Secondhand Charm

by Julie Berry

I looked back into her face, shining with kindness and concern for me.

  “Stay here with me, Evelyn,” she said, “and I’ll make a princess out of you.”

  What?

  Such an invitation! But why? Why would she want me to?

  Firelight moved across her face. She could be a painting. A portrait of female perfection. Lips dark and full, cheeks flushed with color, features delicate, lashes long, eyes dark and mysterious.

  Yet even as I searched her face, she watched me with such hope I could almost believe she was nervous, anxious to know my response. Why? Why would the opinion of a poor girl of no consequence from the provinces matter to a soon-to-be queen?

  “Will you stay, Evelyn?”

  “My friends call me Evie.”

  She squeezed my arm. “But Evelyn,” she said, “is a name for a princess.”

  The knock finally came, and Rhoda-or-Erma appeared with an armful of clothes. Annalise took them. “Stay to help Miss Pomeroy get dressed,” she said, but I shook my head.

  “I can do it,” I said, giving her a pleading look. “Please.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “You may go, Erma.”

  Erma. Must remember. I took the clothes behind the partition and began dressing myself.

  “Becoming a princess has never been my intention,” I said. “I always wanted to be a doctor. Like my parents.”

  Annalise appeared and helped me lace the corset they’d brought. I began to see why dressing help might be needed.

  “Becoming a princess,” Annalise corrected me, cinching my laces tight, “is your right and privilege.”

  But why?

  I took a deep breath. I’d never worn a corset like this one before. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to again.

  “Princess Annalise?” I said.

  “Please, Evelyn, no titles with me.”

  “All right. Annalise?”

  “Yes?”

  She pulled a purple frock over my head and began fastening buttons along the back.

  “There is another problem. You can’t present me to the king as your long-lost cousin from Merlia, come to see your wedding.”

  “Oh, tush,” Annalise said. “Men are simple creatures, Evelyn. They can’t handle complex information. They’re all charge and attack, no nuance whatsoever. A little concealment is ultimately for their own good. What difference does it make?”

  “He met me a week ago, when he came to Maundley,” I said, gathering up my stockings. “He gave me a school prize. And I helped Lord Appleton recover from a feverish illness.”

  Annalise stopped buttoning and pursed her lips.

  “A week ago?” she said. “He met you? You should have told me.”

  “You never asked.”

  She waved her hands in the air, near her face. “Let me think. Let me think.” She studied me like I imagined a mason would study a block of stone to see if it was solid and worthy. “We can do this. Of course we can. A disguise will be fine. After the wedding, it won’t matter at all.”

  “What won’t matter?”

  “Why, that we had to disguise you.” She experimented with my hair, lifting wet strands. “Then again, he’s never seen you dressed in gowns and jewels,” she mused. “That’s disguise enough for any man alive. When he saw you, you were dressed like you were an hour ago, yes?”

  “Near enough,” I said.

  “That’s all I need to hear,” she said. “Did he learn your name?”

  “He did.”

  “Ah. Then … for these next few days, why don’t you be … Marie. Marie … um … Bellinger.”

  “For the next few days?”

  She played with my damp hair, experimenting this way and that to decide how we might set it for the evening. “Well, after the wedding we can explain that it’s all a jolly joke, can’t we?”

  I took a step back. “But I don’t belong here anyway. I was headed for the university. I’ll go there, and your cousin can vanish. The king will forget her.”

  A hurt look passed over her face. “But Evie,” she said, her voice musical. “Don’t you want to stay and learn about your leviathan? And your mother? And all that you can do?”

  I hesitated.

  “I can teach you so much,” she said. “Without a proper initiation, you can’t begin to understand your abilities.” She took my face gently between her two hands. “Evie,” she said. “You are not like other girls. You are not like ordinary people. You were born for better things. You can make things happen in this world. And I can show you how.”

  I pulled away. I wished I knew better how to choose. In the last two days I’d seen my hopes and plans roll and tumble like cart wheels. I’d gone from homeless and hungry to apprentice princess in one afternoon, and while most girls, I knew, would not think twice about such a proposal, I felt only tired, muddled, empty. I wished I could lie down.

  Something soft brushed over my feet. It was my leviathan. He rubbed himself against my foot and twined around my ankle. I bent to pick him up and cradled him against my cheek.

  It’s all right, Mistress, he said. She doesn’t want to hurt you.

  “How do you know?” I whispered to him.

  “Talk to him in your mind, just as he does to you,” Annalise said. “It will go better once you’ve named him.”

  I stroked my leviathan and tried hard to send thoughts to him the way he sent them to me.

  How do you know? I asked.

  She is lonely and anxious, my leviathan told me, but truly happy to have found you.

  It worked! He understood me without my speaking.

  Do you know her? I asked. Is she someone I should trust?

  My leviathan pulled back his head as if he was surprised. Not trust a serpentina?

  Chapter 27

  I accompanied Princess Annalise arm-in-arm, at her insistence, down the long corridors of the castle from lamp to lamp. This didn’t endear me to the other ladies following behind us, all of whom seemed so much more accustomed to their gowns and jewels than I felt.

  I had endured an agonizing hour of having my hair set in place by Dorothy, who took out her frustrations with life upon my scalp. Then she buried my tall hair arrangement under a canister of talcum powder. This, Annalise assured me, was a necessary part of my disguise. Dorothy informed me coldly that it was the height of fashion, and didn’t they powder their hair in Merlia? There was pink powder for my cheeks and red tint for my lips, all of which made me long for a good scrub. If I couldn’t bear the beauty treatments, how would I mimic the manners to pass myself off as a young Merlian lady at a duchess’s soiree?

  My corsets clamped me like a vise. I carried a velvet purse just like Annalise’s, with my leviathan snoozing inside, and tried to step gracefully down the winding stairs in my satin slippers, though the steps were uneven and I couldn’t see my feet. The women generated a roving cloud of powder and perfume, which made it hard to fill my corseted lungs with air.

  Dorothy had looked askance upon my gypsy luck charm, but I refused to part with it. It would take all the luck I could muster to make it through this night without exposing myself as an impostor, a girl from Maundley playing dress up.

  I kept my wrap close around me, and my face pointed down, as we exited the castle. The heavy door guard with the thick mustache and the belt full of keys was there, but he took no notice of me. Would to goodness the king might be as unobservant as he.

  It was a cold, crisp night with a sky full of stars. We proceeded down the steps to the courtyard where the ceremonial guards still marched, their breath forming frosty puffs. Just beyond them, a pair of carriages stood waiting, their horses stamping their feet. At the sight of Princess Annalise, the guards ceased marching and stood at attention, bayonets up. Annalise pulled me closer to her, and we hurried on through that tunnel of men and weapons.

  “Evie?”

  I nearly tripped and fell. Annalise paused to locate the voice. But I had already found it. Not that I needed to look.

  Aidan stoo
d near the gate, close to where the carriages awaited us.

  “Evie!”

  My heart leaped into my throat. I tried to stuff it back down behind my ribs where it belonged. Him, here, now? Seeing me in these ridiculous clothes?

  Or would he perhaps not find them ridiculous?

  You don’t care, Evelyn Pomeroy, I told myself. You don’t care a whit, and stop thinking you do. Don’t look at his lips.

  Aidan waved his hat in the air and ran toward us. A chorus of shocked noises emerged from the ladies who were gathered behind us.

  So much for gowns and jewels fooling any man alive. What was he doing here?

  It’s your friend, Mistress, my leviathan said from the depths of my purse. The one you are fond of.

  Stop calling him that, I told him. I’m perfectly well aware who he is.

  Aidan stopped a few yards away from us. He stared at me, his face full of bewilderment. His gaze took in my powdered mound of hair, my altered figure, my clothes, everything. He looked down at himself, at his canvas workman’s trousers, his worn boots and faded shirt.

  Princess Annalise’s eyes missed nothing.

  “Ladies,” she said to her retinue without looking at them, “into the carriages with you, tout de suite! Mademoiselle Marie craves privacy to speak with her acquaintance.”

  “But … he called her ‘Evie,’ ” one of the young ladies protested.

  “Her middle name, naturally,” Annalise said. “We’ll be along momentarily.”

  She watched the others leave. My need for privacy did not, it seems, extend itself to her.

  “So, Evelyn,” she said aloud, when the other ladies had been tucked into equipages by the attending footmen, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend?”

  A stab of possessiveness startled me. I didn’t like her calling him that, nor looking at him that way. For the love of heaven, Evie, I scolded. She’s only toying with him. And why should you care? One kiss doesn’t mean you own him.

  Aidan cared. His jaw dropped. Remembering himself, he whipped off his hat and bowed.

  “My lady,” he began, his face flushed. Then he turned. “Mademoiselle … Marie?”

  “What brings you here, Mr. Moreau?” I said, finding my voice for the first time. “I had not expected to see you after this morning.”

  A silence hung in the air between us. Then the Man of Duty reasserted himself.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “I thought you might come here. The man at the door, he seemed to think a girl of your description might have passed this way. But how … ”

  “So charming!” Princess Annalise said, before I could think of an answer. “Your kind, gallant Mr. Moreau has spent the day searching for you, dear. Do you have a Christian name, Monsieur Moreau?”

  He looked at her feet. “Aidan, my lady.”

  “Aidan Moreau,” she repeated. “A handsome name. Tell me, Aidan Moreau, what it is you do. What is your occupation?”

  “He’s a stonemason,” I said.

  “Of course you are,” Annalise said, nodding. “I can see it in your build. The keen eye, the careful hands, the broad shoulders. But so young! Are you apprenticed?”

  “No, my lady,” Aidan said, holding himself a bit taller. “That is, I was, but I’ve completed my journeyman status, and now I’m searching for a post.”

  “Then you shall have one,” Annalise said, relinquishing my elbow and taking Aidan’s instead, which instantly annoyed me. Realizing it annoyed me annoyed me even more. She drew us close together. “Did you know, Evie dear, that King Leopold has promised me a wedding gift of a menagerie, to be built on the castle park?”

  I shook my head. No, I didn’t know. How on earth would I?

  “I adore animals,” she said, giving me a wink, “as you well know. And my husband-to-be has granted me that a building be built where I can take a stroll every day and visit with my beloved creatures. It will be the wonder of Chalcedon. Scientists and foreign visitors will come and marvel. An elegant building, large enough to house spacious pens for bears, and apes, and even tigers. And there will be whole indoor pools for sea creatures, tortoises, and fish … ”

  “Why were you looking for me?” I asked Aidan.

  Oh, I could read volumes of science books half written in Latin, but what I would give for the wisdom to read his face.

  “To make sure you were all right,” he said slowly. “Chalcedon is no place for a young lady to be alone. Especially at night.”

  Annalise patted Aidan’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you had such loyal friends, Evelyn?” she asked. “He must come help the workers with my royal menagerie. Mustn’t he?” She elbowed me but addressed Aidan. “I insist upon it. The work has already begun, and you will live in the lodges where the other workers reside.” She flashed her smile at both of us. “Then you can see more of Evelyn, when she is free.”

  Over in the carriages, I could see the faces of two of the princess’s young ladies flattened against the glass to watch us.

  “You will come, won’t you?” Annalise said. “Tomorrow morning, report for duty. I will send a message for the architects to expect you.”

  Aidan looked to me for a moment. I got the impression he was looking for my advice. I had none to offer him. I shrugged slightly.

  Aidan bowed his head. “And who, my lady, shall I say has sent me?”

  “Tell the foreman that Princess Annalise herself has sent you.”

  Aidan’s eyes grew wide. He bowed again. “You’re really all right then, Evie?”

  Princess Annalise laughed. “You can see that she is, Master Aidan.”

  Still he watched me. “You don’t need anything?”

  “Only just look at her! She lacks for nothing now.” Annalise gave my arm a squeeze.

  And still he waited for my reply. “It’s kind of you to ask, Aidan,” I said. I meant it. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  He nodded, once.

  “Congratulations on the post.” I tried to smile in a neighborly, friendly way. A prekissing, back-in-Maundley kind of way. “You’ll build a beautiful menagerie.”

  Trumpet fanfare broke out from the entryway to the castle, and a herald announced the coming of King Leopold, who appeared in the doorway.

  Aidan took another step back.

  “I guess I’ll be moving along, then,” he said. “Got to get home.”

  Home. “Are you staying with the Rumsens?” I asked him.

  “For tonight,” he said.

  “Please give my regards to Mrs. Rumsen,” I said. “And Dolores.”

  Aidan gave me a odd look. “If you say so,” he said. “Good-bye, Evie.”

  “Good-bye.”

  Chapter 28

  “Curried duck egg, mademoiselle?”

  Out of nowhere a silver tray of quivering half-eggs, artfully drizzled with a fragrant orange sauce, appeared almost under my nose. Not that I had much experience being waited upon, but this struck me as obtrusive.

  “Thank you,” I said to the server at the soiree in the meekest, weakest, most genteel voice I could produce. “I would love one.” He spooned one onto my plate. Its surface, I saw, was sprinkled with little dark, moist spheres. What could those little round things be? Capers?

  I smell fish eggs! said an eager little voice in my head, coming from the purse in my lap.

  Oog. I pushed away the curried duck egg sprinkled with caviar.

  “You sang like a nightingale, darling,” King Leopold told Princess Annalise. “Did she not, my friends? Does not my future queen have the voice of an angel?”

  “Of a Siren, even,” said a young lord, who struck me as rather too pleased with his russet-colored beard. A lady slapped him playfully with her napkin.

  “Right you are,” the king replied, raising his glass. “To Annalise, the enchanting lady from the sea whose beauty and singing have ensnared my heart completely.”

  “To Annalise,” they all replied, some more eagerly. Anna
lise favored them with a smile.

  Annalise’s radiant beauty drew all eyes in the room to her like fruit flies to a cut apple. She so far outshone all other ladies present that neither those ladies nor their husbands could take their eyes off her, ignoring the server and his platter of hors d’oeuvres. The ladies, in particular, could only soothe their bruised feelings by criticizing everyone else in the room—their clothes, their weight, their complexions, their gambling tendencies.

  I amused myself by diagnosing and cataloging the illnesses I imagined I saw in those at my immediate table. Lord Franklin, jaundice, by the look of his yellow, flaccid face. He could use a less rich diet and some sunshine. Count Andrin, from the burst vessels in his nose and cheeks, was visiting the wine tray far more than he should. Both the duchess and Lady Louise Sauvage, I was sure, could benefit from daily doses of prunes.

  Not everyone at my table was cold and haughty. I almost wished they were. To my immediate right sat a pale young courtier who’d been introduced as Anthony Boudreau. He sat there, I might add, at Princess Annalise’s insistence, and he’d spent the entire evening trying to draw me into conversation. He chewed with his mouth open.

  “Eggs, Princess?”

  Annalise glanced up at the server. Her fork clattered onto her plate. “Oh! I … I detest eggs.” She waved the platter away. “Their smell nauseates me. Away with them, quickly, please, if you would, my man.” She shot him an annoyed look. I’d hate to be him.

  The server, a tall, oily, spectacled man fairly bursting out of the seams of his starched shirt and stiff suit, bowed and disappeared on silent feet. Princess Annalise whipped out her fan and fluttered it before her face.

  “My dear,” King Leopold said with concern, “I never knew you were so affected by eggs. Are you quite well?”

  “Oh, it is nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, still fanning madly. She took a sip of wine from her glass, then placed it back down on the table, but missed, knocking it against her plate and spilling its contents all over the table linens.

  “Clumsy me!” She rose quickly.

  Servers appeared like rabbits popping out of holes and sponged away the spill. Annalise sat back down, fanning herself, fidgeting, and watching the room. At last she rose once more.