Depravity (A Beastly Tale Book 1)(6)

Medium height with my mother's dark sable hair and hazel eyes and my  father's slim build, I looked a gangly youth in my britches and shirt.  Now, the dress removed the gangle and turned me into a slender young  woman. I knew that was what I was, but I didn't like it. The dress also  shoved my small breasts high as if I wanted to put them on display, like  produce at a market. The errant thought of selling them led to thoughts  of Sara and the baker, and I decided that hiding in my room all day  really was the best option.

A knock sounded on my bedroom door as I nervously smoothed my hands over  the skirt. Only Father knocked, so I called for him to enter.

"You look lovely, Bini," he said with a caring smile. "I know you would  prefer to stay inside, but would you walk with Bryn to the candle maker?  I need another candle."

Father read by the light of the fire in his study most nights, but needed the candle for any writing he might do at his desk.

I nodded my assent and accepted the copper he handed me.

"Get the best you can with that." We both knew it wouldn't be much, but  neither of us spoke it, just as I didn't question why Bryn couldn't go  alone.

The candle maker had taken a dislike to Bryn a few years before. She'd  gone to purchase candles from him, and the encounter had gone badly.  He'd set his price and wouldn't come down from it. She'd called him a  miserly old man, which he was, but he was also nice and didn't like  being called names. Regardless, she'd only gotten angry because she was a  miserly young woman trying to pinch a copper whenever she could for her  own selfish purpose. I didn't see how she could fault the candle maker  for doing the same.

At least, by having Bryn accompany me, Father had given me the safety I  needed to go about in my confounded dress. If I met up with Tennen and  Splane alone while wearing it, I'd never stand a chance at outrunning  them.

After lacing up my sturdy boots hidden beneath my skirts, I straightened  my shoulders and headed to the kitchen. Bryn waited by the door and  wore her best dress. She'd been blessed with Father's fair hair and pale  eyes and our mother's curvy figure. Seeing her, I shored my resolve to  ignore the stares the pair of us would receive. I knew everyone would  compare us and didn't want to contemplate who would come ahead in the  comparison.

"I think you've grown, Benella," Bryn commented, eyeing me dispassionately.

I quickly looked down at my skirts, which still hovered an inch above the floor.

"Not in height," she laughed as she turned away to open the door.

Refusing to think on her comment, I followed her out into the sunlight,  feeling awkward as the skirts brushed against my bare legs. I didn't own  any stockings, just socks and boots fit for a young boy.

"I hope Father gave you coin. I have none to spare for the candle  maker," she said as I closed the door and rushed to catch up with her.

"Not enough, but the candle maker is nice, so I'm sure we can come to an agreement."                       
       
           



       

Bryn had no reply.

We walked the rest of the way to town, each lost in our own thoughts,  mine mostly fervent wishes not to run into Tennen with Bryn at my side.  My wishes didn't go unheard. The anvil laid quiet and the billows lax  when we left the path for the main road. Relieved, I crossed the street  and entered the candle maker's home. The soft chime of the bell attached  to the door greeted me.

"Benella!" the candle maker exclaimed, welcoming me with a smile.

Sitting at a table near his hearth, he removed a line of strings from a  pot of melted wax and set it on the holder to the side. He had once  explained that his candles were the best around because he took care to  ensure the candles stood straight the entire time, thus burned their wax  evenly.

"What brings you in today?" he asked, standing. His bones creaked and  cracked with the effort, but I didn't try to insist that he sit for our  discussion. He held a firm belief that he honored his customers by  standing to wait on them. His gnarled hand patted down his wispy white  hair as he slowly straightened his frame.

I held out the copper.

"Father sent me for a candle. I know you offer nothing but the finest, but he'd like something modest if possible."

"Benella, your honeyed words are a trap for an unwary man, to be sure."  He grinned at me, laughing and mumbling "nothing but the finest" under  his breath. He didn't take the proffered coin, rather he walked to the  shelves and rummaged through the pale candles for a moment before  pulling out a thick one with a satisfied sigh. A blackened wick poked  from one melted end.

"This is one I made for myself," he said, handing it to me. "A gift for  the flowers, until I can pay you properly. Tell your father it will burn  at least ten hours if he trims it."

I nodded my thanks, accepted the candle, and curled my fingers around the copper.

As I left, I debated about the coin. If I gave it to Father, he'd most  likely give it to Bryn for supplies, which we wouldn't see. But, with  Bryn at my side and a copper in hand, I could go to the bakery, avoid  the baker, and buy some flour. After all, a copper wasn't enough to buy a  loaf of bread these days.

Bryn waited for me outside. I handed her the candle, and she placed it in her bag without comment.

"I'd like to go to the bakery and see how much flour I can purchase," I  said, stopping her when she would have turned home. She raised her brows  at me, no doubt surprised by my willingness to linger in town when  wearing a dress, and followed me without comment.

The door to the bakery stood propped open and waves of heat rolled out.  No one lingered within to trade gossip today. I stepped onto the porch  and quickly ducked inside the store. Miss Medunge sat on a stool behind a  counter lined with a narrow variety of fresh bread. She smiled at me  and waved me in.

"The bread's been picked over already. This is what's left until dinner," she said, pointing to the loaves.

"I'm interested in purchasing flour, however much a copper will get me,"  I said, setting the coin on the counter. I could almost taste the  biscuits I imagined Bryn would make.

She pursed her lips in thought. "Just under two handfuls, I think. Do you have a bit of cloth for it?"

I cringed. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Don't worry. I can loan that if you promise to bring it back."

Nodding my promise, I watched her go through the door to the bakery. The  aroma of fresh bread made my mouth water as I waited. When the door  swung open, I looked up expecting her smiling face but, instead, met the  eyes of the baker. In his hand, he held a small bundle of cloth tied  with a bit of string.

"Benella, I couldn't believe it when my sister told me you were here to  buy flour," he said while his eyes wandered over me, mostly lingering on  the exposed skin of my neck and chest. "And so prettily attired. I  didn't know you owned a dress."

I didn't care for his tone.

"Here is the copper," I said, scooting it across the counter with one finger.

He smirked at me and held out the flour, waiting until I reached for it  to grab my fingers with his other hand. He petted them with his own  sweaty digits.

"Perhaps, I will see you later," he whispered, setting the flour bag in my palm.

I said nothing, staring at him while maintaining a straight face.  Eventually, he released my hand, and I turned and slowly made my exit.  Sweat beaded on my upper lip when I stepped out into the cool air, but  my fate didn't turn any better. Tennen stood near Bryn, and they spoke  quietly. When he heard me, he looked up with a gleam in his eyes.

"Needed to see the baker?" he asked with a laugh.                       
       
           



       

Bryn, not liking that I'd immediately stolen his attention, pouted prettily, but he ignored her.

"Yes. We had a spare copper and needed flour."

A blaze of anger lit in his eyes, and he took a step toward me. Bryn stopped him with a simpering hand on his arm.

"Tennen, our walk?"

He looked down at her, and for a moment, I saw his disdain. Then, his face cleared, and a smile curved his lips.

"Of course." He took her by the arm and led her up the road toward our house. I followed with my flour protected in my hands.

When we reached the cottage, Tennen bowed his farewell and left without  looking at me again. Bryn walked inside as if nothing had happened. I  handed her the flour and fled to Father's study, content to read until  he returned home.

Hours melted away while I devoured the words on the pages. I'd stopped  attending school years ago when I'd quietly corrected Father after  class, regarding one of the mathematical concepts he'd been teaching.  Since then, he let me use his study whenever he wasn't home. I  remembered most everything I read that interested me, and many things  did. The botany book he'd used to identify the primrose captivated me  until he strode through his study door.