The Liberty of a Lady

My mother deceived my father with her lover in a pear tree. At least that's what Pyra said the servants were whispering. I could believe it. I shared my mother's sage green eyes and when the sun hit my hair you could see a copper luster that resembled her fiery locks. I looked nothing like my gray haired father. I was too dark, the summer sun loved my skin which kept it's nut brown sheen all winter. And too lean, my face resembled my horse more than my father but my long fingers were the delight of my music instructor who insisted I apply myself to the mandolin, harp and piano forte. The only wrinkle in the rumors woven by wagging tongues, was that we only had one pear tree on the whole property which confined my mother and I; and that had been planted at my birth.

"They did not say it was this pear tree," Pyra flicked a wing indignantly. The little fairy leaped up and tip toed along the small branch, carefully picking her way around the few pale pear blossoms that remained, toward the sweet fruit hanging at the end of the branch. I dipped my brush into a small pot of crimson paint, the better to capture the blush on the pear's golden flesh, bespeckled with bronze; much like the dusting of freckles across my own shy face.

"I'd rather hear about what the spiders are saying," I said. Pyra leaped off the branch and fluttered to hover over my shoulder.

"Oh, Lottie! Spider's are all compliments, spinning tales longer and more complicated than their webs," Pyra said, examining my work.

"Which is exactly why I'd rather listen to them than mortal folk," I said, gently applying the crimson and sitting back to take in my work. I had spent all afternoon sketching her in different poses, while bees and sprites flitted and buzzed about the sprawling gardens. In my painting she lay along the twig of a branch eyes dreamily downcast, her green and yellow wings hung lazily. She had a pleased with herself smile and a pear blossom in her hand.

"Mistress Charlotte!" a maidservant named Amelia called me. "Lady May and Lord December wish to see you immediately, Miss." I sighed and began to cover my paints and gather my sketch books.

"I'll see you later," I whispered to Pyra and followed Amelia into the stone fortress that was my father's manor.

I couldn't have been the only one who was surprised that my father had lived to see my seventeenth birthday. Father sat in a chair, close to the fire, stooped over and leaning expectantly on his cane. His gray hair hung limply on either side of his round face. My mother sat next to him with her hands crossed patiently over a book in her lap. If my father hadn't been blind it would have been embroidery. I know she often told him it was. To see them together, no one would have thought they were husband and wife. A lady dutifully looking after her aged father or grandfather, surely. But no, my mother had married my father when she was about my age. Despite the determined smile she had set permanently to the corners of her mouth, her eyes were doleful. She seemed resigned to the idea that her husband would simply live forever.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked. Father turned his face in my direction as best he could hear for where I was. Mother smiled tight lipped.

"Yes, my dear," Father said, fondly enough, bobbing his head up and down. "Come and take my hand." He reached out a bony hand with too many rings on it and I took it gingerly. He grasped my hand tightly.

"I believe it is time, now that you are grown," he said.

"She is only just turned seventeen," my mother said gently. "Still but a child in so many ways - "

"I know how old she is," he frowned in Mother's general direction. "Now that you are grown, it is high time we set about arranging for your betrothal. I have a few friends of mine, gentlemen in good standing and with good fortune who have made their interest known to me. I will..." The rest of his speech was lost to the buzzing in my ears. I knew the gentlemen he spoke of, old men with lecherous grins and bawdy jokes they thought I did not understand because I did not laugh at them. I would sooner drown myself in our goldfish pond. My mother looked helplessly at me. Father was quite set and would hear none of her suggestions to give me more time. I gritted my teeth and said nothing but "Yes, m'lord" the sooner to free my hand from his clammy grip.

I focused on the whispers of specters floating in the shadows and the scurrying of boggles scampering through the walls as I made my way back to my room. I kept one hand on the wall to assure myself that I was still there, a solid being and not a specter myself. I thought I would find relief in my room but instead I felt stifled. I opened the window and looked out onto the garden. I had always seen better at night and could spot more in the shadows than anyone I knew. Even without the full moon's light I could have seen every inch of the gardens and the pond where Pyra and I would sit and talk with the fish. I realized I couldn't drown myself there, it would just be bad manners to end my life in my friends' home. Perhaps I should hang myself from my pair tree. Looking up at the full moon I remembered Pyra telling me how the faery queen held her revels not far from here every full moon. I'd often wished to see the dancing and feasting in the fantastic fairy halls Pyra described. According to the cook, Sal, the realm of faerie with their deadly riddles and cunning traps was no place for a mortal girl. The tales had terrified me and kept me from ever wandering the grounds after night fall. Now the terror dissapated and in it's stead I felt...excitement, possibility, hope. What if I did fall into faery hands? It culdn't be worse than drowning in the goldfish pond. I would go down and find Pyra or wake up the gold fish, they might know where to go. I turned toward the pear tree ready to call Pyra. Someone was out there already. Mother.

I crept quietly down through the manor and slipped out into the garden. My mother was sitting at the base of the tree now, her arms crossed over her chest and staring up at the moon through the branches.

"Mother?" I whispered. She looked at me and I saw the moon light reflected in the tear streaks down her face.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte," she gasped. "He won't be disuaded. I've tried. Please believe me."

"I know," I said. She stood and picked one of the pears. She brushed her fingers over it tenderly. "I wonder what he would think..."

"Who?" I asked, thinking of the rumors. My mother shook her head and then looked at me.

"You've only ever seen the pears that come from this tree," she said thoughtfully. "I think if you ever saw a mortal pear you'd find it an ugly thing compared to these."

"Mother?"

"I've only ever seen pears as pretty and sweet as these in one other place. There was a tree just outside my father's lands near the forest. I liked to tarry there." A warm smile lit up her face. I'd never seen my mother smile like that before. "I took some of those seeds when I left my father's house and married Lord December." She didn't call him my father. "I took seeds from the fruit of that tree. That's what I planted here when you were born." Mother put the pear in my hands and brushed my cheek with her hand. She smiled at me but her eyes were far away. "I love you my beautiful girl."

"I love you, too, Mother," I said. I took her hand and squeezed it. She gave me one more smile and then turned toward the house. I looked down at the pear in my hand. More beautiful than mortal pears. If I understood my mother's hints, not only were the rumors true...

"Charlotte!" Pyra flitted down and sat on the pear in my hand. "You never come out to the garden at night!"

"Pyra, I want to go to the faery realm, will you take me to the fairy queen's revels?"

"Yes, yesyesyesyesyes!" Pyra flitted around my head like a humming bird. "We shall dance and eat honey cakes and drink dandelion wine!" I grinned.

"Lead the way," I said, clutching the golden pear close to my heart I followed Pyra. We left the gardens, left Lord December's land and stood before a dark forests. I followed Pyra's small glowing light, as she flew blythly through the tall pine trees. I tried not to think of what wild animals might be out on their nightly patrols and concentrated on following Pyra and counting the beat of my thumping heart. Eventually we came to a clearing with a large hill. The hill itself was cut in half and raised up on red pillars. Light, laughter and the most enchanting music emenated from the hill. Pyra flew up toward it eagerly. I paused. Between the pillars I caught glimpses of beautiful ladies with pointed ears and hollowed backs. Men with horns and goats feet. These creatures were far different from the little winged Pyra and the other flower fairies of the garden. These were the sinister creatures from Old Sal's tales. I felt a pang of fear and longing for the warm kitchen back at the manor where my mother was. Pyra fluttered back to me.

"Come, Lottie, come!" she chirped. "Isn't the music beautiful?" It was the most enchanting music I'd ever heard. It was coming from a group of musicians at the edge of the dancing crowd. One of the musicians caught my eye. He had nut brown skin and a long equine face, he was playing a mandolin with long slender fingers. His eyes met mine and he smiled, I felt the summer sun shining in my heart. He was like me. Or I was like him. I looked down at the pear in my hand, no mortal pear. I took a bite and followed Pyra to the hill. To my new home.