Neliem, page 21
Aunt Cora chimes, “Someone open a window …” She fans herself violently, her eyes dashing about the room. This talk of stars has obviously piqued her blood pressure.
Ezra shoots her a dark look to silence her. Moving my lifeless legs, I get up, deciding that this fiasco has gone on long enough. Soiree wrings her hands on her apron, looking for support but finding none.
Aunt Cora eyes her hostilely. “That will be enough. Go to your quarters, Soiree.”
“But, I …” The maid lowers her gaze, her forehead creasing.
“Now,” Aunt Cora commands. Soiree rushes out of the room, leaving her tray.
Once the girl’s gone, the color returns to Aunt Cora’s plump white face. Her voice drops a notch, “Yes, yes … Oriana is now paired with Ezra … after that dreadful fainting spell.” Then the old woman sips some tea as if that will resolve everything. “All her things are in Ezra’s rooms. Matter resolved.”
Uncle Otis barks, “Well then whose is it?’
I shrug, batting my eyes directly at Cassia. Tanya’s big eyes widen, then she stammers, “Well, if no one wants it.”
Cassia, a little too quickly, offers, “I would like to see one up close.”
Her greedy hands go to clasp it when Tristan, who’s appeared out of nowhere, grabs it and tosses it in the air. For a moment, I’m positive that it will come to blows.
“I favor stars.” His eyes twinkle an irresistible blue. He pockets the star protectively and sits down, at which point he’s immediately poured tea and served a platter of sliced meats and cheese. “They mirror my own perfection, don’t you think?”
Everyone laughs, one uncle laughing so hard that he chokes on his biscuit. Two female relatives excuse themselves to their rooms, taking a rattled Tanya with them.
Ezra, who’s behaving more like Za-Za, clings protectively to my side. But the damage is done; the servants seem to have a different opinion of me, regardless that the star is not mine and has five points, not six.
“If our ancestral familiars were allowed back in our homes, none of this would be happening,” an elderly aunt openly complains to Aunt Cora.
Someone snickers, but as Ezra rises, Za-Za all but gone. “Excuse me?”
The contentious aunt complains as two others back her up. “We’re the only ones left unprotected.” She eyes me apprehensively as my gut clenches.
If it isn’t bad enough, they somehow blame me for this fiasco. I didn’t bring my faith into their homes, but I’ve been found guilty, nonetheless. I tighten my fist, wondering which of the relatives set me up. It seems a grand gesture on their part. Especially since none of them seem able to count. But I don’t have to go too far to guess who my accuser is. The exchange between Soiree and Cassia is proof enough.
The rest of the meal is served without further incident. When I resume my seat, I am served last, even though the women are always served before the men. Ezra’s eyebrow arches every time I’m ignored by the servants. As it is, not only is my food cold, but I’m the last to be served tea, which is weak and lukewarm, not hot. The cookies on my plate are broken, little bits of crumbles that would be fit for a dog, not the family’s benefactor’s cherished wife.
The tension builds like a tidal wave. Ezra’s shoulders keep hiking up, building until I think he might explode.
Carefully, I ease my hand over his, whispering, “It doesn’t matter.”
He flinches, his words harsh; “It matters to me.”
When the servants return to the kitchen, he offers a complaint to his aunt. “Is there a shortage of servants this season?”
Aunt Cora grunts and excuses their behavior with a wave of her gloved hand. “Finding anyone with references is impossible, keeping them a miracle.” She exchanges a glance with an uncle, who nods. “Especially after the accident. Soiree will be dismissed.”
Ezra does not lift his gaze.
She adds quickly, “At once. With no references.”
He glares at her openly, and she fusses with her fan as if the room has suddenly raised in temperature when in fact a cool breeze lingers. “I try. No one understands what I do …”
She snaps her fan repeatedly, searching the room for support. She finds none. If what he said is true, the uncles and aunts, as well as most of the remaining cousins, are relying on Ezra’s goodwill for their comfortable lifestyle. They are in no position to complain, and it’s probably the only reason I haven’t been sent packing or worse, flogged in the town square for being in possession of a five-pointed star.
Ezra’s stare hardens as he sips his tea. “Aunt Cora, perhaps you will find the weather more agreeable near the seaside. The house in Odessa might be more to your liking.”
It is nothing less than a veiled threat. The home he refers to is not a proper house, but rather a small cottage nowhere near the town. He mentioned that he had plans to remodel it for quite some time, but never got around to it. The foundation is solid, but the walls facing the sea need to be reconstructed as well as install indoor plumbing. Also, there is no electricity.
He would be sending her to basically a shack to suffer for her lack of discretion in hiring help who cannot count past four.
His words chill Aunt Cora to the core. With a flip of her wrist, she drops the fan but quickly composes herself when three plain serving girls return to clear up the tables. The rest of the attending staff members are excused to their daily tasks.
Za-Za nods and winks at me. I wonder if he thinks he’s done me some great favor. It’s almost as if he has forgotten that my entire life I’ve dealt with far worse prejudice. I might pass for one of them, have documents that state as much, but the truth is the truth.
I am Outcast. And these people will never let me forget it.
Dark thoughts cloud my mind. Last night, Ezra worked hard to soothe my fears and make me feel accepted, even when I failed him in the bedroom. And he did succeed. I woke up refreshed and happy. Happy enough to ignore the looks and stares boring into my direction every time I so much as lift my fork.
“Aunt Cora, I expect all the servants who were disrespectful to my wife to be dismissed.”
Ezra will not be not satisfied with solely Soiree’s dismissal. The room grows alarmingly still. No one daring to utter a sound.
Aunt Hilda clears her throat. “Is that really necessary?”
Aunt Hilda’s the eldest aunt, a tall, beautiful woman whose blond hair has faded to a regal silver. Everything from the way she sits, her back perfectly straight, to the look of self-assurance and privilege tells me that I’m not welcome here.
But the cow won’t come out and say it as long as Ezra holds the purse strings. He knows it, and they know it.
Ezra smiles easily, pouring me a fresh cup of hot tea before settling the silver teapot back. His fingers wipe a trace of water off the side. “Yes, Aunt Hilda, that is necessary, seeing as I will be visiting here often with my wife.”
Someone behind me lets out a gasp, but I don’t turn; I won’t give credence to their worst suspicions. They sit there, smug, waiting for me to prove their foulest thoughts true. Perhaps if I throw the plates on the floor and pounce, scratching my nails on the hardwood floor and belching, they’d be satisfied in their assumptions that Ezra has brought some savage home to be his bride.
And if they despised me before, now they downright hate me.
Cassia, finally free of Henric’s tight leash, relishes on the animosity seeping from every corner of the room. Her sinister glow confirms that indeed she brought the star here.
“This reminds me that Oriana and I will be in need of the master bedroom from now on.” Ezra slips his arm over mine without so much as a second glance. The little hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Asking for the servants who offended me to be dismissed is one thing. He pays their wages. But this, this is too much.
The uncles break into a chorus of not-so-polite coughs, and one gestures with his hand in a way that seems to beg for leniency. But Ezra does not back down.
“Work will be requiring me to be in the city.”
Aunt Hilda whispers politely, “Surely, Oriana would rather stay back at your home …”
Ezra’s neck stiffens, his voice taking on an edge, “This is my home. A home free of all unnatural presences.”
I steal a quick peek at his face. In a matter of minutes, his features have hardened; his forehead is more pronounced, like most Untouchables, and his mouth is tight. I don’t recognize one hair of my soft, sweet Za-Za, whose lips would have trembled with tears leaking from his eyes before using such a tone.
With hushed whispers under their breaths, the relatives turn to each other, not daring correct Ezra, while shooting me apprehensive looks. The ladies, in unison, rise and head toward the foyer, a better spot to gossip over the latest turn of events.
I’d almost forgotten that Tristan was there. He’s deadly silent, almost blending into the wallpaper. And I’m not sure how I feel about him. He watches apprehensively, his face giving nothing away. The second they are out of earshot, he sasses, “Good riddance. Fat, preposterous cows.”
One uncle objects, “Come now, Tristan.”
Ignoring him, Tristan gives me a wink that would make me blush if I wasn’t so flustered already and drops the star in my palm.
“I would sell it,” he teases. He’s back to being witty and distant. “And with that, I pay my respects.”
He bows perfectly, and I cement my feet down to fight the urge to chase after him. Ezra’s back tenses before he rises to his feet. “So soon? You barely got here.”
Both head toward the corridor, and I have to strain my neck to catch a last glimpse.
“Don’t want to overstay my welcome.” Tristan finds his top hat and jacket and scarf in the cloakroom, calling out to Aunt Cora, “Hang half the staff and flog the other.”
But this time, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. And for a moment I am terrified if I blink, he will disappear. Just like Neliem.
On the other side of the foyer, I catch a glimpse of the remaining female relatives adjusting their bonnets and preparing for the day’s exertions. The smallest, most insignificant part of me wishes one of them would trouble herself to invite me, even though I detest shopping. Tanya wraps a lovely violet bonnet around her head, the laces dancing against her slim waist.
Through the hall mirror, she catches my gaze and mouths, “What have I missed?”
Too much, I think and focus on my tea, which is now cold. The sharp edges of the star cut into my palm, reminding me of danger at every turn. Tricks, schemes, lies. They will go to any length to separate us. And yet, like the panther he sometimes is, Ezra doesn’t flinch.
The image of the serrated carriage lock makes my heartbeat pound in my throat. That was no accident. Reigning in Neliem, I narrow my vision, scanning the room, even more determined to find the culprit than before.
The aunts pry Tanya from the mirror and escort her outside. Their scowling faces do nothing to hinder her mood. She smiles stupidly, not having a care in the world before being yanked forcefully outside.
So much for Untouchable affection; the girl’s as much a pawn as I am.
Cassia, who lingers in the hallway, wrinkles her nose, her disgust blatant. “What is that smell?”
One aunt tightens her bonnet and scolds before leaving. “Mind your manners.”
“I have a disgusting headache,” Cassia whines before excusing herself from the group. She instead joins some cousins too feeble to go shopping in lounging about the sitting room, her intentions clear. She wishes to know how her scheme might fare for her later. Like me, she has a few days to prove herself, and this little shenanigan might cost her dearly.
I inhale shapely; the faint stench of something burning wafts from the kitchen, followed by a screech. Someone snickers behind me, but I keep my focus on Cassia, wondering if she would dare harm Ezra.
Like a chess piece, I study her carefully, watching how she moves her hands, how her feet seem restless, how she always has that pretty smile on display.
When Cassia steals a glance, she is met with Ezra and Tristan’s hostile stares. Relieved, I relax my shoulders. They are on to her. Good.
Without further ado, Tristan mumbles something to his brother before shutting the door, the little bell sending a shiver down my spine. And I might be imagining it, but I could swear that Tristan mouthed the word, “Behave.”
I square my shoulders, having no intention of behaving.
Like a dimwitted fool, I bat my eyelashes at Cassia.
“How is Henric?” I provoke. A blind mule could gage her reaction whenever someone mentions Henric. When she says nothing and excuses herself to the furthest corner of the room, I have my answer.
Landis leans into me. “He hasn’t asked for her.”
One of the aunts who stayed behind consoles a red-faced Cassia with an embroidery kit. The flung doors between us allow easy access, and all I have to do is tilt my seat back a bit to catch every word. “By the end of the week, poor Henric will be in a far better mood. Guaranteed.”
The aunt with the large mole grins sheepishly, and I think of Za-Za’s moles. Great-Aunt Leraias nods her head in agreement. “Henric got this way as a child.”
Someone dares contradict her. “Leraias, he lost his mother so young.”
Aunt Leraias lifts her head, in the way I think an executioner might just before bringing down the ax. “Stubborn. Willful. Disobedient. I blame his fits on his nurse; she coddled him. I, for one, have never prescribed to any lack of discipline.”
I bet. Aunt Leraias seems as tough as steel. Instead of grandmotherly affection, no doubt her harsh childrearing has produced a monster in Henric. And yet I can’t help but think of that look of loss he had when he stood there outside the teashop.
“Oh, that was Nula … darling girl. Whatever happened to her?” Uncle Anton inquires a bit too loudly. A wave of suffocating silence falls like a cloak throughout the room leaking to the floorboards. It’s so palatable that I suspect if I open my mouth and swallow, the taste will be like swallowing acid. And for the first time, I suspect that it has absolutely nothing to do with me. Family secrets linger like ghosts in this great house, hovering about from room to room, waiting to pop open and spread like pollen.
It’s too hard to stifle the words at the tip of my tongue. “But, how is he?”
Aunt Cora sighs, then resumes fanning herself. “Just a severe sprain.” I can tell just by the way her eyes flicker toward the servant’s entrance that she’s still rattled about being threatened into exile over a servant’s poor behavior.
Ezra, now back, shrugs his shoulder, obviously not distressed in the least. “Two weeks, no strenuous activity.”
Landis poorly hides a grin. But all I feel is a sharp spark of regret. I’d wished for both Henric’s legs to be broken but have to settle for a mere sprain.
A devious thought trickles in the back of my head. I bat my eyes the way Tanya does when she’s attempting to think straight. I call out, “You should go to him, Cassia; I’m sure he would feel much better with you there nursing him back to health.”
Tending to him hand and foot. And beaten over the smallest infraction. Yes, perfect retribution. Cassia wiggles in her seat, suddenly finding her needlework fascinating.
I press, “He needs you. We all understand if you leave right now to tend to him.”
Ezra, feigning boredom, stretches his arms like an eagle, engulfing me in one stroke. He leans in. “Please end this conversation right now.” His eyes burn like flames, his voice stern, his intent clear. “And promise never to it bring it up.”
When his gaze drifts back to his food, I feel his pulse spike. He’s upset. At me. But for what, I have absolutely no idea. He doesn’t care for Cassia, he said so himself. Meticulously, I pine over every detail concerning Henric’s sudden fall down the stairs and the subsequent doctor’s visit and come up empty. All I know is that Henric is now back home, nursing his wounds alone. And prefers it this way. That greedy, selfish child, alone in a home that could probably fit fifty easily. This can only mean one thing. He is not alone. He has company. Company that he chooses Cassia and his relatives to know nothing about.
I perfect the Untouchable smile. “Of course, Ezra.”
By the look he gives me, he doesn’t believe my false sincerity for a second. Clever boy.
Ezra sizes me up, before softening his face. “I’m sorry; it’s … complicated.”
The fact that he might actually think his explanation suffices leaves me feeling empty. I might pass for one of his people, dress like them, have my hair styled just as fashionably and even go as far as to mimic their mindless chitchat. But I am not one of them. I inch away in my seat, engrossed in buttering an ice-cold biscuit.
Ezra doesn’t let matters rest. He lowers his face, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a familiar tingle down my neck. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”
I bring my goblet to my lips and sip daintily, relishing over the instant that Za-Za whispered in my ear. He’s back, Ezra tucked away. When I lift my eyelashes, the soft blue of springtime engulfs me. My skin flushes, the warmth emulating off him like the toasty kiss of the sun. Every time I steal a look in his direction, a wave of heat threatens to consume me. Attempting to distract myself, I focus on my food and try to eat. Za-Za’s all smiles and sweetness, making him all the more irresistible.
And forgivable. At least for now.
Absentmindedly, I release the star, and it falls into his palm. I rub the indentations only to catch a glimpse of horror on Ezra’s face. I lower my eyes to what he stares at. It’s the star.
But now it has six points.
A chill creeps up my shoulders as Ezra gets up casually and tosses it into the burning fireplace. After a moment, I get up and join him, and together we watch what could have been my demise melt into nothing more than a singe of silver.
Later in the day, the ladies who remained indoors are excused to one of Aunt Cora’s studies to read and sew and do other tedious activities that I have no interest in. I realize that, in Untouchable households, especially ones as lavish as these, that men tend to spend as little time as possible in the presence of their wives and female relatives, choosing instead to distract themselves with pursuits that have little interest to their feminine counterparts.
