by Minda Webber
“You truly have a lovely home,” she remarked.
He glanced up at her, taking his attention off his food. “How fortunate that you appreciate my home, since you dislike me, my surname and my children. We must toast this fortunate turn of events!” So saying, he lifted his glass. “To my loving bride, who is overcome by good fortune. To Rae, with her gentle, demure and kind nature, who will always strive to make my life a veritable feast. My little Rae of sunshine.”
Though she was not usually astute at discerning sarcastic comments, Rae realized her husband was mocking her. She narrowed her eyes, responding as she lifted her glass. “How thoughtful of you. Shall I propose one to you as well?” Not giving him time to answer, she continued with a sweet smile plastered upon her face. “To my very thoughtful husband, who has made my welcome here one I shall never forget. To his patient understanding of a new bride’s need to feel welcome inside a strange home. To his gallantry in making his wife feel special on her one and only wedding day, giving constant attention and compliments.”
Fen frowned, giving a signal to the butler, and the footmen and butler departed quietly. He had married a too-proud and disagreeable woman, and she had the gall to suggest he was the one at fault? He vented his shock: “You are taking me to task over my performance as a groom?”
Staring into her husband’s eyes, Rae decided that honesty was the best policy. It was a tactic she rarely used with males, with the exception of her brothers and the vicar’s brother, Timothy, but she was going to tell the whole truth and nothing but. “Yes. You have made it plain to your staff and to those who attended our wedding that you are not happy with your choice of bride. It’s both ungentlemanly and ungallant of you. People will criticize and revile me, the bride whose groom was not besotted but instead felt she was beneath his notice. I shall be a figure of pity among society and servants alike. I hesitate to remark on it, but this will not do your consequence any good; nor your children’s.”
His outrage faded somewhat. She did have a valid point, he ceded, regarding her meaningfully over the rim of his wineglass. “I must say, in my own defense, that it has been a rather unsettling day.”
“For us all.”
“Touché.” He set his glass back down. “It appears that I must give an apology for my ungallant behavior.”
Rae nodded her head regally. At least the big churl could manage a sincere apology. “Thank you. I would hate the world to know that we are at drawn daggers.”
“No. I would not like the Freiburgs of Prussian nobility to know, either. Most especially my mother.”
“Freiburgs? Did I meet them at the wedding? Oh, wait. Are they that horrid grave-robbing family?” Had she married into a clan of corpse-coppers?
A smile stole over his face. “No, dear. That’s the Frankensteins. A Freiburg is more important in Prussian society—as my mother’s side of the family is.”
“How important?” Rae asked, the status of his familial connections making her feel a bit better.
His reply was much less friendly, as he took her interest as avarice. “My mother is a relation to the King of Norway, distantly.”
Rae smiled happily, oblivious to her husband’s irritation. At least her children would have royal blood. Thus, when she traveled back home to Cornwall to visit, she could truthfully boast of her connections. Also, since she was now part of a royal family, she should certainly be dressing better. “How lovely! I shall need at least ten new morning dresses, eight new ball gowns, two dozen new slippers and sets of jewelry. I simply love sapphires and emeralds. They go so well with my coloring.”
Finally, she would be able to indulge herself in buying the many things she wanted for herself and others; they would be de rigeur for a lady of her rank. Faye would look divine in an emerald choker, and Taylor needed a whole new wardrobe, as she was usually tearing and ripping her gowns. Even her rapscallion brothers could do with a few new fable books. She thought of a few she’d seen with gilded pages.
Fen sat back heavily in his chair. But his ever-darkening mood went unnoticed by Rae, and she made a mistake many new brides make: asking for the moon before knowing if their husband could reach it. Swiftly, for she was fleeter of mouth than she was of foot, and faster even to join the two, Rae listed her demands, concluding with a brand-new carriage in white pulled by a team of ivory horses.
“Rae?” Fen interrupted.
Hearing more than a simple discordant note in his voice, she stopped in the middle of asking if she could have a muff lined by white ermine fur. “Yes?”
“I am not King Midas.”
“Well, who said you were? You’re Baron Schortz.”
Angry and exasperated, he replied, “I am saying I am not made of money. Though I am well-off, I do not intend to spend it all on a vain little wife who asks for everything but gives nothing in return.”
“Asking for everything? I think not. Why, I have asked for very little!” Rae cried. “And how can you deny me my right to attire myself as benefits a member of royalty? I just want to look my part, to do honor to you and our connections! Also, I have everything to give, if I so choose. My…loveliness, my glorious hair and perfect complexion. My—”
“Your complexion will not warm my children’s hearts; nor will your glorious hair make my nights any less lonely. And as for your beauty, it is a fleeting thing. In the December of our lives, it will be faded away, and what will I have but an empty-headed wife? No, I fear your beauty is a curse rather than a blessing.”
Stunned, Rae sat back in her chair. The baron couldn’t mean what he’d said! But he certainly looked as if he did. “Of course my beauty is a blessing,” she argued. “Why, my mother has harped upon it for years. Even my father, who is a truly clever man, said that my beauty would make my fortune. And it has. And others’ fortunes, too. Now that I’m a member of royalty, I feel sure we can help my sisters find suitable husbands. Of course, Taylor and Faye both need dowries so that they may marry well….” While she wouldn’t be happy in her marriage, she would see to it that her sisters were.
“You are not a member of royalty,” Fen snapped. “Your father is a baron, and your mother a vicar’s daughter. Just because you married me does not make you a member of the royal house of Norway. And I’m sorry for your sisters, but it is your father’s duty to provide for them.”
Rae sniffled. “How can you be so cruel—and on our wedding night? So penny-pinching. All I need are a few trifles. And worse, you deny my sisters a chance at wedded bliss!”
“Trifles? Why, your shopping list would bankrupt a small country,” Fen retorted. “And if your sisters eye marriages like ours, then I imagine they are better off unwed.” He couldn’t believe that she’d had the nerve to ask him for dowries for her two sisters when he had already sent a handsome sum to her father for the dubious privilege of her hand.
“You sound like Greta!” Rae snapped, remembering all the times her parents and sister had argued along similar lines. “And my father, at times.”
“He must be a wise man. Wiser than you, at any rate. Your sister Greta must take after him,” he growled.
At first Rae didn’t take his meaning, but when she did, she picked up a sauerbraten and threw it. Sadly, she missed.
Fen leapt to his feet, hissing, and reached his bride in a few long strides. He stood proudly, hands on hips as he glowered at her. “Rae, I’ve had about all I can take from you for the day. I suggest you go to your room and prepare for bed.”
Chest heaving, eyes flashing, she glared at him. Knowing the best defense was a good offense, she pointed at the mess she’d made and said, “This is all your fault! I have never thrown food in my life. Except at my brothers,” she amended. “I threw peas at them once. But then they had thrown Taylor’s mud pies at me. You are a maddening man, and you are driving me to act like a veritable hoyden. I hope you are happy.” She did not mention his filthy little beasts, sensing instinctively that the man was at the end of his tether. Then she stormed to the door.<
br />
His voice caused her to stop, her heart beating rapidly. “I shall be up directly,” he said.
She spun around and stared at him, blushing. Noting her discomfiture, he proceeded to taunt her. “Are you turning missish on me? This is our wedding night. What did you expect—your gold-digging would come without price?”
She managed an answer. “I assumed that, since you aren’t that fond of me, you would forgo the bedding.”
“I am not fond of you; it’s true. Nor are my children. That matters not a whit to you, of course, but it matters a great deal to me. They are a blessing to me, and are the very best of me and my late wife, Fiona. She was all that was good and kind and lovely.”
“If they are the best of you, I most certainly do not wish to see the worst,” Rae snapped. For some reason, his devotion to his dead wife rankled. She herself was lovely and good, or could be at times. And she was kind of heart whenever she thought of it.
Fen’s scowl grew. “Well, you are correct in one thing. Unhappily, this is my wedding night—and farther from my first wedding night than I can describe. No, I do not want to bed you. Not on this night or any other. You disgust me.” And so saying, he turned and went back to his seat.
Rae gasped, both hurt and relieved. She wasn’t ready for any wifely duty, though she at least wanted Fen to want it. She certainly wasn’t ready to become in the family way, not when they already had so many little monsters running hither and yon throughout the castle. But how dare he say that she disgusted him? She marched away, her eyes brimming with tears.
As Rae hurried up the stairs, her thoughts were dark. She was married to an ogre, with a houseful of beastly children. He didn’t want her in his bed? Well, he certainly did nothing for her womanly affections, either.
As she entered her room, it was to find one of Fen’s twins sitting upon the pale pink French settee before the fireplace. Fen’s eldest son was there as well. Both eyed her arrival with a less than friendly demeanor. Rae halted abruptly, staring at them. “What do I have to do to get some privacy in my own bedchamber?” she asked.
“It’s not yours. It’s my father’s,” Nap responded.
Narrowing her eyes, Rae glowered at him. Yet Fen’s eldest son did not seem impressed, as her suitors had been, falling all over themselves to make apologies. For that reason she had to say, “I beg to differ. This is now my room, and I do not want bratty children to enter without my express permission.”
While Nap sneered, Ernst scowled. The younger boy said, “Come on, Nap. Forget trying to warn her. She wants no favors from us.”
As the two boys leapt up from the settee, Rae’s curiosity got the better of her. My, she thought, I must be more like Greta than I realized. “Wait! What warnings?” Ignoring the smug expression upon the elder boy’s face, she stood, tapping her foot impatiently. Nap had the look of his father, though his jaw wasn’t as square and his eyes were a lighter gray. Yes, his father’s eyes were prettier. “Well? I’m waiting.”
Nap glanced at his brother, then nodded.
“It’s about Papa,” Ernst began. “It’s a secret. A big and bad secret.”
Rae almost laughed. What could be worse than a churl with seven children, not to mention a pinchpenny? If she didn’t have new gowns soon, she would have to begin wearing things a third or fourth time. If she did that, how could she ever impress Prussian society?
Ernst began to pace. Truly a virtuoso actor for his age, his faux nervousness was very convincing. “I don’t know, Nap, perhaps she’d be better off not knowing.”
Nap shrugged his shoulders, speculating, “She does look a bit delicate. Still, it’s something a wife should know.”
“Well, if you think so…”
“Oh stop this dilly-dallying!” Rae snapped. “Despite my delicate and lovely features, I’ve got a strong constitution. Now, either tell me this big bad secret or leave.”
Her words spurred Ernst on. “Well, you know how huge my papa is?” he asked.
She nodded. Of course she did. She was married to the big lummox.
“Well, my father’s an ogre.”
“I already know that!” She almost laughed, though it wasn’t funny. “He refuses to buy me a single new gown!”
Nap snorted, a harsh guttural sound. “That’s not an ogre. That’s just plain sensible. Why should he spend his coin on you?” His expression darkened.
Ernst interrupted before any real bickering commenced, since both his brother and his new stepmother were glaring as if they’d like to tear each other’s heads off. “My papa is a real ogre. The kind that drinks Englishmen’s blood and grinds their bones for bread. But he got rid of the sign in front of the castle.”
“What sign?”
“‘Beware of ogres,’” Ernst explained. “He burned it last week. He didn’t want you to know.”
She blinked. “That’s preposterous. An ogre? Besides, vampires drink blood, not ogres.”
“Prussian ogres do. They look human, but on nights of the full moon they turn into hideous ogres who thirst for human blood. Of course, I must admit it’s only the blood of the English.” Ernst clasped his hands, the picture of youthful innocence and concern.
Rae, however, didn’t buy it for a moment; she had used that look upon her father a time or two herself. “You are a liar, and a bad one at that.”
Nap shrugged his shoulders, shoving his brother toward the door. “Why waste our breath. She’s not worthy. Let her find out on her own, as she will when Father starts with the fee, fi, fo-ing.”
Rae opened the door for the two, glaring at them warily. “You’re telling fibs.”
Nap shook his head. “Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
After the obnoxious pair left, Rae said, “A blessing? These brats? Ha! More like the devil’s own brood. Heaven has nothing to do with them.”
She slumped against the closed door and locked it, but as she did, she heard one boy remark rather loudly, “Who knows, maybe Papa will start grinding the bones of Englishwomen as well. It’d be no skin off my back. I don’t like her, and I don’t want her for a stepmother.”
Rae leaned closer to the door, trying hard to hear the fading voices. “We can only hope,” the other boy replied.
Rae pressed her forehead against the door. The wretched little cretins were lying. They had to be, she hoped. But if they weren’t, then, horror of horrors, she really was married to an ogre. She would write Greta at once and apprise her of the unhealthy alliance. Of anyone, Greta would know how a girl could protect herself against a Prussian ogre.
She remained awake that night, long after the castle had settled down to rest, wide-eyed and suspicious of every crackling sound. The only positive thing was that at least she’d been spared those humiliating wifely duties. Oh, she did hope those two beastly boys had been lying. And if so, well, her revenge against the duo would make the wicked stepmother of Cinderella look like a sweet fairy princess.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Halls Have Eyes (Beady Little Ones)
The mirror on the wall lay across from where Rae awoke. The first thing she did was take a look at her reflection, and then she frowned. She was slightly pale and felt misused. Nonetheless, she had made her bed and now she must lie in it, either with or without her big ogre of a husband.
In a matter of minutes, a maid brought her morning tea. As the shy servant helped her dress, Rae reflected upon her wedding night, which had been a disaster. There was no sugar-coating that fact. She, who had been admired and cosseted from birth, had been totally ignored by her husband. It was a situation she would not—could not— allow to continue, and thus she quickly instructed her maid to fetch the most becoming and newest of her gowns. It was a soft white, with deep twining leaves and dainty pink rosebuds decorating the hem in a wide swath. Tiny seed pearls with pink rosettes striped the bodice and sleeves.
Staring into the mirror, Rae knew she looked absolutely lovely. Only a blind man would not notice her in this outfit; and h
er husband was many things, but blind was not among them. Ogre or not, she would win his favor. Then she could get him to open his tight fists and see that her sisters had dowries. Otherwise, what was the point of being Baroness Schortz?
Once downstairs, Rae soon discovered a disconcerting fact: the master of the house had already eaten and was out riding across his estate. Thus, she ate her breakfast alone and in a fit of pique. Next, she wandered the castle feeling horribly neglected. Even the house keeper, who was older than dirt, had no time for her. But then, Rae mused glumly, that was not surprising. If a groom basically ignored his bride and treated her with contempt, the servants would follow suit.
As she explored her new home, in the distance Rae could hear the raucous sounds of merrymaking. It was the little Schortzes. Their noises were welcome, however. She wisely ventured far away from the maddening cries of the little monsters, and from the relentless patter of their stampeding feet.
Coming to a large room done in pale shades of blue, she noted that the furniture was mainly French and more delicate of nature. A small mahogany desk adorned the room, and across from it was a large and full gold-framed mirror. “This must be Fiona’s sitting room,” Rae guessed, and she walked over to the ornate mirror and studied her reflection.
Her hair was perfect.
Her face was perfect.
Her new gown was also perfection.
Everything about her was picture-perfect. Rae smiled in spite of her dismal mood.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, am I not fairest of them all?” she asked, feeling foolish for talking to the inanimate object but wishing someone would converse with her. To her surprise, the mirror answered.
“Our mother was prettier than you.”
Rae gaped, staring hard into the mirror until her dazed mind recognized a nasty snicker. For a moment she had actually thought she was in one of her sister’s stories, and that the mirror had spoken.