Page 85 of Stardust Child

A few minutes later, Ophele was hidden comfortably in a corner, munching on cookies and sipping a cup of apple cider, delighted by these forbidden treats.

“Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners. “F-for the food.”

“You are very welcome.” The lady patted her head. “Have all the cookies you like. Have you met my daughter, Melia? I think she’s about your age.”

Ophele shook her head rather than answering, but this time it was because her mouth was full.

“I shall have to introduce you…” The lady sent a sharp look over her shoulder at someone in the crowd, and then returned her gaze to Ophele, smiling benevolently. “That’s your sister Lisabe at the clavichord, isn’t it?”

Lisabe wasn’t her sister, but Ophele wasn’t sure whether it might be rude to say this, so she just nodded. Dressed in a lovely pale purple gown bristling with lace and ruffles, Lisabe took her seat at the small clavichord, which was not too large for her to reach the foot pedals.

“It is a sweet song,” the lady said as Lisabe began to play, with some accomplishment. Fans waved briskly among the crowd. For the recently elevated nobility, and the rich but ambitious merchants who aspired to that class, mere exposure to a lady of Lady Hurrell’s refinement was a priceless opportunity. Lady Hurrell wore the manners of the aristocracy like a second skin, and Lisabe was similarly a model for the little girls, who would be expected to marry for the blood or gold their families currently lacked.

Lady Romil was very nice. Ophele didn’t understand much of what she said, but her voice was kind when she said it, and she plied Ophele with more cookies and juice and gentle caresses, which at first made Ophele flinch until she realized they didn’t hurt. And Melia was nice, too, when she appeared, a gregarious little girl with strawberry blonde curls and a very pretty jade-green gown.

“Can we go play in the garden?” Melia asked, taking Ophele’s hand as if they had instantly become friends.

“After you have taken your turn,” Lady Romil replied. “Why don’t you slip in after Lisabe? Then you and Ophele can go play.”

“I don’t know…” Ophele said, troubled, but the lady looked down at her with that same kindly smile stretching her mouth.

“It’s too lovely a day to keep children penned up inside,” she said, with an air of friendly conspiracy. “There, now, see? Melia shall play now, and then you’ll be on your way. Do you play the lute, my dear?”

“I don’t know how,” Ophele admitted, watching enviously as Melia took her place and plucked a simple but cheerful song.Rosalie Blue and the Magic Lutewas one of her favorite songs, and Ophele had oftenwished she could run away to the forest and play a magic lute so the animals would be her friends.

“The flute, then? Or the harp?”

“No. I don’t know how to play anything.”

“You can’t playanyinstrument, child?” Lady Romil asked, and Ophele did not hear the change in her voice.

“No,” she said, confused. “I don’t have any teachers…”

She did not know that this was unusual. Nor did she understand why Lady Romil suddenly sounded so eager as she asked about her nonexistent lessons, friends, nurse, and tutors, but the barrage of questions was sufficient to make her retreat, mute and bewildered.

“It’s all right, child, you can tell me the truth,” Lady Romil said reassuringly. The words sent a spasm of terror through the little girl. Ophele didn’t know what that was. Shaking her head, she tried to slide out of her chair, her eyes searching fearfully for Lady Hurrell.

“No, no, my dear, don’t worry. Would you like more coo—”

But that friendly hand suddenly seemed grasping, and Ophele darted away, searching frantically through the crowd of strangers. People had tried to talk to her before. More than once, visitors to Aldeburke had taken her aside, asking questions she didn’t understand with big, ingratiating smiles on their faces. Lady Hurrell was the only one that ever came looking for her. Lady Hurrell was the only one that protected her. Lady Hurrell was the only person willing to hug her, even though Ophele was a bastard.

Spying the lady by the tea table, Ophele flung herself into her skirts.

“Ophele!” Lady Hurrell exclaimed in surprise. “There you are, I’ve been searching everywhere! Whatever is the matter?”

“Perhaps she thinks she is being punished,” came Lady Romil’s voice, a good deal sharper than it had been before. “Since she has not had a chance to play, like the other girls. Surely you would not neglect your fosterling in favor of your own child?”

The hands holding Ophele went rigid, and she clung tighter, hiding her face.

“Ophele.” Lady Hurrell’s hand gripped her shoulder to push her away toward the crowd, outwardly gentle but rigid as iron. Her red lips curved in a soft smile. “Is that why you’re upset? Would you like to play for these nice ladies?”

The room was silent. There were dozens of ladies watching, as well as children and servants, a weight of staring eyes so crushing that Ophele’s throat closed. She didn’t know how. She knew she didn’t know how. Should she not have said that? What did Lady Hurrell want her to say? She had messed up, she shouldn’t have said anything to Lady Romil, it was so much better never to speak at all.

Slowly, her head began to shake from side to side, not in answer but mute, fearful denial.

“Are you sure? You love to play.” Lady Hurrell’s voice was soft and understanding anddisappointed.

“She said she doesn’t know how.” Lady Romil was not going to be beaten so easily. “Could that be true, Lady Hurrell? You have spoken so often of your great expectations for her.”

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