aunt noticed her avoidance of meat. “Eat a slice of beef,” Aunt Kittredge said. “It is very good and particularly sustaining.”
Aurélie shook her head. And when her aunt demanded a reason, she said softly, “I promised my great-grandmother not to eat meat.”
“Filthy Papist habits,” was her response.
Uncle Kittredge said more mildly, “My understanding is, they only avoid meat of a Friday, and perhaps during Lent.”
Aurélie looked down as her aunt chided her with a determined smile, asking her to consider what people will think. Was she setting up to be too fine a lady for the excellence of Undertree beef and pork?
Aurélie said, “Your foods are very good. My favorite is the boiled oats with honey and milk. I like it, oh, much!”
That seemed to mollify Aunt Kittredge, and Aurélie was permitted to retire to the schoolroom.
That woman is going to be trouble
, I thought.
Aurélie sat down at the spinet, a blanket pulled around her. She seemed as depressed by the bleak northern light as by the weather, for though her fever appeared to be gone, she was listless. She touched the keys, clapped her arms to her sides as if to shut out a draft of cold air, then she sat in a small armchair with a book, her feet tucked under her.
James appeared in the schoolroom a bit later. “What did you think of church?” he said in the tone of one inviting complaint.
Aurélie’s face cleared. “Oh, the music is very beautiful. It’s also interesting, how your church has many things similar to Holy Mass on Saint-Domingue. But Holy Mass is in Latin. Grandmère had her Gallican Missal, and everybody had a book in your church. My religion in Jamaica is not written down, it’s taught by speaking, by singing, by dancing. I’m glad that I find a new way to
le bon Dieu
in each country, and do you think that if I am baptized here, too, it will give me extraprotection? Three is an important number. This vicar said so, many times.”
James twitched a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “You can ask Charles, my cousin once removed, if we visit him in Yorkshire. It is said of him that he will be a man of brilliant parts, though my brother Will is a fine scholar. They intend Cousin Charles for the law, but he wants to go into the church and will spout off as much as you like about such things at the doff of a hat. Will you tell me more about pirates? How many fights did you see?”
“I think three, though perhaps there were more when I was small. I don’t remember. The ones I remember, I sailed with my mother.”
“I thought your father was the sea captain?”
“Yes. But he died when I was small.”
“Did he gabble the Spanish lingo at you?”
Aurélie gazed into the fire from her accustomed spot on the hearth. “I don’t remember any Spanish. I remember
Je t’aime, ma petite
. That is French. He had so deep a voice, very deep. He smelled so good. He had a smile like the north star, so bright in the night sky, crooked-y, with one side curled up. Everybody loved his smile, that much I remember. But after he died I had to go and live with my grandmother, for so very long a time.”
“Where was your mother?”
“Sailing with my Uncle Thomas.”
“A woman? Sailing? What did she do, mend their sails?”
“No, she is a
ver-ry
good captain. She and Tante Mimba, they taught me to fight with my rapier.”
“Were you good at it?” James asked skeptically.
His tone roused Aurélie. “I am good. I can beat some of the boys, and when we first came to Jamaica, I beat Harry one time.”
“When the weather warms up, we’ll see how good you are,” James promised.
It was probably intended as a threat, but Aurélie smiled. “I would like that, oh, much, for I must get the skill to defend myself, Aunt Mimba said. Thank you, Cousin James.”
Aurélie avoided the mirror all that winter, so time slid by for me super fast. The only thing that roused her out of her lethargy was her birthday, which, like Cassandra’s, was
Aurélie shook her head. And when her aunt demanded a reason, she said softly, “I promised my great-grandmother not to eat meat.”
“Filthy Papist habits,” was her response.
Uncle Kittredge said more mildly, “My understanding is, they only avoid meat of a Friday, and perhaps during Lent.”
Aurélie looked down as her aunt chided her with a determined smile, asking her to consider what people will think. Was she setting up to be too fine a lady for the excellence of Undertree beef and pork?
Aurélie said, “Your foods are very good. My favorite is the boiled oats with honey and milk. I like it, oh, much!”
That seemed to mollify Aunt Kittredge, and Aurélie was permitted to retire to the schoolroom.
That woman is going to be trouble
, I thought.
Aurélie sat down at the spinet, a blanket pulled around her. She seemed as depressed by the bleak northern light as by the weather, for though her fever appeared to be gone, she was listless. She touched the keys, clapped her arms to her sides as if to shut out a draft of cold air, then she sat in a small armchair with a book, her feet tucked under her.
James appeared in the schoolroom a bit later. “What did you think of church?” he said in the tone of one inviting complaint.
Aurélie’s face cleared. “Oh, the music is very beautiful. It’s also interesting, how your church has many things similar to Holy Mass on Saint-Domingue. But Holy Mass is in Latin. Grandmère had her Gallican Missal, and everybody had a book in your church. My religion in Jamaica is not written down, it’s taught by speaking, by singing, by dancing. I’m glad that I find a new way to
le bon Dieu
in each country, and do you think that if I am baptized here, too, it will give me extraprotection? Three is an important number. This vicar said so, many times.”
James twitched a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “You can ask Charles, my cousin once removed, if we visit him in Yorkshire. It is said of him that he will be a man of brilliant parts, though my brother Will is a fine scholar. They intend Cousin Charles for the law, but he wants to go into the church and will spout off as much as you like about such things at the doff of a hat. Will you tell me more about pirates? How many fights did you see?”
“I think three, though perhaps there were more when I was small. I don’t remember. The ones I remember, I sailed with my mother.”
“I thought your father was the sea captain?”
“Yes. But he died when I was small.”
“Did he gabble the Spanish lingo at you?”
Aurélie gazed into the fire from her accustomed spot on the hearth. “I don’t remember any Spanish. I remember
Je t’aime, ma petite
. That is French. He had so deep a voice, very deep. He smelled so good. He had a smile like the north star, so bright in the night sky, crooked-y, with one side curled up. Everybody loved his smile, that much I remember. But after he died I had to go and live with my grandmother, for so very long a time.”
“Where was your mother?”
“Sailing with my Uncle Thomas.”
“A woman? Sailing? What did she do, mend their sails?”
“No, she is a
ver-ry
good captain. She and Tante Mimba, they taught me to fight with my rapier.”
“Were you good at it?” James asked skeptically.
His tone roused Aurélie. “I am good. I can beat some of the boys, and when we first came to Jamaica, I beat Harry one time.”
“When the weather warms up, we’ll see how good you are,” James promised.
It was probably intended as a threat, but Aurélie smiled. “I would like that, oh, much, for I must get the skill to defend myself, Aunt Mimba said. Thank you, Cousin James.”
Aurélie avoided the mirror all that winter, so time slid by for me super fast. The only thing that roused her out of her lethargy was her birthday, which, like Cassandra’s, was
Similar Books
