Work Text:
Stowaway
Alcina
There is a frustrated shriek, and various servants bustle out of the kitchen, passing Alcina in the hall.
With the distinct lack of her eldest daughter, Alcina can’t help but worry. There has already been an incident during which Bela Dimitrescu has disappeared, and it almost ended badly for her. On discovering Bela has been absent from the majority of the castle, Alcina has started the search party consisting of her other two daughters.
She hears the buzzing of flies and Cassandra materializes before her. “I found her Mother,” Cassandra informs her, “She has been tormenting the cooks trying to get them to sample her awful food.”
Alcina sighs. “Cassandra, do not be so unkind to your sister’s efforts. She is still learning.”
Cassandra pouts. “Of course, Mother. I did not mean to speak ill of her attempts.”
And so Alcina strides toward the kitchen, weaving through the stream of servants that are desperate to avoid both Dimitrescu women.
When she enters, she finds Bela sat at the table, poking at a plate of food, a forlorn expression on her face. For a moment, Alcina is convinced Bela is going to cry and she crosses the room quickly, swooping in to pull her daughter into a hug. Bela rests her forehead against Alcina.
“I can’t cook,” she mumbles into Alcina’s dress.
“Oh my dear, of course you can,” she assures her daughter. “It just takes practice.” She lets Bela go then sits down at the table. “Now, describe what you’ve made.”
“An abomination,” Bela answers, flopping into the chair across from her mother. “It was supposed to be spiced meat, but it’s salty, raw and entirely unappetizing.” She pokes it with a fork. “Look at it, Mother. Just look at it.”
Determined to restore her daughter’s confidence, Alcina picks up the knife and fork, brings the plate toward her and cuts off a piece of the meat. She chews it, and keeps on chewing it. She glances at Bela, the expression on her face, watching as she becomes more and more distraught that her mother does not like it. Alcina forces herself to swallow the dry meat, a pocket of spice hitting the back of her throat. She coughs and takes a drink of wine to wash it down.
This just makes Bela all the more upset and she runs from the kitchen. Alcina groans, covering her face.
“I said it was bad,” she hears Cassandra say from the door.
“Daughter that is not helpful,” Alcina answers.
Cassandra shrugs and leaves her mother alone in the kitchen.
~~~
Bela avoids her for days, isolating herself in the library with Daniela or going into hiding in one of the many rooms of the castle. It is not just Alcina she avoids but Cassandra too. The middle sister is not so gracious towards her sister’s attempts at cooking and seems to take every opportunity to point out their flaws.
Alcina is glad when the Duke arrives, he at least draws Bela out of hiding. The cloud of flies breeze past her, little more than a black, buzzing blur that rushes into the room the Duke has claimed. She waits for a few hours, Bela spending this time in the little side room. Eventually, Alcina goes to the room to try and tempt Bela out with the promise of wine-making.
She holds back a sigh when she sees the typewriter on the floor looking forlorn at being removed. The poor object is forever being moved. As expected, Bela lounges on the desk as if it were a couch, feet dangling off one end of it. She glances to her mother, raises a hand and waves to her. Alcina throws the Duke a look, the man only shrugging in response. It seems neither can get her daughter to cease her displacing of the poor typewriter.
“Ah, Lady Dimitrescu, I hope this evening finds you well,” the Duke greets her, he gives her a small bow.
She nods. “It does indeed, especially now you have tempted my daughter out of hiding.”
The Duke glances at Bela. “Yes, she has been telling me of her…less than successful attempt at creating dishes.”
“It was an abomination,” Bela adds. “I created a mess, Duke.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t quite as bad as that.”
Bela snorts, then mutters under her breath. “I think it may have been worse than that.”
Alcina clears her throat. “Perhaps you have a recipe she could attempt.”
The Duke turns to the drawers beside him, rifling through them, placing piles of paper on the table at the front of the area he is sequestered in. He pulls out one pile, flicking through them quickly before fishing one out and hands it to her. “I believe this should suffice,” he tells her. He stops her when she reaches for her coin pouch. “It is on the house, as a thank you for your continued business.”
It is barely in her hands until it is plucked out again by the cloud of flies that swooshes past her.
“Do let me know how she gets on,” the Duke says before picking up his book and lights his cigar.
~~~
Once more Alcina finds Bela in the kitchen. Daniela is also there looking every bit the hostage. She throws her mother a pleading look, discreetly nodding to Bela who is humming a tune.
She goes between steaming pots on the stovetop, then opens the oven door. A plume of black smoke erupts from the oven and Bela is crestfallen. Daniela takes this opportunity to escape the room, leaving Alcina to console her eldest.
“I thought it was fine,” she says, pulling the smoldering object out and onto the table. It is black, singed to a crisp.
Alcina sighs. “You’ll just have to be careful next time, dear.”
“There won’t be a next time at this rate.” She throws herself down on the chair next to the cremated object. “I can’t even make the simplest of things! And now I need to send the servants shopping after I’ve used up most of the items in the pantry.” She rests her head on the table. “It’s hopeless.”
Alcina sits next to her daughter and puts her arm around her shoulders. “Bela, dear, why are you so fixated with learning to cook? You know the servants can make anything we wish.”
Bela sits up straight. “Yes but…I borrowed a tape from Lord Moreau and watched it in Daniela’s screen room and it was a cookery programme, and I wanted to try it and impress you and the Duke.” This all comes out in one fast sentence Alcina can barely keep up with.
She raises an eyebrow. “You want to learn because of something you watched?”
Bela nods. “Except I can’t cook. I can’t learn anything! I just keep burning things and taking a perfectly good ingredient, making it inedible.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bela.” Alcina stands up from the table. “Come, we shall check the library. I’m quite sure there are old family cookbooks.”
~~~
Alcina and Bela scour the shelves looking for anything even remotely related to cookery or cuisine. She picks out a few she knows speak of the art of cooking, laying out theories and tips on how to correctly cook something, along with temperature and how long for.
Bela piles the books into her arms and wanders off out of the library. Alcina stays and tidies up the piles of books that have been pulled out and were deemed unsuitable for the subject. She finishes up and retires to her own room with a glass of wine for the night.
The next day, the Duke is preparing to leave, the servants carrying out his wares and items. This is nothing new, what is new is the apparent lack of Bela. Her eldest is always there to bid him farewell and to remind him to come back soon. Today she is not and it is more than out of character for her daughter.
“Has Bela been to see you?” she asks.
The Duke turns to her and nods. “She was here not a moment ago, I’m not quite sure where she’s wandered off to.”
“How odd.”
Alcina spends a few moments ensuring the servants do not break any of the items lest they feel her wrath, then bids the Duke goodbye. He leaves the castle for the next destination to sell his items, leaving Alcina to try and find her daughter.