The Piano Girl - Part One (Counterfeit Princess Series)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “I am Nora. Dhis is my husband, Gaden,” the woman of the household said. She nodded to the gray-haired man seated kitty-corner to her at the far end of the table. “Dhese are our daughders: Ida…”

  A frizzy-haired brunette shrugged.

  “Marda.”

  Marda, who had the neck of a swan, smiled without blinking.

  “And . . . Hild-a.”

  The prettiest of the three, Hilda’s long, raven-black hair rippled below her side of the table.

  Nora turned back to me. “I’ve forgodden your name.”

  “Dora. I mean . . . Dory.”

  “Felix and Dory.” Nora nodded.

  No prayer was said. Three covered dishes sat in the middle of the table, and everyone waited expectantly while Gaden lifted the first lid. Mashed potatoes with several pats of butter were unveiled. I swallowed. He plopped a large scoop onto Nora’s plate and his own before passing the dish left, to Ida. She took a scoopful and then passed it to Marda. Wide-eyed, I watched the bowl. I hadn’t had real food since the night of my birthday party. Felix carefully took one-third of the remaining mashed potatoes. I swallowed hungrily. Hilda took three-quarters of the remaining one-half cup of mashed potatoes.

  When I received the bowl, only a smidgen remained. I dumped the bowl upside down over my plate. The remnant fell out with a plop.

  Gaden passed the bowl of steamed green peas. Again, our hosts took far too large of servings. The bowl of peas was greatly reduced before it was passed to Felix. He regarded me across the table and divided it as fairly as he could before passing the bowl to his left. Hilda looked at me, took a large spoonful, and ladled it onto her plate before passing me the remaining dish.

  “I dhoughd Mudder said do vash up for dinner.” Tilting her head, Hilda stared at me.

  “I did.” I peered into the bowl and counted eight green peas. Again, I turned the bowl over and dumped the peas onto my plate. One rolled off, and I promptly grabbed it and popped it into my mouth. I glanced up to see the hint of a smile on Felix’s face.

  I felt embarrassed by my action. Mother would have scolded me. Felix’s cheeks appeared inverted as if he was biting the inside of his mouth.

  “Vhad beaudiful hair you have.” Marda smiled at me.

  “Dhank you.” I met her kind gaze.

  “Did you vash?” Hilda glared at me.

  I glared back. Never had a commoner dared to speak to me in such a belittling manner. Hilda had pretty skin and large brown eyes. She was wearing a very nice shirt for a commoner, and I strongly disliked her.

  “Yes, I vashed,” I said. “Go look in your mudder’s vashbasin and you’ll see nice brown vater, proving I vashed.” I huffed and glanced at Felix.

  He slightly shook his head. What did he expect? I was hungry, kidnapped, a foreigner in my own future country, and my future subjects were selfish and disrespectful. More than I had ever been.

  Gaden lifted the last lid. Meat and gravy. Oh, my mouth watered. I swallowed several times as the silver bowl made its way around the table. When it reached Felix, he glanced at the meager portion on my plate, and I knew he thought about reaching across the table to ladle a spoonful onto my plate. But he was a gentleman, and he knew that reaching was impolite. He took one-third of the meager portion and passed it to Hilda.

  Hilda.

  Leaning forward, I wondered what huge hips she hid beneath the table. Her selfish appetite would make her a very large woman someday… I prayed. She ladled two heaping spoonfuls onto her plate and passed the remainder to me. Her eyes remained locked on mine throughout the exchange, and her mouth twisted into a smile.

  When I peered into the bowl, I saw only my reflection. My lungs filled with air.

  “Horse.” My voice was hoarse as I addressed Felix. “Vee don’d have do sday here, Fauder.” I spoke slowly. “Vee can dake dee horse vid us and go.”

  “Dee horse is in my shed, and you are ad my dable,” Gaden, the man of the house, said.

  “Led me undersdand someding.” I again spoke slowly so they could understand my odd accent. “Vee draded you a horse for food and bed.” I waited.

  Gaden nodded.

  I showed him my plate. “Eighd peas, one bide of podado, and a spod of gravy.” I put down my plate and reached for Hilda’s. “Vee drade, or vee leave vid dee horse.”

  “Hilda!” Rising to his feet, Gaden pointed for her to pass me her plate.

  ΦΦΦ

  Heaven was a full tummy, I mused. The full moon peeked through the parted curtains into my room. After the scene with Hilda, I was afraid to sleep in the house by myself and asked Felix to stand guard in the hallway outside my room.

  He lifted one brow. “They will think it odd. If I sleep in the wagon, they will not know that I am not in our room.”

  “Hilda does not like me.” Instead of empathy in his pale gray eyes, I saw humor. Maybe due to Hilda, Felix was beginning to like me. Maybe he was even able to get past his first impression of me and how I’d behaved in the back of the wagon. Not that it mattered.

  “Do you think she will try to get revenge on me tonight?” I whispered, and noted that there was no lock on the door.

  “I would think if Hilda is hungry, she will know which cupboards to raid.”

  His answer did not comfort me.

  “I will watch your window tonight,” Felix said. “If you become afraid, set your candle on the sill, and I suppose”—he yawned—“I can sleep in the hall.”

  As I lay in bed, I reminded myself that Felix was equal to fifty men. If I did have a problem with Hilda, he would come to my rescue. In the meantime, I glanced at the unlocked door. I would slide the highboy dresser in front of it.

  In my nightgown, I scurried across the room, and using all my might, I shimmied the dresser directly in front of the door. If Hilda had any odd ideas of revenge, this would stop her. Then I set the unlit candle on the windowsill and parted the curtains wider. There, I already felt better.

  I relaxed deep into the comfortable straw mattress and gave in to sleep.

  A soft rapping on the door woke me. I sat up. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared across the room.

  “Yes.” Enough yellow moonlight shone through the window that I was able to see the door open slightly before it bumped against the dresser.

  “Dory?” a female voice whispered. I could not positively identify if it was Hilda. “Vhy is dee dresser in frond of dee door?”

  It was Hilda.

  “Felix,” she said, “I vas vondering if your daughder vould care do have desserd vidh me?”

  Flipping back the covers, I tiptoed across the room to where Felix should have been sleeping if he were there. “It is late, Hilda. Go back to bed,” I said in a deep, gruff voice. I peered out the window in the direction of the wagon, but in the moonlit gray surroundings, I could not make out what was wagon and what were the outbuildings.

  “Dory, I vould like do apologize. I made us some vunderful cake.”

  I flitted across the room to my bed. “I’m sorry, Hilda, I am very dired. Perhaps we could share some in dee morning.”

  “If you vould open dee door a liddle vays, I have made a liddle plade for you. Mudder said dhad you are leaving early, and I vould like do apologize.”

  Should I believe her? Could she hear the loud pounding of my heart as it echoed in the room, bouncing off the dresser to the window? I had never been so scared in all my life.

  I crept closer to the door and, listening closely, sensed that there was more than just Hilda waiting on the other side. “Dank you, Hilda, for your kind offer, but I am nod hungry righd now. If you vould leave id on the hallvay dable, I vill enjoy id in dee morning.”

  “Does your fadher vand id, Dory?”

  I was certain the last voice was not Hilda’s. It was either Ida’s or Marda’s. Perhaps both sisters had joined her. I tiptoed to the window. I struck a match and was trembling so much that I had to hold my wrist steady with my other hand as I lit the candle. I returned to Felix’s s
ide of the room and deeply cleared my throat.

  “No, thank you. Go to bed, girls.”

  I sat on Felix’s bed, pulling my knees to my chest. By the flicker of candlelight, I watched as the door thudded repeatedly against the dresser. A rapping sound behind me on the window alarmed me even more. They’ve surrounded me was my first thought, and then I peered closer. Through the glass, I saw Felix.

  He was here to rescue me! I reminded myself that he was equal to fifty men, and my heart leaped. I rushed to the window, released the latch, and attempted to slide it open, but it had been painted in place and would not budge. Behind me, the dresser scraped across the floor. I blew out the candle right before the trio of sisters burst into the room. And, in the light from the hallway, I saw the sheen of scissors.

  ‡

  Chapter Four

  They were going to either stab me or cut off my hair.

  Frantic, I threw myself on Felix’s bed and rolled myself up in the quilt, covering my head. Like a blind mummy, I ran about the room. In the dark, they chased after me, cursing. One of them wrapped her arms about my knees and tackled me. Like a roll of carpet, I fell to the floor with a loud thud. I felt three bodies on top of me as they tried to unroll me from the quilt.

  “Ged her oud!”

  “Ged her hair!”

  And then for some reason beyond my comprehension, the room stilled. Beneath the bodies and the quilt, I couldn’t see that Felix had arrived, but I heard him.

  “Get off my daughter, or it is your hair you will lose tonight.”

  “Vee can dake him,” one of the sisters mumbled.

  “Which one of you said that?” Felix demanded.

  I knew it was Hilda.

  No one spoke, but I felt one body rise from on top of me, and then another. One of the sisters was afraid, like me. She remained seated on my stomach.

  “Oh, no,” she whimpered. “Oh, no, no, no.” And then she rose also.

  There was a skirmish, and madness. Groans as bodies were flung about the room. In a wild frenzy, I unrolled myself from the quilt and found my footing.

  A kerosene lamp lit the room. I blinked. It took several blinks before I fully comprehended the odd scene before me. The sisters’ heads were bunched together like three cherries on one stem. Felix had wound all their hair into one rope, which he held securely in his left hand. With his right, he extended the scissors to me.

  I took the long steel scissors, meant more for swaths of fabric than for a woman’s hair, and stared at the three sets of eyes glaring at me. Hilda panted, and though she was contorted into a backward C, her hands curved as if to claw me. Though her sisters were her allies, they were not really enemies to me. Yet their hair was entwined with hers.

  “Fauder, I desire to cud only Hilda’s hair.” I dared to voice my thought aloud.

  “These girls were all willing to cut yours.” Felix’s eyes were keen in the lantern light.

  Ida’s and Marda’s eyes pleaded with me, while Hilda’s dared.

  I’d never held the fate of a woman’s beauty, maybe a woman’s soul.

  “Hilda,” I whispered. “I desire do forgive you, bud your eyes are haughdy. Almosd daring me do cud off your beaudiful hair.”

  “Hilda!” Ida pleaded. “For once… please.”

  “She von’d do id.” Hilda sounded remarkably calm.

  How did she know? My hand that held out the scissors was visibly shaking. I searched Felix’s face. With a slight nod, he motioned for me to draw closer. Holding out the scissors, I willed my body to move. I inched them near Felix’s grip on the trio’s hair.

  “Marda,” I whispered, peering into her pale face, “vhad do you dhink I should do? Should I redurn a vrong for a vrong?”

  Her face bunched up. “Yes,” she whimpered and began to cry.

  “You mean no, you dummy!” Hilda rolled her eyes.

  Marda’s tears drained the fight out of me. “I only vand do cud Hilda’s hair.” I looked at Felix.

  “On your knees,” he ordered and yanked a bit as all three sisters dropped to their knees, facing me. Felix held the rope of hair above their heads, and again I was reminded of three cherries on the same stem.

  In my night shift, I wondered if they could see perhaps a little too much of me. I retrieved the quilt from the floor and wrapped it about myself. With a slight lift of my chin, I returned to stand in front of them, the quilt trailing behind.

  “Apologize!” Felix ordered.

  “I’m very sorry dhad we addacked you,” Marda said, and burst forth into another creek of tears.

  “I’m sorry doo. You didn’d deserve id,” Ida said.

  Hilda shook her head, bunching her mouth together.

  Felix frowned and let go of their rope of hair. “Marda, go get your father. Ida, stay here.” He retained his grip on Hilda’s hair.

  I sat down on the side of my bed. It all felt too familiar. It reminded me of the time Father had to reprimand one of our cooks for stealing food. Father had threatened the removal of the cook’s thumb if he would not tell the truth. When one of the guards brought forth a hatchet, the cook finally told Father everything.

  Wearing a dark house robe, Gaden appeared in the doorway. He eyed the dresser near the door and regarded Felix with furrowed brows.

  “Your daughters attempted to cut my daughter’s hair,” Felix said. “Ida and Marda have both apologized, but Hilda has not. Because she has not apologized, I will now cut her hair, unless, of course, you would like us to leave. But if we leave now, I will take the horse.”

  The gray-haired man sighed heavily. “Cud her hair.”

  Rising from the side of the bed, I handed Felix the scissors. As he snipped, Hilda’s eyes were black as hate. My avenger did not cut kindly. He cut close to her scalp and left no hair longer than two inches. I swallowed and looked at the floor. I had always heard that a woman’s hair was her mane of glory, and I’d now witnessed it.

  When Hilda beheld herself in the round mirror, she wailed, moaned, and eventually sobbed. Trembling, I hid behind Felix.

  Our visitors finally left. Felix set the scissors on the nightstand on his side of the room. He proceeded to slide the dresser in front of the door and turn down the lantern until the wick was snuffed out. “I will sleep on this side of the room tonight, daughter,” he said.

  “Yes, Father.” I curled up into a ball on my bed and stared about the dark room.

  “I am sorry, Dory, I underestimated her. I was almost too late.” Felix’s voice interrupted our silence.

  Tears drenched my pillow. A sniffle escaped me, and then another. I smothered my sobs in my pillow. Never had I yearned so much for my mother’s soft voice and quiet spirit. I felt abandoned by my parents and alone. The thought silenced my tears, and I stared at the ceiling overhead.

  “Everything’s going to be all right. I am here now. Sleep, Princess.” Felix’s voice was kind. “You will like Prince Wron; he is a good man. All this will not be for naught.”

  ΦΦΦ

  We rose early the next morning. After Nora served us porridge with currants, we departed without seeing anyone else in the household. We rode through the picturesque little hamlet in silence. Now that Hilda was behind me, I found the memory of sitting at the table while she had three bites of dinner upon her plate an amusing lesson. I hoped she’d learned something.

  “What did you learn from last night?” Felix asked.

  I questioned if he would reprimand me. At the table, I’d been smart in a dumb sort of way.

  “Um . . . I was not a good guest. And Hilda, well, Gaden and Nora served themselves first, and it’s been my upbringing that guests should always be served first.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Felix gave me time to think.

  “But was I rude? That’s what you are asking.” I frowned. “Trading a horse for a scant amount of food and lodging for one night is not a fair trade.”

  “Did you learn anything from last night?” Felix flicked the reins.

  “
Which part—dinner or later?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Obviously, not what you wanted me to.” I rubbed my forehead with both hands.

  “I believe that learning the language of your people and being able to stand up and speak out when things aren’t fair are important qualities for a future queen,” Felix said.

  My heart warmed. His compliment was so dear to me that I told myself I could live on it for the rest of the journey if I had to.

  “You are bright, Dory, just as your father said. When you are queen, choose your battles carefully.”

  His praise softened me. He was not responsible for the situation. Someday I would speak with my father, and I would tell him all of the things he should have done differently. But number one, he should have told me I was leaving and to whom I was betrothed. My parents should have told me. How I longed for that good-bye and all the endearments that should have been said.

  ΦΦΦ

  For the next five days, we traveled and camped alongside the road. While I slept in the bed of the wagon with the chickens, Felix slept on the ground beneath us. For breakfast each morning and dinner each night, Felix cooked scrambled eggs in a cast-iron pan over a fire. Though I longed for the pleasures of home, I tried not to complain. I hadn’t bathed in over a week. I wanted to see a mirror, yet at the same time I was afraid of what I’d see… probably a blemish.

  “Tonight will be the last home we stay at before the road ends. Tomorrow, we’ll ride horseback. Your father will not travel through Merner. It would prove too dangerous with a large group.”

  “Tonight, we’ll stay in Merner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does tonight’s family know who I am?”

  “Only one person knows that you are a royal pianist traveling in disguise. They know nothing more. I want you to use the accent, exactly like the night at Hilda’s. The Merner region is hostile to the merger. It is important that no suspicions are raised by your Blue Sky accent.”