Vanilla #6
Author: Valanya
Flavours: Vanilla #6 ‘dinner party’
Story: A Polished Brass Telescope
Title: An Arrival
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,181
Summary: The Valiant and her crew arrive at Ailbe’s house in Ireland, a few days after Lucille runs away from her family.
The sun was just beginning to set as The Valiant approached the cove on the western coast of Ireland where they would, for the moment, make port. Though there was still a little blue in the sky, the sands took on a pinkish tinge in the fading light.
There was one other small ship already on the sands that looked as though it had been there some time. Aside from this there was no sign of inhabitation, and Lucille was forced to assume that Ailbe’s abode was set further back in the dense woods, the foremost trees of which stood fifty yards or so back up the grassy slope from the beach.
As soon as The Valiant was in shallow enough waters, ropes were taken up and she was pulled up onto the sands of the beach, far enough that the sea could not reclaim her. Once the ship was safely stowed Amadeo assisted his ladylove to solid grounds by means of a rope ladder, the rest of the crew following shortly after.
“Are you sure she will welcome me?” Lucille asked, looking somewhat apprehensively at the forest ahead of them. “That she is your true friend I do not doubt, but I am a stranger to her.”
Amadeo kissed her forehead, smiling kindly. “My love, there are no strangers in Ailbe’s house, least of all when they are introduced by someone as well known to the family as I am. And you, I’m sure, will already be considered a friend.” He took her hand and gently led her towards the wood, helping her up the rather steep embankment where the grass met the sand. The trees parted ahead to allow for a path, though the twisting nature meant that Lucille could not as yet see where it led to. They walked in silence through the cool wood, Lucille’s neck craning to catch all the sights possible. As yet the countryside was not too different from that of her home country, albeit a little greener and with a greater feeling of moisture in the air. As a child she had spent hours in her father’s library pouring over writings of foreign countries, and after meeting Amadeo had eagerly listened to his tales of travel and his home country for hours on end, but had had very little opportunity to travel herself. She knew many areas of France, having journeyed to meet relatives and family friends, and she had once made a short trip to Spain as a young girl, but beyond that had very little experience of the world outside her own country.
A couple of minutes down the path and sounds began to filter through the trees. The wood thinned suddenly to become a large clearing, and in the grassy expanse stood a large house built of granite, not grand in any way but with an air of welcome to it. It was rectangular with very little adornment on the masonry, other than the moss and occasional covering of ivy. Yet at the window fluttered bright hangings and flowers had been carefully tended around the clearing.
The chatter of human voices carried on the breeze, just audible over the muted talk of The Valiant’s men. As they approached the ramshackle house the grand front door was opened and a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen years appeared, already smiling in their direction. Her hair and eyes were dark, though her skin was pale, and a smattering of freckles lay across her cheeks. Her dress was repaired in many places, but so brightly that Lucille found it quite lovely.
“Amadeo, you’re back!” the girl exclaimed, half running to meet them. The ever-so-slightly stilted French was spoken in an accent unfamiliar to Lucille, but thankfully not so far removed from the English accent she had been familiarised with that she was unable to understand. Amadeo in turn swept the girl up in a hug, quite lifting her off her feet.
“Bronagh,” he smiled, placing her back on the floor. “Such a young lady now! Was I not so careful in my date-keeping, I’d be quite sure I’d been gone for more than just a few moons.”
She smiled widely, “Grandmother says you’re to join everyone in the hall, we’ve not long served dinner and there’s still plenty left. I made the bread.”
“Then I’m sure it’s the best part.” Bronagh turned to lead the way back inside the building, and Amadeo squeezed Lucille’s hand a little tighter before following her. “How did you know we were here, Bronagh? I don’t believe the beach is visible from the house at this time of year?”
“Grandmother knows these things.” She spoke of her elder with such assurance and familiarity that the implied mystery of her statement did not seem to occur to her. “Grandmother is so pleased you’re here again, and she’ll be even more delighted to meet your lady.” Bronagh looked back over her shoulder, meeting Lucille’s eyes for the first time and smiling happily.
The girl led them through the open back door of the house, into a hallway dominated by a large wooden staircase. Beyond the staircase Lucille could see the house’s original front door, much larger and more ornate than the one through which they had entered, but looking rather swollen with damp as though it was used very rarely. On either side of the hallway were two doors. The furthest on the left was propped open, and from the delicious aromas issuing forth Lucille guessed correctly that it was the kitchen.
Bronagh made no move towards it but instead opened the first door to their right, beckoning them through. It was a much larger room than Lucille had imagined, running the full width of the house, and upon closer inspection proved to be two rooms knocked through into one. The second door Lucille had seen in the hallway was visible further down the room, and odd chunks of stone stuck out where clearly a wall had once stood.
The room itself was filled with people. A number of mismatching tables had been placed in a line down the centre of the room, each covered in a different-coloured cloth and cluttered with plates, glasses and dishes, and around these was gathered a large and noisy family.
The chatter only lessened slightly as they entered the room. Eyes with only mild curiosity in them turned briefly in their direction, and warm smiles beamed from all around. Bronagh approached the central table and as they neared it a figure detached itself and turned to greet them.
“Ailbe,” Amadeo addressed her, making a half-bow in her direction. The woman in question waved away the formality, reaching out to give the young man a motherly hug.
“Good to see you again Amadeo, how many months has it been this time? You really should drop by more often, you know there’s always a welcome for you here.” She was not as old as Lucille had imagined, probably only in her early fifties and not in the slightest bit frail. She looked healthy and well-fed, and Lucille liked her on sight.
Amadeo broke the embrace and reached out to draw his lady closer to his side, “I’m very grateful Ailbe, and I hope on this occasion you might have room for one more. Might I introduce my beloved Lucille.”
Ailbe smiled widely, “I guessed this was she- who else, after all? And Amadeo my dear, she really is quite as lovely as you described. Ocean eyes indeed!”
Lucille blushed, unused to such easy compliments. Remembering her manners she curtsied, “Thank you for your welcome into your home, it is my great pleasure to meet you.” Even to her the words sounded ridiculous in such an informal environment and her blush deepened.
Yet Ailbe merely beamed at her, taking her hand and replying in perfect French, “Amadeo is dear to me, and you are dear to him. There could never be any question of your welcome here.”
They sat with Ailbe at her central table, their host protesting that they must be famished. The food was quite unlike anything Lucille had eaten before; crusty bread of such a different texture and flavour to that she was used to, rich meat stew and a myriad of small bowls of different things, most of which Lucille could not name, which were passed around the tables.
The conversation too was far removed from that found at her father’s table. Here no one held their tongues, as she had so often been obliged to do, and the result was a cacophony of voices as each speaker fought for supremacy. Amadeo’s conversation was mostly engaged by Ailbe, but Lucille listened carefully, intent upon gleaning all the information she could about her new and entirely alien circumstances.
The easiest to ascertain were names and relationships as Ailbe, conscious of Lucille’s attentiveness, made certain to contextualise each name as it came up in conversation. She discovered that the girl Bronagh was the daughter of Ailbe’s firstborn, Áine, a pretty woman with sparkling eyes who also sat at their table. Besides Áine, one other of the women present was daughter to Ailbe and two of the men her sons. The remaining members of the party were there spouses and children, as well as several people from the nearby village who were friends of the family. Though many were pointed out to her, Lucille thought it would take some time before she would remember everyone’s names. Well-read as she was, not one of the names was familiar to her tongue and she feared being called upon to pronounce any in front of the company, certain that she would mangle the delicate syllables most disgracefully. Her knowledge of the world, garnered purely from those library books, was something Lucille had always prided herself upon - frequently correcting visitors to the house as well as her own family. Now that she found herself out in that wide world of which she had so often read, she was dismayed to find quite how inadequate her education had been.
As the evening worse on it became increasingly difficult to process all the new information. Their ever-attentive hose had ensured that Lucille’s glass never remained empty for long, and the sweet wine combined with an honest exhaustion served to dim her faculties and render the acquisition of any further details next to impossible.
Ailbe was the first to notice her guest’s nodding head, and squeezed Amadeo wrist in a motherly way, “Much as I hate to interrupt our conversation, I think your lady is wilting under the strains of the evening.” She turned to Lucille, who was making an effort to appear awake once more, “You and Amadeo will of course be remaining in the house with my family and myself during your stay, however long that may be. I had your room made up this morning, please don’t let me keep you from your bed any longer. Even a short journey aboard ship will take its toll on those not accustomed to it.”
“Thank you, Ailbe.” Amadeo stood to help Lucille to her feet. “You’re really far too kind.”
Ailbe laughed heartily, “That’s just my nature, my dear. You’re in your usual room.”
Amadeo nodded his thanks, and took Lucille’s elbow to steer her out of the room. Once they had gained the hallway he swept her gently up into his arms, in spite of protests that she was still perfectly capable of walking. He merely replied that he didn’t wish to take the risk of her being mistaken.
She didn’t complain for long. Though their room was only one floor up the gentle swaying motion and the comforting closeness of Amadeo was enough to lull her almost to sleep before they even got through the door. The necessity of allowing Amadeo to rid her of her clothes forced her to again stand on her own two feet for a few minutes, but it was a short-lived evil. Amadeo helped her between the linen sheets of the large four-poster bed and tucked her in carefully. He sat on the edge of the bed stroking her hair for a moment and watching as her eyelids drooped more and more.
He recollected himself before she quite fell asleep. “My love,” he murmured, half unwilling to bring her back to consciousness, “I have many things still to discuss with Ailbe tonight. Will you be alright here?”
Lucille’s eyes opened grudgingly, and she pouted at him. “Can’t it wait until the morning?” Amadeo laughed and resumed stroking,
“It is months since Ailbe and I have seen each other, and in that time a great deal has changed. I will only be a few hours, and am hardly far away.”
She appeared to consider it for a few moments before nodding her consent, “Alright.” He was about to rise when she stilled him once more by taking hold of his wrist, “I love you.”
He smiled and leant in to kiss her forehead, “I love you too.” By the time he stood again she was asleep.