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“Right, now come along.” Anne pulled the wet cloak off Exerilla, making little sounds with her tongue and grimacing over the trail of small puddles the cloak had made. She dropped the offending garment to the floor and said, “Oi’ll see to getting that dried in the kitchen after oi get ye upstairs.”
“I am so sorry I am late, the coach was delayed along the road, you must be so very tired…” Exerilla offered quietly.
“That’s a good girl, some things can’t be helped,” Anne pronounced and ushered her up the staircase.
* * *
Exerilla closed her eyes briefly and whispered a quick spell to dry her wet boots before she took the carpeted stairs.
She was sure that her father could not trace this simple form of magic back to her. It was an ordinary spell and did not have her signature and would not leave enough of a residue.
Anne opened the door into a small room that was sparsely furnished. It had a corner hearth and she said with a satisfied grunt, “Oi lit that fer ye earlier, oi did, glad oi am that it still
be burning. Oi’ll jest add a few coals,” she moved over and did just that, stirring them until the coals burned red hot. “There, come over and dry yer hair as best ye can and oi’ll have yer trunk brought to ye and let them know downstairs ye have arrived.”
Exerilla smiled at her, “Thanks Anne.”
“Humph, oi never heard an American speak before, very odd,” she clucked her tongue once again, as she left Exerilla to herself.
X surveyed her room. There were no hangings on the window, and the bed was no more than a cot. It would have to do. She walked over to the mirror and sighed as she surveyed her bedraggled self. A day’s traveling, and then getting nearly soaked through had not helped.
What she needed was magic.
It wasn’t fair that what she had been using all her life, what she had been trained to perfect was no longer available to her.
She wrinkled her nose and smiled mischievously and once again, and without the use of her wand, she closed her eyes and in the flash of a moment, she was dry. She looked at herself in the long mirror on the wall beside the oak wardrobe, and smoothed her gown of blue. She blinked and her long black glistening locks of hair were piled stylishly at the top of her head with several long swirls dangling about her ears.
She pinched and flattened the white lace collar and the matching cuffs, and smiled to herself. Well, that was better.
She grimaced as she remembered that her mother had selected all the clothes she had with her, which meant sturdy and prim. She would have to do something about that. She couldn’t imagine herself being sturdy and prim in any century.
A saucy smile flickered over her face as she bent to pour a bit of water from the pitcher into the bowl and dampened her hanky to wash her face. That’s right Mom, too old for prim and proper. The cold water made her shiver.
She definitely missed hot running water.
A few moments later, two boys (whom she guessed were in their early teens), dropped her trunk in her room with a heavy plop and with open wide and toothy grins, warmly greeted her.
She took out a couple of coins and handed one to each of them, to their eye-popping delight. With a sigh, she made her way downstairs where Anne met her and led her to the parlor. At the open door, Anne folded her full arms across her middle and announced that Miss Exerilla Radley had arrived, and that she would return momentarily with a tray of refreshments. She hurried off and left Exerilla standing alone at the open doorway.
Exerilla took a tentative step inside when she was hit with conflicting vibes. A chill scurried up her spine and her instincts told her to run!
The only other woman in the room had jumped to her feet. As she came forward, hands outstretched. Exerilla had a vision of a woman in a white lace cap which covered graying brown hair, in a brown gown too dull and staid for her station.
“Oh my dear,” the woman said as she took Exerilla’s hand, “I am Mary Horwich, and I am so very pleased to welcome you to our home. Do come and meet my husband and son,” she said pulling Exerilla gently along, and glancing hopefully toward a weathered and husky man of about sixty with dark cold eyes, “Squire, this is my cousin’s ward, Exerilla Radley.”
“Eh, aye, you are late. I can’t abide tardiness,” he said witheringly.
Exerilla’s chin went up, “I am so very sorry, and I do beg your pardon. The stagecoach ran into some trouble along the way.”
He grumbled something incoherent and returned to his side table, poured another drink and took it with him to his large dark brocade winged chair.
Mary’s lashes fluttered and two pink spots appeared in her cheeks. She turned to the other gentleman in the room; Exerilla found herself looking into a pair of warm gray eyes alight with appreciation.
Softly and with great affection, Mary Horwich said, “This is my son, David.”
David went forward and inclined his head as he took Exerilla’s hand and bent to place a light kiss on her fingers. “Well then, if you are my mother’s cousin’s ward, I must also consider you a cousin…of sorts, but not enough to get in the way…” he said and his gray eyes twinkled.
Exerilla felt a wave of wariness. That was an odd thing to say upon their first meeting. She smiled and said, “Thank you, how very kind you all are.” X thought to herself, How the heck am I going to survive this very strange and disconnected family for months on end?
