“Mistress Romilly,” he said, his eyes sliding up and down her long legs, “An unexpected pleasure. Why, what a pair of legs you have, girl! And you have – grown,” he added, the pallid china-blue eyes resting on the straining laces of the old tunic pulled over her full breasts, “It will be a pleasure to dance with you tonight, now I have had the delights of seeing what so many women so carefully conceal from their admirers. …”
Romilly flushed, feeling heat in her face, ducked her head and escaped. Through the scalding heat flooding to her ears, she thought, wretchedly, Now do I know what Luciella meant, that I was too big to run about in breeches – I might as well be naked, the way he looked at me. All her life she had run about in her brother’s clothes, as free of self-consciousness or shame as if she were another lad; now, under the man’s lustful eyes, she felt as if her body had actually been rudely handled; her breasts prickled and there was a curious crawling sensation lower down in her belly.
She took refuge in her room, her heart pounding, and went swiftly to the washstand, splashing her hot face with cold water to cool it.
“Luciella was right Oh, why didn’t she tell me?” she wondered wretchedly, then realized that there was no way to speak of it, and if she had been told, without this experience, she would only have laughed it away. Her hands were still shaking as she undid the laces of the boy’s tunic, dropped the breeches to the floor, and for the first time in her life, looked clearly in the mirror and saw her body as a woman’s. She was still slender, her breasts scarcely rounded, the hips scarcely more flared than a boy’s, and the long legs were really boyish. But, she thought, if ever I wear boy’s clothes again, I shall be sure they fit me loosely enough that I truly look like a male.
Through the glass connecting doors to Mallina’s room she saw her sister exploring her Midsummer-baskets; like Romilly herself, she had three, which made Romilly turn back to her father’s generous basket, with more fruits and sweets than flowers – The MacAran had quite a realistic view of little girls’ appetites, which were just as greedy as those of young boys – and the smaller basket she thought was from Darren. Now, examining it closely, she realized that it was filled with garden and hothouse flowers, exquisitely arranged, and with one or two exotic fruits which he must have gotten in Nevarsin, since they did not grow near Falconsward. Then she saw the card, and read in surprise; I have neither sister or mother to receive
Midsummer-Gifts; accept these with my homage, Alderic, student.
Mallina burst into her room.
“Romy, aren’t you dressed yet? We mustn’t be late for Festival breakfast! Are you going to wear your holiday gown? Calinda is with Mother, will you button the back of my dress for me? What beautiful flowers, Romy! Mine are all garden flowers, though there is a beautiful bunch of ice-grapes, as sweet as honey – you know, they leave them on the trees in Nevarsin till they freeze, like redfruit, and then they lose their sourness and grow sweet. . . Romy, who do you think he is? He looks so romantic – do you think Dom Alderic is trying to court one of us? I would be happy indeed to be betrothed to him, he is so handsome and gallant, like the hero of some fairy-tale-”
“What a silly chatterbox you are, Mally,” said Romilly, but she smiled, “I think he is a thoughtful guest, no more; no doubt he has sent to mother a basket as fine as this.”
“Domna Luciella will not appreciate it,” Mallina said, “Still she thinks Festival Night is a heathen observance not worthy of a good cristoforo; she scolded Calinda because she had Rael making Festival baskets, but Father said everyone deserved a holiday and one excuse was as good as another for giving the farm workers a day of leisure and some well-deserved bonus gifts, and he should let Rael enjoy the Festival while he was still a child – he would be as good a cristoforo as he need, if he was a good boy and minded the Book of Burdens.”