Brennan says. "And Jerod? Is he still in Rebma, or has he moved on?"
"He was there when I left, and said nothing of plans to travel anywhere else." Vere shrugs. "For what that is worth."
Brennan nods. "Anything interesting vis a vis the Harga'rel affair turn up?"
"Nothing solid while I was there. He is investigating, and his investigations have very definitely attracted attention. I believe whatever is going on is very complicated, and from a comment made by Queen Moire during a private audience I suspect that there might be someone involved who believes that the change of rulership in Amber is a signal that it is time for a similar change in Rebma. I suspect that means someone related to the Queen, to some degree or another. Family issues. You know how that goes." Vere pauses, considering his next words very carefully. "I have no strong evidence for believing that Harga'rel's daughter was involved in his death."
Brennan displays a total lack of surprise that the investigations are complex, or that they have attracted notice. He does muse, though, "I always wondered if the Rebmans would consider it rude to imply that their current events are doomed to be nothing but a mirror image of our own up here. If I were Moire, I'd be doing everything in my power to demonstrate that to be simply untrue. And even if it once were, it might not be true any longer." Then, "That was a careful phrasing, Vere, but Rebma's politics are almost completely opaque to me." Brennan takes a careful but surreptitions look around the area for mirrors and reflective surfaces. He's recently become much more careful about what he's willing to say or do in one's presence. "Is she known to versed in reflective lore?"
"I regret that I do not know the extent of her knowledge and ability. But a royal can always obtain the expertise of someone with the knowledge she needs, even if she does not have it herself." Vere frowns. "I will be gratified if my suspicions prove false. But it is hard to judge the extent of ambition, and where ambition and family loyalty collide..." he shrugs.
"Well, the man was found face down in a reflecting pool of champagne," Brennan says. "If it wasn't reflective lore, it was certainly meant to look that way. As for the daughter, it would be a bit of a black eye to come all this way only to be proven complicit. If she is, then she's very confident that she can't be caught. That sort of confidence might itself be useful."
"I thought of Rebmans immediately," Vere nods. "My concern has been, and continues to be, that it might have been someone deliberately setting out to give that impression. And, of course, now that we know there may be a civil war in the offing in Rebma, the question of which Rebmans here are on which side, and how the murder might fit into those politics, simply acts to confuse the matter." He shakes his head. "I feel a certain sense of complicity, simply by not being able to exert myself to solve this mystery. But I refuse to allow myself to be drawn into something that will delay my departure. Unfortunately, I must prioritize my obligations, and the murder must fall by the wayside beside my duty to return to the Isles as quickly as possible."
Brennan nods several times through the course of that, both in understanding and in sympathy. "I know entirely what you mean-- too many irons, too many fires, not enough time to manage the ones I've got. If memory serves-- and it might not-- that was Reid's iron to watch, but I don't know that he's come back from Clarissa, yet."
"I have not heard anyone mentioning him as returning." Vere frowns, and pauses a moment before continuing, "I had passed on some minor information regarding things I had observed on the night of the murder. I do not suppose you know whether he conveyed that information to anyone else before he had to depart?"
"No," Brennan says, "In the sense of no, I don't know, rather than no, he didn't. We might want to sort out who's going to pick that up in your absence before you leave," he says, in away that implies strongly that it will not be him.
Vere nods. "Any other disasters occur of which I should be made aware?" he asks.
Brennan looks like he might return to that topic, shortly, but he answers Vere's question: "I assume you've heard about the death of Aisling and the creation of Saeth?" If Vere indicates no, Brennan gives him a thumbnail sketch of events from her removal by Caine to the proof of her death and the presentation of Saeth at Court Clarissa.
While Vere has some information about this, no one has yet given him details, and he listens to Brennan's information with interest. "A very unfortunate situation," he observes, once Brennan has finished.
"Yes, and a complicated one, although the crisis point of it all has passed... at least for now. Not to harp on Harga'rel, but if you had a stuckee in mind to pass information to, tonight's probably the night. Someone subtle and often underestimated, I'd think... and bearing in mind that Corwin's new Rebman heir has already been here and gone on to Xanadu with the rest." Brennan's tone implies that, having planted the idea, he's not going to dwell on it any further or push any harder unless Vere continues the line of conversation.
Vere nods, although it is not clear exactly what portion of Brennan's statements he is agreeing with. What he says is, "She is an interesting addition to the Family, don't you think? One wonders at Queen Moire's decision to send her away from Rebma at this time. While her lineage remains unknown in Rebma, to the best of my knowledge, that ignorance will not continue now that it has become known in the surface realms. One could spin so many interesting possibilities out of these few facts..."
"Haven't met her yet," Brennan says, "But unless she moves fast, I will when the King gives his next Xanadhavian Tour. As to the motive, if you think there's conflict or civil war coming, she could be removed from the threat. She could also be removed from becoming a threat. And it's now impossible to ignore the fact that Moire now has descendants in the line of succession to both Paris and Xanadu. And, had Eric not been killed, she'd have a third in the line of succession to Amber. I can't decide if that's a subtle display, or a brazen one. Which is, itself, impressive."
"Rebma subtly finds a way to make itself present everywhere there is an opening, like the life-giving water that is its nature," Vere observes with a certain tone of appreciation.
"Have you met her?" Brennan asks.
"Yes, in Paris," Vere pauses a moment, and when he speaks Brennan might notice that what he says is not the first thing that had occurred to him to say. "I quite liked her. I think you would rate her among the more innocent and naive of the cousins. She was apparently raised far from Rebma, and that innocence might be one reason that Moire sent her away. I hope she can learn to be less trusting, without loosing the joy I sensed in her. I have a bet with myself that she and Folly will discover themselves to be soul mates."
Brennan allows himself a small smirk as Vere points out her naivete'. "I don't know Folly well, but she struck me as cheerful, not quite as naive. And she has Martin to look out for her, which would make that all right, anyway."
Vere nods. "We seem to have started venturing into the realm of family gossip," he observes. "I have no objection to this, but before we become distracted, is there anything else of import we needed to discuss? I am leaving for the city and then my band's camp almost immediately after this pleasant event, and first thing tomorrow we are sailing away. I doubt we will have another chance to speak."
"Probably not," Brennan says. "Keep an eye on Jovian, and let him keep an eye on you."
Vere nods. "I shall," he says.
Whatever had been the expectation about the Concert, it was, in the event, surprisingly painless, and those cousins who had turned up were treated to an event which was not only mercifully brief, but also surprisingly well performed.
There were several ensemble pieces with Hope solemnly playing her bugle, while Leif and Brooke played maracas and tamboutrine, and Philippe solemnly banged his drums. But Hope also recited some short poems while one of the pages played a beautful melody on a flute - a combination that was charming. The Pages' chorus was also successful - Pert had rounded up those of his cronies who could sing really well; they had a sea shanty for Gerard and a Rebman lullaby among their medley - and some old French songs that clearly held a special meaning for Flora.
The orphans of Garnath sang some of their own folksongs, but they also had a small band that played accompaniments and - after a final ensemble piece which brought everyone on stage, Hope walked forward and said solemnly:
"We shall now have dancing, until it grows dark, when there will be a special treat for us all on the Castle roof." She considered this for a moment, and then added, "At least, Papa says we must go onto the roof terrace for our special treat. After the dancing."
Lucas, who had been sitting on the stool beside Solace throughout the performance, now spoke to her quietly, and then wheeled the seat to one side, so that she could continue to recline there and watch the dancing. While Nanny Starch took care of Philippe, Hope advanced on Gerard, curtseyed and said, "Please may we dance together? If I swing your hands very genty?"
Gerard says, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer these days, lass. But if you'll come sit on my lap, I'll consider myself luckier than any young swain on the floor." He leans forward and reaches down. Hope obediently lets him settle her across the blanket on his legs.
Once she's secure, Gerard wheels himself over to Solace's side.
Lucas watched this with a faint smile, and then moved towards his mother. It was not the conga line he had threatened to make her lead in conversation with Paige, but a light waltz tune played by the Garnathians.
"Maman," he said, "will you do me the honour of opening the ball?"
"Of course," Flora replies, and lets him lead her onto the floor.
"You know, Maman," Lucas said presently, "I shall miss the opportunity to dance with you once you are resident in Paris. You do dance divinely - almost as well as I do myself. You have the skill of making the most elaborate of steps look as easy and entirely natural as a step through to the garden on a summer's day ..."
"Why, thank you, Lucas," she says, smiling, aware of the supreme compliment Lucas is paying by comparing her to his august self.
"The children will miss you too. I'm aware you'll be escaping some of their most tiresome phases, but their affection for you is very deep. Hope particularly - but then she has attained more sensible years."
"Well, of course all of you must come and visit me. Perhaps the airs of Paris will do dear Solace some good. And I do adore the children. Hope is quite the little lady ... she takes after her parents. And fortunately, Solace doesn't take after hers." Flora's smile turns a bit wicked.
Lucas laughs. "I am hoping to prove my old friend Oscar wrong - do you remember him? You might have been resident in New York that decade, I seem to recall. He once said ... well, actually he said it several times - and in print too: 'All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.' "
Flora nods. Of course she remembers dear Oscar.
As the dance permits, he bows slightly to kiss his mother's hand - his dark eyes sparkling. "If Solace can avoid becoming like her mother, while I continue to emulate mine in the ways that truly matter, we shall do very well, I think."
He allows a few more turns of the dance to pass before he speaks again.
"And of course we'll be delighted to visit you. I suspect the King might use the fact that we will wish to do so as a conduit - perhaps both kings. And you know how I adore travelling. It's a taste I wish the children to acquire as well.
"I'm also considering whether to establish my main residence in the new palace at Xanadu. It might be an idea to keep a small suite of rooms there, and make our main residence elsewhere." He shrugs. "It is surprising the amount of room two small children and the necessary servants can occupy. People have already been muttering about my final territorial demands upon the castle here ...
"I thought perhaps a small chateau on the outskirts of town, where there will be open spaces for the children. What do you think?"
"Random has never had any idea of the arrangements it takes to live in a civilized fashion. Dear Vialle has had quite the task in making the castle work around him, and I'm sure he doesn't appreciate her for all she does," Flora opines. "An independent establishment would make your life significantly easier."
Another turn. "And you, in Paris. Do you intend to go alone? I was hoping you might take someone with you ... someone who could be a companion to you, who knows you from Amber." Perhaps he sees her expression, for he laughs again. "Oh, not my belle mere! I'm fully aware she's an imposition I inherit - unless I can persuade her that her interests are best served by remaining in Amber."
"I will wish you good luck with that. Perhaps you can convince her her best interests lie in Rebma, and we can speed her on her way." If Flora means by this 'we could dump her off a boat with lead weights attached to her ankles for a more direct trip', she does not say this.
Lucas' lizard smile shows his appreciation.
"All those deferential males would be to her taste, don't you think?" he says musingly. "Of course ... her presence might precipitate a revolt ..."
"But perhaps you have another candidate in mind, my darling boy."
"I do, actually," says Lucas. "An old friend of yours, I believe, who is in some difficulty - although it is not generally bruited about. Aunt Felicity ... you heard there have been problems with the Hardwind estate? I've been looking into it ... Opal Hardwind has been kicking about the books and so forth."
Flora's eyebrows come slightly together, and her perfect lips turn slightly downward, which is all the expression she needs to make of her opinion of that parvenue.
"Things are in a muddle - to put it mildly. What I have been able to establish is that Lord Hardwind became involved in some rather murky doings. Aunt Felicity, of course, has little or probably no notion of this. But it means that her means will be very much straitened. And I'm not sure that a bruisingly entrepreneurial centre of reality is going to be the best place for her to recover. Whereas Paris ... "
He is silent for a moment and then says softly, "I miss it still, Mama. Waking in the morning to hear the first trams clanking over the cobbles, the light on the river at night, the boulevards ... the waiters whistling as the last bar closes, the songs that Piaf sings ... silk stockings thrown aside on sin-vitations ... "
He smiles again, a little twisted this time, and then says, "I am serious in wishing you a companion from Amber. Someone who will be loyal to you, and who is not in Paris because she is Corwin's follower. If things go wrong - and yes, I know that is a very remote possibility - but we both know that it can, even in Paris. Especially in Paris." He turns his hand slightly so that the St Cyr signet he wears brushes against her fingers. "If things go wrong, I want someone with you that you and I can trust to put your interests first. And I believe Lady Hardwind will do that."
"Because Lady Hardwind is in straits," Flora says, as if she's considering the matter. "And because I need protection, or at least an insurance policy." She smiles. "And for what other reason, Lucas?"
The expression is mirrored on her son's face. "Because I love to tease," he says. "Just like you do, Maman. And sending you away to Paris with a conundrum in your purse is the best parting gift I could provide."
He bows his head and kisses her fingers.
"Ever your dutiful son, Maman," he tells her.
"Of course you are," she says with a fond smile.
As [Lucas and Flora take to the dance floor], Solange slips in to pause behind Gerard's wheelchair, put both hands on his broad shoulders and lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek, then move around to the front of the chair.
"Sorry I'm late," she says to him in a low voice, contrite.
She formally greets Solace and the Queen, then turns her attention to Hope on Gerard's lap and smiles at the little girl. "You did a fine performance. It was quite a brave thing to do, to stand up in front of all of those people. Were you scared?"
Hope regards her seriously. "Not really," she says. "Papa 'splained that public adu - adulation is a toxicating drug, and I should get used to it early."
Solange smothers a laugh by pretending to scratch her nose. "He did, did he? Your papa is a very discerning man. How old are you now?"
"I'm four and a quarter," says Hope. "And you sent me a birthday gift. And I wrote you a thank you note. It had a picture of my birthday cake."
There is a definite touch of Flora here in the notion of strict adherence to social ettiquette.
"Of course, now I remember," Solange replies, smiling gently. "You'll have to forgive me, I've been off in shadow and have been very busy and I lose track of how much time has passed back here while I've been gone. Are you going to go up and dance?"
"I am dancing," says Hope with dignity. "I'm dancing with mon oncle Gerard."
And then she beams at Solange, no longer the little lady, but a happy little girl.
Solange grins back. "Good for you. Don't let your Uncle Gerard say 'no'!" she exclaims, winking at her father.
"I, however, will be delighted to offer you a dance, cos," says a voice from behind her. Lucas.
Solange turns around. The corner of her mouth quirks up as she meets Lucas's eye and she curtsies deeply, her gold skirts brushing the floor. "Why, thank you, kind sir. I would be delighted." She holds a gloved hand out to him.
Her manner and words, although formal, do not come across stiff and staid. She seems to be enjoying the pomp and circumstance of the occasion, like a special role she's donned for the evening for the fun of it rather than one she must wear because it's expected of her.
Lucas gives her a grave, unsmiling bow, with all formality and elan of the Ancien Regime. But as he rises, his eyes are amused.
"So, cos, a formal waltz? Or shall we trip the light fantastic? And as we dance, you can tell me about your travels." He raises a hand towards his left ear, where it is covered by the cut of his hair, in a half involuntary gesture. "As doubtless you know, I have been rather tied to Amber for a while."
"A waltz would be lovely, thank you." She smiles and nods a farewell at Hope and Gerard, then accompanies Lucas. "I think Hope has grown an inch or two since I saw her last. Have things been quiet while I was away?"
"As ever in Amber," he replies with a shrug. "Of particular interest to me has been my own recovery and Solace's decline ... although I hope that may be arrested."
She raises an eyebrow, inviting more of an explanation. Apparently she hasn't heard.
"Solace," explains Lucas, "has recently had a couple of fainting spells that have left her with bad headaches. We've drawn a blank on the possibbilities of sorceries - but Brita has come up with an intriguing suggestion - that someone might have tried to contact her by trump. Apparently the symptoms are similar to those experienced by Brita's father when she tried to contact him.
"You've doubtless heard the court gossip - the arrival of new cousins. The Rebman is shy and gauche but has possibilities."
She doesn't know who "The Rebman" is either, but she'll find out. She doesn't let it show on her face.
"The doctor has all the virtues and faults of her position - skill in healing and overwheening arrogance. And yes, you might smile at that, cos. I daresay one might be looking at me for a long time before one was reminded of a violet by a mossy stone, half-hidden from the eye. However, I devoutly trust that no-one could describe me as vulgarly pushy."
Solange laughs. "Dear Lucas, I don't believe you were ever the unprepossessing violet. I imagine you came from your mother's womb ordering the driest champagne and finest cigars," she quips lightly.
"As I recall," says Lucas, "I was in paroxysms of rage at the appalling hat the midwife had chosen to wear. One did feel that she should have made more of an effort for such an auspicious occasion.
"On the other hand, our new cousin seems sincere in her desire to help your father - and that, I believe, must bring her into your favour.
A nod. "I have yet to meet her, but later. Right now I'm enjoying dancing, which I have not done for what seems such a long time."
"One would never have guessed," says Lucas with faint, ironical politeness.
"As for our other new cousin ... " He shoots her a glance alive with amused malicious humour. "I daresay Martin is knocking his young brother into shape in Xanadu."
Solange pauses mid-step to stare at Lucas for the space of a heartbeat or two, then regains her composure and continues the dance. "You got me," she admits with a slight smile while looking at him askance, "wicked cousin that you are. How is the Queen taking that news?"
"Not well, I fear," says Lucas, glancing to where Vialle sits (or dances). "She seems ... unwell. I trust that the air of Xanadu will revive here, if her road lies there."
It is well known that during the Interregnum Lucas had become close to the Queen.
"But that," says Lucas, "brings me to another matter. Have you spoken with your foster aunt since your return?"
Solange turns to look back at Lucas and narrows her eyes fractionally. "No, I haven't had the opportunity. Why?"
"She's here tonight," he says. "Had you heard about the problems with Lord Hardwind's estate?"
She thinks briefly. "Oh, yes, there were some problems with Aunt Felicity's account books, if I remember right. Is that what you're referring to?"
"I'm afraid so," says Lucas. "Not her own accounts per se, but the late Lord Hardwind's. He have become embroiled in some rather dubious affairs. This is probably not the time or place to speak of it, though. Perhaps we could meet later? Or rather," he adds, mindful of his engagement with Vere, "perhaps tomorrow? After breakfast?"
"That will be fine. I was going to help look over the books before I became distracted with Father's legs. I'm happy to help now while I'm back." Solange pauses. "And I'm rather curious to find out what you mean by 'dubious affairs.' "
Lucas smiles. "Yes," he agrees, "my reputation does suggest that affairs I find dubious must involve murky waters indeed. Well, cos, you will just have to contain your impatience until tomorrow ... "
"Indeed. 'Tis not a conducive environment, anyway."
The music ends and Solange nods to Lucas. "Thank you for the waltz. I quite enjoyed it," she smiles, "and now, as much as I loathe stopping to dance, I'll give you back over to your hosting duties. Where would you like to meet tomorrow morning?"
"Come to my rooms," says Lucas. "Solace gets up late at the moment, but the children will be delighted to see you. And you will probably be sparing me a blow by blow reminesence of this evening's entertainment delivered by my belle mere."
"Very good. I'll see you then."
Last modified: 14 January 2004