Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 245: Violet: Summer Harvest
30 June, 1347. Thierre Manor, Duchy of Orravalo, Islia
"Come on, Vy! Hurry!" Ilse’s laughing voice rang out as she ran across the sun dappled field, dodging boulders and thorn bushes. "I don’t understand why you’re always so much slower than me!"
Violet panted as she chased after her, her shoes pinching and chest heaving uncomfortably within her too tight bodice. The once rocky, barren fields before her were now carpeted in green, a clear sign that it was time. It was finally time.
The wild sweetpeas and raspberries that grew in abundance along the banks of the Marhyr River would finally be ready for picking and eating.
Ilse and Violet had been sneaking off to the riverbanks since they were children to feast on the delicious harvest. There had been times when they’d gorged themselves to the point of queasiness. But both girls agreed - being able to access the wild early summer fruit was one of the few benefits to living in the hardscrabble lands that surrounded the ancestral Thierre Manor.
It would have of course been more sensible for the girls to merely pick the fruit, collect it in baskets and then take it all back to their home. It would have made far more sense to share the bounty with everyone and help supplement the meagre family table, for a few days at least. But they never did, preferring to keep the delicious secret to themselves. Just another little secret amongst the many that the twin sisters already shared.
It was just the two of them sneaking out of their rundown house that morning, as always. Their brother Abel wasn’t ever allowed to go roaming on little escapades with them into the rugged countryside, since he was rarely out of their overprotective mother’s watch. And Sancia...
Frankly, no one really wanted Sancia around. She was a wild tempered, belligerent little thing who always wanted everything to be her way. No one in the household had any patience for her. The older girls had been very careful to leave the manor house quietly that morning, to avoid drawing her attention.
Violet now scrambled to keep up with Ilse, who was pushing through the scrubby, thorny growth that covered the gentle slope leading down to the river. The brambles pulled at her skirts but it didn’t matter much. The dress has already been darned and patched more times than she could count. What difference would a few more snags make?
Up ahead, she heard Ilse crow in delight. "Vy! Look at this! What a bumper crop!"
Breathing heavily, Violet managed to catch up and peered over her sister’s shoulder. She yelped with excitement at the sight. The scrubby raspberry bushes were heavy with fruit, even more than other years. The fruit glowed the ripe, ruby colour they both loved so much. Between the bushes were tangles of paler green vines, dangling with pea pods. Violet’s mouth watered and her stomach suddenly rumbled.
A few moments later, both girls had seated themselves on the bumpy ground amongst the plants, their hands plucking greedily at the fruit hanging around them. Violet sighed in bliss at the taste on her tongue.
"Eating undisturbed like this and not having to share," mumbled Ilse through a mouthful, "almost makes up for going without for most of the year."
"Almost, but not quite. I’ve been dreaming about having a full belly for weeks." Violet agreed as she deftly shelled the pea pods stacked in the lap of her dress. Her skirt was streaked with red stains from the berries but it didn’t really matter, given how frayed and patched the cheap silk was. She looked over at Ilse in her equally shabby gown, the skirt marked from where the hem had been let down repeatedly to try and eke a little more use from the garment.
"So have I. I’ve been even more hungry than usual lately. Probably because I’m so sick of only fish and wilted greens for dinner every night, for weeks on end." sighed Ilse as she swallowed another mouthful. "But I’m also worried that if I get any fatter, I fear I won’t fit my dresses anymore. As it is, they’re already straining at the seams across my shoulders."
"So are mine. I can barely breathe when the laces are done up properly." Violet laughed a little. "Then again, what do Mother and Father expect? Our gowns are over two years old! Do they just expect us to stop growing?"
"I swear, if we have to eat that disgusting fish that tastes like mud yet again tonight, I think I may weep. I’ll burst into tears at the dinner table and get a scolding."
"Well cheer up, Ilse. We probably won’t need too much dinner tonight. And if we end up eating so much here that neither of us can fit in our gowns, at least we know they can be put to good use as Sancia’s hand-me-downs."
"Oh, yes." Ilse’s fingers were stained pink and so was her mouth. "There’s nothing our darling younger sister loves more than being dressed in our outgrown scraps. Remember the dreadful tantrum she threw a few weeks ago, when her new gown was cut from the remains of your old grey dress? They probably heard her howls in the neighbouring duchies."
Violet shook her head at the memory, even though Ilse was laughing so hard that she’d also started laughing. "Father should just beat until she learns better manners. I don’t know why our parents let her get away with so much."
Ilse shrugged as she crammed another handful of berries into her mouth. "They don’t do anything because they don’t really care. When was the last time anyone paid any real attention to Sancia? They just find it easier to ignore her."
Eventually, their bellies grew full. The two girls remained seated alongside the river, feeling languid in the shade of a couple of tree canopies. Surrounded by the chirps of insects, they talked for hours about their favourite subject - trying to imagine the future. Both sisters longed for a life outside the confines of their poor duchy and it’s limited opportunities. The world beyond Orravalo seemed like an impossible place.
Violet was tempted to nap in the shade for a little while. However, she looked up and saw the sun had started to make its slow trek towards the horizon. How had so much time passed? "We should wash up and head back home." she said glumly.
Ilse gave a disappointed groan and nodded. "I suppose you’re right. Fish and greens await us for dinner, after all. I’m sure you can’t wait."
Violet climbed to her feet and pulled her sister up. The two young women dipped their hands in the cool river, making sure to wash away all traces of telltale pink from their hands and faces. Violet also used water to scrub the raspberry juice stains from the front of her skirt.
They then slowly walked back up the rocky slope back to their home, with the intention of returning the following day and gorging themselves again. Violet felt her spirits sinking to her shoes when the manor house came into view, with its mossy stone walls and sagging roof.
Why couldn’t Ilse and I have been born anyone but ourselves, she wondered in silence?
Theirs was a strange existence - daughters of Lord Henry Thierre, Duke of Orravalo. Their father held one of the most ancient and proud noble titles in all of Islia. If an ignorant peasant girl were presented with such an illustrious sounding opportunity - to be a duke’s daughter - she’d no doubt seize it with both hands. She’d be impressed with the title without knowing what it really meant.
The reality of their lives was quite different. The Duchy of Orravalo had been troubled financially since the days of the current duke’s late father. The lands had always been too rocky and dry to be productive for crops, meaning the Duchy had traditionally derived most of its wealth from livestock and mining. But over the last two generations, those streams of wealth had started drying up rather quickly, with nothing to replace them. Years of relentless drought, punctured by occasional but vicious flash floods through parts of Islia, had killed countless livestock. The mines in the arid hills to the southwest were now all but exhausted of their silver. The villagers and peasants had been reduced to poverty and mutinous murmurs.
It also didn’t help that the current duke was a reckless spender and also prone to gambling, quickly losing any income that passed through his grip. His wife, Lady Jeanne Thierre, was a haughty woman descended from a long line of northern earls. She’d always considered her marriage to the impoverished Duke of Orravalo to be a step down in social status. She never missed an opportunity to remind him and their children that she had been brought up to expect better.
Everyone in their household desperately hoped for better.
