Their True Qualities

"Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."

September 10th

"Alice! Alice, look!"

She didn't. "That's nice, Aliena."

"But Alice, look! The princess is trapped on the dragon! They're going to fly into the sun!"

"Keep your voice down," Alice chided. "Do you want to be punished?"

Aliena stuck her tongue out at her sister's back. "You can't punish me. You're not my mother."

"Thank your lucky stars," she muttered under her breath. Alice had been high spirited once, but it was hard to remember. When their mother first fell ill, she had only been ten. She was fifteen now and felt closer to forty. Everyone was quick to tell her to be cheerful but no-one ever lifted a hand to help her to be so - not her high-handed grandfather, not her obnoxious brothers, not her loud little sister. Her father alone was forgiven because he kept the roof over their heads. She hoped this new roof would bring better fortune than the last.

"Alice! Alice, look, they're flying into the sun!"

"Aliena, if you can't play quietly, you won't play at all," said the person who could punish her. "Put your toy away."

Little Aliena stood up with a pout draped across her features. "But, Father!"

"Now, Aliena." Shouting indoors was one of the few things Edmund wouldn't let slip to make life with four children easier. It had been a cardinal rule of his own childhood, which had been far better than what he had been able to give his children so far. The letter from the Capulets inviting him to replace their own steward at Middleham had been a godsend. Now that he had extracted them from the low end of society in Port Gale, he hoped to see his younger children grow in maturity and decorum. Surely, if they weren't living among sailors and fishmongers, they would stop acting like them. "Sweet pea? The floor is plenty clean."

"You said the lord and lady are coming. I won't have them finding fault." She scrubbed harder at a stain she was only mostly sure she wasn't imagining. The steward's cottage had been thoroughly cleaned before they arrived, but her brothers only needed minutes to make any place dirty.

Edmund pried the mop out of his daughter's hand. "Sweet pea, the house was clean to begin with, and you've done it all over again. There'll be nothing to fault. Now, be a girl and go put on your good gown. Are your brothers still upstairs?"

"No, they're out in the garden at least ten minutes now."

Edmund wanted to knock his sons' heads together more and more often. The twins were well-grown for almost fourteen, and every inch they grew made them more wild. They knew better than to roughhouse in their good clothes, they just didn't care. Once this visit was finished, Edmund would invent some lengthy labor sentence to teach them a lesson. A nice moat might be just what their new home needed. "You two, inside to wash up!'

"We already washed up!"

"Then you'll do it again, now." He waited until they were nearby to add, "And comb your hair this time, both of you."

"We did!"

God help me.

The much-anticipated lady was thinking much the same about half an hour later. Regan had no desire to call on their new steward, but Cornwall had insisted. It seemed to Regan that insisting was her husband's new favorite pastime, and she had no idea what had made him so pushy. By giving him his way, she hoped to find out what had gotten into him so she could eradicate it. She preferred her husband's previous qualities: distant and obedient. "We could have sent one of the servants to do this."

"I wouldn't dream of depriving you the opportunity to exercise your motherly urges."

"You ran away for three months for that exact purpose, coward."

"Motherly urges, dear."

"I promise you, Cornwall, that those are the only urges of mine that have anything to do with you."

"Father, they're here!" Aliena was immediately shushed by her sister, but she was too excited. "Oh, I want a gown like that. You think her boots are red and gold? I bet her under-"

Edmund scolded his daughter and sent her to sit quietly by her sister. If servants' gossip could be trusted, Lady Regan was not the type of woman to put up with unruly children. If she was displeased, she could decline to grant the favors needed to make a home among strangers. At the least, he believed he could make an effective apology to Lord Cornwall later; his meetings with the man in Port Gale had shown him to be fair, if a bit strange.

Upon opening the door, Edmund's opinion of Cornwall was immediately changed. The man must be an utter lunatic to be anywhere but in the company of his wife. His own poor Audrey had been a good woman, but nothing above pretty. Lady Regan's features were much finer, like those of a statue that was worked and toiled over until the lines were artfully formed. It was not a face made to speak to or even to kiss. It was a face made to gaze upon, and it belonged more correctly to its admirer than to the fine neck on which it sat.

It was to Edmund's distinct advantage that he was not a man easily stunned, even by beauty. The halting speech and actions of the surprised person were weaknesses, and those had been worked out of him long, long ago. He welcomed the pair evenly and ushered them inside with all the mentions of honors and gratitude that could be expected. "May I introduce my children? My eldest, Alice, my sons, Oliver and Orlando, and my youngest, Aliena."

Regan had yet to sense anything extraordinary in Edmund. He was honored by her visit, as he well should be, but nothing better. On the other hand, his little girl was almost glowing with unsettling boldness. She felt the girl's eyes all over her, sticking to her like syrup. "How old are you?"

"Six, lady!"

"Six, my lady," Edmund corrected her.

Regan asked the same question of Alice and her brothers. It was the only question she had for them. Once it was spent, an uncomfortable silence ensued while everyone took a seat. Edmund opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to break the silence but not sure if he ought to speak. Cornwall, who had intended to be an observer, rescued him. "You must have some questions now that you are settled in."

Instantly, Aliena popped out of her seat. "Oh, I have a question!" Edmund glared at his youngest before she could embarrass them all with a question about the lady's undergarments. Not willing to lose the adults' attention, Aliena scrambled to come up with a new question. "I, uh... do we have to go to school here?"

"Did you go to school before?"

"My brothers were supposed to, but mostly they only pretended and-"

"Aliena's mother thought she was too young for school. The boys went to the parish school."

Regan narrowed her eyes; something was missing. "What about your other daughter?"

"My wife was sick for several years before she passed. Alice was needed at home."

Alice wished she was at the bottom of a deep, empty well. She knew she was low-born, but she wasn't so low-born that it was acceptable to not know her letters. Though Audrey Gloucester had tried to teach her daughter at times, Alice had always begged off, recognizing the great headaches that reading brought on the sickly woman. It had little to do with what was important at the time, other than her pride. As she grew older, her pride seemed to recover as long as she ignored the issue entirely. She prayed her father understood this.

"The servants' children have lessons four mornings a week," Cornwall was explaining as Alice's attention returned. "Most are younger, some as young as your youngest, but there are a few your sons' age."

"Then the boys and Aliena will attend. You are, both of you, too kind."

Regan the Kind looked critically at her new steward. "And your eldest?"

It was a trick question, and Edmund recognized it. The Capulet matriarchy was familiar to him, if not something he entirely agreed with. If he professed a strong desire for Alice's education, he would be branded a liar for having kept her at home. If he said her place was at home, certainly the more convenient option for him, he would offend Lady Regan. The solution was to recognize who was truly meant to answer the question. "Alice, sweet pea, what would you like? You're old enough to choose."

"I..." Was it suddenly twice as hot in the house? Alice's cheeks felt warm and her palms had started to sweat.  She almost wiped them dry on her gown, but she remembered what she was wearing at the last second and curled her fingers into fists. What wouldn't she have given to be in a rough, sturdy dress that could take a little sweat! "I don't think..."

Unfortunately for Alice, her little sister had enough thoughts for six people at once. She jumped out of her seat once again and announced, "She won't want to go, lady, 'cause she's illegit'mate."

The entire room turned to Aliena with faces showing rage, disbelief, and everything in between. Immediately, the little girl realized she had said something very wrong, but she had no idea why it was so. She was only repeating what she had heard. When nobody laughed or said anything at all for several moments, Aliena grew anxious. "That's what you said, Father..."

Edmund was enraged, almost too angry to speak. Almost. "Aliena, what have I told you about lying?"

"It's evil, but I'm not lying! I heard you say it to Grandfather!"

"That's enough!" Angrily, Edmund stood up and took his little girl by the arm. "I beg your pardon. Please, excuse me for a moment. Sweet pea?"

Alice blankly told her father that she was fine where she was. Though she would have preferred to go find that empty well after all, she had to clean up after her horrible baby sister. She took a deep breath to prepare herself while her father shepherded her siblings out of sight. "Lady Regan, Lord Cornwall, please forgive Aliena. She meant 'illiterate', of course; she still mixes her words. And she's always liked to talk too much."

Idly, Regan touched the scar on her brow. She hadn't spoken so freely to strangers at Aliena's age, but she had been easily persuaded to attack them when she was only a little older. It was a shame on Edmund that he didn't have a firmer control of such a small child, but it could be overlooked for now. The strict teacher sent by the parish would check that forwardness. "There is no need for you to apologize."

Alice felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the nice shutters for the windows. Port Gale was a fine place if you had piles of gold, if you were one of the cluster of rich merchants who had made anything and everything decent too dear for the lower classes. Everyone else, from modest shopkeepers to the whores who serviced sailors, had to fight over the foul, salt-encrusted scraps. The poor conditions had hastened her mother's sickness, and they had started to poison her siblings in another way. If they went back, her brothers and sister would turn out badly, and she would spend the rest of her life trying to clean what would always be filthy.

Remembering something her mother once said about dignity, Alice stood to address the lord and lady with the shreds she had left. "My lady, my lord, you were so kind to hire my father here. You've seen it with your eyes, Lord Cornwall, what's become of Port Gale. It's fine for folk with plenty of gold, but not for us. My father does his best, but it's hard when the people are so bad. If you like, I'll keep her in line myself. I swear, you'll never have reason to be ashamed of my family again. Just don't send us away, please. Please."

The hand-wringing had already made Cornwall uncomfortable, but he felt downright low to hear the girl beg. It was true enough that noble families didn't keep on disgraceful servants, but were noblemen so fickle? If Gloucester did his job reasonably well, why should he or Regan care if he had a chatty six year-old at home? But he felt one thing more strongly than his own haze, and that was pity for Alice. She had been humiliated and now she was begging him, a person of dubious quality and the most accidental importance, for her family's livelihood. She deserved relief - especially if it would keep her from crying. "Young lady, please don't distress yourself. Nobody is being sent away over your sister's chattering. Regan?"

"He's correct,"  Regan said with no small amount of difficulty. After a cursory glance, she continued, "However, I won't tolerate this problem of yours. You are much too old to be so uneducated. How could you expect to run your own household if you can't read at all?"

"I always meant to learn, my lady, and my mother, she tried to teach me, but... well, the work never stops! If it's not a meal, it's mending, or washing, or tending, and all of that is more important than me knowing my letters."

"It most certainly is not. You have a head on your shoulders; there's no good reason for it to be so empty. Your father can spare the coin to hire a girl to come in." Regan thought he could have done so on what he was paid before, too, but that was the past. Squabbling with the past was fruitless; it was the future that was worth the fight.

Alice's back straightened. "I don't need to put my father to trouble. I can still tend the house after lessons, if they're only mornings."

"Young lady, you are in grave need of more than four mornings a week. There are girls your sister's age who may be ahead of you in lessons."

"I can't fix that, my lady."

"Perhaps not, but I can." This drew the surprised attention of both Cornwall and Alice. "The Convent of St. Ursula in the Old City educates girls even older than you. You may study there for a few years. They will start by teaching you to read before they put you into classes with others." Regan indulged in a look at her husband, who looked positively shocked. That memory would be worth whatever money she had to lay out for this. "My husband and I will sponsor you for as long as you need to attend."

Alice was too astonished to speak. Girls of her class went to the parish school and learned their basic skills. Convent schools were for orphaned noblewomen and the daughters of wealthy merchants, a most respectable alternative to private tutors. These girls came with large donations for the Church attached and were greatly rewarded. With a convent education, women had even entered professions.

When Edmund returned, he was taken by surprise. The lord looked like he had seen a ghost, perhaps, and his lady like a cat who had broken a birdcage, but this was all better than reproachful scowls. Alice was the most surprising; rather than flushed with shame, she looked, if he dared think it, happy. "Sweet pea, are you all right?" Alice nodded, but Edmund spoke before she could. "Lady Regan, Aliena is a good girl. She misheard-"

"Indeed, she did," Regan interrupted. "But Alice explained it all to us. If your younger daughter grows up to be as good, you will certainly have nothing to wish for."

"Yes, of course. Alice is a good girl."

"And she will be all the better after a few years with the nuns at St. Ursula's." Regan thought her proclamation might be resisted, but her new steward pleasantly surprised her. He saw the value in what she was offering his daughter, and he accepted it graciously after confirming it was what the girl wanted. For the first time in the visit, she allowed herself to reflect that Edmund was, if nothing else, much more pleasing to look at than the last man in his job. If he took direction as well as this incident suggested, he could turn into quite a useful gift after all.

Cornwall remained almost silent through the remainder of the visit. He couldn't reconcile the generosity he had seen with the woman from which it had come. Regan was known to give favors now and then when it was somehow to her benefit. Their own servants, for example, were generally better educated than most because she was deeply annoyed by ignorance. Sending the steward's daughter to the convent was far beyond any self-serving favor. If he believed in demons, he might have been afraid that the one that had lived in Regan all her life was now looking for a new home. Even the glint in her eye seemed softer.

They were walking down the path away from the house before he recovered enough to speak. "Regan, dear, what the hell was that?"

If her husband's slack-jawed shock had been sunlight, Regan would have bathed in it. She might even have done it naked. She had shut him up properly and not just by brow-beating him into silence. This was pure victory, and she loved it. "I'm merely teaching Gloucester that his daughter wasn't put into this world to clean his house."

"If that was true, you would have attacked him."

She stopped and turned to look at Cornwall. "You seem disappointed that I didn't."

"Only because I wish I'd hired a minstrel to commemorate this event. This isn't how you usually behave. This isn't how you ever behave."

"Maybe it is how I behave now," Regan answered smugly. "Perhaps I'll be the patron saint of every uneducated girl in Verona. They can erect a statue of me teaching the alphabet to peasant girls in the courtyard of the convent." Although she tried, she couldn't hold her countenance for long. "Will you stop looking at me like I've sprouted an additional head? She ought to be punished because she's the eldest, the only one with any sense? I say let one of the sons look after them all if Gloucester won't hire a girl of all work. My God, if I was her mother, I would be turning in my grave."

"If you were her mother, you wouldn't have died."

"Absolutely not, but some people are naturally weak. One can lay about and teach at the same time, you know. I daresay the woman wanted her to be ignorant, to keep her scrubbing pots and pans forever. Well, the nuns won't abide that. And mind you don't go telling everyone about this, Cornwall. I don't want to develop a reputation for being soft."

"I wouldn't worry about that, dear."

Next Post: "Their understanding begins to swell."