Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I

by Valerie Sells

  The prince brought his gaze up to rest upon us then, taking in our looks and smiles for the first time. He looked pleased enough by the sight of us, though I was glad to note his gazed lingered that much longer on Charlotte than myself. She was and is such a dear sweet girl. Even if the prince were to show her enough kindness as to dance with her once, it would be enough to make her night, I was certain of it.

  There was but a moment’s greeting to pass amongst us for now, and then it was on to the very next ladies waiting to meet the prince. We stepped away one behind the other, Charlotte and I, and moved elegantly over to the buffet table by the far wall. Indeed, I was in dire need of refreshment after such a moment, and was only glad not to have made a fool of myself in front of so many. Charlotte’s loud sigh proved she was equally relieved.

  “Oh, is he not such a fine man, Emmy?” she whispered near my ear. “I could scarce breathe when he smiled at me.”

  “He is in fact as handsome as all the likenesses I have ever seen of him,” I confessed. “Perhaps even more so.”

  I did wonder ever so vaguely if I wasn’t the biggest fool in the kingdom. For a whole day and a night together, I had allowed myself to be consumed with worry, sure that if the prince should choose me amongst all others to be his bride that I would die of a broken heart. A royal life was not one that I craved, not for a moment, and I feared the prospect of having to live such an existence. Now I saw the prince in person and had experienced the palace first hand, I shall admit to wondering if I hadn’t made an awful mistake.

  It would be perfectly easy to be swayed, to have one’s dreams of adventure and freedom altered into that of life as a princess. Of course, there was very little about it to find disagreeable in real terms. A man as handsome as I had ever seen, who seemed amiable enough. A palace, and riches, the like of which could make a better life for not just the wife of the heir to the throne, but all her family and friends. In that moment, I did wonder at my wishing so hard for freedom tonight. Perhaps I ought to have better spent my time hoping, as most if not all others hoped, that I should be the chosen one.

  Brought from my deeper thoughts by a fanfare of trumpets, I realised I had yet to drink the glass of punch I had felt so desperate for, and indeed almost spilt it at the sound. The queue of young ladies had dispersed, all possible introductions made to the prince. It seemed he was now making some sort of decision regarding who to get to know better. I hardly knew I was holding my breath as we watched him speak quietly to the duke, and then one young lady was brought out from the assembled crowd. I breathed again as she was taken into the prince’s arms and they danced.

  “Oh.” Charlotte sounded so dejected in just one simple syllable, I had to smile.

  “It is but the first dance, Charlotte,” I advised her. “There will be more, and you may be next.”

  “Or you,” she added, glancing up at me. “You are far and away more beautiful than many a girl here. Truly, Emmy, you outshine us all.”

  Her compliments quite took me aback. I had never thought of myself as a great beauty. Pleasing enough to the eye perhaps, not at all unattractive if I may be so bold as to say so, but that was all. Charlotte was very young, I thought wryly, though she was barely three years younger than myself in truth. Somehow it seemed to make all the difference.

  In silence then, we watched the prince and his partner dance. I did not recognise her at all, but then the kingdom was vast enough and families moved in and out of its bounds fairly regularly. It was entirely possible that there were a great many young women here tonight that I had never set eyes on before, and may never again, except for she that would be crowned princess one day soon.

  It was a most bizarre thought when one realised that here in this very room, the future princess of our kingdom was present, the woman that would one day be queen. It was sobering and strange to think of it. To think that a friend or acquaintance of mine should be ranked so highly. That I myself might yet be chosen.

  “Miss. DeMontford?”

  My eyes were wide, my whole being truly startled, as I turned slowly from my daydream to face the duke.

  “Your grace.” I bobbed into a curtsey as I should, glad only that the two words I had spoken made it out from between my lips.

  Indeed, for the most part I felt frozen to the spot as I waited for his reasons to be here, to be addressing me in this way. Surely only one outcome were possible, and yet I could scarce believe it were true.

  “The prince requests your hand for the next dance,” he told me succinctly.

  I felt Charlotte’s hands grip my arm. For all the money in the world I could not have spoken then, not a single word. Of all the ladies here, of all the dazzling beauties and well-mannered maids, I struggled to comprehend how I could possibly stand out enough for the prince to notice me. It was a great compliment, I supposed, and yet there was a part of me that was insulted.

  You might wonder at my taking the prince’s request in such a way, but it is true. After all, had he not decided to dance with me based purely on my physical appearance and whatever smile I may have given him when we met? These were hardly recommendations for a wife, I thought, as I was led across the floor by the duke. At some point, I presume he had lifted the glass of punch from my hand and set it aside, though I had not noticed a thing until suddenly I was there before the prince again, smiling simply because I knew not what else to do.

  “Miss. DeMontford,” he said, smiling back and taking my hand in his own.

  “Your majesty.”

  I met his bow with an appropriate curtsey and then moved swiftly into his arms as the music began again. It was perhaps the most awkward dance I had ever shared with anyone. The prince moved quite gracefully and I matched him in steps with very little trouble. Concentrating on those movements at least stopped me from saying anything embarrassing, or anything at all for a full minute. When finally the prince decided to start a conversation, I had relaxed a little, despite all eyes being upon us.

  “You dance beautifully, Miss. DeMontford,” he said, with a smile that had melted many a maiden’s heart, I was sure.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” I replied politely, with all the words I was willing to say.

  I was just so unsure as to what else was appropriate for conversation with such a man.

  “I have learnt all the local family names, at least, I believed that I had,” he told me next, even as he pulled me around in a perfect twirl. “Yours eludes my memory.”

  “My family are not the DeMontfords, your majesty,” I admitted. “That is, my parents passed away when I was very young, and I live with my aunt and cousin. My uncle’s name was Sir William Longfellow, but he too has since passed.”

  I had no reason to cry, though the prince looked worried that I might. My parents had been gone more than a decade by now, and though my uncle’s untimely death was but two years before, I did not feel the need to burst into tears at the merest mention. His memory raised more of a smile than a tear, provided I was not asked to speak of how he came to die.

  “I know what it is to be without parents,” he told me in a soft voice. “At least, I understand growing up without a mother,” he explained.

  My mouth opened as if I might speak and yet no words were said. It was impossible to think of anything to say in such a moment. Here I was in conversation with the heir to the throne, about parents we had lost too soon, whilst being waltzed around the floor still. Without question, it was and is, one of the most surreal moments of my entire life.

  “We all have our tragedies to bear, your majesty,” I said at length, just as our dance finally came to an end. “I find the way I bear it best is to always look for the silver lining to each and every dark cloud that comes my way.”

  “You are very wise, Miss. DeMontford.”

  He smiled, perhaps out of politeness or genuine amusement, I was not sure. All at once, he kissed my gloved hand and bid me adieu.

  No sooner had we parted than Charlotte was at my side again, alon
g with several other young ladies I knew from the kingdom. Everyone had questions enough to ask about the prince. What we had talked about, what it felt like to be in his arms. It was difficult to explain to them that it was all rather normal and plain.

  A dance in the arms of a handsome man who was kind and polite enough. It was not to be balked at. Indeed, I had quite enjoyed my five minutes or less in the company of the prince, but I was for the most part unmoved. This is almost exactly what I told my friends, and yet, they could scarce believe it.

  “Oh, Emelia!” Charlotte gasped. “You cannot mean it. You must be as overcome as any of us would be in such a moment.”

  “She did look remarkably calm out there on the floor,” noted Mariah Gibson, neighbour of mine. “And still now she breathes evenly, with not a hint of a blush in her cheeks.”

  “Emelia, how can you be so without feelings in the presence of such a man?” Sarah Knight asked then, an older woman who had become a companion of mine as I grew into my teenage years.

  “Quite easily, my friend,” I told her with a wry smile. “For he is, as you say, a man. Just a person as we all are. I am not so over-awed by riches, and though he is handsome, I... I do not care enough to love him,” I explained as best I could. “Were I in love with him, things would be different, but alas.”

  The crowd of young ladies started to disperse as the prince’s next dance partner was deposited back on the edge of the room. He was due to pick another, and indeed the duke was leading the next young lady towards him. This was when I noticed something was not quite right. The prince was not even looking towards the lady the duke brought over. In fact, he was focused on the door, of which he had a much better view than I myself could manage.

  Suddenly, the most beautiful dress came into view. Perhaps it was white or a very pale blue, the shimmer in the fabric was such that the lighting made it impossible to tell. An angelic face came into the light next. With her hair piled up atop her head and a nervous smile playing at her lips, this mysterious late-comer to the party was quite the beauty.

  Many a young woman began to mutter and curse, such un-ladylike language to be heard, and in such a place, but I understood. The prince only had eyes for the stranger in that moment, and I was smiling myself when I realised it.

  A sigh of genuine relief escaped my lips as the young woman I was sure I had never seen before in my life slipped into the prince’s arms and they danced. She was the one he was supposed to be with, and she would make a perfect princess, I was sure. One day, I was certain to be proven right, but there were a great many complications to be overcome before that day.

  Chapter 5

  I awoke to a new day with a smile on my lips and a light feeling in my young heart. It was the day after the royal ball, and I for one was extremely relieved to know that I was not the chosen lady of the prince’s dreams, yet I was probably one of but a few. It was so strange. Yesterday I had lived in fear of being chosen, and this morning the joy that overtook me at still being free was immense.

  So many women both near and far to our own chateau were bound to feel very differently indeed. Disappointment and tears were doubtless the order of the day in many a bedchamber and parlour, and not just for the young ladies either. Many a mother and father would wish to see their daughter became a princess, and I could quite understand it. A life of security, luxury, and honour, these were not things to be scoffed at by any means, and yet my freedom mattered more to me.

  The prince was a charming man, I would admit. Still, as I got out of bed to dress, I was quite giddy at the prospect of never having to feel obligated to such a man. Though I never spoke of such things to Aunt Beatrice, I often wondered if I should ever wish to be tied to any man I met in life. There were several who were reasonable and kind, that cut a fine figure and had a pleasant face. I was a woman after all, I did understand the attractions of being loved and appreciated by a man, but there had to be more to my life than this. I was meant for more, I was simply certain of it, though at this point, it was hard to tell how it could ever happen.

  Making my way down to breakfast some time later, I was not entirely surprised by the barrage of questions coming across the table from my aunt and cousin. Of course they wanted to know how things had happened at the ball. The talk of the town was who the prince might choose for a bride, and yet those of us who had attended at the palace ought already to know the face, if not the name, of the future princess.

  The description I gave to my aunt left her puzzled. She, like myself, could think of no young lady in the whole kingdom that matched the fine eyes and golden hair of the mysterious woman I described. Of course, we believed it would not be long before some kind of engagement was announced. The royals did like to move swiftly on this sort of thing, and King Leopold was not getting any younger. Doubtless he wanted to see his grandchildren before it was too late, and this was assumed to be the main reason the prince had been thrown into the public arena in the first place.

  It was a pleasant relief all over again when I was excused from breakfast. My darling Alexa had scarcely eaten a bite, so agape was she at my tales of the ball. She was bound to be at the table another half an hour at least finishing her food, but my aunt permitted me to go and rest. I had barely slept for four hours together after the ball that brought me home so late. A veritable crush of carriages on the road had kept me out far longer than intended, even though I had left the ball itself some time before midnight struck.

  “Ah, Miss. DeMontford.”

  I was a little startled from my dreamy daze of the night before by Bradbury appearing around the corner. He was certainly here early for Alexa’s lessons. Indeed, I wondered if he were supposed to be at our home at all on this particular day.

  “Good Morning, Bradbury,” I greeted him nonetheless. “My cousin and aunt are still at breakfast, but I’m sure if you would like to join them...?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, smiling awkwardly.

  Bradbury was not so very severe, and yet he always maintained an air of the strict school teacher, even when Alexa was not close by. I was never entirely sure why, but I had no reason to let it concern me. He was always polite enough to me, apart from the recent incident in which he seemed highly amused by the prospect of the prince choosing me for his bride. It made me want to tease him just a little on the subject, even if it was wholly wrong of me to do so.

  “I wonder then if you came to ask me about my adventures at the royal palace,” I said, apparently in all innocence, though it was a challenge to keep too wide a smile from my lips. “Whatever you may have heard is probably true. I did dance with the prince, you know?”

  Bradbury’s expression was unreadable to me in that moment. I would like to say he was pleased for me, or indeed, that he had sympathy for me. After all, he ought to know both my aunt’s wishes on the subject and my own. Instead, he looked almost pained and ever more awkward, which had not entirely been my intention.

  “You are... You are the young woman the whole town is talking of,” he said then, not a question but a statement, which startled me a little.

  I suppose I had deliberately given the impression that the price favoured me above all others. It was wrong of me, I know, but to keep up the charade was so very tempting somehow. I am sure I could never explain my motivation for such an act then, as I probably could now, but to do so could quite give away the rest of my story.

  “The prince is quite a man.” I sighed the same dreamy sigh that had escaped many a young woman’s lips at the ball the night before. “He dances beautifully and complimented my own skills in that area. We spoke of our families and... and yes, it was a very pleasant experience to be in his arms,” I admitted with a smile that was not entirely without mischief. “But Bradbury, I am not the one of which the town speaks this morning,” I added quickly, a little taken aback by the look of what seemed to be relief on his face then. “You did predict that I would not be, and you were, thankfully, correct.”

  It stung me again to
realise the truth of what I said. The idea of my catching the prince’s attention for longer than one dance had been amusing to Bradbury in the beginning and made him smile again even now. I had thought us better friends than this, and immediately made my excuses to walk away. No sooner had my foot made the bottom step of the staircase than I felt his hand on my arm.

  To say I was startled would be an understatement of the facts. Bradbury never touched me in such a way. Not that was inappropriate for him to do so, but he simply never did before. He had taken my hand last night as I descended the stairs, and offered me his arm at Aunt Beatrice’s insistence to take me out to the carriage. Indeed, once or twice before, I recalled having required his assistance in such a way, but it was always offered out of duty or my aunt’s insistence. This was different and unexpected. I hardly knew what to make of it as I stared a moment at his hand gently grasping my arm, and then I met his eyes that were so troubled somehow.

  “Bradbury?” I said, in a voice more soft than I intended. “Are you unwell?”

  My concern was genuine enough, and yet he only seemed to look more pained at my asking the question. Truly, he looked so unlike himself in that moment, I did not know what to say or even what to think. After too long a silence, he finally let go of my arm, both hands fidgeting to straighten his jacket and his already perfectly combed hair. Just as I was about to further question his health and odd manner, he spoke.

  “Miss. DeMontford, I pray you would walk with me,” he said, all in a rush. “I have something I feel I should... No, indeed, that I must say to you.”

  You may wonder at my naivety when faced with such a bewildered man wishing so desperately to tell me what was troubling him. Perhaps, in a way, I did know what was to come next, and yet I could scarce believe it. Indeed, Bradbury had never shown the slightest sign of any romantic interest in me, and I was sure I had never looked upon him in such a way, and yet what other explanation there could be, I hadn’t an idea.

  I suppose I must have nodded my head or perhaps even agreed in words to walk with him in the gardens. He did not offer me his arm and somehow, I felt glad of it. After the way he had touched me before, and remembering the strange way he had looked at me as he escorted me to the carriage last night, it would seem oddly inappropriate.