He covered her hand on his arm with his own to keep her from shaking herself loose and led her across the room to where a servant distributed cups of ale. Mercifully, the second bell sounded, calling everyone to take their places for dinner. Baxter escorted her to the head table. The king took his seat in the center and Princess Merry positioned herself on his left. He led Fanny to the seat on the king’s right. He had no right to sit at the head table himself, but he secured a seat at the table nearest to her position. He was close enough to see the panic in her eyes and could only hope she wouldn’t turn and run from the room. Her terror mounted when an elderly lord, one Baxter didn’t recognize, took the seat to her right, with the younger Lord Foxworth beside him at the end of the head table.
An attractive young woman sat down on his right side and did her best to engage his attention. Baxter struggled to keep up a pleasant, lightly flirtatious conversation with his neighbor, while keeping an eye and ear on Fanny at the same time.
The Princess’s conversation seemed to remain on general introductions while the servants brought in the food and began to pass it out. Fanny spoke a few quiet words with her father, then the two men on the other side of her each greeted her. Baxter held his breath for a moment when the older of the two asked her why he hadn’t seen her before.
“Has your father been hiding you from us? He’s soon to lose one of his treasures.” The man glanced toward Princess Merry. “Does he fear losing both?”
Fanny hesitated for a moment. “It is no fault of my father’s,” she said. “I have not been ready for this heretofore. I’ve been involved in my studies.”
“Ah, an educated young lady,” the older man said. “I’ve always said it would benefit us all to have ladies better educated. They must run a household and keep the accounts.”
“It has always seemed dangerous to me,” Foxworth said. “The man is the lord of the household. Ladies should not believe they’re the equal of their lords.”
It took an effort for Baxter to restrain himself from saying something.
“But surely,” Fanny said, “the more a lady knows, the more she’ll realize the natural superiority of her lord.”
Baxter caught her eye, smiled and raised his glass in salute. Her words made the older lord smile and quieted the other one.
“So, what do you study, Princess?” the older man asked.
Baxter drew in a sharp breath, but he had to respond to a question from the woman next to him lest he seem unbearably rude. “Aye, my father was Lord Marko,” he told her. “My older brother is the present lord of the land.”
He turned again in time to hear Fanny saying, “…numbers are quite fascinating, but I prefer to read about and study plants. There are so many things to learn from plants.” She looked up and saw him watching her. She turned back to the older man. “And yourself, my lord? What is your favorite area of study?”
Baxter silently applauded her. He had to respond to the woman beside him again and for a time he let his attention center on her since Princess Fanny appeared to be handling herself well enough. The young lady on his right was sweetly engaging and not hard on the eyes, though not so attractive as the princess. He relaxed and began to enjoy the wine, which was potent, the food, which was delicious, and the company, which was pleasant. It was all too pleasant, and he should have known better than to relax quite so much as he did.
But most of the meal went quite smoothly. Each time he glanced toward Fanny and the two men beside her, all seemed to be well. They talked, laughed, and seemed to be getting along well enough. When the disaster happened, there wasn’t much he could have done to prevent it in any case.
In fact, he didn’t even hear it happen. He just heard the appalled gasps of the king, Merry, and Lord Foxworth. He turned from something the young woman beside him was saying to turn toward the head table. The older lord closed his eyes and looked horribly pained. Fanny looked puzzled, Foxworth angry, and the king and Merry astonished and disbelieving.
Silence spread around the room as people began to realize something interesting had happened at the head table. After a moment, Princess Merry sighed dramatically and leaned across her father to face the old lord.
“Please forgive my sister, Lord Drake,” she said. “We fear she spends too much time with her head in the clouds or wherever it is. She means no harm, but she has much to learn yet about thinking before she speaks.”
Fanny looked more puzzled yet, and completely shattered. “I do not need you to make apologies for me, sister,” she said. “I can do so myself should it be called for.” She turned a pleading glance on Baxter for a moment. Her father grabbed her arm, pulled her toward him, and whispered something in her ear. Her expression changed into a horrified frown, then she turned to the older man. “Lord Drake, I apologize for saying anything that would cause you pain. Please attribute it to ignorance rather than to ill will and forgive my stupidity.” Her voice wobbled on the last few words. She turned toward her family. “Since I cannot be trusted to guard my words, I beg you’ll excuse me before I do more harm.”
She turned and all but ran out of the room.
Baxter leaned toward the young woman next to him and excused himself hastily, while rising to his feet. When he reached the corridor outside the great hall, he saw no sign of Princess Fanny. Torches lit the hallway, although a window at the far end showed twilight hadn’t yet faded into darkness.
He headed toward the stairs up to the princess’s quarters, but hesitated on the first step. Instinct told him she wouldn’t have gone there. She would seek solace in the place she felt most comfortable.
The layout of the castle still confused him, so he had to find a servant to direct him toward the gardens. He lit a candle-lantern and brought it with him. The day had been warm but was now cooling down to a pleasant temperature as the daylight faded.
He picked his way through a kitchen herb garden, a formal hedge planting, and an extensive series of flowerbeds before he found her. She sat on a large, flat stone, staring out over a narrow creek that threaded through the grounds.
“I suppose you’ve come to drag me back in and make me apologize to everyone,” she said, without turning to look at him.
“Nay.” He walked over to the rock. “You made the only apology you needed to make.”
“And to the only person I didn’t intentionally offend,” she said, on a soft sigh.
“He was the only one to whom you owed an apology. I’m proud of you for realizing that.”
“Are you going to take me in and spank me again for making a scene?”
“Do you think you deserve it?”
“Nay, I do not.”
He was pleased to hear a spark of spirit reasserting itself on the words.
“I had no intent to offend Lord Drake,” she continued. “How should I have known that his lady wife was a madwoman who’d killed his only child and then herself? No one saw fit to warn me.” Anger gradually replaced the dismay in her tone as she continued. “My father made no effort to smooth it all over, but assumed, as always, that I was deliberately offensive. And my sister…”
“Did all she could to make you look even worse, and herself better by comparison,” he finished for her. “I suspect that is an old pattern between the two of you. Her ‘help’ is carefully calculated to make you look the worse for it.”
For the first time she turned to look at him. Twilight had by now deepened into near-full darkness. The lantern he still held provided the only light, so he doubted she could see more of him than he could see of her. He could just barely discern the expression on her shadowed face.
“You see now why it is hopeless,” she said. “I regret you’ll not get the reward you sought, but it will not be possible.”
“Because your family, knowing or unknowingly conspire to keep you as an embarrassment?” He laughed lightly and set the lantern down on the ground near the rock. “May I join you?” he asked, nodding toward the empty space beside her.
“I
f you will.”
He hoisted himself up on the rock. “It is not at all so hopeless as you suppose.”
She shook her head. “Do you think you can change my family that much?”
“Nay. But I can teach you how to cope with it. Perhaps even to turn their words and actions back upon themselves to show them for what they truly are.”
“I do not understand.” She had picked up a fallen branch and was systematically stripping, rolling, and folding the leaves she pulled off and then shredding them into small pieces.
“In there, earlier, your sister asked Drake for pardon, saying something like, ‘My sister is not noted for taking care with her words, my lord. It is a limitation that seems born in her, so I hope you’ll forgive her for it.’ And you immediately got angry and said, ‘I do not need you to make excuses for me. I can make my own apologies.’ Truth, but not well put. Consider what it might have been like had you remained calm and said to her, ‘Not so, sister. I care much for my words and regret it deeply when anything I say hurts or insults others.’ Say that very sweetly to her. You may rely on it. She and many others will understand both your meanings.”
She paused in the act of pulling another leaf off the branch. “That is clever.” She sighed. “But I haven’t the wit to come up with such answers.”
“Most certainly you do.”
“Nay. I cannot think so clearly at those times.”
“You can learn to do so,” he said. “With practice. Consider this: your father introduces you to some minor lord and comments, ‘Fanny is my younger daughter. She has not the polish of Merry, but she is learning.’ What say you?”
She considered it for a moment. “Now that Master Baxter is here to provide a sterling example of good behavior, I am indeed learning.”
He broke into laughter. “Perfect. Oh, excellent indeed. Never say you haven’t the wit for it.”
“But it is one thing to think of such words here with you in the garden, and another to do so when the words are needed.”
“Aye,” he admitted. “But with practice, you can learn.”
He stood up and turned to her. “Now, let’s go back inside. Tomorrow we’ll begin your lessons in earnest, and they’ll include learning to control your temper, so you can better defend yourself when others are belittling you.”
“I would rather not go in just yet,” she said.
“But you will. I say it is time to go in.”
“I need time to think.”
“You may do so in your own quarters. Now come.”
She looked stubborn and didn’t move.
“If you wish me to carry you in and up to your quarters, I’ll do so,” he said. “Is that your wish?”
Her breath caught. “Nay.”
“Then come now.”
She sighed again and stood beside him. The scent from her hair mingled with the fragrance of some flower from the garden in an enticing mix. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead he took her arm again to lead her back into the castle.
“You did not answer my question,” she said to him. “Will you punish me for leaving dinner tonight?”
“Nay, not this time. But from this moment on, you’re not permitted to leave the castle for any reason, save with my permission. Tomorrow we begin the lessons in coping with your family and your position. If you cooperate and make progress, I’ll allow you some time to work in the garden. If you disobey or do not cooperate, you will be punished.”
“I still do not think it’s right,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Chapter 7
The next day was a trial to both of them. He started the day by bringing Lady Syndal in to work with Fanny on deportment and also to fill her in on the guests currently in the castle as well as those due to arrive soon. Afterward, he and Lady Syndal played out various scenarios with her, where she needed to converse with a guest, while either her sister or father made cutting comments. Unfortunately the princess had little success in dealing with the verbal barbs. She was easily angered, and when her temper roused, she would say only what came first to her mind. It was rarely helpful.
After the fourth or fifth time, she stamped her foot and yelled. “I cannot do this. I can’t. It’s pointless to try. Leave me be.” She tried to run from the room.
Baxter caught and held her. “Lady Syndal, I believe we’re all in need of some refreshment. Would you see about having something brought up to us?”
The lady understood what he asked and left the room.
He went to Fanny and caught her arm. “You are not trying,” he said. “I expect more cooperation.”
“I am!” she protested. “I’m trying. I just cannot do this.”
“You can do it. If you want to spend some time in your garden, you will have to do better. Try harder. You must learn to control your temper. You’ll do better if you don’t get so angry. “
“You expect too much. I cannot do it. I cannot stop my anger.”
“You can. Just stop and think before you say anything. Take a deep breath and count to ten.”
“‘It will not work.”
“It will if you’ll try.”
A knock on the door preceded Lady Syndal’s return. Two servants followed her, carrying trays laden with bread, slices of meat, fruit, and tankards of ale. They spent some time eating, then resumed the lessons.
Despite his urging, the afternoon’s lessons went little better than the morning’s had. Fanny tried once or twice to hang onto her temper, but for the most part she didn’t seem to make any effort at it.
In one scenario, Lady Syndal pretended to be Sir James Devenish, a famously lecherous old knight. In the role, the lady, put her hand on Fanny’s thigh, as Sir James had been known to do on many an occasion when seated next to an attractive young lady. The first time, Fanny just nudged it off. The second time, she turned and said, very loudly, “Take your hand off my leg. It is unseemly.”
In the role of her father, Baxter said, “Fanny, behave. It is even less seemly that you should make a scene. Behave as suits a lady.”
“Is it right for a lady to make no protest when a man touches her in an unseemly fashion?”
“A lady knows how to handle such situations without making a scene about it.”
She drew a deep breath and glared at him. “Then it is clear I am no true lady.” She turned away and tried to leave the room.
“Stay,” Baxter ordered. “You will not leave.” He abandoned the voice he’d used to mimic her father. “Come and sit down. Lady Syndal—had you been in this situation, what would you have done?”
“I’d have quietly moved his hand off my thigh the first time,” she said. “When he did it again, I’d have nudged or kicked him under the table. Did that not work, I would whisper in his ear that did he not remove his hand, I would be forced to do something that might embarrass him. If he still attempted to feel me, I should look under the table, and let everyone know something brushed my leg. I’d say I feared a mouse or rat. In truth, all would know what had happened. He would not do it again at that meal.”
Fanny sighed. “I cannot think of doing these things at the time.”
“You can if you will just remain calm and think, instead of immediately getting angry or trying to do something.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” she protested.
“Next time, when something happens that upsets you, I want you to sit still and say nothing for an entire minute,” he said. “Count out the sixty seconds under your breath.”
She said nothing but frowned and shrugged.
The next time they played out a scene of a young man harassing her, Baxter waited for her to hesitate and think. It didn’t happen. She immediately grew angry and told him to “take yourself away and leave me in peace.”
“No,” Baxter reminded her. “Calmly, Princess. Think what you can say to him. Comment on his sterling wit being so overwhelming you can scarce bear its brilliance. Ask him why he bel
ieves such words should impress you. Tell him your poor mind is simply not equal to the depth of his understanding. Anything of that sort will tell him what you truly think of his foolishness.”
“I cannot think of those things,” she insisted.
They made little real progress that afternoon. Though they continued to replay various scenarios that upset her, she could not seem to remember to stay calm and count instead of shouting or saying something she should not.
By dinnertime, they’d achieved almost nothing. All three of them were annoyed and frustrated by the lack of progress. Baxter did not want to risk taking her to dinner in public, so he had a dinner for the two of them brought up, while Lady Syndal went down to the state meal. Their private dinner was a quiet, tense time with neither of them eating more than necessary to keep them going. Baxter spent the time considering how to get through to her.
When they finished he escorted her to her own quarters and set a guard at the locked door to prevent her from leaving without his permission.
As he laid in bed that evening, he had an idea. It seemed rather drastic to him, perhaps even somewhat cruel, yet it might have an effect where his words did not. It came to him as he considered that Princess Fanny had grown up with no guidance or discipline, so it was much harder for her as she tried to learn it now. He remembered how his father had enforced discipline on his headstrong brood when he’d been a youngster. The strap had been painful and effective, though it had only been applied a few times. It took only a few spankings. After those, the mere threat of another produced the desired results.
Chapter 8
The next morning, he dug out his heaviest leather belt, brought it with him to the room where he would work with Fanny, and warned Lady Syndal of what he planned. The lady was initially shocked and dismayed. As he explained his reasoning to her, she came to accept it. “Aye, perhaps ‘twill work,” she agreed. “I hope you’ll not need to be unduly harsh with her.”
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