Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

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Chapter Four

Vârful cu Negur˘a was full of lovely things. The house had floors of marble and of fine polished wood, broad passageways, and sweeping staircases, and it was tended by a host of well-trained servants. Aunt Bogdana’s coffee cups were of fine porcelain, and she served tiny, exquisitely decorated cakes. For a woman who values beauty, a merchant makes a good husband.

It was the day of the autumn stag hunt, and Paula and I were keeping our aunt company. We were expecting to drink a lot of coffee before the day was over. Aunt Bogdana’s maid-servant Daniela moved quietly in and out of the sewing room to replenish the refreshments. Uncle Nicolae and Cezar had ridden out early, armed with crossbows and accompanied by a troop of men from the district, dogs at heel. We had been invited to ride with them, as several women were accompanying their husbands and it was considered quite respectable for us to go along. Iulia was the only one of us who had accepted. She 79

loved to ride, and the lack of a horse of her own had long been a sore point.

Hunting did not appeal to me. The forest king, Marin, with his golden hair and noble bearing, had often reminded me of a stag in his prime. I sensed there was not much difference between other hunt quarry such as wolf, boar, or wildcat and certain of the stranger denizens of the Other Kingdom. Besides, it wasn’t fair to leave Paula to entertain Aunt Bogdana on her own. Stela had a cold, and Tati had been all too willing to stay home and tend to her.

“I’m sorry Tatiana could not be here today. I wanted to have a word with her,” Aunt Bogdana said, sipping her coffee. “But I do applaud her responsibility in watching over little Stela. Of course, at sixteen Tati should be married and thinking about children of her own. It’s time you older girls were introduced to a wider circle of eligible young men. Don’t look at me like that, Jenica. Your father’s a man—he doesn’t understand that suitors won’t simply come knocking on the door. One does need to act.

In your own case, some attention to grooming and deportment would not go astray. Teodor will be wanting to see you settled securely. Especially now, with his health so frail.” She set the tiny cup down. “You must look to your future, girls.”

I saw the expression on Paula’s face and spoke swiftly. “Father’s physician told him he’d likely make a full recovery,” I said. It was only a slight embroidery of the truth. “He just needs rest and warm air.”

Aunt Bogdana was not easily diverted. “A party,” she said, eyeing me sharply. “That’s what Teodor should have done, 80

given a grand party for you, with music and dancing—an opportunity for you to mingle with the young men of the district.

As it is, you never go out. Nobody ever sees you. I wonder if Nicolae would agree to hold some kind of entertainment here?

He does love his music.”

There was a wistful look on my aunt’s face. She wore her hair covered by a demure lace cap, and her gown, though of the finest fabric, was plain in design and dark in color. I thought I could remember a time, before Costi’s death, when she had dressed in bright silks and worn feathers in her hair. There was a picture of him on a shelf near her chair, right next to an icon of Saint Anne. The little painting had been done on Costi’s tenth birthday. I could not look at it without feeling the terror of being on the raft and drifting away, away, into the mist.

Looking into Costi’s painted eyes, I saw Cezar’s frightened tears and heard his voice stumbling through the story. . . .

“We do go out, Aunt Bogdana,” Paula said as she darned the worn heel of a stocking. We had brought a basket of mending with us, anticipating a long day. “What about church in the village? We meet everyone there. Father’s taken us to all the guild houses in Bra¸sov. We do see people.”

“There’s seeing and seeing, ” Aunt Bogdana said weightily.

“Conducting business in merchants’ counting-houses is hardly the same as dressing up and letting folk look at you. A young man needs to view a girl at her best. A young woman clad for dancing is like a dewy flower—she catches and holds the eye.”

I met Paula’s glance and looked hastily away. Gogu poked his head out of my pocket. If you were a flower, you’d be pondweed.

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“We won’t be having any parties until Father is back home,” I said. “But thank you for the suggestion, Aunt.”

Aunt Bogdana glanced at me. “Jenica,” she said, “for a girl of fifteen, you are somewhat bold in your responses.” Her tone was kindly; I knew she meant well. “Your father . . .” She sighed.

“He’s a lovely man, but he will insist on going his own way, and that does you no favors, my dear. Suitors won’t care in the least whether you can add up figures and tell silk from sarcenet or jade from amber. It all boils down to manners and deportment, dress and carriage. And the need to keep your conversation appropriate. The frog is an issue. He may be a nice little creature, but he does tend to leave damp patches on your clothing.”

“Yes, Aunt.” There was no point in arguing. Aunt Bogdana was the valley authority on what was proper. “Cezar has already mentioned it.”

“Ah, Cezar . . .” With another sigh, Aunt set down her cup. Her eyes were on Costi’s picture. Daniela got up and bore the tray away. “Life can be very cruel, my dears, cruel and arbitrary,” Aunt went on. “I think sometimes it is particularly hard for women, as we cannot so easily divert ourselves with business affairs.”

“Some women do,” muttered Paula to her stocking.

“What was that, Paula?” Aunt Bogdana had sharp hearing.

“It’s true, Aunt,” I said, drawn into debate despite my best intentions. “Marriage and children need not be the only future open to us. Father speaks of women in Venice and other foreign parts who wield great influence in merchant ventures—women who manage business enterprises in their own right. I’m already helping Father quite a bit, learning as much as I can—”

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“Say no more, Jena. That is not a path you can seriously con-template. Such women are not . . . respectable. At your age you cannot fully understand what I allude to. Only a certain kind of female seeks to enter the masculine realm of commerce, or indeed”—she glanced at Paula—“that of scholarship. Our strengths lie in the domestic sphere. A truly wise woman is the one who knows her place. You need suitable husbands. They won’t just chance along. You must make an effort. Being a man, your father simply doesn’t understand. That he has never provided dancing lessons for you illustrates that. There is no point in appearing at a party if all you can do is step on your suitors’

toes. Don’t smirk, Paula. This is not a joking matter.”

“No, Aunt,” we chorused.

“Of course,” Aunt Bogdana went on, “if your poor dear father does recover his health, this will become less of an issue for you, Jena.”

“Oh?” My attention was caught.

“My dear, we all accept that Tatiana will marry first. For all Teodor’s neglect of the upbringing suitable to young ladies, your elder sister has great natural charm, and her manners are at least acceptable. She will do well enough for herself, given the right introductions. As the second sister and somewhat less . . .

As the second sister, it would be entirely appropriate for you to remain at home and look after your father. Teodor will never take another wife; he was devoted to Bianca. He’ll need a companion in his old age. That is one advantage of producing so many girls.”

I could feel Gogu’s outrage in every corner of his small form, even through the woolen fabric of my gown.