[Closed] [Memory] A Life Expected

[Desiderio Morandi]

briarwood hall, vienda

afternoon on the 22nd of roalis, 2706

Desiderio was not sure that he could find his way back to the guest bedroom. He thought perhaps he might find his way into another, perhaps after finding three or four more that were not his, and finally collapse into whatever bed he came to when his poor legs could carry him no further. He had long abandoned the hope of finding a grown-up to show him the way. Mother and the Steerpikes were very busy. There was nobody else his age around, of course. There never was. And if there had been, they probably would have stuffed him into a broom closet, because that was what people his age did.

This was Desiderio’s first summer at Briarwood Hall, and his third in Anaxas.

Really, it was his first week at Briarwood Hall, or barely just. The aeroship had landed in Vienda eight days ago. Give or take. He only knew because he made sure to fill one page of his book with drawings of something pretty every day, and he had eight pages now filled.

Mostly he drew flowers; there were plenty of those, but they were hard. Sometimes he drew the vases he wasn’t allowed to touch. (He wasn’t sure why he would have wanted to touch them to begin with, but he made sure not to touch anything at all, which was the rule.) They were easier than flowers: they were shapes, and all he had to do was put shadows on them where shadows went, and if he closed one of his eyes it was very easy to see where the shadows were and weren’t.

Once, he had found a small atrium full of flowers. It had a pond in it, too, and he had hoped there would be fish for him to draw, but there were no fish in the pond. A terribly old man had been in the atrium, with one of those funny accents Anaxi plowfeet had. His name had been Mr. Gregor. Desiderio had not wanted to talk to him at first, but it had been nice to be listened-to.

He had been looking for the atrium today, and that was how he had gotten lost. Now he did not want to find the fishpond anymore; it didn’t have fish, anyway. He wanted to find his way back to the bedroom.

He thought that if he could find the Green Parlour – which was a sort of awful brown, which Desiderio thought made perfect sense… pah! If he could find the Green Parlour, he could find his way to the east staircase, and if he could find the east stairwell again then he could find the corridor that led to the Swan Hall, and his bedroom was not very far from it.

It was growing hotter, and he was growing weaker and weaker by the second. If he collapsed in one of these endless halls, well, they would be terribly sorry, wouldn’t they? His father’s mansion in Caroult was this big – maybe it was even bigger, because the Morandi family had been much more important than the Steerpikes, once – but there was always at least somebody around to take care of him.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to marry the girl, if he collapsed. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Steerpike would decide that he was too sick to marry. He was too sick for a lot of things, after all. He was certainly too sick for sports, which was fine, because he didn’t like them anyway. If you were too sick for sports, then you must be too sick for marriage.

He thought about that as he crept past a row of high narrow windows, a line of small round tables with identically ornate vases on them underneath each one.

He couldn’t seem to think of what it would be like either way. It was probably for the best. He didn’t like girls, and girls didn’t like him. He was already scrawny and short for his age, with a chinless blob of a face and a beak for a nose. He couldn’t imagine himself courting a girl, anyway, not a pretty one like Lilianna Steerpike. Girls were even meaner than boys. Boys might shove your head in a pond or spill red sauce on your uniform at lunch accidentally-on-purpose, but girls said the things that really hurt.

He didn’t know much about Aurelie Steerpike, except that she had been very shy when Mother had made him say hello to her. He remembered her red hair, like the Anaxi girls at school, and the pretty little ribbon she had had in it that day.

He hadn’t seen her at all this time, which was all right. He supposed nobody had time, and anyway they weren’t supposed to be around each other unchaperoned anyway, though nobody much seemed to care about that either. Nobody seemed to care about anything, here.

This hall was darker; he had lost track of where he was. He found some of his agitation replaced by curiosity.

The carpet was a fine pattern of tangled vines, and so was the wallpaper. He could almost begin to imagine that he had wandered into a forest. It was a little stuffy, because the windows here were shut, in spite of the heat outside. But it was very quiet, and he felt like he had stumbled across something that nobody had ever found before. There was even a little dust on one of the tables he passed.

He was wondering if this place had a name, and wondering what he might name it himself, when he saw the door slightly ajar. He crept to it, his sketchbook and his little case of charcoals tucked under his arm. It creaked when he pushed it open.

It was a library.

It was a very small one. He had never seen it before. The pattern of vines was in here, too, but every inch of the walls was packed with bookshelves and books. There were a couple of very comfortable-looking leather-backed chairs, and he wondered if he might sit in one and read for a while, even though he wasn’t allowed to touch anything.

It was especially stuffy in here, and so he set his sketchbook on a desk and went to the little window set into one wall. But when he tried to push it open, his arms shook. He wasn’t very strong, but he thought that he might suffocate if he spent another moment in such a stuffy place. He tried again, but to no avail.

There was a noise behind him, then, and he turned. “Oh,” he said. “Hello.” He frowned.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 22, 2706 - Afternoon | Briarwood Hall, Vienda

Nurse needed to sleep. It was hot, and Nurse was always saying how she was tired when she thought Aurelie couldn't hear her. Aurelie could hear her though. She could hear lots of people, especially grown-ups who didn't think she could hear them. So she knew that Nurse was tired, and that's why she had fallen asleep in the chair in the nursery while Aurelie was doing her coloring.

For a while she had stayed in the nursery, because that was what she was supposed to do. But it was very boring sitting in the nursery by herself. She had already told a story to Henrietta, her stuffed hingle. It had been a very good story, but Henrietta heard all of her stories and Aurelie didn't want her to get bored, too.

Also, Nurse snored quite loudly. Aurelie loved Nurse, but it was a very funny sort of noise—not the kind of funny you could laugh at, though. She knew that, because one time she had laughed at Nurse's snoring in front of Mother, and Mother had been very cross and told her that only mean little girls laughed at people like that. She wasn't quite sure if "mean" and "bad" were the same, but they seemed close enough that she didn't want to be either.

She wanted to read her book. It was a very nice book; Father had gotten it for her for her birthday. They hadn't been home for it, of course, but he had given it to her the very next week and it was very lovely. A real leather cover, Nurse had said, and color pictures inside. There were a lot of books in Briarwood Hall, and a lot of those had leather covers, but they were mostly for grown-ups. So this was special.

She would go for a walk, Aurelie decided. Normally she waited for Nurse to wake up, but she wanted to play and it wouldn't be nice to wake Nurse up if she was tired, just because Aurelie was bored. She would play by herself. If she stayed inside, that would be all right.

Ana would have read the book to her. Ana wouldn't do the voices like Nurse did, but that was because her own voice was very pretty and it made all the stories sound very pretty, too. But Ana wasn't here, even though it was Roalis already and she should have been. Mother said Ana was spending part of the summer in Brunnhold, because she was doing a special study for school. Brunnhold always sounded terribly exciting when Mother and Ana talked about it, so Aurelie could understand why she would want to stay extra if she was allowed and not come home just because Aurelie missed her. But now there was nobody to read to her when Nurse was asleep, or play with her either.

That wasn't true—there was the boy. Aurelie hadn't seen him, not since they'd first arrived, but she knew he was here. Desiderio Morandi. (She had practiced saying his name when she was by herself, because it was very hard to say and he had looked very mean when she said it wrong. Aurelie supposed that was only fair; it was his name, after all, and those were important.) Aurelie didn't know if he would like playing with her; he was a boy, after all. Aurelie didn't know very much about boys, not really.

Especially not about this one, who had only just come here this week and she had only seen the once. Mother said they were going to get married when they were older, which she supposed was all right. Maybe, Aurelie thought, he was less mean than he looked. Of course it was all right, though. Mother wouldn't have done it if it wasn't all right.

Aurelie didn't know where she was going, not really. She knew where she was; she always knew where she was. Nurse told her she knew the house better than any of the staff, and Aurelie had been very proud. But she didn't know where she meant to end up, just where she was. She imagined she was telling Henrietta all about everything she passed, although she had left Henrietta behind so that she would be there when Nurse woke up and Nurse wouldn't worry.

This was the Ivy Corridor; it was a little ways from the nursery, but not too far. It had been a long time since she was in this part of the house. It was a little darker than she remembered. She wasn't afraid of the dark—but it was a little bit scary, in the way that all the unused parts of the house were. There was even dust on the tables. Aurelie thought the maids ought to dust here too, and she should probably tell the housekeeper—but then they would get in trouble. She wasn't sure which was worse, getting them in trouble when nobody came over here anyway, or not telling that there was dust on the tables. Ana would know. She would have to ask her, when she came home.

Mostly she didn't go in any of these rooms. They were very boring; she had been in them all before. Aurelie didn't know what all of them were for, just that she ought not to touch anything in them. Except—one of them was already open. She could even hear sounds of someone inside. Maybe it was a maid, she thought hopefully, dusting. Then she wouldn't have to ask Ana and nobody would get in trouble after all. Without quite thinking on it, Aurelie went inside.

It wasn't the maid at all. Nor any of the other staff—it was the boy. For a moment Aurelie froze, thinking she ought to turn around and leave. The staff were scary enough, but they were only human. Desiderio was much scarier. But the thought of going back to the nursery to play quietly alone again didn't sound like a better option. Aurelie stepped into the room, one of the smaller libraries, as he started to push open one of the windows.

She opened her mouth. She would say hello, just like Mother told her to. She ought to be able to say "hello" at least, if they were going to be married someday. Shouldn't she?

No words came out—just a tiny squeak that might have been a word, maybe. It made him turn around, and he frowned at her. He didn't look any nicer today than he had before. Aurelie's eyes got very wide, then cast down to the floor. Her hands clutched at her pale green dress.

"G-good afternoon," she managed, carefully delivered to one of the vines on the carpet, "D-Desiderio." There! She had said it right, mostly. Aurelie looked up then, feeling a little better. "D-do you need help? With the, uhm, with the w-window?" She wasn't very big or strong, but it was good to offer to help. Nurse always said so.

[Desiderio Morandi]

briarwood hall, vienda

afternoon on the 22nd of roalis, 2706

It had been a sort of squeak.

He might have thought it a mouse; there were those at Father’s. He had never yet seen a mouse at Briarwood Hall, and not for want of looking. Father’s house was much, much larger than Briarwood – on account of how important the Morandis had been once, of course – and there were fewer people around to tend it, was all, and a lot of them were occupied in tending him. So of course there would be mice that crept from little places in the walls, and birds that nested in the temple to Hurte just off the south wing. It was nice to have animals around to draw. Desiderio had only seen them in the wallpaper and in paintings, and paintings were no fun to draw from.

This was not a mouse. Nor was it a bird. It was a girl. He had forgotten that her eyes were so terribly large and green. She was looking at him, and they were very wide. Then they went down and she stammered something.

She had rather mangled his name the first time they met. Which was all right, of course. She had been practically a baby, and she had barely managed hello, anyway, and it wasn’t as if he cared.

He had made sure to correct her, all the same, because names were very important, and his very important indeed. Mother had told him that he would lose the Morandi part someday, which was not all right, because it was all he really had of Father. But it had to be all right, because it was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not.

To Desiderio’s surprise, she managed rather better this time. She wasn’t a baby anymore, either, not really; she was nearly old enough to be a proper person, by his estimation. She looked up at him, then, and even met his eye, which rather impressed him too.

Well, he supposed she would have to look at him if they were going to be married someday. Married. Ugh. Repellent. A queasy green shivered briefly through his eddle.

(Eddle! He hated that word. As if he were a baby still. Well, it would get stronger. They would all see. Father had been very strong, Mother said, even though he couldn’t remember. And he had tested very well at Brunnhold, very well indeed. They would see!)

“Help?” His dark brows furrowed. “Oh,” he said. He looked her over again, standing very still in her green dress, which was a little paler green than her eyes. He wondered idly, thinking that it was just the color of one of his chalks.

“Yes.” He pursed his lips, then turned back to the window. It gave out on another atrium; it looked almost identical to the one with the fishpond-that-had-no-fish, except he knew it wasn’t the same, because he was in a very different part of the house. “I shall be ill otherwise, or faint,” he announced, turning back to Aurelie. “I have already exhausted myself trying to find my way back to my room. I may faint regardless.”

He paused.

He frowned deeper, hunching his shoulders a little more up to his ears, looking her over sourly. She was even smaller than he was, and that was really something. “Perhaps – together – we may succeed?”

He cleared his throat, looking back at the window. He shifted over to one side of it, taking the frame in his hands. It was such a hot Roalis that he could feel it even on the other side of the pane, and none of the breeze and sweet smelling flowers. Well, if they could get it open, that would be nice. It might even make this bearable.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 22, 2706 - Afternoon | Briarwood Hall, Vienda

She had said it right this time, or near enough that he hadn't looked quite so mean as he had before. Maybe, possibly, it was just that she had been a baby at the time. She wasn't a baby anymore—she was seven. Not so many things frightened her as they had when she was little.

Desiderio was frowning at her, though. Aurelie didn't look down, even though she wanted to. It seemed important, and rude to look away when you had just asked a question and hadn't gotten the answer yet. She kept her chin up, and if she wasn't looking him in the eye, she didn't think he could tell. Father had said it was all right not to look people in the eye if you didn't want to, as long as you looked somewhere nearby, like their ears or their eyebrows. Father said he had been shy when he was a child, too, and that made Aurelie feel a little better about it. Even if she didn't want to be, because Mother and Ana were always saying that it wasn't like a Steerpike to be so.

He was still frowning after she offered to help with the window. She probably didn't look like she would be good at helping. And she probably wasn't. Aurelie didn't often try to open the windows, because she wasn't sure she was supposed to and because they stuck terribly in this empty rooms. She could at least try, though.

She smiled a little bit when he said "yes", even though he turned to look at the window right away. She must have looked like she could help after all. Aurelie came a little closer, close enough that she could just feel the edges of his field. It wasn't like Mother's or Father's or even Ana's—Aurelie didn't often get to play with anyone else, and she couldn't remember playing with anyone old enough to have any sort of field at all. She was a little bit jealous, she thought, but she also heard that it hurt, so she wasn't sure.

"Oh, no! That would be awful." Aurelie frowned. Desiderio was from Bastia, Aurelie knew, which must be why he said things so funny. Not like Ana's pretty friend Eufemia, who had stayed with them last summer and who Aurelie was certain didn't like her one bit. Well, Aurelie didn't like her either—Ana only wanted to play with Eufemia when she had been here, and hardly wanted to play with Aurelie at all. They wouldn't let her join them, either, or even tell her what they were doing. They just laughed at her and said they would tell her when she was older.

She liked the way Desiderio said things better, Aurelie decided. He wasn't very nice, but he hadn't laughed at her. It was just because he was sick. Aurelie wasn't very happy when she was sick and she was only sick some of the time. Mother had told her that Desiderio was sick all of the time, and they couldn't play very much. That seemed like no fun at all.

Aurelie opened her mouth to agree to helping, but suddenly it was too hard. She nodded instead, and went to the other side of the window. Oh, she hoped the window would open! Desiderio looked very sour, and she didn't think it would help if the window was stuck shut. She wasn't quite tall enough to reach the window, not yet, so she dragged over the chair from the desk. It was very heavy, but she didn't have to push it very far. She was careful not to put her shoes on the chair, even though she hadn't been outside yet today.

Aurelie looked over and smiled a little nervously when she had her hands against the glass. "R-Ready?" She would start pushing when he did, and maybe the both of them could get it open. Otherwise they might have to get someone bigger to help, and Aurelie didn't know where to find anyone bigger except Nurse. So she hoped they wouldn't have to.

[Desiderio Morandi]

briarwood hall, vienda

afternoon on the 22nd of roalis, 2706

He was having rather a lot of headaches lately. It wasn’t only his own field. It had been something of a relief to come back from Brunnhold, even if it was to this terribly lonely place; there were at least no other earaches pressing in on him. And it was all right when Aurelie stepped closer, because he didn’t have to think whether or not to caprise her.

He supposed that would change. He wondered if she would be like Lilliana when she grew up. It was hard to imagine much of anything just now. She was so little; he could barely remember being that little. She was a whole five years younger than him, and five years ago, he had been in Caroult, and he hadn’t known what a Steerpike was. He hadn’t known a lot of things back then. He knew better now, and he almost wished he didn’t.

Well, the stuffy air in here wasn’t helping anything at all.

There was a little frown on Aurelie’s little freckled face.

At least she understood just how awful all this was! Nobody else seemed to. The nurses back home all understood just how terrible it was; they told him so all the time, and so did Mother. But here in Anaxas, nobody even cared. He could tell that nobody took him seriously at his uncle’s house in Muffey, which was much smaller and more boring than Caroult or even Vienda. And at Briarwood Hall, it was as if nobody at all cared that he was too sick to be left to himself, too sick for this heat, too sick for marriage most of all. Not even Mother seemed to care, here. She and Uncle Vicente were far too busy all the time, here.

He sniffed, nodding and frowning back at Aurelie. She had opened her mouth but then shut it again, which irritated him terribly, because he wondered what she might have said. Maybe she was going to say she couldn’t help him after all. Well, that would have been very nice, wouldn’t it?

He had asked Mother once, the first summer, why she hadn’t wanted to say hello. Mother had said it was called being shy, and that she would surely grow out of it.

But instead – and his brow furrowed, watching her – she went to the desk, and she pulled over a chair. It was almost bigger than her, and it must have been heavy; he opened his own mouth, starting a little, but by the time he thought to move she had already pushed it the rest of the way over. He supposed he wouldn’t have been much help pushing it anyway, on account of his weakness.

He stood very still, watching her. She was climbing up onto it. He raised both of his eyebrows, and she looked over at him and smiled.

It was a very small smile. She looked nervous. He felt nervous, too. There were butterflies in his stomach, much like there had been before the entrance exam at Brunnhold. It was very silly for there to be; it wasn’t as if he cared. He wasn’t sure why he felt nervous at all. He supposed he’d never opened up a window before.

“Yes,” he said grimly. Then he took his side of the window frame and pushed.

It did not move – at first. Then it budged with both of their strengths, perhaps a millimeter and a half. He strained and he strained; he thought he might pass out. For a moment, he was nearly overtaken with the effort. He could feel a small breeze whisking through the tiny crack between frame and jamb, and it smelled of flowers and summer.

He looked over suddenly. “Be careful,” he said sharply, brows drawing even closer together. “It isn’t safe to climb on chairs.” He blinked, swallowing tightly. Oh, if something happened to her now – with him – he simply couldn’t think! And he didn’t want anything to happen to her, not really, even though he didn’t want to marry her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, or at least, he didn’t like her any more than he didn’t like all girls.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 22, 2706 - Afternoon | Briarwood Hall, Vienda

The room was very warm. Aurelie could understand why Desiderio wanted the window open, if he was going to be in here. She didn't know why he was in here by himself, especially if he was so sick. Aurelie hated being alone when didn't feel good. While she climbed up on the chair, she thought about that, too.

Well, she was here now. So that was all right. And if they needed a grown-up, on account of his being unwell, then Aurelie could wake up Nurse. That was a real reason to wake her up, not like Aurelie wanting someone to talk to or play with. She would just run very fast back to the nursery, even though she wasn't supposed to run inside. Or at all, really. But she was supposed to help someone who was in trouble.

Having a plan made her feel better. Better enough to smile when she put her hands on the window. Desiderio had frowned at her when she got the chair, which made Aurelie feel a little bit guilty about moving it. She wasn't going to get it dirty! She knew she shouldn't get things dirty. He didn't say anything, and she hadn't seen him do anything other than frown at her, so Aurelie thought he might just be like Mrs. Stevenson, one of Ana's tutors. She never smiled at all; Ana said her face was stuck that way, from so many years of frowning. Aurelie didn't know if that was true, because it didn't seem true, but she tried to smile at least once a day just in case.

They pushed on the window frame together. Aurelie wasn't sure, not really, if it would open at all. Not even with both of them. Some of the windows were locked. They could be unlocked, but not by children—the lock was too high, even for both of them together. She pushed as hard as she could, arms straining against the warm glass and the wooden frame.

The window didn't open. Aurelie frowned and pushed a little harder, harder than she thought she could. It was hard, staying balanced on the chair while she pushed and not getting any part of it dirty. But then—there! The window opened after all, just a little bit. The air outside was warm, but it smelled like the atrium flowers.

They'd done it! They'd opened the window after all. Aurelie smiled, delighted. They hadn't needed a grown-up at all, and now Desiderio wouldn't be sick. Maybe they could play a little, if the window was open. She turned to ask him if he wanted to, but then his voice came sharp and he looked even more mad than he had before. Aurelie stopped smiling.

"I-I'm sorry!" He was right, of course. She wasn't allowed to climb on chairs. Nurse would have been very angry with her, to say nothing of Mother and Father. "I didn't get it dirty, I was careful—"

Oh, she hoped he didn't think she was a bad girl. She didn't mean to be, she just was trying to help. Aurelie scrambled down from the chair as quickly as she could. She was good. She was! If she got down quickly, maybe that would be all right, and then they could play a little after all. She just didn't want to be by herself.

The chair wasn't so tall, but neither was Aurelie. She thought she could put her foot on the floor, climbing backwards so she could still hold on to the back of it. But when she put her foot down, there was nothing underneath of it. She wobbled, trying to find it, and then fell the rest of the way to the floor with a painful thump! and a startled cry.

[Desiderio Morandi]

briarwood hall, vienda

afternoon on the 22nd of roalis, 2706

His eyebrows furrowed deeper. He supposed she ought to be sorry; he supposed that was fine. If you weren’t sorry, then you kept doing things that weren’t safe, and if you kept doing things that weren’t safe, you got hurt eventually. So you had to make sure that somebody was quite sorry, and that way you knew they wouldn’t do it again. They should never get hurt, that way.

He was still sorry to watch the smile fall from her face, and sorry in a way that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. He hardly knew why she was smiling. They had only barely gotten the window open, and he was – well, he was hardly anything to smile about. There was hardly anything for either of them to smile about, when it came to all this. Maybe it was only that she was used to this terrible place, where it was hot and there was nobody to look after you.

“Dirty?” He was very quiet. He wasn’t sure why she should say that. It seemed a very silly thing to say. Nobody cared if you got anything dirty, usually. It was only when you got hurt that you got in trouble.

She began to step down. His eyes went down, to where one of her little slipper-clad feet had begun to pedal in the empty air. His eyes went bolt wide.

“H-Hey!” He was already moving before she had quite fallen off the chair, arms outstretched to catch her.

It was no use, because she was too far away, and she had so little distance to fall that the whole horrible business was over in an instant. It was never any use, he supposed; nothing was ever any use. He didn’t know what he would have done had he caught her, anyway. He was small for his age, and even as small as she was, his arms were like twigs and his legs were like jelly.

So he wasn’t sure why he felt so badly about it. Usually, being sick meant you didn’t have to feel badly about anything. Not about skipping physical education, not about never fighting back when the other boys hit you, not about disappointing Mother, and certainly not about not catching a little girl you didn’t even like.

But he felt absolutely terrible when he heard the thump and the yelp, and he could imagine vividly how it felt. The carpet was soft, he told himself, but it didn’t seem to help. He didn’t care, he told himself, and it didn’t help in the least. It wasn’t his problem, he told himself, and it didn’t even seem to matter. He only grew more and more worried.

He froze, already halfway in a crouch, his arms outstretched. He expected that she would start crying soon, as all little girls did. Desiderio hated crying.

But she wasn’t crying, after all. Maybe that meant it was even worse. “Are you all right?” he asked, rather more softly than he had meant to.

(He sounded squeaky. Some of the other boys in his class were already starting to sound like upper form boys, but he was nowhere near even cracking; Professor Purcell who directed choir loved him, and he hated it. Everyone always thought he was even younger than he was.)

“Do you need help?” he asked haltingly, creeping closer and putting out his hands properly. He looked at her, sheepish from underneath his brows, which were even heavier than they had been. “You did not break any bones?” He swallowed, his heart thundering in his throat. “I have never broken a bone,” he croaked. “Does it hurt terribly? Should I get someone? Oh, dear Hurte, oh no.”

Desiderio often wondered what it would feel like to break a bone. He had thought a great deal about it ever since Nurse Gia had found him on the stairs as a very little boy. He was quite older than old enough climb stairs now, but every time he did, he still thought about how many ways there were to slip and slide off of them and how many ways the little bones of your leg or your foot or your fingers could break or – it was terrible. If Aurelie had broken anything, he thought he would be properly sick. For real, this time.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 22, 2706 - Afternoon | Briarwood Hall, Vienda

There wasn't far to fall from the chair to the floor, not really. The carpet was thin over the hard floor, and it did hurt when she hit the ground, but Aurelie was more surprised than hurt. So she told herself, even though she wanted very much to cry.

She didn't cry, though. Her eyes were hot and she knew she could, if she let herself, but she didn't. She curled her hands into tight little fists, squeezing hard to stop herself. She imagined it was all her crying she was holding onto, and if she squeezed hard enough it would pop and go away entirely.

When she looked up, it was because she heard Desiderio ask if she was all right. He didn't sound cross with her even though she fell, which was good. She hadn't meant to fall off of the chair; she supposed that was why there were rules about chairs. To keep you safe from falling off of them. But it had been the only way she could help with opening the window, and they had done that—so she was sorry, but not enough to wish she hadn't done it.

"I'm all right," she sniffed, wiping at her face. That didn't count as crying, because she couldn't help it. Had she broken any bones? No, she didn't think so. Her backside hurt rather terribly, because she'd landed on it, but she wasn't about to tell him that. That would be inappropriate.

Oh, but he was still frowning. A different kind of frowning—not so mean, really. Aurelie tried to smile, just a little, to show she really was just fine. "I've n-never broken any bones either," she offered rather seriously, "but I don't think a-anything is b-broken."

She didn't want to keep sitting on the floor; it didn't make it hurt any less, and she had to put the chair back besides. Desiderio was holding out his hands, a little closer to her than he had been before. He'd had them up before, too, like he meant to catch her, which he hadn't done. That was good too, because if he had she might have hurt him, too. Desiderio was a boy and older than her, but he was also a guest and Aurelie was fairly sure that meant it was better if she got hurt than if he did.

Aurelie took his hands, trying to get up off of the floor. She had never taken a boy's hand before, she didn't think. Except Father, who didn't count. Father wasn't a boy, he was Father. Desiderio wasn't so much bigger than her, even though he was older; certainly smaller than the boys she saw through the windows and in the hallways sometimes. Well, he would be, she thought; but still. She was careful getting up.

"D-did we open the window enough?" asked hopefully. She didn't like to think what they'd have to do if that wasn't enough. Go wake Nurse, Aurelie thought mournfully, and then she'd probably have to stay in the nursery by herself again after all. She didn't think she was allowed to be here, although nobody had told her she couldn't be, either. "W-will you be... all right?"

[Desiderio Morandi]

briarwood hall, vienda

afternoon on the 22nd of roalis, 2706

She sniffed, and Desiderio rather lived in fear that she would start crying. It seemed to him that he was already frayed to a point of breaking; she had startled him terribly, falling off of that chair, and he was feeling the effects of it now, how it had stolen his breath and made his heart leap to his throat. Mother and the nurses and even Uncle Vicente’s cousin the good doctor agreed that being startled was no good for his health. He imagined years coming off the end of his life every time he was.

Only Dr. Linari in Caroult had said otherwise. And he had been a very mean old man, and Mother had not liked him much, and so neither had Desiderio.

She sniffed and wiped at her face with small freckled hands, but there was no sobbing or hiccuping or any of that dreadfully improper stuff. Instead, she smiled then, as if she really were all right. “Good,” he said, his throat terribly dry, and couldn’t help something like a smile of his own, though he tried very hard to look serious. “Good. Broken bones must be very… very painful, I wouldn’t wish...”

She took his hands, and he found her grip firm (but not firm enough to hurt, which was important; children, especially boys, played very roughly). It was not so difficult to pull her to her feet, which was good, because his legs felt weak already.

He let go of her hand after a moment – he wasn’t sure why he held on too long – and cleared his throat.

She did not look like she was in terrible pain. Dr. Bentivegna had said once that broken bones could be sneaky, though, that some of the ones that hurt the least were the worst, and that the line between a sprain and a fracture was less bold than it might have seemed, especially for a boy with weak bones. But he supposed Aurelie was a regular girl with regular bones, and that most children could stand falling, especially ones this young.

He was only worried, of course, because were anything to happen to her in his presence, it would be his fault. Mother and Uncle Vicente both were counting on this marriage, and that the Steerpikes might break it off if they found out she had broken a bone because of him.

He thought the hem of her light green dress had gotten a little dusty from the floor, but only a little. There were no bruises that he could see, though a little of her hair was out of place.

The window. The window? “Oh,” he said, furrowing his brow. Then: of course, the window! How could he have forgotten the window? And how dreadfully stuffy it was in here? And how like he was to faint if it weren’t…

“Yes, I think so,” he said after a moment, frowning even more deeply as he thought over it, very serious. He looked at the window, open only a little. “Dr. Bentivegna says that a little fresh air may go a long way, where a poor constitution is concerned.”

He turned back to look at her, the furrow of his brow relaxing a little. He looked behind him at his sketchbook, which he had left on the desk, thinking he might go up to the window and sketch the atrium; he had not drawn anything yet today, much less filled a page. Or perhaps he would read, though these bookshelves looked terribly dusty. And he wasn't sure if she would tell on him, if he touched any of them.

“What, ah –” Hurte’s teeth, he really did not know how to talk to a child, much less a girl. “What are you – doing here?”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 22, 2706 - Afternoon | Briarwood Hall, Vienda

Was that a smile, or not? Aurelie was afraid she couldn't tell. A very serious sort of smile, if it was meant to be one at all. Still, that was all right. Even if he kept talking about bones, and she wasn't sure you were supposed to talk about those so much. A smile meant that hers had worked, she hoped, and he really did know she wasn't too terribly hurt.

Aurelie was rarely too terribly hurt. She tried to follow the rules and be good, of course, so there wasn't much chance of it. But Nurse said she had a—what had she said? A strong constitution, Aurelie remembered. Aurelie wasn't sure girls were meant to have strong constitutions; it didn't seem like it, sometimes, but Nurse had said it like it was a good thing so Aurelie supposed it must be fine.

Even if that had been a smile, it was gone fast enough. He frowned an awful lot, Desiderio. Perhaps that was just because she was here. Sometimes Mother frowned, looking at her when she thought Aurelie couldn't see her. But usually after she had done something bad, like not being able to say hello the right way to Mother's friends from Society.

But the window was open enough, after all. Aurelie sighed in relief. Both because she didn't want to go wake up Nurse, and because she didn't want Desiderio to be sick. He frowned again, more even than before; he looked terribly serious. Aurelie nodded, just as serious, when he told her about what the doctor had said. Doctors were supposed to be smart, so that must be true. The window wasn't open very much, but... Maybe it would be enough. She did hope so.

Aurelie hadn't actually really, truly looked at him much when they met. She had been a baby then, after all. And it hadn't been for very long. His eyes were gold, just like Ana's and Mother's—Aurelie was a little jealous of that, too. It was a special sort of color. Hers were only green, which wasn't special at all—anyone's eyes could be green. They looked even brighter in his pale face than Ana's did.

There was a book on the desk, which she hadn't noticed before—not until Desiderio looked at it now. It wasn't covered in dust, so it wasn't a book from this room. In fact, it looked like a journal. There weren't any journals in this room, not that Aurelie had found. She hadn't checked, not really, so she supposed there could be. But she didn't think so.

"Oh!" That was a very good question, and Aurelie wasn't sure she should answer. She was allowed to be here—the only rooms she wasn't allowed in were locked, so it hardly mattered that she wasn't allowed in them. She was a little less sure, though, that she should have left the nursery by herself. Not even with Henrietta left behind for Nurse, with a note saying that she had gone for a walk.

"Nurse is sleeping! Er, well, I didn't want to wake her up, you see. B-because she says she's tired, and I didn't think it was very nice to wake her up if she was tired. But I finished all of my coloring, and I told a story to Henrietta. Oh, er, H-Henrietta is a hingle. A stuffed one, not a real one. I'm not allowed to... Uhm. So I..." Aurelie trailed off, uncertain. What was she doing here? She suddenly didn't know.

"Just playing," she mumbled, looking down at the floor and chewing on a corner of one of her nails. She sounded dumb, like a baby. She didn't really have a reason to be in here, even though it was her house. He probably didn't want her here. Aurelie didn't lift her face, but she looked up through the curtain of her red hair. "I can go back to the nursery..."