Murderous Matrimony (Renaissance Faire Mystery)

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Murderous Matrimony (Renaissance Faire Mystery) Page 13

by Lavene, Joyce


  The royal nanny brought Princess Pea into the sitting room for the king and queen to say their goodnights. She was a precious little thing who was partially named after me. I’d helped deliver her, after saving the queen’s life, but that was another story.

  “Goodnight, darling Pea.” The king lifted his daughter and kissed her. “Sleep well.”

  Pea was almost one year old. She struggled in her father’s arms, and said a few words that I couldn’t understand, but her proud parents didn’t care.

  Queen Olivia laughed, looking younger and so much happier since the princess was born. “She wants a story, Harry,” she told her husband. “We can carry on without you for a few minutes. We don’t want to disappoint Pea.”

  Harry also seemed much happier and, as far as I knew, had stayed faithful to his wife for the last year. It was a royal feat in itself.

  “Storytelling is one of my favorite times of day.” Kind Harold grinned as he got up from his chair to accompany the nanny and his daughter back to her room. “I shall return.”

  When he was gone, Mrs. Manhattan cleared her throat. “May I ask why you call your daughter Princess Pea? I mean, I get the princess part, but why Pea?”

  Livy smiled graciously. “She has such a long name—Henrietta Olivia Jane Jessica—we just decided to call her Pea for short. It’s much easier to say than all of that, don’t you think?”

  Mrs. Manhattan shrugged and looked bored.

  “Let me ask why you decided to name your son, Chase, after a bank.” Livy returned the favor.

  Mr. Manhattan glanced at his wife. “It seemed appropriate. I was a financial advisor for many years.”

  Queen Olivia nodded. “And your son, Morgan, is also named for a financial institution. How quaint.”

  I hoped this wasn’t going to get ugly. I knew from Chase’s tales of his family that they had always thought themselves a step or two above everyone else. It seemed as though his father going to prison for insider trading hadn’t changed that.

  They’d always felt Chase was too good to live in the Village also, and was definitely too good to be with me. I’d hoped their attitude would change over time, but time had passed, and they’d remained the same.

  Mrs. Manhattan’s smile was barely a slight upturn of her lips. “At least we don’t fool ourselves into thinking we’re actually a king and queen living in a real castle instead of one constructed from an old Air Force control tower.”

  Livy’s right eye twitched a little. “For all intents and purposes, we are a king and queen. Our daughter is a princess. Your son is our respected Bailiff, whom we love dearly.”

  “Our son,” Mr. Manhattan said, “is a highly trained, well educated, attorney who should be out making some real money instead of dressing up in weird clothes, and hanging out here researching patents in his spare time.”

  I felt a headache coming on. For the first time since Wanda died, I wished she’d come and interrupt everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why don’t we all have a drink,” Morgan suggested with a smile. “I know I could use a drink or ten.”

  “Good idea.” Chase got to his feet and rang for castle help.

  “We have champagne for an appropriate toast, Sir Bailiff,” the annoyed queen said.

  “I think we might need something now, your majesty.” Chase bowed elegantly to her.

  Livy giggled. Chase had always been one of her favorites. “I could never deny you anything. Order what you will.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Mr. Manhattan shot to his feet.

  Chase ordered a bottle of good whiskey when the castle servant appeared.

  “Make that two.” Morgan clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Do I say forsooth now?”

  “No,” Chase said. “Thank you, and a tip, works.”

  Mrs. Manhattan got to her feet too. Before she could say anything, King Harold rejoined us. He approved the whiskey, and asked for a third bottle.

  Good idea. We needed a roomful of drunken snobs to make the evening perfect.

  “Why don’t we go into dinner,” King Harold suggested. “I am looking to change up my portfolio. I was thinking you Manhattans might have some suggestions.”

  That seemed to mollify Chase’s family a little. We went into the elaborate dining room that could hold twenty people.

  “I’m thinking about an emergency coming up in time to save us from this mess,” Chase whispered as we walked together.

  “It’s going to be fine.” I squeezed his hand.

  He didn’t deserve to be stressed by this—not if I could help it.

  The first course was wonderful—a light pumpkin soup. The whiskey was poured, and everything seemed to go better.

  King Harold, Morgan, and Mr. Manhattan were deep into stocks and bonds, divestitures, and upgrading portfolios.

  That was good for them, but left Queen Olivia, me, Chase, and Mrs. Manhattan with nothing in common.

  “We’re so glad you had the extra time to be here for Chase and Jessie’s wedding.” Queen Olivia managed to say it in a polite, non-snarky voice.

  “Our family is so busy,” Mrs. Manhattan returned. “It’s difficult for us to get away.”

  “I can appreciate that,” the queen responded pleasantly. “There is so much to be overseen for the wedding. Catering for more than a thousand people is difficult.”

  “Do you have the menu yet?” Chase’s mother asked.

  “It’s not complete,” Queen Olivia admitted. “There was some hold up bringing in enough fruit, if you can believe it.”

  The first course was removed by quiet waiters dressed in castle finery. The second course, a shrimp salad, was served.

  This night is never going to be over. I sat still and held Chase’s hand under the white linen table cloth. Where was Wanda when I needed her? Why hadn’t any elephants or camels escaped?

  “Shrimp!” Mrs. Manhattan leapt to her feet, knocking over her crystal water glass, and sending the shrimp salad flying into the air.

  Chase was quick on his feet, catching the plate before it hit anything. He couldn’t stop the shrimp salad from flying all over me. I took several tiny shrimp out of my hair and off of my gown.

  “Oh no, Lady Jessie, what bad luck!” Livy called the waiters and one of her ladies in waiting. “Lady Leticia, would you help get Lady Jessie cleaned up?”

  I stared at Mrs. Manhattan. She couldn’t have done it on purpose, right? It would take perfect timing and responses. It was just an accident.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered and managed to continue smiling. “I’ll be right back.”

  A little shrimp salad wasn’t going to stop me from being at Chase’s side. I couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not. I told myself it didn’t matter. Once the wedding was over, I wouldn’t have to see Chase’s family again for a year. Chase flew home to Arizona once a year in the winter, when the Village was slow.

  I figured this visit, and the wedding, was his visit for the year.

  Lady Leticia was very nice and efficient in helping me get cleaned up. There was nothing I could do about the stain on my bodice. She loaned me a beautiful lace shawl that would cover it.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” I said to her before I went back.

  She curtsied, and her nineteen-year-old face went pink. “It was a pleasure to be of service, Lady Jessie.”

  I didn’t need her help finding my way back to the royal dining room. But before I reached that spot, the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Manhattan stalked out.

  They didn’t see me. I was behind one of the ornate pillars that pretended to hold up the roof of the castle.

  “This is a farce,” Mrs. Manhattan said loudly. “I won’t allow my son to get caught up with this gold-digger. We have to find a way to stop the wedding.”

  Mr. Manhattan shrugged in his thousand dollar suit. “That’s why we’re here early, right? I don’t think we’re off to a good start.”

  “He has to be made to see the truth be
hind all this,” she hissed. “Chase’s heart has always been too soft.”

  They were too busy hurrying out of the castle to say anything more. I didn’t want to hear anything else they had to say. That was plenty.

  Chase and Morgan came out of the dining room.

  “I don’t know what you expected,” Morgan drawled. “You knew they weren’t happy about this wedding.”

  “Why did they come?” Chase asked. “Why are you here?”

  “My only brother is marrying the girl of his dreams.” Morgan slapped him on the back. “Probably in tights. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  It occurred to me at that moment that Morgan and Wanda would have been a perfect match. They were both hateful people.

  “Go home and take them with you,” Chase said. “I invited you because I thought you’d be happy for me. I can see that’s not possible.”

  “They aren’t going anywhere. They want to stop the wedding. Watch out for them. They usually get what they want.”

  Morgan smiled, and left Chase standing there. I wasn’t sure if I should act as though I hadn’t heard what was said or tell him how crazy his family was.

  I decided to show my support.

  “Jessie. I was hoping you were still getting cleaned up. I guess dinner is over.”

  I put my arms around him. “What happened?”

  “They started talking about the wedding.” He shrugged. “That was it for my parents.”

  “I heard what they said—and what Morgan said. They can’t stop us now. We’re not little kids they can tell what to do.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But they can make us miserable.”

  We went back into the dining room, and made our apologies to the king and queen. They were surprisingly unaffected by Chase’s parents.

  “You know, the queen’s parents didn’t want us to marry either.” King Harold sipped his whiskey. “They thought I wasn’t good enough.”

  Queen Olivia smiled. “They didn’t know you like I did, Harry.”

  “Exactly my point,” the king said. “Chase, you and Jessie are going to make a great couple. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

  We smiled and agreed. As we were leaving the castle, Chase grinned. “Do you think he’s taking such an interest because we’re the stars of his wedding plans?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  We walked out into the dark Village. Looking at it from the height of the castle, it was picturesque. Hundreds of tiny cottages and shops gleaming with yellow light that spilled onto the cobblestones.

  “I love the Village,” I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder.

  “Me too. Especially when it’s quiet like this. I’m glad we live here.”

  As he kissed me, there was a heart pounding scream from somewhere in the night.

  “I suppose you have to go down there and see what’s wrong,” I said.

  “It’s my job.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  He bowed. “After you, my lady.”

  It was easy to figure out where the scream had come from. Shakespeare was crying and ranting outside the museum. He hadn’t quite made it to safety when Wanda had attacked him. He was covered with sheep dung and hay. It was smelly and messy, but he wasn’t hurt.

  “When is this madness going to stop?” He called out in his best oratorical voice. He turned full circle and faced the crowd that had gathered around him. “I beseech you, good neighbors—let us find a way to rid ourselves of this ghostly nuisance. We must take up pitchforks and clubs to beat her out of our lives.”

  Bart was there, still in his queen’s guard uniform. “I don’t think clubs and pitchforks will have much of an effect on a ghost.”

  “Maybe swords then,” Shakespeare recanted.

  “Not swords either.” Daisy, the sword maker, shook her head.

  “You have to fight ghosts with fire,” Fred the Red Dragon told them. “We need torches.”

  As everyone was agreeing with him, Chase stepped into the middle of the group. “No one is carrying around torches in the Village. Most of the shops and houses are made of wood. We’d go up in a big bonfire. I don’t think anyone wants that.”

  All of the residents hesitantly agreed.

  “But what should we do, Chase?” one of the elephant handlers asked. “Things are crazy with the ghost around here. We have to get rid of her.”

  They agreed enthusiastically with that.

  What they didn’t know was that Wanda was flying around between them, cackling at their anger. I guess I was the only one who could see her—and stupid enough to stand around. Anyone else was probably home cowering in their beds.

  “I can get rid of her.” Tilly Morgenstern from the tavern was suddenly there with Leo beside her.

  They made a scary couple in the dim light. A cool wind was blowing up from the ocean after the rain had passed. It blew her hair around, and made her look even more frightening.

  “What can you do?” Peter Greenwalt from Peter’s Pub asked.

  “I can banish her from this place,” Tilly promised. “For a price.”

  The shopkeepers, craftsmen, and other residents, exchanged glances. If there was money involved with it, they were less likely to look at it favorably.

  “How much?” Roger Trent asked. The light from above gleamed on his shaved head.

  “Not much.” Tilly’s face was sly. “One percent of all your profits for the next year. One percent. Wanda Le Fey will never bother you again.”

  “We don’t work that way here,” Chase said. “You’d have to clear that with Adventureland. I don’t think they’d appreciate a fee for ghost removal.”

  “She can’t do that.” Wanda appeared next to me. “No one can stop me from being here. This is my home.”

  I glanced around. No one was near me, so I whispered, “They don’t know that. You’ve made their lives miserable. They just want to get rid of you.”

  She looked a little afraid. “Tell them, Jessie. Madame Lucinda said only you could get rid of me.”

  “You heard that did you?”

  “I couldn’t hear her say it, but I’ve heard you tell Chase.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not speaking up for you. I don’t care if she banishes you forever.”

  “But she can’t, right?” Wanda put her blue face right in front of mine.

  It was weird looking through her to see the people I knew on the other side. “I don’t know. Maybe Madame Lucinda is wrong. I think Tilly may be a witch. In that case, maybe she knows a spell or incantation that can disperse you.”

  She wrapped her arms around me. “No! You can’t let her do that. This is all I have to keep me in one piece. Without it, I’d be gone for good.”

  People were beginning to look at me oddly. I didn’t attempt to reassure Wanda.

  “I don’t think you want to get between me and what I want, Bailiff.” Tilly’s tone was threatening. “I’m not a nice person. Don’t cross me.”

  Chase looked down at her with a mixture of sympathy and courage in his face. “We aren’t taking you up on this offer. If you continue trying to disrupt the Village, I’ll have you removed. That’s the way it works around here.”

  I saw Leo’s hands become fists. Big, hammy, hurtful fists. His dead-looking face was turned toward Chase.

  Tilly slowly put her hand on her assistant’s arm, and his fists relaxed until his arms were hanging slack at his sides again.

  “I can see why they have you here to keep the peace.” She slowly smiled at Chase. “I won’t oppose you on this—not now anyway. Let Wanda keep disrupting your lives. You’ll come to me in time.”

  I felt like I blinked, and she was gone. The big man was gone with her. I knew it wasn’t possible. It was a trick like other things in the Village.

  Madame Lucinda limped out of her gold and purple tent. It reminded me of Glinda, the good witch, showing up after the bad witch was dead.

  “Good people of Renaissance Fai
re Village,” she addressed the crowd. “Do not believe for one minute that the woman who was here can save you from this apparition. There is only one among us who can do that.”

  Please don’t say it’s me.

  “Lady Jessie Morton.”

  Rats.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I kind of backed up. There were images of pitchforks and torches from Frankenstein movies in my head. It’s not a good thing to tell angry people that you have the answer to their problem when you don’t want to use it.

  “Hey, look. You all know how Wanda and I felt about each other when she was alive. She wasn’t my biggest fan, and I sure wouldn’t keep her around if I could do something about it.”

  “She was the worst nurse in the world,” the blacksmith, Hans Von Rupp said, spitting on the ground.

  This led to everyone else agreeing by spitting. It was a common way to let people know what you were thinking at the Village. Not exactly hygienic, but it happened.

  “We all know that.” I laughed nervously. “Madame Lucinda says a sorcerer is coming who can take Wanda away. Anyone know a sorcerer?”

  One of the new King’s Tarts, a pretty girl who always wore red, stuck her hand up. “My boyfriend is a sorcerer of the First Kingdom. Maybe he could take care of it.”

  Chase was at my side, probably more for moral support than because he was afraid someone would hurt me. But I was glad he was there anyway.

  “That’s what I was talking about,” he whispered. “I’m fairly sure there are no real sorcerers.”

  “I don’t know anymore,” I admitted. “Probably not her boyfriend, but maybe someone else.”

  It seemed everyone knew a sorcerer. I collected their names and emails before the crowd dispersed. Peter Greenwalt invited everyone over to his pub for a free drink.

  I wanted to go home and forget this night. Chase agreed, and we hurried back to the Dungeon.

  Wanda was sitting in the middle of our bed when we got back. She was sobbing, and holding her head in her hands. Literally. I guess it was a new trick.

 

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