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"Felicity, Pippa, Ann may I present Virginia Doyle, my mother."
The girls mumble their polite how-do-you'do's.
"I am so very pleased to meet you," Mother says. "What beautiful girls you all are." This has the desired effect. They blush, completely charmed. "Will you take a stroll with me?" Soon she has them regaling her with stories of Spence and themselves, the three of them competing for her attention, and I'm a bit grumpy, wanting to have my mother only to myself. But then Mother gives me a wink and takes my hand, and I'm happy again.
"Shall we sit?" Mother gestures to a blanket woven of fine silver thread, stretched out on the grass. For something so light, it is surprisingly strong and comfortable. Felicity runs her hand over the delicate threads. They give off the most striking tones.
"Dear me," she says, delighted. "Can you hear that? Pippa, you try."
We all do. It's as if we're conducting a symphony of harps through our fingers, and it sets us to laughing.
"Isn't it marvelous? I wonder what else we can do?" Felicity muses.
Mother smiles. "Anything."
"Anything?" Ann repeats.
"In this realm, what you wish can be yours. You have only to know what you want."
We take this in, not quite comprehending it. Finally, Ann stands up. "I'll give it a try." She stops. "What should I do?"
"What do you most want? Nodon't tell us. Fix it in your mind. Like a wish." Ann nods, closes her eyes. A minute passes.
"Nothings happened," Felicity whispers. "Has it?"
"I don't know," Pippa says. "Ann? Ann, are you all right?"
Ann rocks back and forth on her heels. Her lips part. I'm afraid she's gone into some kind of trance. I look to my mother, who brings a finger to her mouth. Ann's lips open wide. What comes out is like no music I've ever heard, clear and soaring, sweet as an angel's voice. Her singing raises gooseflesh on my arms. Every note seems to change her. She's still Ann, but somehow the music makes her achingly lovely. Her hair shines. Her cheeks become smooth and bright. She's like some watery creature from the deepa mermaid come to live on the glossy surface of the river.
"Ann, you're beautiful," Pippa gasps.
"Am I?" She runs to the river, catches sight of her reflection. "I am!" She laughs, delighted. It's startling, hearing a real laugh come from Ann. She closes her eyes and lets the music soar out of her.
" Incroyable !" Felicity says, showing off her French. "I want to try!"
"Me too!" Pippa cries.
They close their eyes, meditate for a moment, and open them again.
"I don't see him," Pippa says, looking around.
"Were you waiting for me, m'lady?" A beautiful young knight appears from behind a large golden oak. He sinks to one knee before Pippa. She gasps. "I have frightened you. Forgive me."
"I might have known," Felicity whispers dryly in my ear.
Pippa looks as if she's just won every prize at the carnival. Giddily she says, "You are forgiven."
He rises. He's no more than eighteen, but tall, with hair the color of just-ripe corn and broad shoulders draped in a chain mail so light it is nearly liquid. The effect is of a lion. Powerful. Graceful. Noble.
"Where is your champion, m'lady?"
Pippa trips over her tongue, trying to be ladylike and controlled. "I have no champion."
"Then I shall ask to have that honor. If the lady would grant me her favor."
Pippa turns to us, her whisper verging on an excited squeal. "Please tell me that I'm not dreaming this." "You are not dreaming," Felicity whispers back. "Or else we all are."
It's all Pippa can do not to shriek with happiness and jump up and down like a child. "Noble knight, I shall grant you my favor." She means to be imperious but can barely keep from giggling.
