Lorraine's Carriage. The 2nd Ride.
[I'm assuming, by the by, that during the 'on-camera' part before church Lorraine asked about all of your friends and ascertained that they were all alive. So, I'm not working that in here; it is, obviously, one of the things she'd ask about first. So, she's already found out where Anton and Claire went.]
As the carriage horses started their steady clip-clop, Paris surveyed her beautiful friend with a full pleasure tinged with some slight uncertainty. There had been the better part of a month since they'd seen each other; much could have changed in the fast-paced environment of court. But, vaguely, Paris felt re-assured. Rumour -- or whatever had gone on in these last weeks -- at least had not turned Lorraine against her, as evidenced by her presence here. The thrill found expression in speech. "You always look like you had stepped out of a fairy tale, Lorraine! How kind your parents are to let you come to church with us rather than staying with them in the chapel. I hadn't dared hope to see you before tomorrow evening ... and it is so good to see you!"
"Oh, phooey," Lorraine said, smiling. She reached across the carriage to grab Paris in a sisterly hug. "I'm just so glad you're back all right. I heard about the poor Duke and the Princess. And the demon even tore into you! Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course, I'm all right," Paris laughed a little, returning the hug while trying to be gentle. "Though my armor is in sad shape. My friends took good care of me." She turned serious. "I am just very, very thankful that it was me who faced the demon and not Claire or one of the others. That - doppelganger," Paris did not quite pronounce it right; she only heard the word once, "creature might have killed them." Paris looked away. "And I am sorry that I wasn't faster, that I didn't reach the Duke in time, that I couldn't explain faster -- and so not be the distraction that allowed that creature to reach the Princess." She shook her head. "I know that kind people like your father would say that it's not my fault that I am not faster or better trained yet -- but -- I can't help wishing...."
Lorraine was also shaking her head, smiling. "You silly, put that heart back in your chest. What, you want to be fast enough to beat Silverlocke in a fight? Dad passed both the Duke and the Prince. If they weren't fast enough to stop it, you weren't going to. I didn't hear any details, just that you and your friends somehow helped save the Duke and the Princess. And that Silverlocke has taken guarding them rather personally, so nobody wants to go to that part of the palace."
Paris smiled ruefully and nodded her understanding.
[GM: Just to check--the above fits my conception of Paris, that she wouldn't use the opportunity to fill Lorraine in on details; it just wouldn't occur to her that she was asked an indirect question. So, I assume Paris hasn't elucidated to her friend about what occurred. Si? ]
[W: That is correct. It did not occur to Paris that Lorraine wanted her to give a more detailed description of the 'rescue' of the Duke and Princess. Paris must be something of a frustration to an information-gatherer like Lorraine.]
Paris smiled. "You certainly stunned Rhori and Calais. Although Rhori's got his growth early, he's really still a rather young boy and he's never been very easy in speaking. I hope you don't mind. It doesn't take the sharpest of wits to have a good and loyal heart, which he does."
Lorraine laughed gaily. "He reminds me a lot of Rodric, doesn't he? Got very tongue tied." She smiled and winked. "But his arm! That was the hardest arm I've ever seen! He must be really strong. He can't be all that young." She paused for a moment. "But what do you mean about his wits? Does he always talk that way?"
Paris hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I think that Rhori is only 13 or so. [I _still_ think that Michael is wrong and that Rhori has to be older... but that is how Michael introduced Red.] But I never looked at our Padre's records to be sure. He -- did not have a -- very good childhood and -- people thought that might have affected his mind. He does tend to speak slowly and simply. But he and I have learned to work together somewhat. He is a good man to have beside you in a fight."
"And is your brother all right?" Lorraine continued. "He seemed a bit oh, I don't know, standoffish today. Did something bad happen to him on your journey?"
"Well... we got into one nasty fight and I couldn't protect him very well and he couldn't protect me -- and that sort of thing tends to bother us both a lot. But -- well -- it all worked out." Paris looked at her friend and grinned. "It may be that he was just trying to figure out a way to be me and accompany you home and felt frustrated. You are pretty splendid for my country boys, you know."
"Oh, phooey," Lorraine said, but she had a wide smile. "Boys are boys. Your brother is nice, Paris," and her smile dropped a notch, "but it's kind of weird how much he looks like you. I don't think I could kiss him, it would be too much like kissing you."
Paris tilted her head slightly. "He's much prettier than I am. Everyone in Jouet used to say so." One side of her mouth twisted slightly, warping her smile. "They said it was a pity that he wasn't the girl and I the boy." She looked away. "Heaven works in odd ways sometimes." Then she smiled at Lorraine and lifted her eyebrows somewhat apologetically. "As far as I know, Calais has never been kissed either. He might take it as hard as I did. I don't know."
Lorraine laughed. "Boy, Jouet must have been way out in the sticks if there wasn't any kissing." Her smile faded as suddenly as it came. "Or maybe I don't understand. Life was very different for you, wasn't it? I guess I'm kind of lucky, I've never had to work as hard as you did, but my dad isn't important enough to make my marriage a matter of state. I get to choose. How did you stand it?"
Paris' brow furrowed slightly. "I am not sure what you mean by 'stand it.' There's always work to do; one is supposed to always do ones' part. Else no ones' life improves. As for marriage in a village.... Ours was a very frontier village. Not very big. Mostly young people get to know each other when their families share labour or celebrations -- weddings, baptisms, barn raisings, harvest -- that sort of thing. And gathers -- faires, of course. And, around our age, some young people naturally start to pair up. But, in as small a village as ours, sometimes the pairings take longer 'cause there's just not enough choice. None of my friends who survived had paired yet, except Mia. But her husband died sometime before the orcs came. So.. sometimes, if no one seems suitable, one's parents make arrangements with friends and relatives in other, bigger villages, and -- if they can afford the loss of a strong young pair of hands, a young person is sent off to same to see if a pairing can't be arranged there. It may not be so very different from court. Most parents want to see their kids paired with someone who works hard and won't make their child too unhappy. At least I think so. Calais and I were lucky. Our parents really, really loved each other. They had a very special bond, I think." Softly, "It's very hard not to want something like that."
Summoning her courage, Paris put voice to one of the topics that still could cause her personal distress. With slight hesitations she managed, "How - how did Ewen take -- what you said you'd tell him about me?"
Lorraine smiled gently, reaching over to pat Paris' hand. "I was wondering how long you were going to hold out before asking that. I had to pass on some of it to Cordelia, who told Rodric, he rooms with Ewen, you remember. He came and talked to me the next night of course." She took a deep breath, but looked straight at Paris and smiled weakly. "He argued with me quite a bit. Mostly, that he wasn't trying any 'droit de signeur' and wanted to go tell you, or wanted me to tell you, or wanted to know where to find you. I heard later from Cordelia that he told Rodric that he was sure you had liked the kiss." She sighed again. "He was just formal for the next few nights. Didn't talk to anyone, much, besides Rodric. Mom didn't make him continue dance classes while you were gone, but he did some dancing anyway. Mostly, the last week or so, he's been escorting Bietrix to dinner. I don't think you know her. She's, oh, shorter than you are by half a head, brown hair? She's, um, awfully warm after dancing, I hear, and has asked to step out to the garden, but I don't think he has."
Lorraine looked out the window and back again. "This morning he heard that you were back in town, and that I was going to meet you for church. He asked about coming along, but I didn't know what you wanted to do and didn't think it was a good idea to surprise you. So, I'm sorry, I reminded him that he hadn't been invited, I wasn't thinking." She looked at Paris' puzzled expression and her face fell again. "Oh. Another of our traditions you don't know. Well, usually the girl gets her mother to invite the boy to join them for church... so Ewen asked me to ask your mother to invite him. I had to tell him about your mother. I'm sorry."
"Don't feel badly, Lorraine," Paris soothed. "You yourself were a delightful surprise and I do think it wonderfully thoughtful of your mother to let you come for my sake. I am not trying to hide the fact that -- my brother and I are orphans. But, I am sorry," she gulped a bit, "that you have to be reminded of it. I," she smiled wanly, " have to remind myself every once and a while that other people still have parents -- and I must try not to envy them. I guess I put a crimp in lots of traditions, one way or another." She paused, then sighed very quietly.
Then Paris shook herself and proceeded to speak in a brighter brisker tone. "I - I have a reason for wanting to speak to Ewen soon. It's not a very great thing. But -- if it wouldn't cause any trouble -- I -- well, I've never spent a Seven-day in the Palace and so do not know what it's like. And I am not anywhere so skilled in propriety and what is right and possible there, the way you are. So I'd really like you to tell me -- is there a proper way that I could see him? For just a few minutes today? Or would it be better to simply wait until after class tomorrow to speak with him?'
"Um," Lorraine said, biting her lower lip. "There's a lot of people around on Sevenday. He should be there, although he'll be leaving at some point to go visit his family. The ones in Dad's class who live nearby all do that on Sevenday for dinner, if their parents don't come visit them. So, with all the people around, it's easy to arrange a proper meeting, if you don't mind me standing around nearby." She looked Paris over, eyes flicking up and down, taking in Paris' peasant best and sword. "I'm sorry, don't take this wrong, but are you sure you want to meet him, um, that way? We probably can't get you changed before he leaves to see his family. Do you know what you want to say to him?"
"Well, I think so. I have something..." Paris reached over her shoulder for where her pack should be, and then paused, blushing. "Oh -- well -- nevermind. I - I didn't have any idea I'd see you," Paris smiled in self-amusement. "I didn't have any reason to think I should be near the palace today. So I did not bring it to church." She laughed just a little at the mental image of the cuttings, carefully wrapped in damp linen being brought to church in her backpack. "No, I certainly did not bring it to church." She shrugged. "It will have to wait until tomorrow then. I didn't think...."
Lorraine looked puzzled. "Bring what to church?"
"Just -- something -- I picked up in my travels. Something I thought he wanted. I just thought it would be good if I could give it to him sooner rather than later. But it's ok. It'll keep."
As the rest of Lorraine's statement registered, somewhere deep inside Paris there was a gulp -- almost a sob -- of "borrowed finery" and a sterner voice answering, "If that is what is important, then there will be no kisses." She looked down at her lap where, of its own accord, one hand fingered the material of her garment. But it was with clear eyes that she looked at Lorraine and said softly, "Thank you for telling me -- everything."
The carriage slowed as it approached the palace gate. Lorraine sighed sadly. "Paris, I... look, you think about what you want. Let me know what I can do to help. Think about whether or not you want him at church next Sevenday, or..." The door closed as Paris exited, and Lorraine leaned out the window. "I heard from Rodric that Ewen's been practicing really hard. He wants to beat you in a fair fight, I guess. He's certainly thinking about you a lot."
Paris watched as the carriage rolled into the gate, lost in thought as she mulled over Lorraine's words, her hand still tugging at her rough clothes, the sword still incongruous against them. It was with a start that she realized there were horsemen coming out of the palace, all of them young men. One she recognized as Ewen, in his riding clothes, but wearing a white tabard with a small emblem over the chest, a silver vine on a blue shield, his Sevenday finery. He said goodbye to the others and started his horse at a walk, around the palace to either the west or north.
Paris turned away and started back to Jouet Square, fighting tears. She knew what she wanted but she did not know who or how to achieve that, and she knew that she could not offer false coin in attempting to find out.
Paris stumbled almost blindly down the street. Only the fact that she had walked this so regularly for a week kept her unconsciously dodging the people and obstacles that wandered on normal Sevenday holiday excursions. The tumult in her breast raged so fiercely that she couldn't even make out the words for a while.
"Why shouldn't I have stepped out and let Ewen see me as I really am!" shouted Serious. "You would have known once and for all what he really felt!"
Real Girl sobbed. "I could not have borne it if we had seen the look in his face that Jules has had. Jules cannot forget that we are a peasant. To Jules, there is something less than human about being a peasant. Ewen thinks that we are real."
Serious: He thinks so because we have let Lorraine truck us out in her own and Cordelia's finery.
Rodric's voice whispered, "You look better in it than she does."
RG, whimpering: It is pleasant to be thought good-looking. It never happened anywhere else.
Serious: Even if it is not you who he is admiring? It is the clothes! Even if what he kisses is a well-dressed mannequin?! Not a person with real dreams and fears?!!
RG, stiffening up: That is unfair. Ewen talked and listened. It might have been Paris he kissed....
Serious: Not if he couldn't notice how it upset us.
RG, almost panicking: You don't know that! You don't! Maybe he hasn't kissed that many girls. Lorraine said he was a nice boy. Maybe he's not used to all the different reactions a girl can have. And we certainly did all the things that Lorraine said a girl who wants to be kissed does. How was he to guess that we were just stupid!?! It's our fault; not his!
Serious, sternly: I will not be kissed by someone who thinks more about appearance than about the honour of the person inside the clothes! Lorraine obviously thought that it would make a difference to Ewen, and she has known him for a year. We have only spoken with him for 6 evenings.
RG, begging: Lorraine -- you have watched Lorraine. Her clothes, her appearance are her weapons, her armor, for what she deems is the right path for her. They are part of the tools she uses -- along with her own sweet personality -- to find the husband and position that her parents have been fitting her for since she was 14. Lorraine didn't mean to degrade Ewen's honour. She just wants us to have all the tools that she has. She does not have the same opportunities that we have had to see each young man's honour and prowess on the field of honour. You know that Ewen is honourable in a way that she may not. You have had 6 days that she never has had.
Serious, calming, growing thoughtful: In the same way that I would save her from Jules, if I could, if he has not continued the improvement that we saw that last day.
RG, awed: She would hate you forever for interfering. She might not even listen.
Serious: If the improvement is still there, it will never come to that. I will think of it no more. It is unfair to rake up the past, if the past is truly behind.
RG, woefully: So much time has passed.... Will Ewen even be our friend now, if Bietrix has his attention...?
Serious: If we are not The One for Ewen, it is better to step aside and let a better girl have him. And it is better to do so sooner, rather than later.
RG, with renewed panic: Then you won't even try...? You don't even want to see if friendship can become something more?
Serious: Friendship can become something more. I know this. Maman and Papa were the best of friends -- and lovers and marrieds. But I will not interfere when Ewen's choice has already been made. That is not an act of friendship. Particularly when I don't have as good a coin to offer as this Bietrix does. She wants to kiss Ewen. You just want to see what it feels like.
RG, protesting: But Lorraine didn't think that Ewen had kissed her yet. She just wants to see what it feels like too.
Serious: Then she already thinks she loves him. You cannot say that.
RG, flaring: You can't say that either! She may be like Lorraine -- interested in all and loving none -- yet!
Serious, sternly: If it is too late, it is too late.
RG: But if you are so set against 'borrowed finery', how will we ever spend enough time with any of them to let them really get to know us? Do you only want to be their sparing partner on the field? What will you do then? No noble boy will love you, and what peasant boy will want you either -- spoiled by court training?
Serious, with an unwonted touch of sadness: There will always be the Order.
Real Girl gave an inarticulate wail.
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