“You make excuses for Gabriel, you see that even if his cup is not full, it is half-full. Gabriel does not appreciate you; he sees that your cup is half-empty.” Eliza said, “That is why, in love, both cups must be full, and both people must contribute.”.
Mariah and Cynthia stared at her, bewildered. She saw Cynthia’s eyes begin to fill with tears. In an instant, the maiden threw her arms around Eliza, pulling her close.
“Thank you, Lucie.”.
Awkwardly patting her on the back, Eliza smiled toward Cynthia. She was not sure if her cup-talk made sense, but it had the right affect.
“Who knew you were so clever?” Mariah laughed. “Didn’t I tell you, Cynthia? There is something different about her, for the better.”.
Cynthia pulled away from her, wiping her tears away.
“I do not believe I can change what will happen to me, but I can try.” Cynthia nodded, “Regardless, I’ll never forget those words, Lucie.”.
The three stood in the delicate tension, smiling in their confined space. Shaking herself straight, Cynthia gave them a nod, before going into town.
“That will mean a lot to her, even if she has to leave,” Mariah said, turning to Eliza. “I’m proud of you, Lady Benson.”.
Nodding, the two followed Cynthia up the stairs. Her wig blew in the winds, along with the loose fabric from the tear in the gown.
Reaching the top, all three entered the outdoors. The town was more populated than before, as fruit and vegetable stands beckoned for customers, and children played across the stone.
A tall, mousy-haired woman stood with a young boy at her side. In his fist, he held half of a wooden sword. The top half was missing, broken off.
Cynthia took hold of her and Mariah’s arm, linking arms with the maidens. As they daintily strolled along, amidst the booming voices and harsh winds, a rotten-looking crook caught her eye.
‘Broke-nosed Joe.’ She thought, a light smirk on her face.
A piece of torn cloth had been wrapped around his nose, and an up-to-no-good snarl was on his face. He lent against a brick wall, his red-haired mate by his side.
Turning back, she saw that Cynthia had ran off to speak to a man in the town. Her and Mariah stood side-by-side, taking in the village scene.
“Lucie, might I give you a well-meaning word of advice?” Mariah asked, glancing at her. Eliza nodded.
“If I were you, I would avoid The Queen for now.” Mariah took a pause. “I mean no harm, but you have worked alongside Her Majesty for two years, and we really wouldn’t want to lose you.”.
‘I knew it, The Queen hates Lucie now.’.
The exquisite necklace was hidden inside her satchel, resting on her waist. She could not bring herself to wear it or break it. It would be a waste to break, and besides, Lucie could sell it for a good fortune.
Eliza took a heavy gulp. She felt that same guilt, knowing she was tearing apart Lucie’s reputation. Or worse, her employment.
“I never intended to hurt Her Majesty,” Eliza replied, softly. “The King dragged me from the room, I couldn’t say no.”.
Gaining the Queen of England’s trust would be no easy task, after she had lost the trust, she never had.
The dusted sun shone on them, but instead of summer light, it was an iced grey. In their part of England, terrible weather was typical.
“I know that, but she does not.” Mariah answered, looking sympathetic. “What did he want from you? He has no reason to speak with us, we only serve his wife.”.
“Well,” Eliza paused, “It was about the witch, and what I know of her.”.
“I see.” Mariah nodded, “I understand why she was hurt. It made her think of when she first married King Richard. Those were rough times.”.
“Rough times?”.
Mariah’s eyes fell. She appeared in thought for a moment, before shaking her head.
“Indeed.” Mariah said, “They married at eighteen, and all was well, until…”.
“Until it wasn’t.” Eliza finished, gazing at the castle. “Did they not get along?”.
“It took time for her to adapt to royal lifestyle, as it would for any outsider.” Mariah continued, “The King had no concern for her, instead meeting with ladies in court. When she found out, it scared us all. I feared she would kill him.”.
Eliza had never thought of The King and Queen’s early years. They were married for over fifteen years, so she assumed that it was good.
“Then, why didn’t she leave?” Eliza asked, turning to Mariah. The maiden gave her a confused look, shaking her head.
“A woman cannot leave her husband, certainly not if she is royal.” Mariah scoffed. “The King would not let her leave him. He needs an heir, and therefore, a wife.”.
Flustered, Eliza turned away. She should never have asked the question; it was obvious how little she knew of royal customs. Internally, she prayed Mariah took no heed of it.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mariah’s pained gaze, staring after Cynthia. The maiden spoke to a much-older nobleman. She stuck her finger at his chest.
“Father listen to me.”.
Cynthia’s father had a bright-red face, like he had been slapped across the country. She was clinging to his chest, on the edge of tears.
“That horse-faced imbecile,” Mariah ranted, turning to Eliza. “The poor dear has tried convincing him to let her stay, to let her marry a different man; but he will not allow it.”.
“It isn’t fair,” Eliza sighed, “She should not need his permission.”.
Cynthia’s wailing echoed across town, as people turned to watch. Eliza’s blood boiled, not only at the girl’s father, but at those treating her situation like a show.
“I thrive here, it is my home. I cannot go with Gabriel." Cynthia said. Her voice croaked with fear, like a slow-shutting door.
“You offer nothing except embarrassment to the family!” Her father yelled, “You will do as I say, and leave tomorrow with Gabriel.”.
The buttons of his waist jacket were pushed to their limit, as though they would fly off his pudgy frame. Cynthia stepped toward him.
“No.” Cynthia said, earning a gasp from the crowd. “I will never be enough for him, I could give him all I have, but my glass will always be half-empty. I want to find someone who will see my cup is half-full.”.
Her father grabbed onto her, like Gabriel did, leaning his growling face into her own. Eliza’s mouth fell at her statement, but a small pride filled her heart, for the girl she barely knew.
“You blame him? It is no surprise he run off with other ladies, you have set your childish standards far too high!”.
“It is not a high standard to want to be loved, father.” Cynthia said. “And I cannot spend my life making excuses for him.”.
“Love is no concern in the matter. It has no financial benefit, the sooner you learn that the better for us all.” Her father lectured.
Eliza’s foot jumped out towards the girl, but she was pulled back by Mariah. The more she pulled, the tighter the woman’s grab on her arm was.
“We need to help her, Mariah.”.
“We cannot, it is not our place.”.
Cynthia’s father was scornfully watching his helpless daughter. Tears streamed down Cynthia’s face, as she covered them with her hand.
“Go on, cry like you always do!” Her father mocked, cruelly.
Eliza’s heart ached for the girl. She knew the feeling of being mocked, humiliated by your own town. It had happened more than once.
Sweat reflected from her forehead. Mariah’s face revealed no emotion, but her eyes shimmered in the light.
Then, Eliza turned to her right. One man’s laughs were throaty, like he had a bad cold. An idea dawned on her, and her face lit up.
“It is not our place to help,” Eliza whispered, leaning over to Mariah. “Others, however?”.
A mischievous glint rested in her eye, as she strolled across the town. Mariah hissed, reaching to grab her.
The villagers, with
their scruffy jackets and brown caps, stood ahead of her in a crowd.
She kept a solemn look on her face. Her mouth curled ever-so-slightly into her cheek, watching her right side.
The people glared at her, as she shuffled into the crowd. There was one person she needed, the attention of one. If she caught their eye once, that would be enough.
One man scolded her, another remarked. Their ugly, displeased faces watched her.
A large-looking man stood ahead of her. She tried stepping past him, but he nudged her away. She gave an impatient sigh, tapping her foot against the cobblestone.
The man paid no attention, his bearded chin turning the opposite way. Her eyes landed on her own feet, then on his.
With a smirk, Eliza rolled her blue gown to her knees. At the speed of light, she crushed her foot down onto the man’s shoe.
He let out a yell of agony, clutching his injured foot. Eliza shrugged, jollily continuing past the crowd.
She pushed past more commoners, and they parted like a flock of birds. They were brave enough to mock an innocent girl, but they knew better to mess with a maiden who would break a man’s foot.
‘Or perhaps his nose.’.
Reaching the end of the swarm, she stared at the shady corner at the edge of town. Two shadier men stood, grinning spitefully at the scene.
One foot in front, she stepped across the cobblestone. Her dress flew out ahead of her, and she caught the eye of two villagers.
Her eye spotted Mariah, throwing her arm out to her. The older maiden shuffled through the crowd, less roughly than she had.
‘Don’t waste your energy. This man needs a lesson, and I’ll happily do it; or not.’.
She saw that one puff-faced redhead had spotted her. His fat finger thrust out at her, patting his friend’s shoulder. She smirked, strolling through. The other man had noticed, and his eyes went wide.
‘Broke-nose and Redhead, we’ll see how much nerve those crooks have.’.
Eliza walked quicker, as the crooks marched toward her. They shoved people out of their path, she danced gracefully through them.
‘Time it, Elizabeth. Wait for it.’.
She reached Cynthia’s father, and leant against the wall behind him. Broke-nosed Joe had a dirty grin, his smirk widening as he got.
The two men had appeared from the crowd. Redhead’s eyes were shadowed, and his face was not smiling.
The frostbit sun shone on the two as they entered the light. She tapped her finger to her chin, giving the men a mischievous grin.
“Do your worst.” Eliza muttered. She slowly walked backwards, closer to Cynthia’s father, until she was inches from him.
Broke-nosed Joe was decided, eager for revenge. He let out a yell, bringing his hand into a knuckled fist. He swung it out, aiming for her face.
Eliza ran to Cynthia’s father, grabbing onto his shoulders. She swiftly swung his body around to face Joe, ducking behind him. Joe’s face turned to terror, but it was too late.
Joe’s fist collided with the man’s pudgy face, smashing against his jaw. Cynthia’s father was rocketed to the ground, his arms flaying helplessly in the air. Eliza threw her hands off his shoulders, pretending to be shocked.
‘Fool.’. She thought, ‘How do people still fall for those tricks?’.
Redhead screamed, pulling on his hair. Joe’s jaw fell, as he stared in shock at the injured man.
Cynthia’s father groaned in pain, clutching his flushed cheek. He leant on his side, coughing up splattered blood.
Eliza’s face appeared to be horrified, but she was completely satisfied.
Cynthia stood amidst the crowd. Her face turned pale white, but the slightest smile was hidden beneath her hand.
“N-No, I was aiming for her—” Joe mumbled, pointing in Eliza’s face. Her act appeared to be working, but beneath her hand there was the pettiest of smirks, and only he could see it.
“You tried to attack me!” Eliza objected. The convincing person she was, she managed a few fake tears, appealing to the town’s emotions.
A few nodded. Fake tears ran down her face, as she skipped over to Cynthia, who took her arm.
“You should be ashamed, making the lady cry!” One man shouted, darting his finger at Joe.
“Crook!” One hearty woman cried.
Following, villagers screamed at the man. Joe’s face dropped, as she stumbled into the brick wall. Cynthia’s father lay clutching his face, murmuring under his breath.
Mariah stood frozen in the crowd, and she gave a nod of approval. Broke-nosed Joe cowered away, panting.
A tomato came rocketing through the air and smacked against the man’s face. He screamed, covering his face in his hands. Thick pieces of tomato splattered over him.
The juice leaked from his greased-hair and stained on his white shirt. Young children giggled in delight, following their parents.
Pieces of rotting food came from every direction. Potato peels sat on Joe’s head, and the tomatoes made his face as red as Cynthia’s father.
Cynthia heartily laughed, doubling-over with a wide smile. The girl disregarded her father, who was lifted by his colleagues.
“Dirty thief!” One man roared.
Young children rummaged into the barrels of rotting food, searching for out-dated vegetables. Joe was now surrounded head-to-toe by vegetable juice, muck, and flies.
A roar of laughter erupted as he tried to run, only to trip over his feet. The scowls of his face were permanent, and he smelt strongly of stinking tomato and muck.
The whole scene smelled like rotten egg, mixed with a muck-covered tomato. She felt Cynthia tug her arm, pulling her from the crowd. The maiden did not turn back, but she still giggled to herself.
Mariah noticed, and rushed over to join them.
Mariah linked onto Cynthia’s free arm with a whisper. The three walked as a trio, gracefully leaving the scene.
The coarse-bricked houses surrounded them, and they walked quickly towards the castle. Eliza sighed leaving so soon, but Cynthia needed away.
They went to the right of the castle, squeezing through the alley between the castle walls and the forest, Trees brushed past her arm, and a shadow loomed over them, with sun splitting through.
Cynthia’s smile stretched from ear-to-ear, as she held both Mariah and Eliza close. Her hopeless giggles never ceased, as she led them to the castle gardens.
The better she got to know the maidens, the more she realised the lives they truly lived.
Lucie spoke of them, but only briefly. Eliza wished she never assumed that they lived spoiled lives, that all was perfect.
Cynthia was a soft soul, who strived to please all. She carried a grace with her and a pleasant smile.
It was strange to imagine that this girl, who was small enough to be a preteen, was to be married.
“Lucie, that trick was brilliant!” Cynthia exclaimed. She shook Eliza’s hands wildly, her tone raising with every word.
Eliza was thrilled with her approval from both maidens, and an unstoppable smile met her face, as she followed into the flowered gardens.
The beautiful flowers lay inside walls of hedge, organised into colours. The emerald grass was beneath their feet, and despite the winter, it felt as heart-warming as a warm summer’s day.
Cynthia skipped onto the grass, flicking off her heels and raising her gown. Eliza laughed along, with a genuinely free feeling in her heart.
She tugged her gown to her knees, running through the grass with the purest feeling of joy. Mariah strolled slowly behind them, chuckling lowly to herself.
“Cynthia, your ankles are showing!” Mariah gasped, chuckling to herself.
“Life’s short, Mariah!” Cynthia laughed, smiling widely to the sky. “I had a change of heart; I want to be free! If a man sees my ankles, so be it!”.
Eliza kicked off her flats, feeling the grass crunch under her toes. She laughed, tears of happiness streaming from her eyes.
She ran onwards, spreading her arms
out in the air. The wind brushed her face, and the scent of clean grass filled her lungs.
‘This. This is living.’ She thought, ‘Perhaps, before I was only surviving. What if living is much more than that?’.
For once, she felt on top of the world. Her wide smile ached her cheeks, as the grass split between her feet.
The world spun, and her gown flew in the air. Her satchel flew, beating against her hip.
Dizziness was overwhelming, but that freedom of feeling was something she would treasure forever.
Losing her balance, Eliza toppled backwards, landing on her backside. Cynthia had done the same, arching her back and spreading out her arms.
‘Could you ever be happier than this?’.
Mariah kneeled onto the grass. She did not scold them, or remark at all. Instead, she gave Cynthia a weak smile.
“Prissy.” Cynthia smirked, sticking out her tongue at Mariah. The older maiden laughed, returning her playful look.
Watching, Eliza thought of Mariah. The oldest of the maidens, the woman was sophisticated. It was obvious, how she cared for Cynthia as her own. Eliza had regarded her as a parental figure for the upcoming lady.
“That was dreadfully improper, Miss Cynthia.” Mariah joked, imitating an old woman’s voice. “Lady Theresa might whip you with her cane.”.
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