The Lost Child

Leaving the Keep

I had to just get through lunch with my father, before I could escape and make my way to Lockwood. My father did not yet know of my mother’s death, and I intended to keep it that way. If he were to discover, he’d arrange a passing day, with my being the hostess. And while there was nothing more I wanted to do in the world – give my mother a proper sending off from this world to the next, I couldn’t afford the loss of time that the idea presented. So I told the staff that mother was sleeping, and not to disturb her. They’d check on her later and think that she’d passed in her sleep.

Father was already at the table when I finally made my way there. He was sitting at the head of the table and gestured that I was to sit one seat away from his right hand side. I gently sat down on my seat, and waited for the maids to bring us our lunch. I couldn’t think to make conversation with my father, distraught over my mother’s passing and silently making my plans for escaping later. I was planning to take four pairs of dresses, a purse full of bronze, silvers and golds, my thick winter coat made out of sable fur, a saddle bag of food and water and at least three pairs of slippers. I didn’t have anything studier (A lady never wears anything but slippers, after all) but I could use my money to barter a new pair of thicker boots. I was planning which bags to take (because I couldn’t fit everything I was planning into one saddlebag, believe me, when for the first time in my life, my father initiated conversation.      

“Jiva, how is your mother?”

I stilled lifting my spoonful of broth to my mouth. Had I just heard right? Did my farther actually speak to me? Of his own volition?

I raised my eyebrows, not really knowing what to say. Did father somehow know?

“Jiva, a lady always answers when asked a question, especially when asked by a male”

The “A lady never/always” makes tears spring to my eyes unbidden. I force them back, fighting tears that are sure to follow if I don’t push these back. I clear my throat “Yes father. Sorry. Mother’s fine. She spoke to me quietly and then fell asleep. I think she’s very tired and a nap is just what she needs at the moment. She’ll be okay, I think.”  My voice almost broke when I spoke, remembering my mother’s cooling body upstairs. After that, we didn’t speak, save for our emotionless daily tête-à-tête. I hadn’t an appetite, rather, I felt sick to my stomach and the food that managed to consume sat heavily and painfully. But I knew that food would be scare and I needed to eat hardy now, while I could. So I sat through our hour and forty five minute meal, dining on roast meats and cooked vegetables in various sauces. I managed at least a plate and a half full, and then was content to just eat the offered breads and cheeses.  It was only when Father finished that I was allowed to leave (A lady never leaves first, but rather waits and allows her betters to continue to dine) and rushed to prepare myself. I all but flew up the stairs, tripping on my silken slippers and long skirts.

A few of these layers have got to go, I thought.  

When I finally reached my room I gently closed my door and locked the hatch. I didn’t need anyone finding me before I was ready and with an excuse to explain why I was suddenly wanted to leave the township of Ealon and the protection of my father’s keep.  

I pulled out the saddlebag I kept in the trunk at the base of my bed and began to pack. I packed the items I could think of off the top of my head, and then went through a list mentally to ensure I had everything. I stood and looked at the items as I placed on my bed. There were my four dresses (plus two night gowns), two pairs of slippers, my purse full of money, my sable coat, my parasol, a hat and undergarments. I couldn’t honestly think of anything else I would need, aside from food, as well as water bags and grain for Zophia and I.