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

Chapter 10: Woven by Silver

A knock at the door interrupted Meera's meditation. She opened her eyes and eased out a sigh. The peace rolled off her in waves.

"Yes?"

"I'm ever so sorry to disturb you, Miss Meera," came the maid's voice from the other side of the door. "But you have a visitor. A Mr. Mackleberry. I have asked him to wait in the drawing room."

Meera's stomach did a somersault. It had been three days since their fight with Fullerton atop Mevagusson waterfall and Mackleberry hadn't so much as sent a letter. Uncrossing her legs and standing up, she straightened the wrinkles of her cream, lace-trimmed dress that was the least frivolous of the few options her mother gave her. The toes of her shoes peeped out of the bottom.

When she made her way to the drawing room, the voice of her father made her pause, her hand hovering in mid-air on its way to a knock.

"...the last I could do for my impudent daughter imposing upon you for a whole year."

"She is a fine woman with a headstrong personality. You should be proud," came Mackleberry's quiet voice. Meera's cheeks pinked.

"Nevertheless, I must express my concern about your proposal. I really do not think she is suitable--"

"Miss Meera!" Everett's voice made Meera's heart smash against her ribcage. The voices stopped on the other side of the door. Flushing scarlet, she allowed Everett to open the door for her.

Standing near the window at a similar height to her father was Aurelius Mackleberry, sporting a familiar navy cutaway tailcoat, a white linen shirt, and a few fading bruises and healing cuts on his face. Her father stopped talking at her arrival, a severe expression on his face.

"Miss Sterne," said Mackleberry with an incline of his head. Meera dipped her knees briefly, not taking her eyes off the men.

Her father cleared his throat. "Why don't you two take a walk by the river? There is time yet until your sister's engagement party. Mr. Mackleberry is invited, of course."

She eyed him suspiciously. He definitely spoke Mackleberry's name with reverence. She didn't mishear the first time.

Mackleberry didn't speak a word for the first few minutes as they meandered down the field populated with colourful hyacinths and robins dancing in the sky. A hint of summer wove its tendrils through the gentle breeze. Meera's red locks fluttered with the wind.

"How is Mr. Fullerton?" she asked at last when it seemed like Mackleberry was content to spend the entirety of their walk in silence. It was probably the last time they would meet before she would have to return to the frivolities of the upper class and yet this man had left her with so many questions.

"In the infirmary. He is well." The lines on his forehead and around his eyes had lessened in the few days since she'd seen him. His steps were lighter, his usually-clouded eyes brighter.

"Will his family take him back?"

"I cannot say." His expression darkened. "It had been many years of misery for Idalia and his daughters. It would take more than one afternoon of revelation to undo that -- if that were even at all possible. But it will be up to them, now, to try and sort out their future."

"I admire the lengths you will go for Fullerton."

"Oh?"

"He chased you for ten years. He wanted to kill you."

Silence fell. Meera wondered if he would elaborate.

"But deep down, I knew he was not acting of his own volition. Not truly," Mackleberry said at last, deep in thought. "He could have let Thistlethwaite drop me, but he chose to give up his life's research instead. I owed him my life."