before he turned to Rilla.
“You,” he
ordered, “will go wash and get ready. I expect you back here within
a half bell, dressed as your sister is.”
“Yes Father,”
Rilla replied and fled. One didn’t argue with Innkeeper Talan when
he spoke like that.
Two at a time
she ran up the stairs, aware that Zilla was following, sent a
resentful Rilla concluded, by her father to make sure that she did
as he had ordered.
“There’s hot
water in the tub,” Zilla called after her as she climbed the
stairs, one at a time. “I’ve laid out your dress. Have you got a
clean pinny?”
“Don’t know,”
answered Rilla, divesting herself of her dirty garments as fast as
she could and plunging into the tub. She heard Zilla rootling round
in her half of the clothes press and then her sister’s despairing
wail as she found only one clean pinafore and that all crushed. She
shook the offending garment at Rilla. “I’ll lend you one of mine,
there’s no time to iron it now. At least it’s one with no mends on
it.”
“What’s all the
fuss about anyway?” asked the irritated Rilla. “Councillor Horatio
Anders has stayed here before.”
“This time,”
said Zilla in an impressive voice, “he is accompanied by his wife
and three sons.”
“So?”
“So, Father
wants us both to make a good impression?” She added, “ all are unmarried.”
Rilla groaned.
“I don’t want a husband. I wish Father would stop pushing us
in front of every young man he approves of.”
Zilla giggled.
“It’s because of Zala. She’s made such a good marriage he wants us
to do the same.”
“Tala hasn’t
and Hilla’s with the Garda.”
“That’s why,”
explained Zilla. “He’s proud of Tala but he doesn’t really approve,
deep down.”
“Well, I don’t
want to marry one of the sons of Councillor Horatio Anders however
nice they may be. He’s not a pleasant man. He has a face like a
zarova and his sons are pribably the same. I don’t want to marry at
all.” Rilla took the towel her sister was offering and got out of
the tub.
“Did you wash
your hair?” asked a suspicious Zilla. “Father will be angry if it
smells like horse.”
“I like the
smell of horse. Anyway, no time to dry it.”
“Father …”
warned Zilla.
“Father won’t
know; I’ll spray it with that perfume Zala sent you. He’ll not
notice.”
“I wouldn’t be
so sure,” murmured Zilla. With Rilla in this mood the youngest
triplet knew better than to argue. “Hurry up anyway. I’ll go back
downstairs. Clothes are on your bed and please make sure your hands
and nails are clean. Father is sure to inspect and you know what
happened last time.”
Rilla did.
Talan had been so angry that he had banned her from the stables for
a full tenday. Rilla most definitely didn’t want that to happen
again. She bent back over the tub, scrabbled around for the
nailbrush and gave her nails and fingers a good going over.
There, that
should do it . It never did take Rilla long to dress. She
buttoned the bodice with speed and donned the hated pinafore, tying
the bow with little care. Zilla she knew would retie the bow right
when she got downstairs.
A last glance
in the mirror as she pushed stray ends of hair inside the cap and
Rilla flew down the stairs.
The cavalcade
of Councillor Horatio Anders clattered into the inn courtyard at
Eighth Bell. Helping her mother to ready the private dining
chamber, Rilla could hear the commotion.
Zanda gave her
daughter a stern look.
“Remember,
Rilla, behave yourself.”
Rilla grunted
but schooled her face into one of acceptance. After all, it was
only one evening, and the three sons of Councillor Horatio Anders
wouldn’t be looking at her. Zilla was the pretty one.
“I don’t see
how it matters if I’m here or not,” she contented herself by
saying. “I’d be of more use in the stable yard.”
Zanda sighed.
“Your father wants the best for you both.”
“His best, not
mine. I know where he’s coming from.
“You,” he
ordered, “will go wash and get ready. I expect you back here within
a half bell, dressed as your sister is.”
“Yes Father,”
Rilla replied and fled. One didn’t argue with Innkeeper Talan when
he spoke like that.
Two at a time
she ran up the stairs, aware that Zilla was following, sent a
resentful Rilla concluded, by her father to make sure that she did
as he had ordered.
“There’s hot
water in the tub,” Zilla called after her as she climbed the
stairs, one at a time. “I’ve laid out your dress. Have you got a
clean pinny?”
“Don’t know,”
answered Rilla, divesting herself of her dirty garments as fast as
she could and plunging into the tub. She heard Zilla rootling round
in her half of the clothes press and then her sister’s despairing
wail as she found only one clean pinafore and that all crushed. She
shook the offending garment at Rilla. “I’ll lend you one of mine,
there’s no time to iron it now. At least it’s one with no mends on
it.”
“What’s all the
fuss about anyway?” asked the irritated Rilla. “Councillor Horatio
Anders has stayed here before.”
“This time,”
said Zilla in an impressive voice, “he is accompanied by his wife
and three sons.”
“So?”
“So, Father
wants us both to make a good impression?” She added, “ all are unmarried.”
Rilla groaned.
“I don’t want a husband. I wish Father would stop pushing us
in front of every young man he approves of.”
Zilla giggled.
“It’s because of Zala. She’s made such a good marriage he wants us
to do the same.”
“Tala hasn’t
and Hilla’s with the Garda.”
“That’s why,”
explained Zilla. “He’s proud of Tala but he doesn’t really approve,
deep down.”
“Well, I don’t
want to marry one of the sons of Councillor Horatio Anders however
nice they may be. He’s not a pleasant man. He has a face like a
zarova and his sons are pribably the same. I don’t want to marry at
all.” Rilla took the towel her sister was offering and got out of
the tub.
“Did you wash
your hair?” asked a suspicious Zilla. “Father will be angry if it
smells like horse.”
“I like the
smell of horse. Anyway, no time to dry it.”
“Father …”
warned Zilla.
“Father won’t
know; I’ll spray it with that perfume Zala sent you. He’ll not
notice.”
“I wouldn’t be
so sure,” murmured Zilla. With Rilla in this mood the youngest
triplet knew better than to argue. “Hurry up anyway. I’ll go back
downstairs. Clothes are on your bed and please make sure your hands
and nails are clean. Father is sure to inspect and you know what
happened last time.”
Rilla did.
Talan had been so angry that he had banned her from the stables for
a full tenday. Rilla most definitely didn’t want that to happen
again. She bent back over the tub, scrabbled around for the
nailbrush and gave her nails and fingers a good going over.
There, that
should do it . It never did take Rilla long to dress. She
buttoned the bodice with speed and donned the hated pinafore, tying
the bow with little care. Zilla she knew would retie the bow right
when she got downstairs.
A last glance
in the mirror as she pushed stray ends of hair inside the cap and
Rilla flew down the stairs.
The cavalcade
of Councillor Horatio Anders clattered into the inn courtyard at
Eighth Bell. Helping her mother to ready the private dining
chamber, Rilla could hear the commotion.
Zanda gave her
daughter a stern look.
“Remember,
Rilla, behave yourself.”
Rilla grunted
but schooled her face into one of acceptance. After all, it was
only one evening, and the three sons of Councillor Horatio Anders
wouldn’t be looking at her. Zilla was the pretty one.
“I don’t see
how it matters if I’m here or not,” she contented herself by
saying. “I’d be of more use in the stable yard.”
Zanda sighed.
“Your father wants the best for you both.”
“His best, not
mine. I know where he’s coming from.
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