[maikafanawen]

Dryea finished her tea and placed the empty cup and saucer on the table as she stood.

“Well I’m not one to jump to conclusions,” she said, commenting on the Finduilas rumors Elena had brought up. “It’s been pleasant Elena, and I’ll see you later then at the luncheon?” The student nodded and bid Dryea a temporary farewell as she disappeared back into the house to prepare to return to the Morthaniawen Estate.

The morning had grown even more pleasant during her sit with Elena. The sunlight now shown in through the windows making an antique yellow pattern on the walls and tapestries that lined the corridors leading to her chambers. Dryea stopped in front of one tapestry particularly and examined it with a critical eye. The focus of the weaving was not that of a political hero, but of a war hero. A general it seemed of some sort, one often spoken of by Rhircyn though Dryea could not recall his name. Mounted on a war-horse in paralyzed prance, his sword rose above his head in mid-swing, he exaggerated the greatness of a past that was Gondor.

It was this tapestry that had triggered something of Dryea’s memory. It was of great similarity to a painting that had once hung in her own home, or that of her mother’s late husband, in Umbar. The portrait there was of a sea captain in the likeness of her grandfather. He was not atop a war-horse but clinging to the shrouds of the foremast of his ship; his auburn hair and captain’s coat billowing behind him in the ocean wind.

It was the only sentimental item of her grandfather’s things Dryea owned. It was now rolled up carefully in a cylinder container, hidden in one of the many secret storage rooms in her estate. Her Estate!

Goodness! She had spent so much time thinking on the portrait and gazing at the tapestry that she had lapsed in memory of her original objective. Picking up her skirts she hurried the rest of the way to her room. When she got there Rheaite had already gotten her trunk out and lined it with sandalwood-rose paper to keep the dresses and things fresh smelling.

“Oh thank you Rhe, I had completely forgotten!” Rushing to her desk, she began to distinguish the ornaments and cosmetics that were hers from those of the steward’s that belonged in the guestroom. Soon all her smaller possessions, including her perfume, jewelry, brush and hand mirror, were stowed away into the bottom drawer of her trunk and Rhe began to place her clothing into the top and largest part.

“Are you going to change for the luncheon Lady?” she asked, placing a thing piece of fabric paper over the rose coloured dress she had just placed in the trunk.

“Oh, um,” Dryea stepped back from her vanity and turned to look into the full-length mirror by her closet. “Do you think I should?” Rhe hesitated. She didn’t like answering questions that asked for her opinion, afraid that she would be offensive.

“I do not see reason to change,” she said gently. “But if you feel as though difference would do you well then do as you wish.” Dryea smiled.

“Good answer. Were I to change, what color do you think would best suit me this fine day?” The corners of Rhe’s mouth turned up, a good honest question if answered innocently.

“Well, perhaps a pale dress of lavender or green. Yes green would set of your beautiful hair. Ooh, and yours has miniature blue flowers on the trimming, perfect for your eyes!” Dryea beamed.

“Should I keep out the sapphire necklace then?” Rhe nodded, placing the dress tenderly on the bed along with the gloves, fan, and delicate hair ornaments. It was at this happy moment that Ruiel had decided to call on her daughter. When she entered dressed in her brunette finery, she evaluated her eldest daughter’s progress.

“I am nearly through with my loading up,” began Dryea stiffly, immediately kicking herself for continuing her habit of stating the obvious when with her mother. Only Ruiel had the uncanny ability to make Dryea look a fool.

“I see that,” Lady Morthaniawen pointed out. “I trust then, you have not forgotten about the luncheon with Lady Pelien and her daughter?”

“No I haven’t.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence in which the only sounds were the ruffling of silks and lace as Rhe continued to pack things into Dryea’s trunk. Ruiel continued to stand still looking both regal and wise, though deceptively relaxed and innocuous. It was satisfying to Dryea to know that her mother was truly preoccupied with their intention and the means in which to fulfill it now that Finduilas was here to intercept their goal. She half-heartedly wished that her mother was gentler, someone to whom she could confide in instead of obey and respond to as though she was a commanding officer.

“Well I still have to check up on your sister then meet back in my temporary room before we leave for Pelien’s. It would be prudent that we arrive together.” With that she left the room, leaving Dryea to furrow her brow and wish there was a way to break through her mother’s stone durable personality. The fact is there wasn’t, and she would have to convert her own personality in order to please her mother so that she would accept her daughter as an equal. Only then could they achieve their goal.

A soft double clicking sound came from where Rheaite stood over the trunk at the foot of the bed and Dryea turned to see her checking the locks and that all was secure inside the luggage.

“It’s finished Lady. Shall I call a footman up to carry it down to the carriage?”

“No,” answered Dryea slightly. “I don’t want it out of my room for so long. Locks can be broken.” Rheaite did not need to ask about the reason for Dryea’s concern for she knew of the items stashed in the secret level just above her small possessions and under her dresses. If this compartment was found out, which was highly unlikely anyhow, and the Corsair memorabilia along with the many potion recipes discovered, the identity of the simple Dol Amroth noblewoman would be uncovered. “Once the luncheon is over, and we are ready to leave, I shall over see that my trunk is taken care of. Those however,” she pointed to the two boxes by the door. One contained two bottles of her favorite type of sherry and the other a present from Rhir meant for her cat whom she had left at the manor. “Those you can take down to the carriage. They are not trivial belongings. Thank you Rhe.” The maid nodded and took the handles of each box firmly in hand, and exited the room.

All this done, Dryea checked that she had everything she would need until she had access to her belongings again. The lady placed the key to her trunk in the small pocket that was cleverly hidden inside her bodice along with the key to her room and those necessary to access all the little crannies of her own home: six keys in all. Privacy was very important in her case.

A second, unexpected knock came at the door. Dryea started and thought quickly of who it could be. Unable to guess she told the caller to enter.

“I dare not Lady. It is disreputable for a man to be in a single woman’s chamber.” It was Rhir. Excited, she ran to the door and threw it open.

“I was wondering if you’d show!” she exclaimed. The man smiled, his handsome face alight.

“My that dress is becoming of you Dryea.” He stepped back so as to get a complete view of her new ensemble. “Simply stunning.”

“Oh thank you,” she said naively. “You won’t come in then? I’ve got to be gone soon anyhow, it won’t be long...” Rhir smiled mysteriously.

“If it’s not too long.” Dryea beamed triumphantly and moved to the window table where the original decanter of dormant wine stood with four beakers. One she filled and handed to Rhir who thanked her politely.

“Where is it that you are going so soon?” he asked, taking a cozy seat beside her on the settee. Dryea leaned into the cushion, wishing as Rhir sat beside her there wasn’t somewhere for her to be.

“Just a small lady’s lunch,” she sighed. Rhir shifted the glass from his left to right hand, encircling her shoulders with his free arm.

“Anything cancelable?” he asked hopefully. Dryea leaned into the crook of his arm.

“I wish,” she purred. Then, regaining her composure somewhat suddenly, she stood and patted her hair with her fingertips. “But no, no it’s very important I go. You know how it is.” Rhir laughed faintly.

“I don’t know, but if you can’t you can’t,” he stood, placing his half drunk glass back in its place, smoothing out his jacket. “I’ll see you later then?” He brushed a fashionably loose curl out of her face and kissed her farewell. She walked with him to the door and watched painfully as he retreated down the hall.

When he was out of sight, she sighed contemptuously and returned to her bed, putting on the gloves and clasping the fan to her skirt so that it hung, almost hidden in one of the folds. Then from within her bodice she retrieved the key and locked her guest chamber door firmly behind her. Turning gracefully and slipping the skeleton key back in its place as she did so, she made towards her mother’s room to wait until it was time for the luncheon to begin.