Earlier, Mayhap had tied a black silk stocking to the doorknob on the inside of the room, letting it hang over the keyhole so Pavonine wouldn’t be able to spy through it. She had locked the door and slipped the key into her pocket.
Little liar.
“I told you, Pav,” Mayhap said, patting the ruched shoulder of her sister’s pinafore, “Winnow is having a bad day.” She felt the untrue words reverberate through her.
“But it’s dinnertime,” said Pavonine, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirt. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called through the mahogany door: “Winnow, it’s dinnertime!” Peffiandra joined in with a howl.
Mayhap put her arm around Pavonine and led her away. “Let’s go ask the house for dinner. I’m sure Winnow will be down soon.”
When Pavonine finally relented, the sisters walked down the hallway together, the carpets beneath their feet as plush as tigers’ pelts, their droomhunds prancing behind them. The house had lit its electric lamps, and they glowed along the walls like giant luminescent flowers, droning strange harmonies.
“She’s been acting so oddly lately,” sighed Pavonine. “She’s always staring out the windows.”
Pavonine was right. Winnow had been behaving uncharacteristically — for weeks now. She seemed restless as a swishing skirt. But Mayhap didn’t know what to do about it. Every time she tried to ask Winnow what was wrong, her sister ignored her or changed the subject.
“She’s probably missing Mamma and Pappa,” said Mayhap. And she realized, with some shock, that she hadn’t even been that surprised to see a glimpse of Winnow in the silver grass — as if she’d known for ages that it was exactly what her sister wanted.
“I miss Mamma and Pappa, too,” said Pavonine, interrupting Mayhap’s thoughts. “But I don’t lock myself in rooms because of it.”
“Well, you’re not fourteen,” said Mayhap.
“I won’t do that when I’m fourteen,” said Pavonine, crossing her arms and frowning stubbornly. “I swear it.”
Mayhap smiled at her sister. “How about we play our guessing game, Pav?” she said. Pavonine kept her frown but nodded sheepishly. Mayhap said, “Think of an animal, think of a —”
“Got one,” Pavonine replied.
“Does it have scales?” asked Mayhap.
Pavonine shook her head.
“Fur?”
Pavonine nodded.
“It’s not a droomhund, is it?” teased Mayhap. “That would be far too easy.”
“It’s a bat,” someone said behind them.
Mayhap stopped short, nearly tripping over her own buckled shoes. Seekatrix jumped up and down at her side.
“Winnow!” cried Pavonine, flinging herself into her big sister’s arms. Peffiandra ran over to lick Evenflee’s face.
Winnow hugged Pavonine tightly, stroking the top of her head, but only looked at Mayhap. She didn’t come any closer. She was wearing an ankle-length violet dress with a narrow skirt, embroidery running in a column down its center — a dress for a lady instead of a girl. Her hair was elegantly styled, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt on her anywhere. Her shoes were clean, too. Citrine earrings dangled at her neck.
She must’ve asked the house to change her clothes and do her hair, thought Mayhap.
The girls could change their clothes or coiffure in a matter of moments — they only had to ask the house to see to it. But the house couldn’t change Winnow’s flushed cheeks, her quickened breath. She had been running. Evenflee sat panting by her side, swishing his fluffy tail. He had been running, too.
“Winnow,” breathed Mayhap. “You’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” said Winnow. Her smile went to Pavonine.
Mayhap cleared her throat. “We were worried,” she said. “Because you were in the sitting room all day — with the door locked.”
Winnow only stared at Mayhap, saying nothing.
Pavonine bent down to pick Peffiandra up. She hugged the animal to her chest. Peffiandra had always been the most placid of the dogs. Her eyes relaxed sleepily. “Are you coming to dinner, Winn?” asked Pavonine, holding her cheek against Peffiandra’s face.
Winnow began to answer, then paused. She looked at Mayhap with precision — with recognition — as though she had only just realized that Mayhap resembled a character from her favorite book. “Of course,” she replied finally. “Of course I’m coming to dinner.”
Her voice sounded as though it were echoing from another room. It sounded as dark as the coffee she’d started to drink in the mornings — the coffee Mayhap couldn’t stand the smell of. It was a smell that made her feel as though she were being buried — as though her mouth were being stuffed with the damp, pungent grounds.
Mayhap coughed.
“Let’s go,” said Pavonine. “I’m famished.”
“Yes,” said Mayhap. “Let’s.”
Mayhap held out a hand, and Winnow came closer. She looked at Mayhap’s palm as though it were an unreadable map. It took her three long seconds to entwine her fingers with Mayhap’s, and when she did, her skin was icy cold.
Porcelain plates sat on the long dining table like lily pads, and candles glinted their light down its middle, but the air was rigid with silence.
The Ballastian sisters took their seats in high-backed chairs that curved over their heads like cresting waves. The droomhunds hopped onto stools beside them. Evenflee and Peffiandra curled up right away, lying perfectly still except for their blinking eyes, but Seekatrix squirmed and sniffled.
“Shhh, Seeka,” Mayhap whispered to him.
As usual, Winnow went first. There were rules to be followed in their family, hierarchies and orders, even if their parents were gone — especially because their parents were gone.
“I’ll have apple charlotte,” Winnow said, enunciating the words.
Evenflee sneezed.
Pavonine giggled.
Mayhap said, “Pudding for dinner? You don’t feel like your favorite?”
Winnow usually had a bowl of vichyssoise for dinner. That had been their mother’s preferred dish. Mayhap knew she shouldn’t be upset about what her sister ate, but this was yet another thing that made her feel uneasy, as though the house itself would peel away from her the way the skin is peeled off a Christmas orange.
Winnow shrugged. “I’m celebrating,” she said.
“Celebrating what?” asked Pavonine, bouncing up and down in her chair.
“It’s a secret.”
“I love secrets,” said Pavonine. “You can tell me.”
Winnow looked at her plate. “Maybe I will tell you tomorrow.”
Mayhap wanted this conversation to end. It made her feel weary and helpless, like an old purse with a hole in the bottom. There had been a time when she had been the keeper of Winnow’s secrets, when they had both lain awake in bed after Pavonine’s droomhund had put her to sleep, whispering their hopes and reveries to each other under the cover of embroidered linen. But now Winnow had begun to say, “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone. Leave. Me. Alone.” She said it when Mayhap suggested she play a guessing game with them, or drink tea by the fire with them, or do anything they used to do three weeks and three days ago.