Chapter Text
“I sometimes have sick fancies,” she went on, “and I have a sick fancy that I want to see some play. There, there!” with an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand; “play, play, play!”
- Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
"Oh, but Arianwen, she's adorable!"
It took Adaine a long time to realise that her mother's party guest was talking about her. Aelwyn was adorable, and precocious, and allowed to stay up an hour past bed-time to show off to their parent's guests. Adaine was hot and tired, stuffed into an old peach chiffon dress of Aelwyn's that she privately thought made her look like a worm, and already half up the stairs to bed when her mother's arm shot out to stop her.
Adaine stumbled, caught her balance, turned around and bobbed a quick curtsey to her mother and her mother's friend, a willowy blonde elf in a flowy silk dress.
"Do you think so?" Arianwen replied laconically, one hand still on Adaine's arm.
"She's like a little doll," the woman cooed. She moved closer and stroked a lock of Adaine's hair. Adaine bore it patiently, though her fingers were twitching. "Oh, what a sweetheart. I love my darling boy, of course, but it would be so lovely to have a little girl to dress up. Aren't you a lucky thing, having two?"
This last comment was addressed to Adaine's mother, who snorted in a way that should have been inelegant. "You're very welcome to borrow her," Arianwen said. "Perhaps a playdate?"
"Just the thing," the woman agreed. "My maid will arrange it."
When Adaine was released to her bedroom her cheeks were pinched and her face flushed, but she let herself feel just a little bit of excitement for the next day. She was to attend a playdate, with a boy her own age, and there would be no Aelwyn to show her up. She might even make a friend.
In the morning her mother's Unseen Servant dressed her in a pale blue dress and her soft white angora cardigan with pearl buttons, itchy stockings and patent-leather white shoes. I don't want to see a speck of dirt on these, Adaine. Her mother didn't need to be in the room to tell her that. She had never been allowed to wear them out of the house before. Arianwen was sipping coffee in the kitchen when Adaine presented herself for inspection.
"Well," she sighed, looking her up and down, "I suppose it will have to do." And nothing more was said until Adaine was delivered to the front steps of Seacaster Manor.
Adaine bunched her little fists in the pockets of her dress - careful not to crease them - and tried to take deep breaths. Aelwyn went on plenty of playdates with the children of her parent's important friends and always came back crowing about the houses she had visited and the games she had played. This was a good thing. This was the step towards making her first real friend. She fixed a smile to her face.
When the massive door opened, a halfling woman beamed out at her and immediately made her feel safe. "Well hello there, dearie!"
"Good morning," Adaine said in her sweetest, most appeasing, least talking-back voice. "My name is Adaine Abernant."
"Well of course you are!" The maid said, ushering her inside. "We've been expecting you. Come in, come in. Let me take your coat - gosh, what a lovely little outfit you have on." The maid had her out of her coat and sat on a padded bench in moments. "A lovely coat indeed," she said while hanging it up, and turned back to Adaine with a conspiratorial expression. "Now, not that you don't look wonderful in your Sunday best, but if you'll want to be playing outside I have some of master Fabian's old play-clothes we could get you in to. Wouldn't want these nice things getting dirty, would we?"
A familiar voice floated down the hall into the foyer. "There's no need for that, Cathilda, she's perfect as she is."
"Madame Seacaster!" The maid - Cathilda - tilted her head to look at the Elven woman as she came into the room. "Look at you, up and about from your sensory egg before noon. Can I get you some breakfast?"
"No need," Madame Seacaster repeated, gesturing with one elegantly manicured hand to a silver cup in the other. "Adaine, darling, I'm so glad you're here. Cathilda, isn't she a picture?"
"Very sweet," Cathilda agreed, with a smile that was far warmer than Madame Seacaster's triumphant smirk. "I'll go let Master Fabian know that you've arrived, Miss Adaine. He'll be awfully excited."
Madame Seacaster's hand closed around Adaine's arm, pulling her back towards herself ever so slightly, but enough that it gave Cathilda pause. "Fabian is in training, Cathilda, don't disturb him."
"But-"
"Adaine is here for me ," Madame Seacaster interrupted her. "We'll take tea in my rooms. And bring up some of those pink petits fours we had at our last reception. Little girls like sweets, don't they?" She directed this last comment to Adaine, who had no idea how to answer. She couldn't remember ever having any.
"Right," said Cathilda, after a marked pause. "Of course, madame."
When they were alone Madame Seacaster relinquished her grip on Adaine's arm and looked her up and down, much like she had at the party.
"You're very quiet," she observed.
Adaine gasped and tripped over her words in an effort to compensate. Her mother had taught her a formal High Elven greeting for these occasions and she tripped it off, stammering a little, and added "thank you for having me" for good measure.
Madame Seacaster stared at her for a moment before erupting into a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells.
"Aren't you the sweetest thing! Come with me, little doll, and let's have tea."
*
Adaine was having the loveliest morning of her life. She did like little pink cakes, as it turned out, and soft finger sandwiches with white bread, and Elven tea tasted even better in the sweet porcelain cups that Madame Seacaster (who she was told to call Hallariel) brought out of a fancy little chest. "These were mine when I was a little girl," Hallariel had confided in her, "and no-one's used them since, isn't that a shame?" Hallariel had asked her so many questions about herself - Did she like school? What was her favourite colour? - and Adaine, flushed with attention and sugar, had forgotten to be quiet and demure and answered every single one. Then Hallariel had brought out more treasures from the little chest; a silver hairbrush and comb, and set Adaine between her knees to take out the severe clips that had been digging into her skull, then brushed her hair until it was soft and shiny and smelling like rose perfume.
"Just a spritz," Hallariel sighed happily as she wafted the scent over Adaine's head. "A lady should always have a little scent on her, and rose is so becoming on you."
Adaine wasn't sure what she was becoming, exactly, but if Hallariel liked it then so did she.
When the light outside began to turn warm and golden, there came a knock at the door. Cathilda the maid entered with a little boy who she announced as Madame Seacaster's son.
Adaine bit her lip. He couldn't be - he was dirty and sweaty and clung to the maid's apron like a much younger child when they were introduced. But Hallariel beamed at him so Adaine did the same, and bobbed the little curtsey that she had practiced for the party, and was cooed over once again.
" This is my darling boy," Hallariel said as she swept over to pat Fabian on the head. "He's been hard at work with his papa, haven't you, sweetheart?"
"Since six-o-clock this morning," Cathilda added, with a smile that looked as tight as Adaine's mother's.
"Such a hard worker," Hallariel said. "Fabian, darling, this is Adaine. We've had the most wonderful day together."
Adaine glowed with pride as she was introduced, but couldn't stop looking at the little boy. She thought about what time she had woken up that morning, and then all at once realised that Fabian wasn't clinging to his maid's skirts because he was shy - he was sleepy.
"Would you like to sit down?" She asked, gesturing to the plush chaise lounge behind her where they had taken tea.
Fabian looked longingly at it, but Hallariel said: "No, dear, he'll get it dirty. Cathilda, take him for a bath or something, won't you?"
"Of course, Madame." The little boy was lead away as quickly as he had been introduced, but he looked back over his shoulder and met Adaine's gaze one last time. She offered him a smile. His grey eyes narrowed and he turned away.
*
"Oh, you're home," her mother said hours later as she walked past Adaine's bedroom. She surveyed her and pursed her lips. "What is wrong with your hair? Why do you smell like a budget spa attendant?"
"Hallariel did it," Adaine offered up weakly. "She said ladies should smell nice."
"Such a strange woman," her mother said, shaking her head. "Well, no matter. She wants you again next week."
Adaine sat straight up in bed. "She does? Really?"
"Adaine," her mother sighed, "I don't want to hear it. You'll go, you'll be polite, you'll play with her son, you'll come home. It's not that difficult."
"But I-" didn't even really talk to Fabian, she was about to say, before her mother pinched the bridge of her nose in a way that meant stop talking and do as I say now. "Yes, mother." She risked adding: "I'm - I only meant I'd be glad to go."
"Good. You don't want to seem ungrateful." Arianwen departed to tuck Aelwyn in and left Adaine lying in bed, toes wiggling with excitement, even though she couldn't get the grey-eyed boy's scornful gaze out of her head.
"What do you think of my darling boy?" Hallariel asked, as if Adaine was another fancy lady taking tea and not a little girl Fabian's age.
"He - he was very polite," Adaine answered, before realising she hadn't heard him say anything at all. She searched her brain for the type of thing adults said about her sister at parties. "He clearly takes after his father," she added, as that always seemed to please her parents.
Hallariel smiled at her, then gazed off into the distance. "He does, at that," she sighed. "Fabian is a half-elf, you know? His father is human. You'll meet him some day."
"I - I look forward to it."
"He'll die, at some point. And so will Fabian. Can you imagine? My darling little boy, all grown up, with more wrinkles than his mamá."
Adaine wasn't sure if she was supposed to say anything. She had never heard someone talk about death so casually. Especially not another elf. When Hallariel was quiet for too long, she ventured: "I'm sure it won't be for a very long time, though?"
"A long time for a mortal," Hallariel agreed, and then fixed her with another one of those dazzling smiles. "Not for an elf. But you don't need to worry about that, little doll. You and I will be young and beautiful forever."
*
On Adaine's second trip to the manor, she met Captain Bill Seacaster.
Cathilda greeted her at the door just as warmly as she had done the week before. "Miss Adaine, a pleasure to see you. You're in your lovely blue dress again! Is it your favourite?"
"Yes," Adaine said, because she'd been told to. In fact it was getting quite small on her and she found the neckline itchy, but it had been expensive and so she couldn't dare complain. "It's very nice to see you again. Is Madame Seacaster in?"
"She is, dearie, but I'm going to show you into Captain Seacaster's study first."
Adaine's knees went a little wobbly. Aelwyn, once she had found out where Adaine had been the previous week, had delighted in telling her 'bedtime stories' about the notorious Captain Bill Seacaster and his reign of bloody terror across the high seas. ( "He's probably going to kidnap you and hold you for ransom. That's what pirates do, you know.")
"Oh," Adaine squeaked.
Cathilda chuckled indulgently. "No need to look like that, dearie, he just wants to meet you. He was busy last time you were here, but the master makes it a point to greet all of his guests. It won't take a moment."
And so Adaine was lead into a lavish study, palms sweating, to meet the notorious Captain Seacaster. Her first impression was of size - he was a bear of a man, so much bigger than her own father. He towered over both her and Cathilda when he swung around to greet them, and his voice felt like a wind that could knock Adaine clean over.
"Cathilda! Who's this?"
Cathilda squeezed Adaine's hand as she answered. "Captain Seacaster, this is Adaine Abernant. Remember you wanted to meet her?"
The fearsome pirate levelled one eye at Adaine, surely appraising her worth in doubloons. Adaine held her breath.
Captain Seacaster's majestic beard parted to reveal a winning smile. "Adaine! My wife's little friend!" He boomed at her, and then knelt down on one knee to offer her a meaty paw.
"How do you do?" Adaine stuttered, taking it with hers.
Bill's laughter seemed to rock the room as he shook her entire arm with vigour. "What a proper young miss you are!" This seemed to be a good thing, for he was still smiling. "I do very well, young Adaine, and yourself?"
Adaine squeaked: "I am very well, thank you. And my parents send their regards," she added belatedly.
This caused another booming laugh. "I'm sure they don't! Who are your parents?"
"Arianwen and Angwyn Abernant," Cathilda supplied.
"Oh, the hoity-toity elves who live nearby, hmm?" Captain Seacaster let go of Adaine's hand and appraised her, hands on his impressive hips. "Are you going to be a wizard like your mother, young Adaine? Or will ye forge your own path? Perhaps we'll make a fighter of you!"
Adaine didn't quite understand the question. "I have to be a wizard," she explained to him. "And I'm going to study at Hudol next year. That's where all the best wizards go."
The Captain snorted, and she worried that perhaps she had made him angry and would be kidnapped after all, but he said: "Well, not to worry. You are a guest in my home, and what's more, you make my wife happy. So you are very welcome here, fighter or no. We'll be like family, you hear?"
"Yes, sir," Adaine nodded fervently. "Thank you."
"Now, you run along and play," he said, dismissing her with a wave. "Cathilda! Send Fabian in to me. The boys shall be hard at work while the girls have their tea party, hmm?"
Minutes later, Adaine sunk into the pink chaise lounge in relief. She had met Bill Seacaster, and hadn't said the wrong thing. He even told her she made Hallariel happy. Clearly, she was doing something right. When Hallariel entered the parlour in a waft of something that smelled fruity and sweet, Adaine was sitting perfectly upright, with her legs crossed at the ankle like a polite lady.
Hallariel kissed her on both cheeks, but did not sit down. "I hope you're well-rested, Adaine, we have a busy day ahead of us."
Adaine cast a glance at the tea chest, which was shut. "We do?"
"I've cleared it with your mother," Hallariel said, slipping into a fabulous fur robe. "We're going on a little shopping trip, and then you're going to stay the night, won't that be fun?"
Adaine blinked at her, feeling an uncomfortable prickle wash over her skin. "I..."
"Yes? Don't dawdle, I don't want to get caught up in some sort of crowd. I like to shop at a leisurely pace."
She could have sunk through the floor. Aelwyn got pocket money, of course, but Adaine was only ten and hadn't earned any yet. "I didn't bring any money," she whispered. "Or - or my toothbrush, or-"
Hallariel tutted at her. "Why do you think we're going shopping? It's my treat, Adaine, I want to dress up my little doll and we'll have a fabulous time doing it. What do you say?"
Astounded and speechless, Adaine slipped her hand into Hallariel's, perfectly happy to follow her anywhere.
"Excellent," Hallariel said, clearly pleased. "Now, let's see if we can't improve upon your mother's... ahem, style, shall we? "
*
When they returned to Seacaster Manor, Adaine had never been more tired or more excited in her life. Servants carried their bags from the car to the house, but Adaine was permitted to hold the soft blue leather bag she'd fallen in love with, and she clutched it proudly. Boxes were carried past them containing treasures from stores she had never been taken to before; new dresses, shoes, Alice bands for her hair, and even a pair of silky pyjamas that made her feel ever so grown-up. She had been stammering her thanks ever since the first shop and wasn't sure how she would ever manage to stop.
It wasn't just the money spent, although it had been a great deal. Hallariel had spent so much time dressing her up and showing her the latest fashions. They had even stopped to get lunch at a little café. Adaine had a hot chocolate for the first time in her life and liked it a great deal, though it was richer than what she was used to. Hallariel had a glass of wine, even though the café didn't sell wine, and taught her important rituals of 'people-watching' and 'gossip'. And then more shops - more dressing, and undressing, and walking in front of large mirrors in too-bright shops with too-loud assistants cooing over every outfit.
Truth be told she was exhausted, and thinking longingly of the silk pyjamas, but only an ungrateful little girl would ask for a break from such wonder. Adaine was resolved to be anything but.
Hallariel asked her to 'dress for dinner', and so she did; in a new mint-green dress with a bow at the back, and a little cardigan called a 'bolero' that went nicely with her best white shoes. (Cathilda had promised that she could clean them if they ever got dirty, and her mother would never know.) Adaine slipped a shiny Alice band over her hair and skipped down the stairs, feeling pretty and frothy and light.
Fabian was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He must have been told to dress for dinner too, because he was wearing a grey suit and shiny black shoes, and he didn't look at all dirty or sweaty like he had the first time Adaine had seen him. He offered her his arm but did not smile, so she hung back, confused.
Fabian gestured with the outstretched arm. "Papa says I'm to walk you in to dinner," he explained. "It's what gentlemen do."
"Oh." Adaine took his arm gingerly. "Thank you?"
"Whatever," Fabian mumbled, and started walking. The halls were cavernous, and Adaine had not walked this way before.
To make conversation, she said: "You look very nice. Do you always dress up like this for dinner?"
"No," he said shortly.
"Oh," she said again. They walked past paintings and statues in silence. She tried again: "Is it a special occasion?"
Fabian stopped in front of a large, wooden double door with brass knobs, then looked at her. The scornful gaze from before was back, and she thought it was a very grown-up look for such a young face. And then she thought again how tired he looked.
"It's my birthday," Fabian said, and shoved the door open. "After you."
Captain Seacaster greeted them as they walked in, and he pulled out Adaine's chair for her like she was a grown-up, but she was relieved when he turned his heavy gaze onto Fabian instead. The sullen boy bloomed like a flower under his father's attention and his booming declarations of love and pride, not to mention the small mound of wrapped gifts in the centre of the table. Adaine wished someone had told her it was Fabian's birthday. She could have brought him something, and then maybe he would like her more. Instead, she resolved to be nice. When Hallariel started talking about how pretty she looked and the clothes they had bought together, Adaine said that she thought Fabian looked very handsome too, and he scowled at her when his parents weren't looking.
His presents were strange and not at all what she thought boys liked. There were lots of boxes of gold coins, and a leather belt with a sheath for a sword, and a large model of a ship that Bill proudly declared was a scale model of 'The Hangman'. Bill announced each present in turn, Adaine realised, while Hallariel merely looked on with lessening interest and didn't add to the pile herself. Adaine supposed Bill must have wrapped them all, even though she couldn't imagine her father wrapping presents himself.
Fabian and Adaine were both yawning into their desserts when the last present was unwrapped, and Adaine realised with an uneasy jolt that it was way past her bedtime. She wasn't sure if Hallariel knew when her bedtime was supposed to be, but she didn't say anything when Hallariel poured her fifth glass of wine, or when Bill started another story about his pirate career, or when Fabian started to droop in his chair.
It was past midnight when Cathilda bustled in and suggested the children might want to go to bed, and Adaine tried not to agree too quickly. The adults looked at her as though they had forgotten she and Fabian were there.
"I've got a lovely guest bed set up for you to trance in," Cathilda told her as she ushered them both up the stairs and onto the landing. "And Master Fabian, if you get ready for bed quickly you might find a little birthday treat on your pillow."
Fabian darted away with a grin that Adaine had not seen on his face before. He disappeared through one of the doors, and Cathilda chuckled before leading Adaine through another door into a guest bedroom. All of her boxes were there, including the lovely silk pyjamas, but Adaine couldn't muster any excitement. She was just too tired.
There was one little box, however, that caught her eye as she clambered onto the soft white eiderdown of the double guest bed. A little thing that had captivated her in a shop display. Hallariel had swept it into her arms thoughtlessly before striding off to look at more important items, like dresses, and Adaine had almost forgotten about it. She crept out of bed and picked it up. The corridor outside her room was dark and silent now, but she resolved to be brave, and tiptoed across the landing to Fabian's door.
She was about to run back to her room when the door creaked open. (Fabian in striped red and white pyjamas was far less intimidating than Fabian in a grown-up suit.)
"What?" He said, and it wasn't gentlemanly at all, but Adaine supposed you could make allowances on someone's birthday. She pressed the small box into his hands.
"It's for you," she whispered. "Hallariel - your mum, she picked it out. For your birthday. I forgot to remind her."
Adaine wasn't supposed to lie, but when Fabian drew out the bottle of swirling gold ink and actually smiled at her, she decided it was worth it.
"Happy birthday," she told him, and then fled back to her room.
*
The next day, as Adaine made a show of hanging up her new pink coat in the hallway, relishing in Aelwyn's envious glare, her fingers closed around a note in the pocket.
It read, in shaky gold lettering: thank you.