The sun crept brightly under the lily-white muslin cloth of our family's tent, inviting me into the temptation of dropping the baskets I held tightly against my dress, taking off my shoes and laying down on the grass, ready to receive the fantastic gift of sunlight.
Ever since the royal visit had been announced, it seemed that the very earth and sky were also in preparation for the honour of receiving His Royal Highness and his family into Dravia, we could only hope this lovely and bountiful weather had the sense to continue blessing us far after the King and Queen's departure, as it would certainly be a welcome present to our crops, especially mother's herb garden.
I place the baskets on the wooden table and get on my knees, ready to inspect for the tiniest of mistakes I might've let slip while carving under such poor light the night before. From what I can see, and I can see very well at this moment, everything seems in perfect order.
"All up to code down there, ay, inspector?" A voice behind me whispers, bringing an instant smile to my lips and a chuckle from my throat.
Before I can answer, Gregory places a hand out and I gladly accept it, steadying myself onto my feet to meet him face-to-face, or, as face to face as I am able to be with my older brother.
I rub my hands down onto my apron, noticing streaks of ink stain the light coloured fabric. "Have you been writing? Your hands are filthy with ink."
Gregory rolls his eyes. "Of course I have been writing. Attempting to finish the piece we'll present to the King." He says, wiping his own hands onto his trousers with little to no care as to how it may dirty them. A common flaw of a man who doesn't wash his own trousers, or even knows how to.
"Hyde told me it was done already. I believe the words he used were perfectly presentable." I quoted.
"What does he know anyway?" Is the simple answer my brother gives me, a sly smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.
"Right. He's only a musical prodigy, the absolute amateur." I reply.
"It was never proven that he's an actual prodigy, we couldn't get the magistrate all the way to D for an official evaluation."
"Don't let mother hear you say that, she'll have you whipped for offending her dearest baby." I joke.
"Oh yes, the mighty Aurelia Olivette and her incomprehensible rage. Speaking of which, she sent me with provisions for you." He finishes the sentence quickly, as if only now remembering the basket that hangs from his left hand and what it contains.
"Have you touched them with your dirty hands?"
"Of course, the dirt is all over them. That's what makes it tasty." He laughs.
"You are absolutely disgusting." I say, taking the small woven basket from him. "But thank you, I suppose. Have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, yes. If you excuse me, I'll go back to writing and finishing everything in the back. If you can, eat fast so you can help me bring everything from the buggy to the tent, we have to work fast and leave everything ready for the morrow." He says, quickly excusing himself to walk back behind the tent.
"If I eat fast I'll get a stomach ache!" I shout before he gets away from hearing distance.
"I don't care, you'll live!" He answers back.
Right as I am about to unwrap the lunch mother packed for me, a familiar face greets mine, with a wide smile and two delicate hands holding a parasol. "Good Morning, Lianna." The lady greets me.
I quickly recognise her, for even if the shadow of her parasol covers her blonde hair and green eyes, her voice and posture, as well as her manner of dress, are simply unmistakeable. "Good Morning, Daisy. Fancy seeing you so early, I'd assumed you'd be having lessons at this hour." I comment.
"Father thought that since everyone is so preoccupied with the preparations for the Festival, missing one lesson wouldn't harm me too much." She explains. "My governess was more than ecstatic to have the morning off, I assure. And since being home with nothing to do seemed like such a bore, I thought Mildred and I could take advantage of this lovely climate and have a stroll." She comments, her eyes glancing at her maid for one second before turning back to me.
"What a lovely idea. It is a beautiful day, I only hope the days will stay this beautiful for the foreseeable future, it would certainly be nice to take a few hours off my morning in the next week to lay down and feel the sun on my skin as I sketch." I agree.
Daisy seems scandalised for a second, then laughs. "Of course your ideal morning would be lying down in the sun, I suppose your skin can handle the abrasion. Mine, on the other hand, would turn to leather!" She exclaims. "Though you and your family have such a lovely colour, I do believe you shouldn't take so much sun, it cannot be good for you."
I chuckle. "I'll take note of that, Daisy."
After a couple minutes of silence, where Daisy sets her parasol down into her maid's hands and pretends to inspect my carving on the table, she finally asks the question she had been holding onto this entire time. "Was that your brother I saw just now? How is Gregory?"
I nod. "Yes, it was, though I'm afraid he is awfully busy with all the preparations. With so many people attending tomorrow to see the King, he's been stressed about writing new music and helping our mother prepare the embroidered pieces to sell."
"Oh yes, artists certainly need their creative time." She agrees, her face turning comically serious. "WIll you… tell him I came by? And give him all my best. And tell him I'll be by to hear his lovely music tomorrow."
"Of course, Daisy. I'll let him know." I nod, suddenly understanding my brother's sudden escape.
"Splendid! Well, I'll leave you to do your hard work. I'll certainly be here in the morrow to see what lovely pieces you'll be selling."
"Thank you, Daisy. I look forward to seeing you." I say sincerely, watching her beautiful baby pink gown brush through the grass as she walks away.
After Daisy is gone, I finally give into my desire of plopping down onto the green grass and taking the sunlight into my skin. With that, I unwrap the brown bread lathered in rich butter mother packed for me, alongside a slice of last night's pork pie, and some strong tea sweetened with honey in a lidded jar, which I shall use as a cup. The slightly bitter tea washes the pork from my tongue as I stare up into the vastness of the sky, wondering what others might be doing in the other Sectors, and thanking the heavens for this meal prepared for me by such kind hands as my mother's.
My daydreaming is not allowed to last, though, as I am quickly pulled back onto earth by the reminder my brother counts on me to help finish setting up our tent for the Festival, and I make a mental note of the particular shades of blue and pale lavender that I see in the morning sky, hoping to remember them for later, when I have paint and brushes at hand.
Hours later, when the sun is ready to begin setting and Gregory and I have finished the latest of our many journeys to and fro, we are finally allowed to lock up everything and go home for the final time today, where we expect an early rest to an even earlier rise the next day.
In the kitchen, mother and Sybil seem enthralled in demystifying some culinary recipe from an old book, which likely belonged to grandmother. It takes Sybil a hot second to realise Gregory and I are home, but as she does, a wooden spoon hits the table with a bang and a short frame with long brown hair comes running into my arms. "Hey, there, Sibbie." I greet her.
"We're making something called an upside-down cake for the morrows break fast! Dinner's nearly ready too! Would you like me to boil some water for your bath, Lili?"
"I can boil it myself, no worries. You go focus on your upside down cake, make grandmama proud." I lay a kiss atop her head and move to grab the big kettle, dragging it into the backyard to submerge it into the water basin then quickly bringing it back inside to place it on the fire.
Many more journeys later, it is finally time for a bath, and though my eyes are heavy and my limbs exhausted, I manage to hold on until after dinner to finally say my goodnights, mumble a couple prayers, and close my eyes to drift into the land of dreams, pencil and paper still on the bed from some late night sketching over the faint candle light.