Bring That Child Here
The sun was scorching, yet beneath the trees where the breeze stirred the shade, the air stayed cool. Leila sat atop the blanket, arms wrapped around her knees. Bill and the garden hands were hard at work, digging up the spent rose bushes and setting in new late-blooming varieties.
The garden laid out behind the mansion looked as though every kind of rose in the world had been planted there. Roses were the national flower of the Berg Empire, and they were also the bloom the two ladies of the ducal house particularly cherished.
The gunshots rolling out of the forest had left Leila unable to sit still; she had paced the house in anxious circles until Uncle Bill suddenly thrust out his hand. Startled into taking it, she had been led to this garden. Only when the shots finally faded did her heart settle.
Is it right that I rest while Uncle works in this heat?
Leila glanced at Bill with a troubled face, then let out a small sigh and closed her eyes. He had already threatened to be angry if she followed him. Children who refused to listen, he said, were the worst. So even if her conscience pricked, she had no choice but to wait here.
Resigning herself, she opened her eyes again—and flinched, shrinking back. A strange boy stood right in front of her. Neatly dressed, he looked about her own age.
“Hello.”
When their eyes met, the boy smiled in greeting. Platinum-blond hair, a pretty smile.
“Do you live here?”
He glanced around, then asked with sudden seriousness.
“Yes. With Uncle Bill.”
Leila narrowed her eyes as she answered.
“Uncle Bill? That scary gardener?”
“He’s not scary.”
“Is that so? He seems scary to me.”
Tilting his head, the boy sat down beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Do you live here too?”
Leila asked, a little wary. The boy smiled and shook his head.
“No. I came with my father. He’s the family physician, and today is the day he examines the Dowager Duchess. I come with him sometimes. The Dowager Duchess said it was all right.”
“I see.”
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
“Same as me. But you’re really small.”
He stared at her and burst out laughing again. Leila’s cheeks flushed with indignation.
“You’re small too.”
“I’m the tallest in my class, you know?”
The boy straightened his back as though wronged. It was no empty boast—he did look a little taller than most boys his age.
“Anyway… smaller than Uncle Bill.”
Leila added in a still smaller voice, uncertain. The boy stared at her for a moment, then cackled once more. He seemed like a child who laughed easily.
“Hey, is there any kid bigger than that uncle? Probably not even among the adults.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Feeling awkward, Leila idly plucked blades of grass beyond the edge of the blanket. Green juice stained her fingertips at once. She wished he would leave, yet the boy showed no sign of rising.
“Want some of this?”
She glanced at the peach lying at the far end of the blanket and asked on impulse. The boy nodded readily. He seemed as good-natured as he was cheerful.
Leila took a pocketknife from the bag she had set aside. As she unfolded the blade and began cutting the peach, the boy watching her chuckled low in his throat.
“You’re really funny. A girl pulling that out of her bag?”
“Uncle gave it to me. Don’t tease.”
Leila wrinkled her nose slightly and handed him half the peach. Sitting side by side, sharing the fruit, a breeze heavy with the sweet scent of the flesh drifted between them.
“But why do you look so down? Is something wrong?”
After finishing his share, the boy asked carefully.
“The Duke and his friends keep hunting birds.”
Leila answered gloomily. The boy tilted his head as if he could not understand.
“Why is that a problem?”
“They’re killing birds for fun.”
“Isn’t hunting just like that?”
“Are you like that too?”
Leila lifted her serious green eyes to him. The boy in front of her looked as though he would struggle even to lift one of those great, terrifying hunting guns.
“Uh… no.”
He blinked, then shook his head hard.
“I’m not. It’s pitiful.”
He put weight into every word. Slowly a smile began to bloom across Leila’s face, which had been so downcast.
“Want another peach?”
She asked in a voice already much brighter. Once more the boy nodded without hesitation.
Leila cut a far larger piece and held it out to him. His cheeks were a little flushed, as though the formal clothes he wore felt stifling.
“Kyle! Kyle!”
A distant voice that seemed to be calling him floated through the air. Still toying with the peach pit, the boy sprang to his feet.
“I have to go now.”
“All right. Bye.”
“Kyle Etman.”
He thrust out his hand suddenly.
“That’s my name. What’s yours?”
“I’m Leila. Leila Lewellin.”
A little awkwardly she took his hand. Sticky with peach juice, their small hands clasped in a surprisingly solemn handshake.
“Bye, Leila. See you again. Next time I’ll bring something tasty.”
He ran a short distance, then turned and called back.
She almost told him she might soon have to leave this place, but in the end Leila only waved a small hand. She did not want to speak those words aloud. Even saying them might invite bad luck.
When Kyle left, Leila’s world fell quiet once more.
Breathing the rose-scented breeze, she waited for Uncle Bill’s work to finish. That was her intention, yet at some point she dozed off. When she started awake at the sound of Bill calling her name, the long summer sun was already sinking low.
Leila scrambled up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and gathered the blanket. Her steps as she hurried toward him felt lighter than before.
“Uncle, earlier I met a boy…”
She was about to tell him of the child with whom she had shared a peach when she froze at the approach of people coming from the opposite direction. The Duke of Herhardt and his friends.
Matthias paused for a moment in the center of the rose garden. The taciturn gardener Bill Remmer bowed toward him. Only a little later did Matthias notice the small child half-hidden behind the man’s back.
“It’s been a while, Mr. Remmer.”
Matthias gave a light nod. The companions following him halted at a respectful distance behind.
“I’ve decided to keep this child at Arvis for the time being.”
Bill Remmer spoke with a faintly embarrassed air.
When he patted her back, the girl who had been hiding stepped forward hesitantly. The gleam of her golden hair made Matthias remember her at once—the absurd little creature who had been sitting in a tree, the one he had nearly shot mistaking her for a bird.
“I’ve already sought permission from the two ladies, but I thought I ought to inform Your Grace as well, so I’ve taken the liberty.”
Bill Remmer bowed again. The child at his side did the same.
Matthias slowly lowered his gaze. When their eyes met, the child flinched yet continued to study him carefully. Narrowed eyes, lips pressed tight—exactly the same expression she had worn while spying on him from the forest during the hunt.
“You’re that one. The kid who lives in the forest.”
His cousin Riet, standing behind Matthias, snickered as he spoke. The child’s face went scarlet and she ducked back behind the gardener’s bulk. She had done the same at the hunting grounds—staring at him intently one moment, darting behind a tree the next. After the hunt she would wander about weeping, burying the dead birds.
“As you wish, Mr. Remmer.”
Matthias answered briefly, with a smile. Whatever the gardener chose to raise in the forest was none of his concern.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Bill bowed once more. Matthias gave the faintest tilt of his chin and resumed walking.
Only after he had passed did Leila finally lift her head. The Duke’s relatives and friends soon followed. Though the heat had driven most of them to shed their jackets and roll their shirtsleeves, the Duke of Herhardt remained perfectly dressed in his hunting clothes. The hat he carried was the sole concession to the weather.
Staring after that retreating figure, Leila recoiled at the sight of the servants who came next, bearing guns and the day’s kill. A thick reek of blood brushed her nose. She hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut.
Just as her body began to tremble, she felt Uncle Bill’s large, warm hand. Awkwardly yet kindly, he patted her shoulder.
Claudine sat with her chin propped on her hand, heaving exaggerated sighs. Her curly brown hair swayed in time with each one. The Countess of Brandt shot her daughter a narrowed glance.
“You must behave like a lady, Claudine.”
Her low whisper carried an impatience she could not quite hide. The girl was still a little young to be called a lady, yet this was a place that demanded she act as one. Her young daughter, who could know nothing of that urgency, merely sighed even more loudly for all to hear.
“I’m so lonely and bored.”
At Claudine’s complaint the gazes of the noble ladies around the tea table shifted.
“Then go play with your brothers.”
The Countess of Brandt, face flushed, tried to recover the situation, but Claudine would not yield.
“My brothers treat me as if I don’t exist. They only talk about things I can’t understand.”
Looking at the girl’s pitiful expression, the ladies laughed softly.
“Well. It must be dull, with no friends her own age.”
Elyse von Herhardt nodded as she stroked the white puppy on her lap.
“See, Mother? Duchess Herhardt understands me.”
A lively smile lit Claudine’s face at finding an ally.
“Who is that child?”
Claudine pointed toward the garden she had been glancing at for some time. The ladies’ eyes followed her fingertip. A small girl was trailing after the gardener as he tended the roses.
“May I play with her? She looks about my age.”
“I don’t know. Isn’t she an orphan from abroad? Hardly a suitable playmate for you.”
“I don’t mind. It would be more fun than playing with a dog.”
Claudine’s tone was calm and firm, strangely mature for a child.
The Countess of Brandt’s ears were now scarlet, but Elyse von Herhardt laughed as though amused and rang the little bell.
“Bring that child here.”
She ordered the maid who approached quietly.
“The one the gardener is raising.”
The maid led Leila into a strange new world—beneath a fluttering white canopy where glamorous people in candy-bright clothes were seated.
“Quite a pretty child.”
A noblewoman of startling beauty parted her lips slowly.
“Well? Do you like her, Claudine?”
Her gaze left Leila and settled on the brown-haired girl beside her. Claudine smiled happily and nodded.
“Thank you, Duchess Herhardt.”
Unable to make sense of any of it, Leila felt as though she might grow dizzy. She longed to hurry back to Uncle Bill’s cabin, yet no one present seemed the least curious about what she might want.
When the lady who seemed to be addressed as Madame issued some further command, the maid took Leila’s hand once more.
Not understanding a thing, Leila was pulled from one hand to another.
She was bathed in a luxurious bathroom she had never imagined, then dressed in clothes of astonishing whiteness and softness. The maid’s hands combing and braiding her tangled hair were so rough they hurt, yet Leila bit her lip and endured. She felt she must. One wrong word might bring trouble upon Uncle Bill.
“Miss Claudine is the young lady of the Brandt count family. That means you must not behave carelessly toward her. Do you understand?”
The maid who had dragged Leila up to the second floor of the mansion delivered the warning with severity.
When Leila nodded blankly, the woman slowly opened the door of the drawing room. Claudine received them with a carefully adult air.
“Hello. What’s your name? How old are you?”
Claudine bent to meet Leila’s eyes.
“Leila Lewellin, miss. I’m twelve years old.”
“Really? I thought you were younger. You’re so small.”
It was the remark she hated most, yet Leila resolved to bear it. For Uncle Bill’s sake. Thinking the words like a charm seemed to swell her patience.
As if she had no intention of introducing herself, Claudine turned away. Leila followed on stiff legs.
Piano. Singing. Making flower arrangements.
Claudine suggested one amusement after another, yet there was nothing Leila could do.
Dice games. Word games. Chess.
The other alternatives Claudine offered were no better.
Looking from the table crowded with toys to Leila’s face and back again, Claudine wore an ambiguous little smile.
“How pitiful.”
With a disappointed sigh she rose slowly. Leila felt a helpless sense of being a fool as she stared hard at the unfamiliar objects.
“You don’t know anything, do you.”
Coming to stand before Leila’s chair, Claudine spoke in a resigned tone. The soft voice, carefully free of irritation or open disappointment, only deepened the humiliation.
She knew she ought to answer, yet Leila could not bring herself to open her mouth. She had no idea what words would be considered polite. Fortunately Claudine did not wait for a reply; she simply turned away.
Before closing the door she muttered to herself with a sigh.
“What a waste. No better than a dog.”
When Claudine left, Leila was alone in the dazzling drawing room.
She wanted to leave at once, yet she decided to wait. The young lady might return. But even as the afternoon light ripened slowly into gold, Claudine did not come back.
The maid who had first brought her appeared only when evening was well advanced.
“You may go back now.”
Her voice was far gentler than before.
“Miss said you may keep those clothes. And this as well.”
To Leila, who bowed, the maid held out a single glittering gold coin. When Leila did not move, the woman pressed the coin into her palm herself.
“Take it. It is also manners to accept gratefully what your betters give. Do you understand?”