“Have you noticed,” Sir Tompkin whispered, “that Prince Charming’s bodyguard fellow is quite an odd sort? I can’t say much for his bold manners. Things must be very different in your cousin’s lands.”
“Indeed, you cannot imagine how different,” I said. “Do you mind if I partake of what the, er, bodyguard brought?” I hadn’t seen such delicious fare in a long time, and I was so famished that even my eagerness to make plans with my father’s old friend was not as strong as my desire to eat.
I confined myself to taking small ladylike bites rather than wolfing down the quail’s eggs, pear-gorgonzola-pecan tart, and lingonberry trifle, then turned to Sir Tompkin to take up our discussion again.
“Now, Rose, there is a topic of a highly delicate nature I must broach with you,” he said. “Though I hesitate to frighten you, I feel you should know.”
I was not sure how many more frightening things I could contemplate at this point, and yet I said, “Perhaps I have more courage than you realize. Go on, Sir Tompkin.”
“Lord Bluehart and I heard a dreadful rumor about your stepmother.” He hesitated, then said, “Never mind, I have thought better of it. I will not trouble your pretty little head over the sordid details.”
My pretty little head? I tried not to feel outrage, but failed. “Are you hinting that you believe Wilhemina may have killed her first husband?” I asked.
He keeled backward, then righted himself. “Why, yes! Great heavens, you heard the gossip, too? Oh, how wicked, how dreadful. However did you manage to live under the same roof with a suspected murderess? You must have been in constant fear!”
I stared at him in surprise. Yes, Wilhemina had always frightened me. Nonetheless, my reaction to her evil was not what Sir Tompkin obviously expected of a well-brought-up young lass. My stepmother had forced me to be cunning, stiffened my resolve, and turned Lady Rose into Cinderella.
I was not ashamed of that name. I was proud of it. “I learned from that fear, Sir Tompkin.”
Sir Tompkin declared, “You are braver than I would have been in your place. Never mind, you are safe now. And Lord Bluehart and I are searching for compelling proof that Wilhemina indeed had a hand in her first husband’s death. If we find it, the Lord Chief Justice will change his mind and start proceedings against her.”
“I wish the proof were already found.” I frowned in frustration.
At that very moment, a familiar deep voice sounded across the garden. “Tompkin! And dear little Lady Rose! At last I’ve found you!”
“Bluey!” I bounded up from the bench and threw myself into the wide-flung arms of the usually reserved Lord Bluehart. While he kissed the top of my head, Sir Tompkin berated him for disappearing at such an important time, and Swiss edged closer to us with an expression of canny interest.
“Oh hush, Tompkin, I am here now, am I not?” Lord Bluehart said at last, then held me at arm’s length and, with an uncharacteristically big smile on his usually impassive face, declared: “Both of you—come with me! Out of the clear blue sky, an ally has appeared who wishes to make a confession to you, and you alone, Lady Rose. I predict we shall soon see an end to the despicable Wilhemina!”
With Swiss at my back and Sir Tompkin at my side, I followed Lord Bluehart into the castle and down a long corridor. We soon arrived at one of the smaller parlors, where visitors were accustomed to waiting for meetings with lesser members of the court.
“Here,” Lord Bluehart said, opening the door with a return of his customary solemn demeanor. “In the Zhinese parlor. Prepare to be astonished, Rose.”
He did not exaggerate. I stepped inside, then halted in utter confusion.
For there, seated on the red cushion of a black lacquered sofa, in a sober gray “Sunday Best” dress, sat Wilhemina’s loyal servant—Cook.
Yes. The domineering Cook, who’d made my life miserable with her endless demands and constant hectoring. What on earth could she be doing at Castle Wendyn, with a crumpled, hopeless air and reddened eyes? Amid the black and scarlet of the parlor, decorated with busy Zhinese vases and carved stone Foo dogs, she looked wan and completely out of place.
Then came another shock: Lancastyr Manor’s faithful housekeeper, Mrs. Grigson, came flying toward me out of nowhere, arms outstretched as if to give me a hug. “Lady Rose!” Under the disapproving stare of Lord Bluehart, she pulled back just before touching me and dropped a curtsy instead. “Oh my lady,” she breathed. “Strange doings are afoot tonight! First this business with Cook, and now—we heard you’ve won Prince Geoffrey’s heart!”
Then Pye came up next to Mrs. Grigson, keeping a respectful distance from the two titled gentlemen and Swiss. “You did it, Cinderella—I mean, Lady Rose!” he cried eagerly. “To blazes with Lady Wilhemina and that Miss Eustacia! You’re the one who’ll marry Prince Geoffrey, sure as sure!” he said.
“Pye? Mrs. Grigson?” I gaped in disbelief. “What is happening? What brings you here to the castle—and with Cook, of all people?”
Mrs. Grigson leaned in closer to me. “After seeing what that vile Lady Wilhemina did to you and your beautiful dress tonight, my patience was at an end. After I packed my bag, I hired a cab to come here with Pye.”
I was still at sea. “But why?”
“Because I thought your father’s dearest friends must be in attendance, even though they’re bachelors with no daughters to marry off to the prince. They never miss a party at the castle, not them!”
Sir Tompkin flushed scarlet.
Now Mrs. Grigson’s face grew hard and her usually placid eyes narrowed with anger. “I meant to find Sir Tompkin and Lord Bluehart, tell them everything, and beg them to rescue you and your father. I would even take my case to good King Tumtry himself, if I had to! Then, if you can believe it, just as Pye and I were leaving Lancastyr Manor, who should ask to join us but Mabel Hoovey—that is, Cook? I was that surprised, I almost had a spasm.”
I felt I might be getting a spasm myself, at any minute.
Mrs. Grigson went on, “Cook had overheard where we were going and insisted she had a confession to make to your parents’ friends. But when we arrived and she found out you had somehow made it to the ball after all—which I hope you’ll explain sometime, my lady, we were flabbergasted when we found out—Cook insisted she would make the confession only to you.”
I looked to the trembling Cook in wonderment.
Now Lord Bluehart cleared his throat and addressed Mrs. Grigson. “Good woman, you and the boy Pye have shown true loyalty tonight, coming here so boldly and arguing your way past the guards and the majordomo. Thank heaven they decided your cause was worthy and agreed to fetch me to speak with you. That is why you could not find me earlier, Tompkin,” he said. “After you left the dancing to, er, refresh yourself, and I could not find you again, the majordomo located me and put me in charge of the situation.”
Pye piped up, “Cinderella, he gave me and Mrs. Grigson three gold pieces—each! He said it was our back wages, because Lady Wilhemina never paid us.”
Lord Bluehart gave a slight, tolerant smile. “Think of it as a measure of my deepest appreciation for your actions on behalf of Lady Rose.”
Suddenly, Swiss erupted like a volcano. “We have a saying in my realm!” he shouted. “‘No bake, flat cake!’”
We all jumped. Mrs. Grigson squealed.
“Eh?” Lord Bluehart lifted his monocle to his eye. “Most extraordinary! Whatever do you mean, my good man?”
“I mean, here you stand chattering about appreciation and gold pieces, while the crux of the matter sits before you—Mrs. Hoovey, the cook. What is it that she wants to confess? Question her now, or in the name of the great prince of the Northern Realm, I will do it for you!”
“I find you impolite in the extreme!” Lord Bluehart bridled, while at the same time Sir Tompkin said, “Don’t you speak to Bluey like that!”
“Too bad,” Swiss retorted. “We have another saying in my realm—”
“Spare us any more of your h
omegrown sayings, good sir!” Lord Bluehart put out a pale hand. “We are getting to that. And I believe the right to question this Cook belongs to Lady Rose.”
Hiding the excitement and apprehension I felt inside, and regretting having eaten so many quail’s eggs, I crossed the room and took a seat beside Cook. Pye and Mrs. Grigson gathered near us. Cook shied away as if afraid of being struck.
“Oh, Cook!” I said in surprise. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
At this, she dropped her head in her hands and wailed, “My lady! I should have something to fear, that’s the plain truth. I deserve punishment for what I’ve done. And so does she. Lady Wilhemina.”
“Please tell us what you mean?”
Cook was not quite ready to answer so directly. “I’ve had this on my conscience for a powerful long time … but I justified it, Lady Rose. I believed what Wilhemina Draper told me. Then this evening, when I saw the cruel thing she did to you—and not just that, but a mountain of other things she did, fooling your pa, Lord Lancastyr, frittering away his money—I realized I had to tell you that she is a liar. She lied to me about you, and she lied about my former master—her husband, Mr. Jedrim Draper.” She paused to draw in a shuddering breath.
Lord Bluehart stepped forward. “Perhaps this tale is not fit for your sweet girlish ears to hear,” he said to me.
I held up a hand. “Thank you, my lord, but on the contrary: I am no longer a girl, and I must hear it to the end. Please go on, Cook—I mean, Mrs. Hoovey. What lies did my stepmother tell you?”
Cook kept her gaze downcast. “She told me her husband was a cruel monster who beat her. She claimed she had to leave him to save her life, and her daughters’ lives, too.”
“Is it true?” I asked.
“I thought it was, back then. Mr. Draper often wondered aloud about how his poor wife seemed always to be bruising and burning herself and coming up with black eyes. I thought at the time he was a beast who had done those things to her himself. I know different now! Mr. Draper was a kind man who wouldn’t beat a drum, much less a woman, may he rest in peace.”
Cook took a deep breath, then whispered, “Wilhemina told me Mr. Draper planned to beat her to death. She asked if I would save her life by taking his. So ’twas I, Wilhemina’s most loyal servant, who carried out the evil deed on her behalf.” She looked up and met my horrified gaze. “With rat poison.”
PRINCE CHAR
Searching for Lady Apricot in the landscaped grounds of the castle, I wished I still had a rat’s acute senses. I passed couples who stared at each other in lovestruck silence or chatted flirtatiously on the many stone benches scattered through the greenery. One of the amorous men had removed his sword belt and hooked it most negligently over the back of a bench, the better to hold his beloved’s hand.
Mine, I think. The poor fellow didn’t even notice when I used my marvelous opposable thumb and forefinger to lift his weapon. Chuckling to myself, I strapped it on as I strode down the path.
Suddenly, a strange feeling welled up in my chest. It was a bit like the sensation one gets when one has eaten a venomous lizard on an empty stomach. A type of soreness. It dawned on me that this was somehow connected to my taking of the sword.
Good gravy, I had heard of this! It was a human feeling.
Guilt.
Damnation. Should I return the lout’s blade? Nay, I needed it for a most noble cause—protecting my lady. Taking what I require for the greater good is my royal prerogative.
Be that as it may, the confounded pain inside me was distracting. After a short deliberation, I made a mental note to give the thing back when it had served its purpose.
The instant I reached this decision, the guilt disappeared.
Being human was complicated indeed.
Keep to the task at hand, I told myself and walked on, peering into the darkness. Ahead was a deserted gazebo. It had three shallow steps leading up to a roofed octagonal platform.
This gave me an idea. Why not try the limits of these peculiar long legs? I ran forward and jumped. Whoosh! I sailed right up over the steps and onto the platform. In fact, I had underestimated my power and overshot, so I stumbled a little when I landed. “Huzzah!” I exclaimed, throwing my human arms up in jubilation. I hopped off the platform, backed up, and did it again.
I would have done it once more, had I not heard a voice address me in the language of the rats. “Is that Char? What are you doing?” It was Lady Apricot. She and her handmaidens had emerged from the bushes and come after me into the gazebo. I turned in their direction.
My mother took one good look at my new form, and her fur sprang out in spikes.
“My son! My poor, poor son, what a dreadful calamity!” she wailed, and her ladies echoed her. “A human! A human, alas, alack the day!”
I replied to her in the human tongue. “Stop, Mother, I haven’t the time. I will resume my normal form at midnight.” Unless I can figure out a way to stop it. “What are you doing here?”
This seemed to calm her somewhat. “Corncob and those Beef brothers told me what happened. I could scarce believe my ears. Neither could Pudding or Lambchop.” She waved a tail at her handmaidens. “We came immediately. And that disgraceful Princess Mozzarella did nothing to help except give us a little gray rat as our guide, who scampered off once he got us to the ballroom. Why, Mozzarella ought to have sent an army along with me, for I am here to rescue you!”
“How exactly do you plan to accomplish this?”
“I will think of something!”
“Lady Mother, though I appreciate your sentiments, I have no need of rescue. In fact, I shall be frank with you: The case is quite the opposite. Had I any say in the matter, I would do my utmost to remain human.”
“Remain … human?”
“Forever.”
My mother turned up her snout and fell backward into her attendants’ arms.
“My lady! My lady!” they cried.
I felt sorry for her. However, at twelve o’clock, when my dreams came to naught and I showed up as a rat again, my mother would soon forget her hysterics.
On the other hand, I could never forget Rose.
“Lady Lambchop; Lady Pudding.” I addressed her attendants as they fussed over her. “Stay out of sight and keep my mother out of trouble, if you please. And by the way, she hasn’t really fainted. Look at her tail—it’s straight as a peppermint stick.”
Lady Apricot hopped up. “You ungrateful wretch! See if I try to rescue you ever again! I saw you with that Cinderella back in the rose garden! I warned she would bewitch you, and so she has!”
I knelt on the dusty boards of the gazebo floor. “Mother, may I hold you?”
She nodded with a small sniff.
I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. Then we touched, snout to nose.
“You no longer love me,” she whimpered.
“I love you as much as ever I did,” I said. “But every nestling must leave the nest. Though you’ve complained about my bachelorhood, still it has meant I stayed by your side for quite a long time. You’ve never shared me with another, except Swiss, though I’m not sure if he qualifies.”
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. “It’s Cinderella, isn’t it? You’re abandoning me for Cinderella.”
“I will not abandon you. But, yes, I am in love with Lady Rose. And if I return to being a rat, I can never, ever win her.”
“Very well, my cherished son,” she said after some time. “If you can contrive to stay with Cinderella and win her heart and hand, I will give my consent, although I cannot imagine how she could not love you. You are perfect in every way. Much better than any of those human men she has met.”
“Dear Mother, it pains me to admit our conversation is to no purpose. You have seen me grow to an adult, persisting in the face of every challenge, allowing nothing to stand between me and a worthy goal. I see now that Lady Rose is the worthiest goal of all, and she will remain forever just beyond my reach. For once in my li
fe, I must acknowledge defeat before I even begin. The best I can do in my few remaining hours as a man is to fulfill my mission to keep her and my people safe. Please be on hand when I change back, Mother. I will need you then.”
Without considering what I was doing, I pressed my lips to the top of her head.
“Why, Char!” she exclaimed. “You truly have become human! You kissed me.”
“Yes, Mother, though I have long wondered about the true significance of the human kiss.”
“Surely you must have figured it out. The humans do it to show love.”
“Yes, but parents and children, friends, and people who fall in love all kiss each other in ways that are, well, different. I have wanted to kiss Rose, but I fear she might misinterpret it as a rat trying to chew upon her face.”
“Don’t be silly, my son. There are as many different kinds of kisses as there are types of affection. When the time comes to demonstrate your love in that way, never fear: The feeling in your heart will guide you to do just as you ought.” She paused a beat. “Do not despair, Char. There is magic afoot tonight. The goddess of the Lancastyr ring has set these events in motion, and it’s not for us to say how they will end.”
Sweet words. A parent’s fond imaginings. “I must get back to Rose and Swiss. They’re busy trying to save the Lancastyrs and destroy Wilhemina.”
“Then why are you sitting here talking with me in the gardens? Put me down and be off with you,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to hide a snuffle.
Good gravy, she was right! It must be getting late, and I still had not laid the trap I planned to set for Wilhemina.
I hastened away, leaving my mother to her handmaidens and her private tears.
When I returned to the flower garden, Rose, Swiss, and Sir Tompkin were gone. I hurried back to the courtyard where the fountain was, only to find that the crush of people who’d been gathered there when I left was now pressing rapidly back into the ballroom, as if something of great interest were happening within.
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