As I gazed beyond the feeble light of our lantern, moonlit trees emerged from the dark. After a time, I could make out some details of the underbrush, like silver ferns and coltsfoot. I caught a movement in the shadows as some animal scurried into the forest.
I did not notice that Ella had moved to sit beside me until she put her head on my shoulder. I stiffened, resisting the impulse to shrug and pull away. I knew that she meant the gesture as an apology, and that I should accept it, even if her touch was unwelcome. I stroked her cheek lightly, and Ella sighed. Charlotte and Matilda were asleep, leaning into each other, swaying with the movement of the carriage. I remained as still as I could, and Ella was soon asleep too.
22
Glass Slippers
Everyone knows the story about Prince Henry’s hunt for the beautiful girl he met at the ball, how he searched from house to house, asking every unmarried woman in five parishes to try on the glass slippers. That is a pretty tale. As usual, the truth is more mundane.
The prince easily discovered Ella’s identity. After all, her godmother had been a host of the ball, and the lord of Cothay Manor knew Ella by sight. A simple inquiry would have turned up the information necessary for Prince Henry to gallop with his retinue to Aviceford Manor on a fine Sunday morning.
The men clattered thunderously into the courtyard, shouting and waving banners as though they were headed to battle, not to woo a naive young lady with golden hair. We all rushed to the windows, startled by the commotion. The prince leapt from his white stallion and strode to the entrance, not waiting for his escort. With a squeal of delight, Ella ran to greet him. I did not admonish or call her back.
It is true that the prince brought the glass slippers, for by the time I reached the foyer, Ella was already dancing in circles, her little feet flashing in the sunlight that poured from the open door. Her suitor watched with a besotted smile on his rosy lips.
My mouth was dry and my head ached. I curtsied low, remembering the lie I had told the night before. The prince did not acknowledge me.
Charlotte encircled my waist with her arm, and Matilda held on to my elbow. They both smiled at the scene before us. When Ella finished twirling, the prince dropped to his knees and took both of her hands in his. Members of his retinue crowded the door, casting shadows over the smiling couple.
“My lovely Cinderella,” the prince said. “Come back to court with me and be my bride!”
Ella smiled happily. “Will you love me always?”
“I will love you until the stars in the sky no longer shine!”
“Will I have my own private chambers?” she asked shyly.
“You may have anything your heart desires!”
“Then my heart desires to go with you!”
The prince leapt to his feet and lifted Ella high into the air; he spun her around as though she weighed no more than a doll. While her peculiar laugh echoed through the foyer, her sparkling shoes fell off and struck the floor with two resounding bangs. After setting down the object of his admiration, the prince turned to me, beaming, no trace of recollection or resentment on his face.
“You must be Cinderella’s stepmother.”
Charlotte and Matilda’s grips both tightened at the mention of Cinderella; I was not sure if they were cringing or amused.
I curtsied again, saying, “Indeed, Your Highness, I am Agnes Vis-de-Loup, lady of Aviceford Manor.” Charlotte and Matilda curtsied with me.
The prince took a silk kerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly. “I assume that you do not object to my proposal to make Cinderella my wife?”
I hesitated for a moment, and Charlotte jostled me, mortified. Prince Henry did not seem to notice.
“Of course I do not object, Your Highness. We are honored. Have you spoken with her godmother, Abbess Elfilda?”
The prince shrugged. “She wants me to petition my father to give the abbey the rest of Ellismere Island. He will give it to me as a wedding gift.”
Perhaps he was not so dull after all.
The prince took Ella’s hand again. “We must go immediately. I shall send a messenger ahead to begin preparations for the wedding. I shall leave men here to gather your effects.”
“Immediately?” Ella’s smile disappeared. “Not immediately!”
“Why, yes, immediately! Why not? Do you not wish to be wed as soon as possible?”
“Of course . . .” Ella coughed, and when she began again, her voice quavered. “Can Mother and my sisters come too?” She looked at him beseechingly.
“They can come for the wedding, of course, but not now. We must be on our way.”
“Will you not at least stay for dinner, Your Highness?” I asked.
“No! We have a full day of riding ahead of us and another tomorrow. We cannot waste more time!”
“Can I not stay here and follow later, with my family?” Ella pleaded.
“Do you not wish to come with me?”
Ella’s violet eyes shifted uncertainly from the prince to where we stood, and then she nodded mutely.
“Then make haste! Tell your chambermaid to fetch what you require for the journey, and let us be on our way!”
Gisla had already left to make arrangements.
“Preparations will be complete soon, Your Highness. Please, enjoy a cup of wine in the hall while Ella changes her gown for riding.”
“I shall wait outside.” The prince kissed Ella’s fingertips. “Be swift, my angel!” He strode out the door, and his escort fell in line behind him.
“Go, Ella, quickly! Do not keep the prince waiting!”
Ella threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. “I do not want to leave!”
Charlotte pulled her arm from my waist to make room for Ella.
“I thought that you wanted to marry the prince!”
“I do!” Ella’s voice was muffled against my gown.
“Well, it cannot be both. If you are to be his wife, you must do as he bids.”
I felt her nod. “But I cannot bear to live so far from home!”
I sighed. “Aviceford Manor is not your home anymore, Ella. You will probably not even know the new lord and lady.”
Ella looked up at me, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“Abbess Elfilda will find someone new to manage the manor.”
“But what will become of you, and Lottie, and Tilly?” She looked at each of us, distressed, while Charlotte and Matilda searched my face for clues about how to respond.
I had not expected Ella to be so concerned. Looking at her worried face, I felt a surge of self-pity, which I could have squelched had she not said, “I shall speak with Prince Henry. You will come to live with me at the palace!” She smiled merrily. “It will be lovely!”
I began to cry.
Ella looked even more alarmed. “Mother Bear!” she said. “What is wrong? Do you not want to live at the palace?”
I could not prevent myself from sobbing. All I could do was smile at her through my tears and pull her close. My heart swelled, straining against the bars of its cage. It was the happiest miracle of my life to hold Ella for no other reason than because I craved her nearness. She patted my back consolingly, as though she understood—I am grateful that she did not understand. She was my daughter, but that was the first time I allowed myself to be her mother.
23
The Royal Court
It is nearly five years since we joined Ella at court. We hoped for obscurity and prayed that the gossip would die down, but lamentably, the opposite has happened. After Prince George was killed in the jousting accident, Princes John and Hubert succumbed to bilious fever. Prince Michael, who is now heir to the throne, has always been sickly; he suffers from a sort of nervous prostration, and it is rumored that the king does not believe him to be fit to rule the nation even if he lives long enough. It is increasingly likely that Ella’s husband, Prince Henry, will become the next king. Which means, of course, that my stepdaughter will be queen consort
.
I do not know what to think of this situation as it pertains to Ella. She certainly has no desire to take on the responsibilities of a monarch, and she has no aptitude for politics. On the other hand, as queen consort, she could use her influence to create the sort of life she wishes, and Ella’s lack of political acumen has certainly not prevented her from becoming the most celebrated member of the royal family.
While it is unclear whether or not Prince Henry’s ascendency is fortunate for Ella, it is abundantly clear that it is unfortunate for Charlotte, Matilda, and me. At first, I saw no reason why my daughters were relieved of their duties to the princess and assigned to work for a visiting countess, or why we were seated in the last pew in chapel. When we were excluded from Ella’s chambers—she was expecting her third child and had entered confinement—I asked the lady-in-waiting for an explanation. “I might ask why you are even at court” was all she had to say.
It was a foreign diplomat who finally explained the circumstances to me. I was walking in the garden when a man accosted me. Though he had a pointed white beard and a head of silver hair, he looked to be about my age, two score years. He was short and slight, and he had the sort of intense, direct gaze that is unfashionable at court.
“Pardon me, my lady,” he said in an accent I did not recognize, “are you the mother of Princess Elfilda?”
“I am the stepmother, Lord . . . ?”
“Niccolò Barboro. Baron of the Most Serene Republic of Venice.” The man tucked the book he had been carrying under his arm and took my hand. He kissed the tips of my fingers and looked up at me with a smile. “Forgive me. I did not know this word, ‘stepmother.’ I know that you are also a mother, for I have met your other daughters. Dama Matelda is most brilliant. You are too young to have children of such an age!”
“You flatter me, Baron Barboro.”
“Please, call me Niccolò. We are both foreigners here.”
“I beg your pardon? I am not foreign.”
The man scrutinized my face, and then he smiled again. His teeth were unusually white and straight. “I believe that you understand me, gentle lady.” He emphasized the last two words, but his tone was not nasty.
“How do you know my daughter Matilda?” I inquired.
“Ah, Dama Matelda is my tutor, and I am hers. She corrects my English, and in turn, I loan her books of Latin poetry. I believe that I have the better end of the bargain.”
Though I did not get to speak with Matilda often, I was surprised not to have heard about the conversations or the poetry.
Niccolò laughed. “I see that your daughter has not mentioned me. Perhaps she thought that you would disapprove. I assure you, we have been well chaperoned.”
“Oh, I . . . I did not . . .” I stopped, flustered. The need for a chaperone had not even occurred to me, as much because of the man’s elfin appearance as Matilda’s ruined face. To cover my embarrassment, I asked, “How are you enjoying the garden?”
“It is so cold!” He held out a delicate hand. “You see, my fingers are turning blue!”
I laughed. “But it is almost summer! How can you be cold?”
“Summer,” he said grimly. “You know as much of summer as fish know of the desert. It is May, and I am still wearing my winter cloak!” He shivered dramatically.
“Then what sort of summer are you accustomed to?”
“Ah, balmy ocean breezes, the golden glitter of sun on water, the scent of oranges and jasmine mixed with warm salt air.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as though he could smell Venetian summer in the chilly garden air. “My home is paradise. I would never have left if I had been told that here it is always cloudy and cold.”
“Why not stay inside by the fire, then? Surely the flowers do not draw you to the garden.” I waved at the topiaries that had been pruned into severe, angular shapes.
The baron’s voice turned serious. “I have heard that you come here most afternoons. I wished to speak with you. May I join you on your stroll?”
My heart beat faster. “Is something wrong with Matilda?” I asked sharply.
“No, no, not exactly,” Niccolò said, stroking his beard. “Please, walk with me.” He touched my elbow to guide me beside him down the path. “It pains me to tell you this, but I do not think that you and your daughters should remain at court. It is not safe.”
“Not safe?” I tried to keep the alarm from my voice. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You are aware that Prince Henry is likely to become king one day?”
“Yes, of course.”
“There is always some, ah, fracasso, when power changes hands. Some fight for who will be nearest the throne.”
“But we are Princess Elfilda’s family.”
“Yes, this is the trouble. You are not her real family. And you are not one of them, the courtiers.”
“We are lowborn.”
Niccolò shrugged. “Our society is not so obsessed with lineage as yours. But yes, you are foreign here at the court. Like me.” He smiled wanly.
We walked in silence for a moment, and then I asked, “How can you say that we are not safe?”
“Perhaps I spoke too strongly. I hope so. I have no knowledge of plots against you. But I hear what is said, and I know that there are some who would not mind if you disappeared into the tower.”
“We have done nothing wrong!”
He sighed. “Do you know what they say about you?”
“I have heard these ridiculous tales about my daughters cutting off parts of their feet to marry Prince Henry, yes.”
“It saddens me to tell you, but it is worse than that, my lady.” He paused. “They call you evil. They say that you locked Princess Elfilda in the attic and spent all of her father’s money on your own two daughters. They say that you forced the princess to do the work of servants. That you made her wear rags, and that you encouraged your daughters to persecute her.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked back tears. I had thought that I was impervious to uncharitable opinions, but his words breached my defenses. “There have always been rumors about us,” I said.
“Now your king and queen are hearing the rumors,” he said, “and they are persuaded that the presumptive heir to the throne should be distanced from you. I have become fond of your daughter Matelda. I would not want anything to happen to her or to those she cares about.”
I tilted my face up to the bleak, gray sky to keep tears from sliding down my cheeks. A hawk soared high above us, its wings barely moving. When it crossed into the blurred edges of my vision, its flight looked erratic, as if it were underwater.
“I will find some remedy,” I said into the wind. The lump in my throat was like a peach stone. For a moment, I despised the strange little man for bringing such dreadful tidings and for witnessing my humiliation.
Niccolò pressed his fingers lightly against my forearm. “I greatly apologize for interrupting your stroll. I shall leave you now.”
I looked into his eyes as I said my thanks, and I saw nothing but kindness there.
The royal court is a harlot. The scarlet gown and painted face may look beautiful to a passing observer, but anyone who draws close enough can see cracks in the face powder and patched holes in the satin. She saves room in her heart only for the gold that lines men’s pockets.
Once I realized how tenuous our position was at court, I saw peril at every turn. Charlotte, Matilda, and I had not done well at currying favor, and we had made powerful enemies of women like Cecily Barrett and Isabella Florivet by failing to prostrate ourselves before them. Foolishly, we had relied on our connection with Ella to protect us, but she was being swept along in the same river as the rest of us. She could ask for favors, but she had no say in matters of state, and she was unaware of the machinations of powerful cabals that determined who was invited to court and who was exiled.
Whispers and covert glances took on a sinister aspect. I was not permitted to visit Ella and her newborn son, and the chambe
rlain refused to seat me at supper, forcing me to ask for food from the kitchen like a servant. I did not believe that we would be thrown into the tower—we are not important enough to pose a threat—but banishment seemed increasingly likely.
Charlotte and Matilda were stationed in the palace wing closest to the river, where the less esteemed guests are housed. They attended to the foreign countess day and night, sleeping in a chamber adjoining hers, so our paths seldom crossed. As I did not trust the servants to deliver a message for me, I visited the southern wing myself at daybreak. I was afraid that I would be barred from entering, so I loitered outside, hoping that one of the girls would see me through the windows. Open ditches on that side of the palace carry waste to the river; the stench was terrible, but I did not have to contend with meddlesome courtiers or guards.
The palace stretched westward from where I paced; the looming walls were at first cloaked in shadow, then warmly tinted by the rising sun. The sweep of the roof was broken by a series of crenelated towers, spectral in the pale light. Details of stonework along the parapets and balustrades emerged as the sun grew stronger; the diamond-paned windows of the living quarters glittered.
Fortunately, I did not need to wait long. Charlotte ran through an arched doorway, holding up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip. My heart swelled with a pang of joy when I beheld the flushed face I so adored.
“Mother,” she said breathlessly, “why have you come?”
“I wish to speak with you and your sister.” I had no plan, but Charlotte and Matilda deserved to understand our predicament.
“What is it? Is there trouble?”
“Not yet, darling, but we should speak. Can you leave for a brief time?”
Charlotte’s dark eyes were solemn. She nodded and said, “Meet us in the usual spot in the garden after dinner. Tilly and I should be able to get away while the countess naps.” She pecked my cheek and hurried inside, casting a concerned glance over her shoulder as she disappeared beneath the sweep of the arch.
All the Ever Afters Page 30