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

so...bewitched," said the last.

They all shared meaningful looks.

Finally, Lady Lillian turned to her friend, Dale Rawling, and said, "Connection with such a family would only invite you to partake of the curse yourself. Besides, you certainly would not end up as an heir. That is Ranoft Riddermarch. It is clear he will inherit Witsend Manor. You saw how perfectly the servants obeyed him. He's the master already."

"Everyone deferred to him..." murmured Alder in agreement.

"Well, he is the eldest," said Ernest. He shook his head. "But I do fear that curse on their mother. Her eyes..."

"Her stare..." Nodded Dale.

They all shivered.

"I don't ever want to meet the Elfking," Lady Lillian whispered.

And everyone agreed.

 

Worn out, tired, and treating new burns, the Riddermarch children tended to their mother who was once more staring at nothing. This time they had retrieved a mirror. It matched the hairbrush, as a set.

"Who keeps sending these?" Jastalettel growled with the desire to smash the mirror, yet refraining from it in case another curse was attached. She quickly put it in the locked box with the other artifacts. They now had a hairbrush, a jewelry box, a tortoise shell comb, a diamond necklace, and now a silver mirror. There did not seem any reason to torment a woman who was already lost in her mind.

Erleon frowned with another secret look to his older brother. Azuesh glanced to them also, frowning tightly.

"Jasta," Azuesh finally said, "Perhaps we ought to think about who would be jealous of Mother."

"Jealous?" Jastalettel blinked with complete surprise at her sister. "No one could possibly be jealous of Mother! Look what's already happened to her? Our guests are horrified. Not one of those ladies would wish to be a lady of Riddermarch, not for all Witsend or its grounds. I don't think after today they will envy us a jot!"

"Which is a good thing, if you think about it," Grennanod murmured.

"Is it?" Azuesh said more grimly. "Grenna, no gentleman would want a wife from a cursed family either."

Jastalettel put a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes.

"Which is why Father is trying hard to lift the curse," Erleon said.

Another rook flew into the open window.

Cedalot chased it off.

"A can't abide them!" he said when he stomped back to their mother. He took hold of her hand and rubbed his face in her skirts. "I wish Mother would wake up and smile for once."

Dannalot nodded, stroking his head and taking their mother's other hand.

"They were saying how we are nothing like our mother," Grennanod quietly murmured, after a while.

They all looked to the mute and mindless woman sitting in the chair in the center of them. Truthfully, (though they hated it) they had to agree. All of them took after their father, different from each other in only slight ways.

"You have mother's nose," Azuesh finally said to Jastalettel.

Jastalettel blushed, then said, "I see her chin in you."

"Grennanod has her eyes," Dannalot offered.

They all looked to their sister, whose eyes were the same elvish dark as theirs - though the shape was a smidgeon like their mother's.

"There is a bit of her in all of us," Erleon finally said with a look to his elder brother. "We're not identical clones of Father after all."

Yet as they slipped back into silence, that deep unconscious worry remained in the backs of their thoughts - for they knew they all had acquired something from their mother that was not a thing visible to the human eye. But what it was frightened them.

Chapter Six: Socializing

 

 

 

 

The morning after the visitors came to Witsend Manor, Jastalettel had gone through her entire closet, tearing out each and every dress with a moan. "What am I to do? None of these are like what those ladies are wearing!"

 "You are not seriously worried about being out of fashion, are you?" Azuesh lifted her eyebrows as if the idea was too petty to think about.

Jastalettel shot her a sharp look. "Azu! Stop acting like you are superior to everyone else! Remember the picnic? They were staring at the way we were dressed. And we wore our best."

The servants were standing near, listening in while tending to Lady Riddermarch's hair. They were braiding it away from her face to keep it manageable. One of the serving women exchanged a furtive look with the other.

Azuesh merely rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

"I know you think those girls' opinions are beneath you," Jastalettel said with bite. "But if we are to blend in, we must dress like them."

"She has a point," Grennanod said, passing through the doorway and into the room with a glance at the pile of dresses. "But...they wear corsets."

"Not all of them," Jastalettel retorted, and turned back towards the closet, sorting out what might be passable. The thing was, the sisters had made their clothes themselves. They even made clothes for their brothers. In fact, they had prided themselves on how their dresses has turned out. It had just never occurred to them until later that their weaving and sewing style was a bit too fanciful for a regular human being.

One of the servants cleared her throat, attempting to get their attention.

"So, what are you saying? We have to make clothes like that frilly girl?" Azuesh looked like she had just choked on a fly.

"Uh-hm," the servant cleared her throat again, then whispered, "Uh...Miss..."

All three sisters turned, startled.

Truthfully, the servants hardly spoke to the family about anything not related to their mother's care or their meals. It wasn't that they were treated badly, or that the children were unkind. But rather, the servants were frequently terrified of the magic goings-on in the manor house. Birds flying in and out, deer in the kitchen and bathroom. And how the plants seemed to lean adoringly toward the children... Only a few of the staff were long-term. And they strictly kept to themselves. Mostly, though, it had to do with how wild and independent the Riddermarch children were.

"Uh, if it is not too presumptuous, Miss. But, uh, there're shops in town where you can buy a dress."

Jastalettel blinked and stared. "Buy one? But...will it fit right?"

"They can adjust it, Miss," the brave servant said.

"In enough time?" Grennanod asked.

The servant bobbed her head nervously. And the others joined in, sharing hopeful looks.

"How would we know which ones are best?" whispered Grennanod.

The servant went into a half-shrug, then said, "Uh, if you don't mind my saying...the shopkeepers help you."

But Azuesh huffed, slumping against the bed post. "Ugh. I hate going into town."

The servant backed off, lowering her head.

"No," murmured Jastalettel, thinking on it. "That's a great idea."

"It's an awful idea," Azuesh snapped. She pointed towards town. "The Baroness always shows up when we go out! Always! Like she's waiting for us!"

"That's true," Grennanod said, frowning.

But Jastalettel shot Azuesh a look as she said, "Be that as it may, we need to blend in with those other ladies. Otherwise, the dinner party will just end up like the picnic. We need to make friends, Azu."

Her sister looked sulky. But even she nodded, as it was true.

That afternoon after lunch, the sisters informed their other brothers and sisters that they would be going into Justamere Village for a shopping trip.

Ranoft shared a look with Erleon then nodded with approval.

"I agree. It is a good idea."

Jastalettel glanced back at the servant who had suggested it and smiled appreciatively.

The servant ducked toward the shadows, blushing - as no one wanted to be singled out in Witsend Manor. There was a superstition among the servants that they could end up elf-snatched if that happened...though in all the history of the family, it never had.

Ranoft and Erleon gave the ladies subtle hints on what they ought to wear on their shopping trip, as they had the most frequent in town trips. And though the three sister returned disparaging looks, Jastalettel urged the other two to listen just this once as her brothers did know how to go about without making a scene.

They took the smaller carriage into town.

Justamere was a thriving village. It had all the sounds and smells of a bustling center for local trade. There were about five shops that sold clothing, or clothing related items. One was a cobbler. Another, a millenary. One of the shops sold the fabrics and materials for those that made their clothes themselves, along with other household item. But there was also a tailor who mostly made suits for men. The town was, after all, mostly frequented by the local folk and not many from the aristocracy. So when the three eldest Riddermarch ladies we let out on the boardwalk along the shop rows, the sellers were baffled when they saw them go straight to the dress shop where all the merchant daughters usually bough their gowns.

The bell jangled when they entered the shop. The keepers lifted their heads in surprise and stared.

All three decked in regal yet plain travel cloaks, Jastalettel, Grennanod and Azuesh looked around the room, their eyes taking in the dresses on display.

"That one's not bad..." Grennanod said, walking over a green gown with a modest cut and a style similar to a lily pad in its folds.

"May I..." a young washed-faced, hair in a fashionable bun, lady came up to them. "...help you?"

Jastalettel turned with a gentle smile and nod. Azuesh looked a little more resigned rather than pleased, but she nodded. Grennanod, hearing her, turned around and said, "Yes. We heard from our servants that this is the shop that can supply us with a...an acceptable dinner dress for this evening's party."

Azuesh averted her eyes at the choice of the word 'acceptable'.

The bell rang again as the door opened. This time in trotted four of the ladies from the visiting aristocrat part, Lady Lillian leading them. She was in yet another dress, this one in blue and white muslin, with little flowers stitched on top with tiny pearls here and there. It was trimmed with velvet ribbon. As always, she gave the impression of a porcelain doll, as did the other ladies.

"Oh!" Lady Lillian stepped back, hand over her mouth in surprise.

"Fancy meeting them here," whispered one friend to another behind Lillian.

"We're here to buy dinner gowns," Azuesh explained almost tiredly.

Lillian looked to her and fluttered her long lashes. "I see. So are we. I heard Lady Rooke is quite the fashion aficionado. And rumor has it, this shop has good taste."

"Oh, good!" Grennanod said, looking to Jastalettel. "Our servant did not steer us wrong."

"But what is the best gown?" Azuesh said, walking over to one of the models, fingering the lace. It was delicately tatted, and the shopkeeper watched nervously, wondering at the sisters who had never been in their shop before.

Pleased, and taking the inquiry personally, Lady Lillian approached her with a whisper, "You have asked the right person. I happen to be an expert in town fashion."

The sisters regarded her briefly with the briefest of shared looks. Yet they quickly came to the consensus that this was indeed a providential meeting. And better still, they doubted that Baroness Rooke would actually enter the shop as she had her own seamstresses, and therefore they would be left free of harassment, if only for a little while.

"What do you recommend?" Jastalettel asked.

Lillian smiled genuinely, enjoying the