by Abby Ayles
And yet she now saw that if she carried on fighting their wishes, they would just push further and further into the absurd. From boys of her age and status, to older men, and now they were pursuing a prince. Like men were some flavour of sweet that if she just tried the right one she would be seduced forever and be content to commit herself to one.
There would be no getting through to them, of course, but this stood to be her most humiliating public appearance to date.
Chapter 10
Naturally, it turned out that the dinner with the Princess was the one Antoinette had referred to. It would be a little awkward to be seen there after rejecting the original offer, but the awkwardness was much improved by the feeling of comfort she had as she saw her dear friend. At least a familiar face would make the whole ordeal more bearable, whatever her mother did.
Fortunately for Lucy, the Prince was not there. Unfortunately for her, she still had a haircut reminiscent of a choir boy's. In whatever company, that haircut was atrocious, and she was looking for any excuse to ruffle it back into something a bit more rugged. Hopefully without insulting her mother's tastes too much.
Even though it was her holiday home, it seemed that the Princess would not simply greet her guests and spend time relaxing with them before dinner. Instead, she would apparently make an entrance when the meal was served, and no sooner. This left Lucy with the distinct impression that being a princess was never too casual wherever in the world you happened to come from. But she was enjoying being able to spend some time relaxing with her friend before dinner.
“I look like a little boy,” Lucy remarked, as she and Antoinette touched up their makeup before the Princess arrived and the meal began.
“It is not so bad,” Antoinette insisted, but from her tone of voice Lucy could tell she was not sure of it either.
“No, be honest, it looks awful, doesn't it?” Lucy said, turning and making eye contact with Antoinette.
Having nowhere to hide, her friend shrugged and smiled. “It is unusual. I am not sure what to make of it.”
Lucy groaned. “Is it better or worse than before?”
Antoinette shrugged again. “Worse, I suppose... but I am still not used to how you look with short hair either way,” she added hastily.
Lucy nodded. “My mother insisted on a European cut. I doubt any lady wears her hair like this anywhere, let alone somewhere as fashionable as Europe.”
“They'll call anything European if they think it will help it sell. Some German things and some French things are very in fashion right now,” Antoinette replied.
“I just don't understand any of this,” Lucy said with a slight sigh.
“You're still adapting from boarding school,” Antoinette said softly, “just give it time and you will know everything about what you ought to do, where you need to be seen, how you should dress...”
Lucy looked into the mirror. She wasn't sure she wanted to know about all that. She barely recognized the woman in the reflection as herself. It seemed like only a few days ago she was still a little girl in school, and now she was dressed to show off her womanly figure, decked in heavy jewels, and sporting a ridiculous haircut. She ruffled her hair up a little, looking in the mirror to try and get some toughness back into it. She didn't want to look like a woman. She didn't want to be a woman. She wasn't really ready to stop being a girl just yet.
As she sat down at the table, she noticed that the Prince was not the only person who would not be attending. Duke Perry was also missing in action, as were Thomas and Julia. The dinner would only be herself, her parents, Antoinette, and the Princess. She could already see the frustration on her mother's face. But this little setback would not make her parents give up. She could also see the determination etched into her father's wrinkles. He was going to make the most of this opportunity and try and elevate Lucy in the world, whatever the cost.
The arrival of the Princess was announced, and Lucy turned to Antoinette for a hint on how to act. Antoinette stood, and so Lucy copied her. Antoinette understood these things properly. Lord and Lady Fitzgerald were prone to overacting and Lucy was concerned she would seem pretentious, or to be grovelling, if she followed their lead.
As the Princess walked in, she smiled and Lucy copied Antoinette's curtsy. Lucy could already tell that the Princess's smiling face was another social mask, designed to somehow manipulate and control people. But she wasn't sure how.
Princess Elisaveta of Germany was an enormous woman, easily over six foot four, yet very slender and graceful, like some sort of a magical creature or a fantastical being. Her hair was so long and abundant that even collected into loops about her head, it was obvious how much of it she had. This, combined with her gracefulness and beauty, made Lucy more than a little jealous. Not to mention suspicious. After all, as Lord Jones had said, nobody was perfect. Yet this woman seemed to be the very picture of a perfect fairytale princess. It could not be right. It had to all be constructed, somehow...
However over dinner, Lucy softened a little. She was forced to conclude that Her Majesty Elisaveta was not such a terrible person after all. She always seemed to have a serene expression on her face, but besides that she was as pleasant as could be. She listened intently, asked you relevant questions, and offered support, empathy, and advice as needed.
Lucy had wanted to hate her. She had wanted to hate her for everything she represented. And she could not. Because the Princess was not a person you could hate. She was the sort of person that made it feel like a genuine privilege to be allowed to dine with her. So much so, that rather than strive to get home as soon as possible after dinner ended, Lucy almost leaped at the opportunity to walk with the Princess in the gardens, to aid digestion.
Although night had fallen and the gardens ought to be dark, Lucy was surprised to find the path was strategically illuminated by carefully positioned oil lamps, not dissimilar to the ones used on the main streets. She marvelled not only that someone had the wealth to sustain such an extravagant habit of walking in the garden at night, but also that someone had possessed the intellect to devise a way of making it easy and pleasant.
“It is lovely out here,” Lucy remarked. “Our gardens are pretty, but Your Highness's are something marvellous.”
The Princess smiled sweetly. “Thank you. Although all credit naturally does go to the housekeeper and gardener. We are barely here, but they keep up appearance, according to the expectations.”
Lucy nodded. “I understand what that is like...”
“I like your hair,” Princess Elisaveta said with earnestness, as though completely and instantly understanding Lucy's remark.
“You are just saying so because you ought to. Because you were raised to be polite and kind to those less fortunate,” Lucy replied. Catching herself too late, she stumbled over an apology. “I am sorry, Your Highness, I do not know why I said that, I...” she trailed off, unsure what to say next.
“It is perfectly alright to feel cynical,” the Princess said after waiting for Lucy to finish. “All of us have our doubts. And the haircut is not your first choice. But I do like it. It would be nicer longer, if you don't mind me saying so, but you have very nice hair nonetheless.”
Lucy paused. There was something familiar about all this. “How does Your Highness always know the right thing to say?” she asked.
Princess Elisaveta nodded. “I have been taught from a young age how to say things properly. I speak my mind, like any other person, but I do so carefully, to make sure nobody is hurt by my words.”
“I wish I could do that, Your Highness,” Lucy replied. “I always seem to end up saying what other people want me to say, and usually not saying it in the right way at all.”
“Did you go to boarding school?” Princess Elisaveta suddenly asked.
Lucy was a little taken aback. “Well, yes, Your Highness, I did. How did Your Highness know?”
“I have also been to boarding schools of a sort. It is a matter of course for many members of the r
oyal family in Germany to spend an amount of time in finishing schools. They are wonderful places for teaching you manners, and how to socialize, but they also often teach you to obey, rather than to act for your own needs,” Princess Elisaveta explained.
Lucy’s heart leap into her throat. It was not often that she met anyone she could sympathize with. “Then Your Highness understands,” she said.
The Princess nodded. “It takes some time in the wider world to get an improved perspective, to determine who one is, and what one's identity and personality ought to be. This does not mean you need to rebel, or that you need to be excessively pleasant. Rather, that you need to work out who you are in your heart, and develop that person. Because she did not develop at school.”
Lucy was going to reply when she heard some footsteps at the top of the garden. She knew exactly who it would be and a shiver of dread ran down her spine. She was enjoying opening up to this new friend, and now her mother was there to ruin it.
“Ah, there you are, Lucy, I have been looking everywhere for you,” her mother said. Her eyes were almost immediately drawn to the Princess, ruining any pretence that it was Lucy who Lady Fitzgerald was truly concerned about. “Your Highness,” she said with a deep curtsy. “May I say it is an absolute honour to be invited to dinner with you.”
Princess Elisaveta nodded. “I am glad you were able to make it. My friend Duke Perry has said many kind things about your family.”
“Oh, His Grace is such a flatterer. We really are nobodies, Your Highness,” Lady Fitzgerald said, blushing.
Lucy was not quite so capable of taking this all in her stride. All she felt was pure, unadulterated shame. She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and keep curling up tighter and tighter until she vanished. She glanced up at Princess Elisaveta, who seemed to look back down at her with an understanding and reassuring gaze. Her brown eyes were warm and comforting.
“A lovely evening for a garden walk, is it not, Your Highness?” Lady Fitzgerald continued.
“Yes, it is a wonderful evening. I have heard that England is quite cold, but it is not so bad,” Princess Elisaveta said with a polite smile.
Lady Fitzgerald smiled, looking a little pleased, as though she had managed to make the weather nice all of her own accord. “Yes, we are in the height of summer, so it can get much colder, but tonight is pleasant, Your Highness.”
“That said,” Princess Elisaveta added, “I do believe I have forgotten my shawl. It may be warmer than I anticipated, but one still ought to cover one's shoulders in this breeze.”
Lady Fitzgerald nodded in earnest agreement. “I shall see if I can find a servant to bring Your Highness one.”
“Thank you very much. Please ask for the blue one,” Princess Elisaveta said.
“I shall, Your Highness,” Lady Fitzgerald said with a curtsy. She was obviously making an effort not to run all the way back into the house, she was so eager to help.
Normally Lucy would find that endearing in her mother. No matter the reason, she was always ready to help. Whether it was to ensure her daughter enjoyed improved marriage prospects, or to please a friend, Lady Fitzgerald was always so quick to try and please everyone. But today was a little different. As with Lord Jones, Lucy found Princess Elisaveta to be a wonderful, admirable woman. And her mother's display was neither wonderful nor admirable. It was embarrassing. Lucy was not prepared to handle this sort of situation. All she wanted was to be left in peace.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lucy said once her mother had vanished inside. “I must admit I was mortified.”
Princess Elisaveta shook her head softly. “Why?”
“Because my mother is simply trying to get close to Your Highness to improve my marriage prospects,” Lucy confessed.
“Ah, I see. I suppose that your mother did wish to meet my brother?” she asked with a knowing smile.
Lucy nodded. “She does, Your Highness. Him or another of Your Highnesses' royal friends. She has got a bit ahead of herself.”
Princess Elisaveta did not seem angry, though Lucy could detect more than a little hurt in her eyes. “Everyone wishes to spend more time with royalty, I suppose,” she mused.
“For what it is worth, I like Your Highness for who Your Highness is,” Lucy replied.
“It is very difficult to tell, I am afraid, when someone says something like that in earnest,” Princess Elisaveta said, sounding a little downtrodden. Even when in pain, she was graceful, calm, and collected.
“I suppose I could tell Your Highness something which would reassure Your Highness,” Lucy said.
Princess Elisaveta made eye contact with her. “Do go on.”
“Your Highness may consider it very rude,” Lucy said, blushing.
“Please,” Princess Elisaveta said, smiling a little.
“When I was about to meet Your Highness, I had a certain impression of royalty. I believed Your Highness's class were the thing of fairy tales,” Lucy confessed. “So I thought Your Highness would fall short of my expectations, and be an egoistic, overrated woman who believed herself better than others whilst possessing objectively worse traits, all because she wears a crown.”
Princess Elisaveta was completely silent. For a moment, Lucy was afraid she had deeply insulted her new friend. She wondered what happened when you insulted a princess. Were you sent to prison? Executed? Or just socially ostracised forever?
But then she saw Princess Elisaveta's shoulders shake slightly, and her lips pressed firmly together as she repressed a laugh. Her face was red and a tear escaped her eye. She drew a deep breath to steady herself. “I beg your pardon, Miss Fitzgerald, but your honesty is both refreshing and amusing.”
“I am sorry if I insulted Your Highness at all,” Lucy said, looking at some little white flowers in the hedge so as to avoid making eye contact.
“Not at all,” Princess Elisaveta replied. “No, we are used to people having such an impression of us. The way people of different classes see one another is... complex, is it not? But usually these are matters discussed behind closed doors, not to the individual's face.”
“I suppose I do not care that much what people think of me anymore, Your Highness,” Lucy admitted.
“That is not a bad thing to feel,” Princess Elisaveta said. “How would you like to return tomorrow for lunch?”
Chapter 11
The trip home from Princess Elisaveta's summer home was pretty straightforward for Lucy. Everyone was tired from an evening of eating and socializing, and her mother was too busy raving about the luxury of the Princess's house to cause Lucy much trouble.
“It was beautiful, like something out of a painting,” Lady Fitzgerald said with a soft sigh. “I would love to live somewhere like that.”
“Our house isn't much different,” Lord Fitzgerald replied, sounding a little indignant.
“But the details are what truly make it,” Lady Fitzgerald insisted. “I am sure our Lucy would be glad to live in a house so wonderfully kept.”
But by the time she said this, they were home. Lucy yawned loudly. “I suppose I ought to get to bed. I need my rest,” she said with a smile as she dismounted from the coach and quickly began to make her way upstairs before her mother could continue talking about this Prince she ought to marry.
She was in bed and asleep within minutes of getting home.
It was the next morning that presented a challenge. She could not avoid her mother forever, especially not at breakfast. She had been hoping that Lady Fitzgerald would have forgotten the matter, or at least set it aside until they knew more about the situation. No such luck.
“I see you and the Princess got along very well,” said Lady Fitzgerald with a twinkle in her eye.
Lucy nodded and smiled. “Yes, it turns out we have much in common. We're a similar age, and we both have been to boarding schools.”
“That is nice, it is wonderful to see that the class barrier is not quite so great as you seemed to think it was,” her mother continued.
/> “But it is nevertheless present,” Lucy replied, “and I do not mean to say that it was not difficult to talk to her. Merely that she was not as hard to relate to as I had originally assumed.”
“But do you not think that perhaps it would not be so difficult to get truly close to her if you needed to?” Lady Fitzgerald insisted.
“It is not about needing to, it is about wanting to. And I do want to get to know her, but not for the reasons you intend to.” She knew exactly what her mother wanted, and she would not play along with it.
Lady Fitzgerald shook her head. “But it is important to consider your future. Your prospects. I will not be here forever to guide you. And marrying a prince would be—”
“I do not intend to marry a prince,” Lucy interrupted. “Any prince who would take a lowly lady such as myself is not a prince one ought to be marrying. And besides, I do not intend on using Her Highness Elisaveta. She is my friend, not a step on a ladder.”
“Lucy, you must use these connections to their full potential,” her mother said, her voice heavy with frustration. “As I have said, you have as good a chance as any other. And as I have also said, I will not be here forever, so you must make the most of my help whilst you can.”
“But I do not even know this prince, mother,” Lucy protested.
“And yet you judge him so harshly. Just as you judged Her Highness Elisaveta. And you turned out to like her, did you not?”
Lucy nodded. “I suppose I did judge her quickly. But is it not also fast judgement to decide one ought to marry a man based on his title alone?”
“I believe that optimistic judgement opens up opportunities, whereas pessimistic judgement closes doors,” her mother replied.