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Mierra felt taller in her new corset dress, tailor-made to fit her small, slender form. She looked into the mirror, with its perfectly clear, unsmudged glass and its exquisite, dark bronze frame inlaid with blue and green gems.
The lords had honored her father’s last wishes, and she was now the Lady of House Falcon.
Despite her youth, she had been doing her best to make herself fit for the role and responsibilities. It helped to have an older maid servant to show her the way, as her stepmother was indisposed since the death of her son, and had taken to keeping to herself.
Mierra had been moved into her father’s master chamber, while her stepmother was assigned to one of her deceased daughter’s old rooms, at opposite wings of the manor, where they were least likely to encounter each other.
Winter was nearly over, and spring was approaching fast. The frost that had covered the ground so stubbornly in the midst of the recent trial was finally beginning to melt, and she could imagine soft rains and delicate green buds would soon follow.
She had attended only a few councils, and she felt she had a lot still to learn, about managing a household, and the affairs of the estate. Though everyone behaved with trained civility at the council, loyalties appeared divided. Some of the men were not happy with the turn of fate, while others endeavoured to treat her like a daughter of their own, offering to take over her education in all the areas she needed to succeed. These few of her father’s closest friends gave her valuable guidance.
Yet, despite all this, the final say on a number of matters lay in her hands, and she could not yet say she had enough confidence to put all doubts aside. She had many people whispering in her ear, conjuring up her father’s image, and telling her what he would do in resolving certain matters. All she could think was how much skill and cunning her father must have needed to keep up the peace between so many different people all these years.
Even the servants were still getting used to the change. The Master was now the Mistress. When one of the servant boys was told he must now address her as a “Lady,” he had dared to ask, “Since when?” only to receive a hard smack from their cook, a balding man with arms thick as a blacksmith’s, and since then, everyone has been nothing but courteous towards her. If they had any complaints, they kept them carefully guarded and unspoken.
_
It had been months since her brother’s death. Yet it seemed his spirit had not yet vacated the house. He lived in her memories which seemed to dance before her like a play at the oddest of times.
When she walked down the hall, she saw him walking past her in the other direction. When she went outside to the front of the house, she saw them all as children, playing under the old oak tree, back when they were so lively and alive.
When she sat to do some knitting, she could not help recalling how her older sister had taught her the skill. She could still picture her, a beautiful girl with deep red curls, and a complexion she envied.
At supper, certain dishes reminded her of her siblings—namely, which one was liked by whom—and she felt sad that they were not there to enjoy it with her.
Everywhere she turned, there was a memory lurking in the shadows.
It felt as though the house itself was still in mourning, long after the funeral services.
Being the new Lady Falcon meant that she was a girl haunted by many ghosts. While the lords accepted her father’s will without contest, this was probably helped along by the hope of making a match with one of their sons of marriageable age, or even with one of the lords themselves. Her intuition, and the hintings of the maid servant, her private confidant, told her that marriage proposals might be arriving before spring.
She spent the evenings sitting in an empty room with the fire blazing in the hearth, staring at a portrait of her family, which depicted her sisters in pretty dresses and oldest brother in a fur-lined winter cloak, her father standing behind them, tall and proud as the Lord of the house, with his Lady by his side. Mierra, of course, was not included in that portrait.
She stared from outside, while they stared from within, as they always had.