breakfast tray.
“Oh no, I’m not wearing this .”
Underhill gasped, clutching the hat to her chest , and pursed her lips. “But it’s tradition, milady!”
“Sorry , but you couldn’t pay me to wear it ,” Amie replied.
“At least let me braid your gryphon’s mane,” Underhill huffed and her charge appeased her whim.
Amie knew better than to disagree and watched as the housemaid got to work on her black curls, twisting and turning it into something manageable. After a while of watching her deft hands, her mind wandered to other things.
Like the flowers that grew out of nothing…
She had ignored the look in Henry’s eye when the violet blossoms appeared from beneath their h an ds the night before. They had watched the stars burn across the night sky and Amie had felt it the moment her happiness bubbled over and flooded her nerves. After a good night’s rest she decided she hadn’t felt the sharp sting of an electric current escape her fingertips, or smelt the strange blend of rain and something burning after.
Henry hadn’t stopped smiling after, even as his brow creased with something like worry. Before they parted ways at her door he had pressed her palm between both of his and said, “ You’re beginning to see now, dear one. Don’t open your eyes just yet… ”
“What troubles yer thoughts, Lady Wenderdowne?” Underhill ’s soft voice eased her out of her thoughts.
Blinking numbly back at her reflection, Amie watched her brow furrow and cursed the fact she couldn’t help but wear her emotions on her sleeve. “Nothing…So am I meeting Uncle in the Looking Room today?” Amie referred to Henry’s favorite morning retreat, a white room of mirrors and illusions. He never invited her to breakfast with him there, however. O nce again she couldn’t help the niggling curiosity that wanted to know why.
“Master shan’t be sparing any time for lessons today, I fear. He’s got much dishwakling to do. Of course!” she exclaimed while tying Amie’s silver ribbon in a sharp bow, then said, “ ’T is what happens when a Master forgets his duties. He has too much to oversee and too much Rumplekin mischief afoot!”
“ Rumplekin ?” Amie repeated.
Underhill’s nose twitched and with a passing glance she motioned for her to turn around. Putting on shoes had been no big deal back home. Amie still didn’t know what the house servants had done with her Converse or her other clothes. The first couple of days she nearly went on strike, refusing to come out wearing anything but her modern wardrobe. Now the slow art of Underhill shoving the high boots over her ankles and then lacing them up seemed natural.
Though the Lady of the house had forgotten her previous question, the h ead of the h ousehold staff had not. So she startled Amie when she burst forth with a wealth of information.
“The Rumplekin family has been causing mischief in the Vale for the better part of this age! Always pulling the wool over the eyes of formerly wiser l ords and l adies, it is in their nature to tell half-truths. No better than Goblins, they be!”
“Goblins?” Amie queried while Underhill helped her up and rummaged for her parasol.
“Aye, cousins to me own kin…Just be grateful you’ve never met a Rumplekin! And Grimwich! Och! Most ever-lackadaisical fool you’ve set your eyes on!”
“Underhill?”
“No better than a brimbled troll he be!”
“Rachel…”
“Fool of a tushmonger !”
“Hey , you!” Amie waved her hands in front of the maid’s face and watched the blush fill her cheeks. Underhill blinked fitfully before a slow maniacal grin enhanced her round cheekbones and creased her lips. Snatching the ridiculous - looking parasol from her hands, Amie promptly thwacked her maid in the skirts and growled, “Snap out of it! Are you going to show me why I’m dressed like Eliza Doolittle or are we just gonna gossip all day?”
Underhill blushed to the roots of her chestnut
“Oh no, I’m not wearing this .”
Underhill gasped, clutching the hat to her chest , and pursed her lips. “But it’s tradition, milady!”
“Sorry , but you couldn’t pay me to wear it ,” Amie replied.
“At least let me braid your gryphon’s mane,” Underhill huffed and her charge appeased her whim.
Amie knew better than to disagree and watched as the housemaid got to work on her black curls, twisting and turning it into something manageable. After a while of watching her deft hands, her mind wandered to other things.
Like the flowers that grew out of nothing…
She had ignored the look in Henry’s eye when the violet blossoms appeared from beneath their h an ds the night before. They had watched the stars burn across the night sky and Amie had felt it the moment her happiness bubbled over and flooded her nerves. After a good night’s rest she decided she hadn’t felt the sharp sting of an electric current escape her fingertips, or smelt the strange blend of rain and something burning after.
Henry hadn’t stopped smiling after, even as his brow creased with something like worry. Before they parted ways at her door he had pressed her palm between both of his and said, “ You’re beginning to see now, dear one. Don’t open your eyes just yet… ”
“What troubles yer thoughts, Lady Wenderdowne?” Underhill ’s soft voice eased her out of her thoughts.
Blinking numbly back at her reflection, Amie watched her brow furrow and cursed the fact she couldn’t help but wear her emotions on her sleeve. “Nothing…So am I meeting Uncle in the Looking Room today?” Amie referred to Henry’s favorite morning retreat, a white room of mirrors and illusions. He never invited her to breakfast with him there, however. O nce again she couldn’t help the niggling curiosity that wanted to know why.
“Master shan’t be sparing any time for lessons today, I fear. He’s got much dishwakling to do. Of course!” she exclaimed while tying Amie’s silver ribbon in a sharp bow, then said, “ ’T is what happens when a Master forgets his duties. He has too much to oversee and too much Rumplekin mischief afoot!”
“ Rumplekin ?” Amie repeated.
Underhill’s nose twitched and with a passing glance she motioned for her to turn around. Putting on shoes had been no big deal back home. Amie still didn’t know what the house servants had done with her Converse or her other clothes. The first couple of days she nearly went on strike, refusing to come out wearing anything but her modern wardrobe. Now the slow art of Underhill shoving the high boots over her ankles and then lacing them up seemed natural.
Though the Lady of the house had forgotten her previous question, the h ead of the h ousehold staff had not. So she startled Amie when she burst forth with a wealth of information.
“The Rumplekin family has been causing mischief in the Vale for the better part of this age! Always pulling the wool over the eyes of formerly wiser l ords and l adies, it is in their nature to tell half-truths. No better than Goblins, they be!”
“Goblins?” Amie queried while Underhill helped her up and rummaged for her parasol.
“Aye, cousins to me own kin…Just be grateful you’ve never met a Rumplekin! And Grimwich! Och! Most ever-lackadaisical fool you’ve set your eyes on!”
“Underhill?”
“No better than a brimbled troll he be!”
“Rachel…”
“Fool of a tushmonger !”
“Hey , you!” Amie waved her hands in front of the maid’s face and watched the blush fill her cheeks. Underhill blinked fitfully before a slow maniacal grin enhanced her round cheekbones and creased her lips. Snatching the ridiculous - looking parasol from her hands, Amie promptly thwacked her maid in the skirts and growled, “Snap out of it! Are you going to show me why I’m dressed like Eliza Doolittle or are we just gonna gossip all day?”
Underhill blushed to the roots of her chestnut
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