I'd always wondered what it was like to be rich. What it was like to take a bath in a solid gold tub, to taste grilled pheasant, to feel the cool brush of satin against my skin. I'd always wondered what it was like to ride in a well-sprung, private carriage, instead of walking. What it was like to go to a ball, wearing a fancy gown, to flirt with all the handsome men and dance into the wee hours of the morning. I'd always wondered about those things. And I was about to find out. But I'm getting ahead of myself here: I should start at the beginning.
First of all, my name. I was born outdoors, under a clear night sky. My mother was travelling in a caravan, on her way to see my father, when it was beset upon by bandits. There were few valuables to take, but the caravan was mostly made up of women and grandfathers who could only scream in fright. The chaos and confusion must have rattled me, so that that night I chose to enter the world.
The robbers had stolen all our lamps, so the soft light of the moon shone down for the women to help my mother. She died, after pressing a soft kiss upon my forehead and declaring my name to be Lune, the French word for moon. I was red, wrinkled, and crying lustily, but she said I was the most beautiful girl in the world. I was her only child.
The women sang her the mourning song, braiding her hair with flowers, rubbing oils on her feet and hands. They dressed her in her finest gown, a green velvet with tiny embroidered gold flowers dusted over the skirt and bodice. Somehow the grandfathers managed to bury her under the spreading boughs of an oak tree, where its leaves could sing to her for the rest of time.
Then the caravan journeyed the two weeks more to the town where my father was staying, on official business. He was there, waiting, searching the caravan with eager eyes and outstretched arms to find his beloved Adele. But Adele was not there, it was only me, Lune. He stayed long enough to hear the story of her death and to arrange for me to be taken to the house of his relatives, then he was gone. I've heard from him twice in all my eighteen years: when I was four, he sent a governess to educate me; when I turned twelve, he sent me away to school. Those were the only luxuries I ever had, my uncle being a merchant who was able to provide food and a roof over our heads, but not much else.
Speaking of my uncle, he and my aunt are the two people I love best in the world. When I entered their household, they took me in with open arms, completely disregarding the fact that they already had seven other children to feed. The only thing dear Aunt Flora disapproved of, was my name.
"Luna is an absolutely outlandish name," she sniffed, "I've never heard of it before."
"Well, Adele was always a strange one," my uncle replied, "I never understood why James married her. But-"
"But it's positively barbarian!" his wife interrupted, "Who knows what it means! Ailuna," her tongue twisted over the strange pronunciation. "It doesn't even sound proper. We cannot allow the children to say it."
"As I was about to say, my dear," Uncle Tom said slowly, "she's his child, and he didn't say anything about not keeping the name."
"It sounds a lot like Ellen, and I like that name much better, what do you think?"
"For all her papers and accounts, she'll be known as Lune, but you can call her Ellen, I suppose."
So it was settled. As far as Aunt Flora was concerned, I was Ellen and always would be Ellen. My cousins were instructed to be nice and kind to the poor baby with no mother, but children have short memories, and soon everyone forgot that I was not Ellen Twigg. I grew up laughing around the breakfast table, hunting squirrels in the woods, rolling in the mud, picking daisies, playing hide-and-seek in the marketplace, and doing all sorts of wonderful things with my wonderful family.
We lived in a town called Woodside. It had originally been a small village outside the Great Forest, but time and progress had gradually made its mark so that Woodside was now a bustling center of the countryside. The Great Forest still stood, but the town had expanded away so that only the old district could be said to be next to it. Our house was in the old district, large and drafty, but built solidly and able to withstand the escapades of eight children, two dogs, three cats, a goat, and an assortment of frogs and snakes.
I was the youngest of the eight; the youngest Twigg child was two when I arrived. From oldest to youngest they were, Sam the eldest boy who at fifteen was his father's mainstay; Jane at fourteen, the eldest girl who was her mother's mainstay and a wonderful big sister to us all; Ann at twelve, who had a gift for sewing; the twins, Tom and Harry, nine-year-old freckled little mischief makers; John, a sweet, serious little boy of six; and Penny, the baby. Only, I was the baby now. Aunt Flora and Uncle Tom were firm, but gentle with their children, insisting upon good manners at all times. Indeed, come Sunday they were the finest little children in the district, but it was not unusual for some shopkeeper to knock exasperatedly on the door and ask that a Twigg child be sent over to work off the damage. Aunt Flora would resignedly call us all to the kitchen, line us up, and find the one who did it. She never failed, either, and the culprit would be sent off to his or her punishment.
Uncle Tom was a merchant in town, selling cloth and dry goods to the townspeople. Aunt Flora and Ann used the overstock to clothe us, trying to make it last as far as possible. Sometimes he would come across a rare bolt of silk, and save a few yards for a dress for Aunt Flora. She never used it, always laughing that she had no place to wear such fine things. But every once in awhile when she didn't know we were looking, she'd take it out of her bridal chest and stroke it, smiling wistfully. Aunt Flora also raised chickens, to sell the eggs. Us younger ones were extremely useful in that, hitching a small cart to the goat and making the rounds around the district.
Every day Uncle Tom and Sam would head off to the store. Ann, Tom, and Harry would set off to the schoolmistress's, and Aunt Flora and Jane would shoo John, Penny and I out from under foot while they got on with the day's work. We three had such adventures, running around in the streets.
