Lyra found herself looking eagerly for Master Malachi every time the chime to the door rang, but as the afternoon dragged on, the Runemaster never appeared. There was the usual flurry of women full of the usual flurry of gossip, and Lyra felt like she spent half the day on the floor carefully ensuring that all the skirt hems were pinned to the correct length, doing her best to focus on her job and dismiss the cloak from her mind.
She was proud of her work. She had made sure that her stitches were strong and subtle, and a wave of joy had cascaded through her when she had spread out the cloak after she had finished. The trim accented the velveteen fabric beautifully, and it looked like a garment fit for a king. However, she had also been quick to dismiss the thought as hubris, since someone of her status had no business serving the royal court, and she couldn’t let herself get too egotistical.
The hours dragged by, and Malachi never appeared to see what she had done – the disappointment was almost unbearable. As Lyra worked on closing up the dressmaker’s shop, an idea came to her and she pulled out a sheet of brown paper, then carefully folded up the cloak with tissue paper and wrapped it up in a parcel, which she tied shut with twine. She would drop it off at the Taylors where Malachi was lodging, she told herself, so she could mark it as delivered and get the weight of it off of her mind.
After locking the door, Lyra set off, trying very hard not to think. She was torn between wanting to imagine Malachi’s reaction when he opened the paper and examined her sewing, and feeling utterly terrified that he would hate it. Ultimately she resolved that she would leave the package with Mrs. Taylor and avoid Malachi altogether.
It wasn’t a far walk, but as she dragged through each step, she was anxious that she would accidentally bump into the rune master, either coming or going from his lodgings, but he was nowhere in sight. She reached the Taylors and knocked on the door.
“Hello, good evening,” Lyra said pleasantly when Mrs. Taylor opened the door, smiling but doing her best to not come across as eager. “I have a delivery for Master Malachi.”
“He’s not in right now,” Mrs Taylor replied, wiping her hands on her apron. Lyra could smell onion on the older woman, and she wondered what it was that she was preparing for dinner. Would Malachi be eating it, or had he made arrangements to dine elsewhere? A little awkwardly, she held out the parcel and chirped with excessive cheer,
“It’s from Mrs. Elwood. Could you give it to him?”
“Yes, I’ll put it in his room for him. Have a good evening.” Mrs. Taylor took the package out of Lyra’s hands, then disappeared inside as Lyra echoed “good evening.” Relieved, she began walking home, though her feet were even heavier than before.
That had gone exactly as she had wanted it to. The cloak was returned to its owner, and Master Malachi was not around to make her feel embarrassed or self conscious … so why did she feel so disappointed?
By Autumn Rain 