Chapter 19 – The Witch’s Hut

Wherein Valentina bravely defies her mother.

In the lee of the gatehouse, Valentina took a moment to collect herself. The driver had been paid by the porter, as she had expected. She breathed in deeply and out slowly several times. The palace... It was an apt name for the multi-storied mansion that took up enough space to cover nearly the entire neighbourhood she lived in now. 

"Are you alright, young Lady Effyne?" the guard asked, his tone hinting at worry.  

"Quite alright." She gifted him with a smile. 

"Dreadful weather."

She knew he was eyeing her perfect – but completely soaked – clothes. "Yes, it is." 

"Should I walk with you, milady?" he asked obligatorily. 

"No. I shall go in by myself in a second."

It wasn't her father she dreaded facing. Rhodum had never been one to stand on form where his children were concerned. She might have to plead to persuade him to grant her wish, but she had faith that he would. No, it was her mother who she would rather have avoided, but who would inevitably descend like a vulture as soon as she heard of Valentina's presence in the palace. 

Wrapping her useless coat tighter around her body in hopes of keeping in a modicum of body heat, she stepped out onto the perfectly laid brickwork of the drive and collectedly strode to the front door in her high heels. The rain was messing up her hair and make-up, and she found herself caring not one bit.

Instead, she heard Bosra saying there was no reason to get riled up about anything, not until there was a reason to do so. 

She would go into the confrontation with her mother with that philosophy in mind. There were bigger problems in the world. There were also smaller problems than her hair or make-up. None of those were the reason for her visit. 

A little potbelly stove heated the front hallway, offering warmth to bedraggled arrivals, as well as the footman stationed here all day. Valentina’s coat was taken by said footman, meticulously dressed in green and white livery. She was offered a towel and a moment to 'fix' herself. The towel fixed nothing but the worst of the kohl streaked beneath her eyes. 

The elderly butler, who had been around since the dawn of humanity, announced his rushed presence by the near-inaudible swish of his indoor shoes on the floor and his respectful cough for attention. 

"Hello, Jasper," Valentina greeted the man with fondness. 

"Young Lady Effyne. Miss Valentina." His eyes were brimming over, like he was going to cry; as if he had missed her. 

She couldn't help herself. She hugged the man. He felt stiff in her arms and obviously didn't know what to do with this sign of overt affection. She let him go before he had a heart attack.

"There now, Miss. I shall escort you to your father's workroom, but perhaps you would like a moment to change into something dry?"

"Yes, please." She gently let go of the elderly man. 

"He is expecting you, and would be very sad if you left before finishing tea with him, but he would not want you to contract illness on account of your current state."

She heard judgement in his voice. Her father truly was sad to see so little of her lately. They exchanged notes, short and concise, signed with love. It wasn’t the same as seeing each other. Until now, Valentina had never considered how impactful the little moments with her father were, for both of them.

"I will change quickly," she smiled at the butler. "Is my mother...?"

"She is changing into a day-dress as we speak. She would very much desire your presence in her sitting room later." Jasper’s tone relayed that this was not a request.

"Tell her... I shall come to her after." If she didn’t go, her mother would find her. The last place Valentina wanted to have a confrontation with Venlica was at her home on Stygian Way.

"Very well, Miss." Jasper bowed his head, the wispy white fluff on top shifting as he did. 

He led her to a toilet-room to save time. Her chambermaid helped her change into dry garments and touched up her make-up.

As soon as Valentina stepped into her father’s office – a suite of rooms consisting of a salon, study, small dining room and smoking cabinet – she was enveloped in a bear hug. Giggling, she reciprocated.  "I’m only half a town away, you know," she grinned up at the bearded face that hovered just above her.

A kiss was pressed to her forehead, as a chuckle rose up from the warm, reassuringly familiar chest she found herself pressed against.

During the hour that followed, she connected with her father in a way she never had before. He had gone out adventuring for a season or two in his early years and had formed close-knit friendships that had lasted a lifetime. He was happy his oldest daughter was forming the same kind of true bonds.

In sharp contrast, the reception she received from her mother was like an ice-cold shower after a long hot soak – bracing at best, and shockingly unpleasant if she were honest with herself. 

"Valentina," the sound of the woman’s all-too-familiar voice instantly made Valentina want to pierce her own eardrums with a hot needle. "Look at you. Don't tell me you took a tube to get here." 

"I took a cab," she replied, after having politely curtsied at the woman. "May I sit?" 

"Yes. Sit." Her mother gestured to a servant to pour them tea. 

Valentina sat down in a dainty armchair that had only recently joined the parade of fine items in her mother's sitting room.

"How are you? You accepted several party invitations, I heard from your father. At least you didn't forget your family." Judgement was so very clearly audible in that crystalline voice. 

"No, I did not forget my family." She picked up her tea cup and took a small sip. The delicately flavoured beverage was at a perfect temperature.  

"What do you do all day in that cottage of yours?"

"I read." She didn't mention she also tried to cook, did her own grocery shopping or had taken up knitting. 

"You could have read in your own rooms here. Honestly, Valentina, I do not see why you moved all the way across town, just to live in a ramshackle cottage, with those two... two... mudlings... for servants."

"They are no–" Valentina caught herself. No need to get riled up. Neither woman could hear her mother speak right now. "Because I am of an age to have my own household." No matter that she didn't have a husband yet to provide that. 

"And you would have had it if you'd let me pair you to that foreign noble, looking for his sixth wife. You would have been able to keep a house here in town, and gained status at court, maybe even become handmaiden to the Queen herself!"

"Yes... I could have." Thank Sunfather and Nightsoul that her father had not forced the match on her. Valentina took another sip of her tea and wished it was spiked.

"There is a gentleman of elvish descent sniffing around court, looking for a partner to give him validity. You would lose your title, but the strings of elvish nobility are made of finest gold. Everyone knows that."

In a controlled manner, Valentina put her porcelain cup down on its gilt-edged saucer. "Perhaps you would see fit to introduce us." Better to volunteer than to be blindsided.

"Of course I will," her mother snapped. "Whether you will see fit not to act like a stumbling fool is the question."

Valentina looked at the pink-on-white flowers, at the little silver spoon on the saucer. "I am remembering that there was a supplier coming by the house that needed my sign on the paperwork. I'm sorry to depart so soon." She put her cup down and stood. 

"I have not given you leave yet, Valentina." The stare that burned into her had made her do as ordered many times before. 

"I am excusing myself." Valentina straightened her back and picked up her purse. "I am a woman grown, not a child to be scolded. Goodbye, mother." Without another word, she left the room.

Her breathing was speeding up, as was her pace; her vision was narrowing. She suddenly felt far too hot. As she rounded the corner, Jasper fell into step with her.

"I have the carriage ready for you, Miss Valentina. Your winter mantle is awaiting use in the garderobe."

Her step faltered. Jasper steadied her, kept her from landing face-first in a bouquet of roses.

"Thank you, Jasper." Her voice wavered. 

"Always, Miss," he replied softly, with a gentle pat on her arm. As always, there was no trace of disapproval in his voice. 

~

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