Even a Cat

The best thing to be said about turning 35 was that it wasn’t 40, yet. Muriel had gone to Rawdon hoping for a diverting winter with friends. But her birthday party had proved unexpectedly depressing. She couldn’t help but notice that most of the guests were a decade younger than her, if not more. Her friend Teddy Musgrove, one of her few contemporaries at the party, tried to console her with the thought that all the other people their age were sitting around their houses that evening, grumbling at their spouses, shouting at their children, and being miserable.

Muriel’s husband was hundreds of miles away, spending the frigid winter on the frontier with his army. Their son was off being a squire. Their daughter was at school. Muriel was as close to being single as a woman who had been married fifteen years could possibly be. But she still felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction, as if life were happening somewhere else and she had missed the caravan to get there.

Things became so tedious that Muriel even considered trying to seduce Aldrick Sigor, Earl of Wellenham, heir to the duchy of Newshire. Aldrick was 27 and a newlywed, having married Lady Rachel Durnin of Wislicshire the previous year. They had a child on the way now, too. That might have given other people pause, but Muriel was not other people.

No, what made her think twice in the end was that Aldrick was such an insufferable ass. He had been an ass a decade earlier, when she first made his acquaintance, and he hadn’t improved in that time. Not that Muriel minded people who were nasty, spiteful, and rude. Those words were often used to describe her best friends—and her, too, for that matter. But Aldrick was mean and stupid, rather than mean and clever. So, it didn’t matter that he was still rather handsome, or that he seemed to have a wandering eye, now that his wife was indisposed. Muriel couldn’t make herself pretend to like him, even for a few frantic hours of pleasure. As a result, she was left bored and annoyed at the world in general.

Luckily, dear old Teddy proposed a solution: a party at his Motecaster townhouse for May Day, to be preceded by a 450-mile-long nautical debauch on a hired barge, all the way south from Rawdon. They could stop where they liked, visit friends along the way, and generally do anything they cared to do. Muriel accepted the invitation immediately, and then set out trying to convince as many of their new young friends to join them on the trip as possible.

She was so excited that she almost forgot to write to her children and her husband to tell them where she was going. Fortunately, she heard one of her friends make an offhand remark about the army and the war with Loshadnarod, and that reminded her. She had just enough time to dash off three quick notes before stepping on the big, luxuriously-appointed barge that Teddy had rented for them.

The first few weeks were glorious fun. Muriel had a whole trunk of new books, and every morning and afternoon, she read them with a bottle of wine at her side. When the weather was fine, the crew tied up the barge so she and her friends could eat their meals in a tent on the riverbank. When the weather was foul, as it often was, they huddled together in the big stern cabin, downstairs of Muriel’s own cabin, and played cards and various drinking games to amuse themselves.

Muriel did a great deal of flirting with Crispus Benenatus, a dissolute young Immani nobleman and amateur poet. He said he had come to Myrcia looking for a job, but he didn’t seem to be looking very hard. One dark night he asked her to meet him on the quarterdeck at midnight. He made it immediately clear what he wanted, which was precisely what she wanted, as well. She let him take her from behind while she leaned over the gilded transom and stared at the stars.

This might have caused trouble, as Crispus had a mistress aboard. Her name was Floella Prisca, and she was apparently a singer of some minor renown on the Immani stage. Floella didn’t mind sharing Crispus at all, however. In fact, she made it quite clear that she would be more than happy to welcome Muriel to her bed, as well—with or without Crispus. Muriel pondered the offer for a few days. She wasn’t really attracted to ladies, and the only time she had been in bed with another woman had been on her honeymoon, when she and Broderick had ended up joining an older Annenstruker couple for an evening. The experience had been enjoyable, but not so much that she and Broderick had ever felt the need to repeat it.

One night, however, she got drunk enough that she let Floella talk her into a threesome with Crispus. Again, she had joyous, sloppy, perverted fun, but the next morning, as Muriel returned to her own cabin to wash off the scented oil and other various things, she said to herself, “That will do for another fifteen years, I think.”

When they reached Formacaster, Muriel anticipated even more glorious debauchery, but a group of new passengers embarked, changing the tone and mood of the ship entirely. Teddy’s little sister, Lady Elizabeth Rath, was hoping to catch a ride to Severn to check on some of her husband’s estates.

As Teddy told Muriel, “I can’t really say no.” And though Muriel could have happily said “no” to anyone, she understood the compulsion. After all, she had been the one who had set Lady Elizabeth up with Captain Sir Volker Rath.

Rath was Broderick’s aide-de-camp. He was also exclusively interested in men as sexual partners. And Elizabeth had never been interested in having sexual partners at all. Nonetheless, the two of them had done their duty, and done it very well. Lady Elizabeth would be joined on her journey by two of her three children: Edward, age 8; and Eleanor, age 4. (Their eldest, Athelwulf, age 11, was now at school.) Muriel liked to think this success was all to her credit, since the marriage had been her idea to begin with.

Some of the passengers adjusted easily to the newcomers. When the children played in the forecastle, Floella would join their games and teach them little Immani folksongs. Crispus told them stories about the Empire and his adventures all over the world, many of which sounded made-up to Muriel.

For the most part, however, Muriel stayed back on the quarterdeck, drinking with Teddy and trying to ignore the little people.

“It’s not that I don’t like children,” Teddy said. “But they remind me of marriage and of having heirs and a legacy and all that. I’m trying to ignore that for as long as I can.”

“You can try,” he said, “but when they made her, they didn’t simply break the mold, they shattered it and dropped the fragments in the river.”

That was a very kind, brotherly thing to say, but in Muriel’s experience, Elizabeth was tediously conventional in virtually every way. Sometimes, when Muriel wasn’t quick enough in choosing a seat for supper or at the card games, Elizabeth would plop herself down and start rambling on and on about children. She loved her little spawn to distraction, and she couldn’t seem to open her mouth on any subject at all without mentioning at least one of them.

When Floella appeared in a tiny gown of sheer silk one evening, Elizabeth said, “I wonder if you could get children’s pajamas of that material. It looks so cool for hot nights.”

When they passed the fortified wine after supper, Elizabeth told a story about how her boy Athelwulf had once drunk wine by accident and had thought it tasted like medicine, and wasn’t that funny?

That would have been bad enough, except that the woman compulsively asked questions about Muriel’s children, too. “Where is Donella studying now?” “What subjects does she like the best?” “Did you know I saw your son at Wealdan Castle with his new master, Lord Faustinus?” “Aren’t you proud that your son is squire to such a famous man?”

Muriel had, in fact, completely forgotten that her son was now Faustinus’s squire. She remembered there had been something about it in one of her husband’s letters. Or maybe in a letter from her brother, Lukas. In any case, it had seemed rather tedious, so she had filed it away somewhere in the back of her mind where she kept everything else she didn’t need to know immediately, like the names of other people’s servants and when boring people had their birthdays.

By the time they reached Severn, Muriel was well and truly ready to get off the damned boat.

Thankfully, dear old Teddy’s party was everything she could have hoped for. All the best and cleverest and most fashionable people around Severn and Motecaster were invited, including a number of handsome young men Muriel had never seen before. The best of the lot was Lord Sven Moendahl, Viscount of Harkanger, a 22-year-old Annenstruker nobleman who was coming north with a company of his countrymen, intending to serve as mercenaries against Loshadnarod.

Muriel was impressed by his precocious intelligence and air of command, by his ready wit and knowledge of the international military and political situation, not to mention his love of history and literature. But mostly she was impressed by the way he filled out his tight leather trousers.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me up in my room for a little nightcap?” she purred, standing a bit closer to him than decency permitted.

“I would, indeed, my lady,” he said, his eyes full of unmistakable interest. “But I must be up early tomorrow to find transport for my men.”

“Then we will have to make it quick,” she said, leaning even closer. “I don’t mind drinking fast, do you? Very fast, and very hard. What do you say?”

He didn’t say anything, but he practically sprinted up to her room, where they took things very quickly indeed. And then they drank more and took things slower the second time. And next thing either of them knew, it was almost noon the next day.

“What could I do to convince you to stay around for a week or two?” she asked, playing with his hair. “Teddy is putting together a hunting party, and we’ll be staying at Gresvick—it’s a little hunting lodge I own in the area.”

“Truly, my lady, I should be leaving soon. My men and I are bound for the war.”

“The war will still be there, whenever you arrive. The blasted thing is eight years old now. It can look after itself.” She gave him a little pout and ran a hand down his stomach, and then lower still. “I, on the other hand, want you right now, this very moment.”

When they got down to lunch finally, they discovered that messengers had arrived from Muriel’s brother and husband, announcing a great victory. Apparently, Daryna Olekovna, the Loshadnarodski hillichmagnar, had been killed by Servius Faustinus and Moira Darrow, another hillichmagnar whom Muriel knew quite well from court. Muriel’s son had also been involved, and for that reason, he was going to be knighted.

“Oh, you must be so thrilled!” said Elizabeth Rath. “It’s such an honor for him.”

She tried to act as if she didn’t care one way or another, but in fact the news that her son was now “Sir Broderick” filled her with strange and powerful emotions. On the one hand, it made her feel old. But on the other hand, it made her feel young and free again. Being a knight meant being a man—an adult. That meant one of Muriel’s offspring had left the nest, and she would never again have to pretend to take an interest in every little blasted thing that he did.

Broderick the younger was free of her, and she was free of him. Perhaps he wasn’t the brightest candle in the chandelier, and he certainly didn’t have his father’s killer instincts. But he was successfully grown up now, and her decision to interfere as little as possible in his upbringing had been vindicated.

Muriel poured herself a very large glass of wine and said, “Here’s to motherhood.” Elizabeth cheered and joined her in the toast.

The next day, the party moved to Gresvick, the hunting lodge south of Severn that had formed part of Muriel’s dowry. Dear old Teddy attempted to look shattered when his sister announced she needed to take care of family business in town and couldn’t go with them. Muriel shrugged and said, “Suit yourself, dear.”

And so, in Elizabeth’s absence, the party descended again to its comfortable level of depravity. Muriel did a little hunting for the sake of appearances, but mostly she kept to the house, sitting on the veranda and reading her books. At night, she gloried in Lord Sven’s attentions, and she introduced him to novel experiences that not even three years among the notorious degenerates of the Annenstruker court had prepared him for. One evening, she convinced him to allow Crispus Benenatus to join them. She enjoyed that a great deal more than the threesome with Floella, even if it left her rather worn out the next day.

At breakfast, as she watched Teddy spear a juicy sausage with a huge, silver, two-pronged serving fork, she said, “I know how that sausage feels.”

“Tell me all the filthy details,” said Teddy, as they claimed a tiny table off to one side of the veranda, “and I will tell you what I and that handsome knight over there did in your stable.”

Before they could tell their stories, however, Lady Elizabeth Rath walked up the gravel front drive, waving several letters. “These just came in!” she cried. “I was at the ducal palace, and I knew you’d want to see them immediately, Lady Muriel. So I offered to bring them over!”

Muriel frowned and accepted the messages. The first two were from her son and her husband. The boy’s letter was rather overwrought in a teenage way. He said he felt conflicted about the death of Daryna Olekovna, and that he wasn’t sure that Servius Faustinus was a very good man, after all.

He also hinted at a disastrous dalliance with an Immani spy who had ended up dead at Faustinus’s hands, though of course he had been too embarrassed to give any of the really important details in the story. Muriel smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Not especially. My son may have finally gotten a girl to touch his penis, but it’s difficult to tell.”

Her husband’s letter was, as usual, far more interesting. He gleefully detailed how he had undermined an attempt by Faustinus and Caedmon Aldred to seize command of the army from him, and had then outmaneuvered them by declaring victory after the death of Daryna Olekovna. Now Caedmon had returned to court, and Faustinus was going to the Empire to vent his fury on the emperor (for sending the spy to kill him, apparently). So, neither of those tedious old busybodies could interfere with Broderick’s conduct of the war anymore.

Broderick was very proud of himself, and he had every right to be. A surge of something very like affection ran through Muriel, and she decided that the next time she saw him, she would definitely be interested in performing her marital duties, assuming he was amenable.

The third letter was from her 11-year-old daughter, Donella. Muriel hurriedly opened it and read the first paragraph, which nearly spoiled her breakfast.

Mama,

By the time you read this, I shall be coming north to meet you. Since I will be starting at Atherton this fall, I thought maybe I could stay with you for the summer. Please say that I may. I have missed you very much.

Muriel smacked her forehead and finished the rest of the letter, which had been written by the girl’s new governess, and which gave details of their planned itinerary. Assuming they kept to the schedule, they would be in Severn in less than a week.

She had known—obviously she had known—that at some point Donella would be finishing her primary schooling at a convent down in southern Severnshire. And she had also known, just as surely, that Donella would then move on to Atherton, the famous boarding school of the Myrcian nobility, far up in the Wislicbeorg mountains. Had she remembered that was happening this summer, though? In the hazy recesses of her mind, she found some fragmentary memories of some letters back and forth with her husband, the convent’s abbess, and the headmaster of Atherton.

Muriel certainly remembered interviewing governesses. That had been a great deal of fun, because she invariably knew more about everything than they did. She had reveled in torturing them with difficult history and literature questions and correcting their accents when speaking Annensprak and Immani.

Those interviews had been this past autumn. And Muriel remembered choosing the least objectionable of the women and sending her down to the convent. So clearly that meant Donella was now leaving her old school and going to Atherton, where she had to live and study with a governess, as per school rules. Somehow, though, between the holidays in Rawdon and the long barge trip and Teddy’s ongoing hunting party, all of that had slipped Muriel’s mind.

Elizabeth giggled nervously and looked around the veranda at everyone sitting at their little tables. “Lady Muriel is overcome with joy, apparently.”

“Yes, look at my face. This is what joy looks like,” grumbled Muriel, as she levered herself to her feet. “Pardon me, everyone. I’ve got to go into Severn for a little while.”

She rode back with Elizabeth, and the whole way, the woman talked about her 4-year-old daughter, Eleanor, and how “fun” she found it to raise a “little young lady.”

When they got to the ducal palace, Muriel visited her brother’s chamberlain to ensure there would be suitable rooms for Donella and the governess. Muriel couldn’t imagine the girl was used to much luxury after four years in a convent, but she didn’t want it said around town that she had let her own daughter sleep in some rat-infested inn while other, lesser guests occupied the best rooms in the palace. Fortunately, there were rooms to spare, and no one needed to be moved.

Donella would be staying in Muriel’s old apartment, as it happened. Looking around the suite of rooms, still with the same furniture she had known growing up, put her in a nostalgic mood. She went over to the library, and she imagined taking Donella there and showing off all her favorite books. She even contemplated starting a reading list for her daughter and got as far as getting out a pen and ink and parchment. But then she started reading some of the old books, and she got so absorbed that she forgot all about the reading list until after she had already gone back to Gresvick for supper.

Donella and her governess, Miss Northrop, arrived precisely on time, but Muriel was not there to greet them. She had to let her sister-in-law, Duchess Carrine, do the honors as hostess, since Muriel and Teddy and Lord Sven had tried smoking some Shangian herbs the night before, and even well into the afternoon, they struggled to walk straight or talk without breaking out in hysterical giggles.

Muriel honestly intended to go meet her daughter the next day, but then Teddy announced he had sighted a really big stag in the woods nearby on his evening ride, and Muriel had to join in the chase. It would have been rude not to go.

Finally, on the third day, she made it into Severn to see Donella. She kissed and hugged the girl, managing at least a rough approximation of maternal feelings, and she told about all the parties she had been to, since surely any girl would be interested in parties. As she spoke, she saw something padding softly along under the table of her old apartment, and she bent down to see a pair of green eyes staring back.

“Oh, that’s a cat,” said Donella. She hurried over, sat on the floor, and drew the animal from the shadows and into her lap. It was a long, lanky calico with a regal, somewhat bored expression.

“How long have you had a cat?” asked Muriel, sniffing the air for the scent of urine or cat shit.

“I found him wandering the courtyard this morning,” said Donella happily. “I’ve named him Lord Whiskers of Mouserton.”

“It’s a girl,” said Muriel. “Calico cats are always girls. Or at least most of them are.” The cat rolled onto its back in Donella’s arms, purring. “Yes, definitely a girl.”

“Oh. Well, Lady Whiskers, then, I suppose.” Donella kissed the cat’s head. It squirmed. “Can I keep her?”

“She’s a stray, darling. She’s wild. You can’t keep a wild animal inside. It’s cruel, and it’s murder on your furniture.”

Muriel spotted the stain. “Do you know that rug was the first place your father and I ever had sex?”

Donella looked utterly aghast. She had been resting her feet on the rug, but she scooted them away. The cat made a tiny growl of complaint as she shifted under it.

“Take her outside, now,” Muriel continued. “Sometimes the best way to love something is to let it go free.”

The girl did as she was told, though she looked very sad about it. Muriel watched from a window, and she saw the cat sit there in the courtyard, somewhat forlorn, after Donella left. But after a couple minutes, it ran off to chase pigeons outside the great hall.

Donella remained downcast for the rest of the day, until Elizabeth showed up with her Edward and Eleanor. Then Duchess Carrine brought out her Anna, age 7; and Penny, age 4. And Elizabeth suggested all the children might like to go into town to see a puppet show and get some sweets.

“Oh, brilliant idea!” cried Muriel, sagging with relief. “Donella, you go with them. I’ve got some...important family business. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or at least sometime soon.”

Then she hurried away, grinning at her good fortune. She almost got out to the private dock of the palace, where her hired Caithren boat was still waiting for her, when she heard Elizabeth call out her name.

Turning, Muriel saw the woman standing there, on the marble steps of the grand entrance portico, twisting her hands nervously.

“Yes? What is it? You don’t have a problem looking after Donella for a day or two, do you?”

“No, not at all,” said Elizabeth. “She’s a very nice girl, and I’m sure she’ll have a lot of fun with everyone. It’s just that...well, I thought you might have fun with us, too.”

“Clearly, Lady Elizabeth, we have different notions of motherhood.” Muriel turned to go.

“She won’t be young forever. Someday you might find yourself wishing you’d spent more time with her.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt it.” Muriel smiled, curtsied, and then stepped into her boat.

Elizabeth might have tried to say something else, but Muriel didn’t hear it over the splash and creaking of the oars. There was a little basket beside the seat with a bottle of fortified wine. Muriel took a drink and sighed happily as the boat took her south over the river. Back to her friends. Back to the life she enjoyed.