They went west when they left the church, instead of north, and after a few streets entered Hampstead Heath. The sun was shining brightly, high overhead, and the day was warm, with practically no breeze. They followed one of the many paths cut through the rolling heathland, over the gentle hills, surrounded by bright grass.
They passed a large pond where men were swimming in the cold, dark water, and boys were hunting froglets in the reeds by the bank. Algae at the edges gave the pool a distinct smell, and the sound of splashing, cheers, and laughter washed over them like a wave. A moment later they came across a cricket game in another meadow. The game had attracted a large crowd, which was mainly women, and Stella decided they must be the supportive wives of the male players. The scent of the women’s soaps and shampoos, and the strawberries they snacked on, filled the air.
“Are you a cricket fan, Lady Stella?”
“No, not at all.”
They passed a group of boys kicking a football, couples lying together reading books, and families picnicking. Bees explored the picnic baskets and red clovers that were dotted through the meadows, and Stella could smell strong cheese and fresh bread. Blackbirds and thrushes whistled from the branches of ancient oak trees and newer hornbeams, and butterflies flitted between buttercups and other bright flowers. As they watched, a young girl presented her mother with a crown made of tied-together daisies.
“It’s hard to believe all this green is in the middle of the city,” Violet said as they wandered amidst it.
“This is a great place,” Stella replied. “There are a lot of rabbits to hunt here. Foxes, too, and sometimes a deer. There are sheep as well, but I think the sheep aren’t wild.”
“Are any sheep wild, milady?”
Stella considered the question. “I think Scotland probably has wild sheep. Or Wales. Not London, though.”
Soon, they saw the rabbits Stella had predicted. No foxes or deer, as both were nocturnal, but an entire meadow of rabbits greeted them on their walk. The rabbits were eating grass or chasing each other, or running from children who chased them.
“That’s a terrible hunting technique,” Stella said. “They will never catch a rabbit by running behind it with their arms outstretched, especially at such slow speeds.”
Violet looked in the direction Stella was glaring. “I don’t think that child has been walking for very long,” she said. “He only looks to be around three, ma’am.”
“Three is a fine age to learn to hunt. I killed my first rabbit at four. My mum helped me turn its hide into gloves. They were itchy.”
Violet opened her mouth as if to comment, but then seemed to decide it was better to say nothing at all. They took a meandering path northwards, passing under trees that provided a cool shade, and standing aside to let a young mother with a large pram use the path.
“What did you think of the service, ma’am?” Violet asked.
“It was hilarious,” Stella admitted. “He said a stick would conceive a child.”
“He didn’t, did he?”
“He did. I think I was the only person there who understands Latin.”
“Well, I don’t think he meant a stick, ma’am.”
Stella pointed to a fat log lying in the grass. “That one might be pregnant.”
“What will you do for the rest of the day, milady?” Violet asked, changing the subject.
“I’m going to teach you to breathe.”
“I- I know… how to breathe, Lady Stella.”
Stella laughed. “That’s what I said, when my mama decided to teach me.”
The heath was clear but the London smog hung thick at the edges, in the skyline of church towers and tall mansions. The hills in this part were thick with gorse bushes, scantly studded with a few fading yellow blooms. A dog burst from the bushes and watched them for a moment, before running off in search of rabbits.
Stella had the faintest idea she had seen the dog before, but she couldn’t remember where. London was full of stray and working dogs, though, and more than a few of the places she explored had guard dogs on the premises. Dismissing it from her mind, they continued on.
They passed a trio of horse riders that smelled of leather, horse sweat, and apples, before leaving the heath closer to the house. It had been a pleasant walk back home, much nicer than wandering through the crowded and stinking streets would have been.
They settled easily into their afternoon chores, Violet washing the breakfast dishes, Stella checking every knife in the house had a fine blade and sharpening the three that required it. Afterwards, Violet prepared a light lunch of roast salmon on a bed of watercress, with apple slices and fresh apple juice.
Stella lay on the sofa for an hour afterwards, lazing without a care. Violet, who never seemed to stop, was on a chair, dusting things that even Stella couldn’t see on top of. After a while, Stella fetched her new trench lighter from her bedroom and took it into the silk room. She held the lighter up to a piece of silk and the material immediately caught fire.
That wasn’t good. She was in an entire room of flammable silk. One part of her mind decided to just watch the pretty flames, so she spun off a second thought track to actually deal with the fire, then ran into the bathroom with the burning silk. Which was still burning. Usually silk just flared up in an instant, melting away, but this silk was still on fire, and still responding to her powers.
The flaming ribbon of silk danced over the bath tub as her power moved it in streaming circles. It was burning, she couldn’t stop it from burning, but it was burning slowly. A third thought track started analysing this, and it wasn’t too happy. If Stella was set on fire, her Ability would ensure she stayed on fire.
That was less than niche. She was fairly certain that was useless.
The flames reached her fingers and she let go with a gasp. The silk curled up, melting to ash before it even hit the tub. Stella sighed and turned the tap on to clean the bath.
She hadn’t known she could get useless Abilities.
“Do you smell burning, ma’am?” Violet asked as Stella came back downstairs.
“Ah, don’t worry, Violet, it was in the bath.”
“What was in the bath, ma’am?”
“The burning. There’s no fire risk, it was a controlled experiment.”
“You were experimenting with fire in the bath, my lady?”
“That’s right. Don’t worry. Let’s go teach you to breathe.”
Violet was protesting that she knew how to breathe as Stella led the way into the back garden.
Stella pointed to a pile of leaves on the grass. “Pit trap. Don’t stand there.” Some flowers on the other side of the grass held a hidden spring snare that would snap around a leg and drag someone into the air to dangle. The top of the walls surrounding the garden had embedded shards of broken glass. There were tripwires linked to small bells, a tilting false stone that would dump a person into the smelly, algae covered pond, strong smelling herbs to confuse dogs and that provided mint for supper, and another false stepping stone that opened a shutter on a lantern and bathed the garden in sickly yellow light. They spent a half hour exploring the traps in the garden, with Stella explaining how each one worked.
“Y-your garden… really is trapped,” Violet whispered.
“Of course,” Stella replied. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Careful…?”
“Alright, breathing time. I’m going to pick you up with my silk, so don’t panic Violet, alright? I can support your weight.”
“Why are you picking me up, milady?” Violet asked.
A silk tentacle wrapped around the maid’s waist and her feet slowly left the ground, lifting her until she was eye level with Stella. Stella grinned. “I don’t think you could get to the roof on your own.”
Her dress unravelled, leaving her in her underclothes as the silk of the dress formed more tentacles that reached out to find purchase on the building, and Violet whimpered as they both lifted into the air.
A moment later, they were on the roof, and Violet grabbed the tentacle in both hands as it started to pull away from her. Stella left that tentacle where it was and reformed her dress from the other ones, then frowned. Something didn’t feel right, possibly because she had a whole tentacle less material than she required. She was fairly certain she had reformed the dress’s torso exactly, but the collar was uncomfortable. She tried changing position and when that didn’t work, she changed the collar of the dress three times before she found one that felt better. From what she could see, it didn’t look right, but she couldn’t be sure because of the angle. It was hard to check her own collar, and Violet obviously wasn’t going to be much use. She was pressed back against the roof, clutching the silk around her in both hands, with her eyes closed.
“You’re not going to fall, Violet,” Stella said.
“Why are we on the roof?”
“I told you, I’m going to teach you to breathe.”
“But wey wi pon the roof?”
Stella reached out and patted Violet’s hand. “This is how we learn to breathe.”
“Pon di ruuf?”
They didn’t start with the breathing right away. Stella had to coax Violet into opening her eyes first. She had to talk the maid out of her panic, which was apparently just panic from being on a roof. There was no reason for it, as far as Stella could tell. Violet just had a phobia about roofs, or something. It was alright, though, gentle words and encouragement and not pointing out how stupid it was to be scared of roofs seemed to be the thing to do.
If it hadn’t, Stella had a secondary plan of throwing Violet off the roof, catching her, and thereby proving that there was nothing to be scared of, but that wasn’t necessary. Violet was really brave. Unlike the other women from the brothel, she hadn’t needed to be convinced to leave, she hadn’t been scared enough to remain.
“You’re brave,” Stella told her.
“I’m… I’m not.”
“You are. Like you said, you never stopped fighting, not once. Now, come on, I’ll teach you how to breathe, like my mother taught me. Now, the first thing, the most important thing, is the philosophy of breath. You need to understand the reasons why we breathe.”
“So we don’t die?”
“Sure, dying would be bad, but philosophy is deeper than surface level thoughts. Each time we breathe in, we take a part of the world into ourselves. We change it, and when we breathe out, we change the world. Even if a person is born in a coma and never awakens, they have an impact on the world around them. Every breath is a change we make. Change is the first principle of the philosophy of breath. Now, most people never think about breathing. They are changing the world just by existing within it, but they never think about the changes they make. They never think about the impact of holding a breath, or breathing more slowly or quickly. You’re changing the world right now, Violet. The least we can do is be aware of that.”
They sat in silence for a while, breathing, thinking about the fact they were breathing. Thinking about each breath as it changed the world around them.
“Controlled conscious breathing helps calm you when you’re scared,” Stella said. “You’ll sleep better, concentrate more, and be more regulated. I think it will help you a lot, Violet. Not just the philosophy, but the practice. So, the first thing, which should be obvious but most people never think about, is that there are different types of breathing. The second thing, connected to the first but few people make the connection, is that different types of breathing have different effects on you and the world. Let’s go through the types, alright?”
“Okay,” Violet replied quietly. Stella watched her carefully. Violet already seemed calmer. More at peace, less fidgety. Or so scared she was frozen. Or really just wanting this done and agreeing to anything. Ah, people were difficult.
“The first type of breathing my mama calls belly breaths,” Stella went on, teaching Violet how to breathe.
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