The Tales of Aylfenhame Compendium

Epilogue-2

Aubranael blinked at her, nodded, and said nothing for a moment. ‘I… it is intolerable cheek on my part, but I have come here seeking your aid.’

Sophy’s brows went up in surprise. She had struggled to guess at his reasons for coming to her shop, but that he might be in need of something from her had not crossed her mind. ‘By all means, you need only ask,’ she said.

Aubranael’s expression softened, and he looked at her with a glow of approval which brought the colour back into her face. ‘Ah, I should have known that you would be everything that is generous!’ he said. ‘Even in spite of my—’ he stopped. ‘But you have forbidden that topic, and so away with it! The favour I seek is on behalf of Lihyaen.’ He smiled affectionately at the princess, who stood stroking Felebre’s soft-furred head and looking around the shop with great curiosity.

‘It is… not possible to return her to the palace. You may imagine the difficulties—the dangers. At present we have agreed that it is not advisable, and not what she needs.’ He looked back at Sophy, his smile fading. ‘She has suffered much, and I believe that she is most in need of… security. A quiet, ordinary life, full of simple pleasures and the company of friends. To my infinite regret, I cannot provide her with any of this.

‘But Grunewald has kept me apprised of your accomplishments, and the success of Silverling. I had wondered—hoped—that you might—’

‘I shall be very happy to take care of Lihyaen,’ Sophy said. And she meant it. Something about Lihyaen’s honest curiosity about the shop, her unalloyed warmth, and her affectionate treatment of both Felebre and Aubranael had won over Sophy’s heart almost instantly. She could see Aubranael’s protectiveness towards Lihyaen, and found it echoed in her own heart.

Aubranael’s face slackened with relief, and he let out a long sigh. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘I had nowhere else to turn.’

Sophy gave him a small smile, and turned to Lihyaen. Taking the young woman’s hand, she gave her to understand that her welcome was warm indeed, and that she might stay as long as she liked. As she spoke, Lihyaen’s face blossomed into a shy smile, and she gripped Sophy’s hand a little too tightly.

Lihyaen was very young, Sophy realised. She and Aubranael had been of an age at one time; but the Teapot Society had, perhaps, held her in some manner of stasis for many of the intervening years. As a result, Sophy guessed that she had aged no more than seven or eight years, where Aubranael had aged more than twenty. She could well believe that the princess was in need of a stable environment: she had much growing to do, as well as healing.

‘Can you sew?’ she asked the princess.

Lihyaen frowned doubtfully, but she nodded. ‘I learned how to do that, once,’ she said, her face wistful. ‘But I am not very good.’

‘Never mind; you soon will be! I am in great need of an assistant, so you see, it will be of benefit to us both to remain together for a time.’ This was a small untruth, for Sophy had recourse to a great deal of assistance, should she require it; Thundigle and Tut-Gut had many friends who were quick and deft with a needle, and delighted to be paid for their trouble.

But Lihyaen would benefit from an occupation; something that would keep her mind and hands busy, and afford her plenty of company. And Mary and Thundigle would teach her to cook.

Lihyaen smiled shyly and nodded, and Felebre came to rub herself past Sophy’s legs in an unmistakeably affectionate gesture. Surprised, Sophy spared a moment to stroke the cat’s great head. Her fur was remarkably soft, and cool under Sophy’s fingers.

‘Shall we get you settled in at once?’ Sophy said to Lihyaen. ‘I have a room which will do very nicely for you, and Mary will have it made up in a trice.’

‘Thank you,’ said the princess.

Sophy called for Mary, and her old friend came in immediately, followed by a flour-dusted Thundigle. They both greeted Lihyaen like an old friend, and chivvied her away upstairs to be bathed and dressed and fed and settled in her new home. Sophy watched them go, her heart glowing with affection for her two oldest friends. She could leave Lihyaen in no better hands.

But her good feelings faded away very quickly, leaving her confused, unsure and a little afraid. Would Aubranael now wish to bid her goodbye? Mr. Stanton’s behaviour had latterly suggested to her that he had definite intentions in her direction; but perhaps this had been a mere product of the part he was playing, and easily shed along with the rest.

But Aubranael made no move to follow Lihyaen, or to depart. He stood rather awkwardly in the centre of the shop, his eyes downcast. He fidgeted with the buttons of his tunic, then thrust his hands into his pockets in an impatient gesture.

Sophy watched, confused. In his treatment of Lihyaen, she had seen solicitude and sincere concern for her welfare, pleasure in her company, and plentiful affection. But he did not seem mesmerised by the princess’s presence; he did not hang upon her every word, nor gaze lover-like into her face. His regard for her appeared more in the character of a brother than a lover. And the fact that he had chosen to remain in the shop with Sophy, instead of following the princess into the rest of the house, appeared to her as a promising sign. But perhaps the wishes of her heart were leading her astray; she ought not to indulge such hopes.

‘May I offer you some tea?’ Sophy said. ‘I will have to pour it myself, I am afraid, as Mary is otherwise occupied. It is likely to be dangerous.’

She had hoped to draw a laugh from him with her flippant comment, but he made no response at all—except to raise his eyes from the floor, and fix them upon her face.

‘No tea, then,’ Sophy observed. ‘Perhaps I may offer you something edible and easily-served, instead.’

‘I am not hungry!’ Aubranael declared.

‘Oh! Then I shall not press you,’ said Sophy mildly.

Aubranael took a deep breath and said quietly: ‘You will have heard by now of my—my—deception, for we must give it that name. I cannot imagine that your friends left you long without information on such a point.’

Sophy inclined her head in assent.

‘You behave as though you had forgiven me, Miss Landon, but I hardly dare hope that—’ He trailed off and stared at her in rather a dramatic fashion, his face stricken as if he expected to receive some great blow from her.

Sophy began to feel a mixture of amusement and impatience at this display of strange and not especially polite manners. ‘I do not see any very convincing reason why I should not,’ she said with a touch of asperity. ‘I was, I admit, a little dismayed when I first heard of your charade; but it did not take me very long to see that, had I been offered the opportunity to enjoy great beauty for a few weeks, I would have accepted it without hesitation. I must be the greatest hypocrite in England, then, to treat you harshly for having done the same.’ She paused. ‘I only wish you had told me the truth about your identity when you arrived. I cannot help feeling that I wasted a great deal of time in learning to trust Mr. Stanton, when I had already formed a favourable impression of you.’

Aubranael nodded, his face an almost comical mixture of elation and crestfallen dismay. He garbled something in reply, or several somethings at once, for Sophy could distinguish nothing especially coherent from his rambling response. He stopped himself after a while, and sighed, and scrubbed at his face.

Sophy’s impatience grew. Enough time had been wasted already, she felt, with his various pretences and deceptions; and while she had no desire to behave in a bold way, she had even less desire to continue with this detestable awkwardness. Or to see him leave her shop and never return.

And so, mustering her courage and drawing a deep breath, she said: ‘Would you like to stay, too?’

Aubranael blinked at her.

‘Well; you will not like to be very far from Lihyaen, and I would not like you to be very far from me.’

‘Why, I—am not sure that—that is—’ he said with admirable glibness.

‘You have a great many important matters to see to, perhaps, and I should not attempt to detain you.’ Sophy spoke lightly, ignoring the constriction in her throat and the unsettled, erratic thumping of her heart.

To her surprise, Aubranael laughed. ‘Oh, that I do! For I am a man of considerable importance, and my time is excessively valuable.’ His brown eyes shone with laughter and, at last, he smiled the wide, merry smile she had found so attractive before.

‘But they may, perhaps, wait for a week or two,’ she said, smiling sunnily up at him in response. ‘If we did our best to be very entertaining.’

Aubranael nodded with mock seriousness. ‘I expect to be very pleasantly detained, mind,’ he said.

‘I can offer you a great deal of sewing,’ Sophy said promptly.

‘Ah! Could anything be more enticing!’

‘There is also the ironing. And if you should happen to become very bored, I may even have it in my power to offer you tea-pouring duties.’

Aubranael laughed, took her hand, and kissed it exuberantly. ‘Then I shall consider myself the most fortunate of men,’ he said. Before Sophy could object—though she was not sure she would have, given the opportunity—Aubranael gathered her up into a tight embrace and buried his face in her hair. He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, and finally her mouth; and as she returned the kiss, her eyelids fluttering shut, she reflected that she was, without doubt, the luckiest woman in Aylfenhame.

Well and well, that is the last of it! A fine ending, do not ye think? There’s no one so deserving as my Sophy, and I’ll smitherise anyone as says otherwise.

Now, nigh on a year has passed an’ all is well at Silverling. But Miss Sophy is right to wonder about Hidenory. I tend to do a bit o’ wonderin’ on that score meself—an’ perhaps ye’re inclined to as well. A woman o’ that cast is no more capable o’ meekness or humility or sacrifice than the most fearsome o’ dragons, an’ I have no doubt that there’s more there than meets the eye.

An’ what about that Felebre? Mysterious bein’, ain’t she? There’s some as says Her Majesty the Queen ain’t dead at all. They says she left Aylfenhame an’ her husband followed; but I’m not so sure. That cat’s right fond o’ little miss Lihyaen, ain’t she? There’s sommat almost motherly about her manner. An’ here’s another idea: they used to say the royals had a touch o’ fey magic about ‘em. Could see into the past an’ the future, so they said. Oh, not far; just a little way. Raises some interestin’ prospects, don’t it?

But thas all secret! No tellin’, now! There’s bad doin’s afoot, an’ until we can get to the bottom o’ those matters, it’s best not to pry.

Oh, now, on tha’ topic a rumour has reached me from Aylfenhame. Shall I show what I mean? Here. See this pocket mirror? Was a gift from my old gran, an’ I keep it wi’ me at all times. Well and anyway, look into it closely-like. Go on; it won’t bite!

Mist passes across the face of the pocket mirror, to reveal a woodland scene. A long table stands surrounded by tall, slender trees, its sides lined with high-backed chairs and its surface covered with teapots, cups and cake boxes. But nobody is sitting in any of the chairs—not even the one at the head of the table.

Interestin’, no? Perhaps someone has found a way t’ release Miss Hidenory, or perhaps she has released herself in some tricksy way o’ hers. Either way, no one has seen or heard of her in some time…

But I’ve kept ye long enough, have I not? An’ ye have been the best o’ listeners. Now, should ye fancy another tale some way down the months an’ ye happen to be in the neighbourhood, come an’ see me again. Perhaps I may be able to tell the next chapter in the tale o’ Sophy an’ Aubranael an’ Lihyaen. Perhaps I’ll even be able to tell ye what became o’ Hidenory.

But safe travels, now. Mind the corner into Mill Road; it’s a little sharp. I’ll just give yer coachman a hint.