“Then you must eat mine. I can't abide them.” After taking my cup off its saucer, I place the strawberries on the plate. I pick up the dessert dish and set it next to him. Let him punish me, then I'll know what to expect.
Mother's face is drawn in horror, but the Envadi laughs. “And I won't let good peaches go to waste, but there are apples, too.”
“I'm finished with everything there.”
“I'll make sure nothing is wasted then.” He scoops the remaining fruit onto his plate.
I'm not going to be punished? Why? Not that I wanted it, I only wanted to know what it took to get it and how bad it would be. I fork a strawberry while pondering it.
He takes several more bites. “Agatha, Councilman Stephen's note mentioned you were going to be returning later in the week to assist Serena in preparing for the engagement ceremony. What day, or days would you like to come? Is there anything you need that I can help with?”
Mother's gaze darts between me and the Envadi. Finally, she picks up her fork and responds. “Any day is fine. My schedule is clear.”
“You're welcome on all of the days then. In fact, you can stay with us while you make your plans.”
Mother stares at her plate. “I don't believe Councilman Stephen would care for me to be away from him that long.”
In truth, I'm surprised he let her come without him, even with a male servant to chaperon. Though the Woman's Canon says a warlock always knows where his wife is and what she's doing. Perhaps he thought the servant was sufficient.
“Of course you must please your husband. I just don't want you worn out with the traveling.”
The remainder of the meal is silent. Though not much of a meal. My strawberries have hardly any taste with such strange going ons. Mother pushes food around her plate, but Cynthia and the Envadi finish their fruit. When he pushes his chair back and stands, we jump to our feet.
“Would you like to enjoy some time in the sitting room with us, Agatha?” He says it as if we do it every night, but we never have before.
“No, thank you. I believe I must be off.”
“So soon?”
Mother nods.
“Then I'll let the girls see you out. Feel free to take my offer for dinner when you come again. A guest room can be readied easily enough if the Councilman allows.”
I tense as the Envadi gives a nod and strides from the room. Mother moves to the door. When I don't immediately follow, she snaps. Cynthia and I hurry after her.
“Not you Cynthia. You can go to your room and do whatever it is you do in this big place while I'm at home slaving over twelve girls and preparing for another babe.”
Cynthia opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again with the shake of her head. She scurries from the room. I make a note to be extra kind to her tomorrow and follow mother out into the hall. Our footsteps are quieted by a brown rug. Once we're no longer within hearing of the servants, she turns to me with a hiss.
“Where's your face paint?”
I swallow. “I was in a hurry, so I thought that—”
“You don't think. If Father knew...” She frowns and rubs her lower back before pulling a pocket-sized Woman's Canon out of her pocket and turns right to the page she wants. “A woman must always look her best.” She snaps the book closed. “You won't go without it again. Ever.”
The command makes me grit my teeth. “Yes, mother.”
She watches me closely and sighs. “Have you given any thought to the ceremony?”
More than I wish. “Some.”
“Good. We don't have nearly as much to do as we will when it's time for the wedding. Mostly, we need a dress. I'll bring one with me when I come tomorrow and see if it fits.”
“I'll be ready.” Like I have a choice.
“See that you're wearing face paint when I arrive. I'd hate to see you punished for breaking the Woman's Canon this close to your wedding.” She straightens. “I'll see myself out.”
I watch as she waddles down the corridor, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
***
“Quit fidgeting,” mother says around a mouth full of pins.
“Ouch!” A pin stings my leg.
“I told you. Now hold still so I can finish.”
I try to hold still. Really, I do, but I can't help it. The dress is awful though I have yet to see how it looks on me.
Mother moves to my stomach and starts pinning the material. “We'll have to take it in, but I think it will work. I can't believe you're grown enough to wear it. Seems like only yesterday I was wearing it to my own engagement ceremony. Finished. What do you think?” Mother's face glows at me, but from her chair nearby, Cynthia is passive, save for a tightening around her mouth.
I turn toward the mirror, my painted face reflected back, trying to guard my reaction. It's more like a slip than a dress. Flimsy black material clings to me, held up only by two thin straps. Right now it reaches a touch below my knees, but mother has plans to hem it three inches.
I detest it. “This is what you wore?”
Mother nods. “I know it's different from our customary dress, but men like to show off their new things.”