Weave of Silver [ONC III | Fantasy/HistFic | Complete]

Chapter 7: Deliverance by Silver

"Miss Sterne."

Meera acknowledged Everett's presence when she stepped off the stairs. The main hall was empty except for servants cleaning the tall Greek pillars reaching up to the ceiling. Forced to remove 'that filthy strumpet's outfit' as determined by her mother, Meera was scrubbed raw and attacked by a vicious hairbrush that tugged her red curls into a bun at the top of her head, like a cherry atop a cake, before being forced into a pale blue cotton dress that cinched just under the bust and flowed to her ankles. Her skin and scalp still tingled. She'd managed to flee with her button-up ankle boots before her mother could throw fancy shoes at her. After a tense lunch, during which Meera could barely eat anything from the fancy spread that was the Sternes' norm whilst waiting for news from Everett, she excused herself at the earliest opportunity. Dorothea and Clementine had also disappeared, neither of them caring for any catching-up with their oldest sister.

"Yes, Everett?"

"I have found them per your instructions."

Meera's heart skipped a beat. She met Everett's serious eyes.

"In just three hours?"

Everett gave a small smile. "I sent the Sternes's best."

She nodded, suddenly realising it was more than her evasive skills that allowed her a year undetected by her parents.

"Good." Meera paused. "They're here?"

"Yes, Miss. I have put them in the servants' hall for now."

"And...?"

He shook his head. "No news yet of Mr. Fullerton's captive. But I have instructed the men to cover the entire hill and waterfall."

Meera tried not to think about finding Mackleberry's dead body.

"Take me to the servants' hall."

He hesitated. It was improper for a lady to see strangers without being introduced, but he nodded without protest.

A woman sat with her back to the stairs as Meera descended with her elbow supported by Everett at his insistence. Two blonde-haired, skinny girls sat opposite her, whispering with each other. Their colouring was similar to Mackleberry's memory of them, but when Idalia Fullerton turned around, Meera could scarcely recognise the gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes, and limp hair. This was a far cry from the smiley, voluptuous woman from ten years back. The well-worn and stained dress, patched time and time again, hung off her frame. Idalia got up, eyeing her with suspicion.

"Who are you? Why have you brought us here?"

"You will guard your tongue in front of Miss Meera Sterne," Everett said in a low but strict voice. Idalia pressed her lips together. Behind Idalia, Fullerton's two teenage daughters, equally skeletal and mousy, bobbed, their eyes lifeless and exhausted.

"Everett, please give our guests some food and drink."

Everett disappeared, but not without reluctance.

"Please, have a seat."

Giving her wary looks, the three sat down, never taking their eyes off her. Fullerton's daughters resembled their mother more than their father. The moment the maids set down Cook's soup and hard bread on the wooden table before them, they didn't waste a second before devouring the food. Meera waited until they'd eaten, wondering when the last time they'd had a full belly. The girls' clothes were from at least three seasons ago and much too small. The sleeves barely reached the middle of their forearms. Everett reappeared behind her.

"Th-thank you," Idalia said in a low voice, getting up and giving her a proper curtsey. She wiped her mouth with a dirty handkerchief, suddenly embarrassed. "But... why are you doing this? I don't know you."