Riddermarch by Ellen Quellery (top fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

all that important?"

"It is how you meet men, dearest," Jastalettel said kindly.

"And women." Erleon sighed. He looked to his older brother with meaning. Ranoft barely colored, though a gentleman of twenty-one ought to be looking for a wife. Yet he, himself, at nineteen still had time. It was their sisters whom they were the most worried about.

Jostalettel was eighteen, lovely as spring lilies and as bright as the afternoon sun. Azuesh and Grennanod were sixteen and fifteen, respectively, and just as pretty. All three were talented and intelligent. In society terms, they were well due to show up at dances and parties at least. Frankly, they had attempted to make human friends on a number of occasions, going into the village as frequently as they could stomach. But human nature had such a crude, almost destructive side. So much that they were happy to return home to the solitude and singing of the flowers.

"How did Father ever manage it?" Erleon flopped into a seat, tucking his fingers in his hair and massaging his scalp.

"Being among other human beings?" Ranoft asked wryly. "Dear brother, we all know he grew up among them. Elderwall is a bustling port city."

"How could he stand it?" murmured Grennanod. "People can be so petty."

"I always figured that was why he moved here," Jastalettle said. "To finally get away."

The deer put its head into Azuesh's lap and licked her elbow. She giggled, lifting up her arms. She cradled the head and took up another strawberry, feeding it to the fawn.

"It was to help family..." Erleon replied. A raven landed on the arm of his chair, looking meaningfully at the table, Erleon tugged his plate over, offering it, as he wasn't hungry. "Father is just a bit different from us. I think the curse upon Mother had made us different."

They all looked to their mother again. No response. Her gray eyes stared emptily ahead of herself. The nurses had cleaned up all the drool and crumbs from the meal and were preparing to take her back to the sitting room where she would sit and stare at the window until dinnertime. She had chewed and swallowed, and she was breathing. But it was difficult to tell if anything was going on inside that brain of hers. There were moments, brief and bursting, when life swelled in her and she spoke. But at those times, it was when their father was home, or when she was about to deliver a child into the world. Their mother had gone silent since Saliferth's birth. Her last words had been 'sally forth', which was why they had named him Saliferth. All their names had come the same way - which was why these particular Riddermarch children had exceptionally peculiar names, even compared to their ancestors and cousins.

"I wonder if we could throw a dinner party," mused Grennanod.

The servants' eyes widened. They shared desperate looks, glancing in panic to the birds and wild animals in the dining hall alone.

"I don't think it would be that difficult," she said.

"We do have the best cooks in all of Justamere," Azuesh chimed in, nodding. The fawn nudged her again for another strawberry.

"I'd say in all of the West Steppes," Cedalot agreed.

Flustered, the servants prepared to speak up in protest, though they did not dare it often as the Riddermarch children were a stubborn bunch and hardly listened to reasonable protest. Not even if it was about a wild boar trotting about the corridors or a cow standing in the middle of the library - not to mention all the birds and insects that flew in and out the windows all the time.

But Ranoft saw their looks with a chuckle, and said, "It is better to see how a dinner party is run to begin with before we start into writing invitations. Besides, I think the cook is beside herself with feeding us, let alone half the forest."

The servants nodded appreciatively at him. But then Ranoft and Erleon were the few who actually had regular excursions among other human beings where they truly interacted, and therefore understood that the way the Riddermarches did things was not the norm.

"We're not all that different from everyone else, are we?" Azuesh exclaimed, giving the deer one last strawberry then telling it to beg from Erleon whose plate had been ransacked by several critters. The squirrels had made off with everything except for the eggs, and the raven had taken one of those.

"I'm afraid, sister, that we are in fact very peculiar," Ranoft said.

Azuesh blushed as if affronted, though she hardly took offense to anything.

"Our servants are incredibly good at holding their own, but most people do not invite butterflies to feast on the table decorations." He gestured to the flower arrangement which was covered in a number of feasting winged insects, including a few bumblebees. "I think an outside crowd would wonder at it."

Azuesh peered at her table guests, not thinking it odd at all. "But I was only being friendly. They had news to tell me. And some very good poetry to share."

Ranoft chuckled, sharing a look with Erleon who shrugged. "Yes. But most human beings cannot hear the language of butterflies."

All the Riddermarch children sighed breaths, musing on this. And the murmur over breakfast was over except for their animal guests who were now fighting over the last of the muffins. For the Riddermarch children had heard the words of butterflies long before they could walk and speak human words themselves.

"Can they really not hear them?" Saliferth asked, staring up at his older brother.

Ranoft nodded. "They can't. Other human beings only hear the language of other human beings."

"How sad," Dannalot exclaimed, and put the squirrel she was holding, down onto the table.

"They must be lonely," Cedalot replied.

"Indeed, they are," Erleon said.

Chapter Three: The Picnic

 

 

 

 

'They must be lonely' is what most people say about the Riddermarch children. So isolated. Which was why the aristocrats of the West Steppes always invited the young men and women of the Riddermarch family to their society events. But they believed it was their father who had kept them from society. Nobody truly believed in their elf connection, as no one had ever met an elf...that they knew of at least. It was just a great story to tell outsiders.

So when Ranoft replied to the Lord Baron's invitation in the customary way - a quick reply card sent via courier - accepting, everyone assumed it was because their father was away on a long journey and they were free to act as they pleased.

They first showed up at The Picnic.

There were three main events of the celebration. The Picnic, The Dinner Party, and The Ball. This, of course, did not include the small excursions of visitors into the land roundabout. The city aristocrats had already been involved in hunting parties, luncheons, and brief visits to all the neighboring manor houses. Most were curious if they would even be allowed at Witsend Manor, and were whispering over possible invitations to visit the grounds. However, The Picinic had to come first, for the Riddermarches had never been out and were probably as ignorant of society customs as the city gentry believed them to be.

The Riddermarch carriage conveying the five invited attendees was a grand box with steel suspension and drawn by four black horses. The best money could buy. The horses were admirable beasts, the finest anyone had ever seen. But then the waiting guests reminded themselves that the original Riddermarch fortune had been founded on raising horses - and it was still done in Tymedell, across the big river. A Riddermarch horse was always the best. The wealthiest families owned at least one.

Everyone watched as the two elder brothers - fine strapping men with fair, yet angular countenances - stepped out and extended hands and help to their three hauntingly beautiful sisters. All five looked like they had sprouted from a cocoon of flowers and autumn leaves. Their clothing, while elegant, was a little off - as if they had been sewn by the butterflies rather than human fingers. The watching ladies of the company were instantly jealous. And the young men were entranced, yet went on their guard.

Ranoft bowed to the master of ceremonies the moment they were on firm ground, and introduced himself and his sisters. In due course, they were introduced to everyone else in the party. Everyone could see they had been raised with proper manners at least.

"There you are!" Marching up, Ernest Brokwood grinned bravely from ear to ear and reached out to shake Ranoft's hand, which Ranoft dutifully embraced. "So you decided to come to the party after all!"

Ranoft smiled, his dark eyes shining. And he nodded politely. "We felt it was due time."

Ernest leaned nearer. "Easier with your father away, eh?"

Blinking, not quite sure what he meant, Ranoft hesitated to reply.

But Erleon answered, "Not really. Father has been urging us to accept an invitation for once. We figured a picnic would be a good start. It is out of doors, after all."

The sisters smiled, sharing looks of happy agreement. Ranoft nodded, realizing now the rumor that Erleon had expertly squashed.

"I see," fair-haired Dale Rawling said, lifting his chin. He then offered an arm to Jastalettel, who obligingly took it. "Well then, shall we go to the carriages?"

"To the carriages?" Jastalettel stared then looked around at the others in the group who waited with parasols and baskets. "Are we not walking?"

Dale laughed, blushing at Jastalettel and how lovely he found her. "Oh no. Not all the way. Wouldn't you get tired?"

"Tired?" Azuesh said, her pert voice chiming a bit like song. "From a little walk?"

"Rather refreshing, I'd say," Grennanod added in a pleasant lilt.

They shared agreeing looks again.

The gentlemen flushed, as they had been anticipating a hot sun and hilly terrain - not something they were accustomed to in the city. But to be outdone by ladies, even country ones, would be embarrassing.

"A true lady does not walk if she can ride," briskly declared a lady in a pink bonnet and lacy ribbons. Two other ladies accompanied her, one on each side. One stared crystal-eyed at them from under a bonnet of blue, tiny silk flowers sewn on the surface of the chiffon of her gown. The other looked scandalized, her cheeks flushed under the shade of her lacy parasol in a pattern of purple and pink that matched her gown. All three had hair ranging from shades of butter to gold, and all with perfectly formed ringlets with ribbons and lace. These city ladies looked like they had been molded and shaped, carved from alabaster and porcelain. Next to them, the Riddermarch ladies appeared to have sprung from the ground like wildflowers - though no one dared to say whom they thought more beautiful.

"What a peculiar standard?" Azuesh murmured, looking them up and down. "You've got legs, haven't you?"

The ladies from the city giggled.

"It is called refinement," the one in pink said with barely hidden disdain.

Azuesh and her sisters looked nonplussed.

"It is custom," Ranoft said to his sister with a gentle nod, the corner of his eye fixed on those watching them. "And one must adjust to custom."

Azuesh refrained from rolling her eyes, though Grennanod shrugged and reluctantly complied. Jastalettel gently put a