As it turned out, the adults clearly wanted nothing to do with her and she was left to sit by herself in her own corner of the room near the fireplace while the others mingled. Theodore moved among them like a ghost, small and pale. Olli was actually rather content with the set up, given everything that had happened so far to her. She preferred it when adults ignored her anyway.
It was still cold where her body faced away from the fire, but the part of her that did face it was pleasantly warm. Even the smell of the fire was nice.
“Here you go,” a plate was lowered into her view. The large woman, Motzy, was holding a plate with a thick slice of bread covered in an orange spread. “Sir said to give you something small to start with. ‘E suspects that place must not have given you much at all, and said it would be best not to stress your stomach overmuch.”
Olli took the plate carefully. It was a thin one with faint gold edging around the rim, and she held it with growing nervousness as she realized it was probably very expensive.
“Mossy…Motzzy! Mozzy! You!” A voice called out.
“Go ahead and eat up, I’ll get the dish later,” Motzy said in an assuring tone before springing off to a formidable looking woman who was tapping her pudgy fingers against the table.
Olli mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ and stared at the bread slice. Since it was not going to walk into her mouth by itself she picked it up and experimentally chewed a bit of the corner off. The bread was surprisingly dense, and she had to really work on chewing it. It tasted different from what she expected too, and the orange smear on it tasted… orange-y.
She looked back at the fire, watching the curling flames that danced behind the fire screen. The flicks of fire that flaked away from the main body to disappear into nothingness. The warm crackling of the fire was weaving itself around the conversation of the adults that floated in from behind her. She wrapped the shawl tighter around herself, allowing her mind to empty and unquestioningly accept the noise. If she thought too much, the sense of panic would begin to creep back into her heart, crawling back up her throat.
“Oh such a shame Robert could not make it in time, but best he stayed home.”
“Quite right, it’ll be a lonely Saint Clara’s day for him but he’ll be fine.”
“Did you hear about Baron Pait’s daughter?”
“Who has not? Terrible thing, running away-”
“With the stableboy at that! Bad breeding is what I have to say, her mother came from a tenant farmer’s stable. She still expects the Baron to fund her too, why I would- ”
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“I hear your eldest nephew will soon have his doctorate of divinities?”
“Yes, unfortunately the youngest has changed his mind once again, it appears he fainted during an autopsy and is now considering law.”
“Might as well, I was telling your sister that anatomy was far too gruesome for someone of his sensitivity. Besides, I don’t want my sons having to compete with another doctor in the area.”
Through the tumult of voices, Olli did not hear a single word from Theodore. She glanced over her shoulder to see him sitting at the head of the table, his hands set together in front of him. While others had plates and glasses before them, he only had a single empty glass and gazed with an unfixed stare. Nobody spoke with him, and he spoke with no one. The cheerful celebration happened in front of him, but without him. His head turned to her and his brow furrowed. A chill ran down her spine and she looked back to the fire.
Whatever curiosity may have been aroused by the appearance of a strangely dressed child was chilled and stifled by both Theodore’s terse and oft repeated explanations, and the celebrants knowledge of the type of person Theodore was. If, perhaps, she was of clearly marriageable age there might have been some chatter. Or if Theodore was someone more like Baron de Maursagille, whose gregarious forward nature and naturally respectfully masculine aura always lent some suspicion. But there was none, and so there was no chatter to be had in the open, nor rumors to catch behind closed doors.
The fire’s sinuous dance flickered and jumped in place, little fingers of flame pressing to the fire shield off and on like they were trying to poke a hole into it.
A hand appeared on Olli's shoulder and she jumped up to her feet from the comfortable chair she had sunken into in alarm, spinning around on her heel to look up at Theodore whose hand still limply rested in the air where her shoulder had just been. Theodore let his hand fall after a minute longer while Olli stood in place like a wary dog.
“The guests are gone,” Theodore looked behind himself and Olli followed his gaze towards the empty tables and chairs where a few people, including Motzy, were clearing dishes.
“Where?” Olli did not remember hearing anyone leave, or even when the party ended. The fire was now only cherry red embers buried in ash and burnt logs in the fireplace. How had she fallen asleep?
“Saint Clara’s Day is over,” Theodore replied, “so they all went home.”
“What is… Saint Clara’s Day?” Olli looked back at the other adults. The table was nearly completely cleared of dishes, a grey haired man was now scrubbing the wood itself with a wet dark rag. No one paid any attention to her or Theodore.
“The day Saint Clara’s children come down from the heavens,” Theodore answered. He too looked towards the others and a shade of reluctance came to his face. “I will explain more to you later-” he said, then quickly added as she began to open her mouth. “There’s other people here still, I understand you are confused but we can only speak in private.”
Olli kept her mouth closed and weighed her options. But Theodore did not appear willing to let her stand and sort herself out since he grabbed her arm once more to pull her across the room and back to the doors they had come in from. A few of the other adults tipped their heads in difference to Theodore, but otherwise they remained bent on their task. Olli realized she was still clutching the shawl around her shoulder with her free hand and looked around for Motzy, but saw no hint of her around the room.