Kingdom of Ash and Soot

by C. S. Johnson

  “Advent Ball?” I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

  “Empress Maria Anna celebrates the Advent each year. A lot of the nobility and aristocracy come to the castle to join her for mass and celebrate afterward. It is the only ball that the royal family still hosts every year for Bohemia.”

  “That sounds lovely, but I have never been to one before.”

  “Here.” Ferdy pulled a scroll out of his pocket. He jerked the wax seal off the letter and tore off the heading. “Take it. I’m sure your stepmother would love to be invited.”

  I glanced down at the crinkled sheet of vellum. It was indeed an invitation to the Advent Ball, hosted by their imperial highnesses at Prague Castle.

  “How did you get this?” I asked.

  Ferdy smiled. “Sometimes I work as a runner, which is why Clavan still lets me come in out of the cold every once in a while.”

  “Then won’t someone else be missing an invitation?” I ran the torn stationary between my fingers where the recipient’s information had been ripped away. There was an ugliness to the frayed edges, but I could not stop tear my eyes away from the fine lettering. “You’ll get in trouble for this, won’t you?”

  “It will be worth it all if you will come.”

  “But—”

  “Just take it, Ella, please. And come.”

  “But I wasn’t invited.”

  “They won’t turn you away. You’re a lady, Ella,” he insisted. He gave me an assessing gaze. “Aren’t you? You weren’t lying before?”

  “Well, no, I am a lady, but—”

  “Excellent. And since that is the case, I swear on my life, and all of my honor, you will not be turned away. So, come. I will see to it that you have fun.”

  “Will you be there?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve also worked as a server before, at different soirees.”

  “I thought Clavan said you didn’t have a job.”

  “I don’t have a job. I have several.”

  As much as Ferdy intrigued me, I still felt unsure. “I know we have met under unusual circumstances, Mr. Ferdy—”

  “Ferdy, please, Ella.” He flashed me one of his charming smiles, and I was distracted enough to stop talking.

  Despite his impudence and relentless flirting, something about him made me look twice and still left me curious. I stared at him in the dimming sunlight, transfixed and mesmerized, and I felt angry I was not free to enjoy myself, that I was not free to allow myself to feel happy at his attentions.

  As the clock tower struck the hour in the distance, Tulia tapped me on the arm, letting me know it was time to go. She probably thought she was saving me from embarrassing myself—or from Cecilia’s wrath, should I be late in returning.

  I sighed. “I have to go,” I said.

  Ferdy nodded. There was an understanding, if unsatisfactory, look in his silver eyes. “It was truly my great pleasure in meeting you, my lady.” He gave my hand a final squeeze before stepping back. Ferdy bowed gallantly as I flicked the reins and we headed off.

  As we were about to turn back toward the bridge, I glanced over my shoulder to look at him once more.

  Ferdy was gone, and I already missed his cocky grin.

  Sighing, I rolled up the torn scroll in my hand and pressed it deeply into the hidden pockets beneath my skirt. Tulia left me to my thoughts, and it was only as we pulled up to her cottage that I wondered if she was still upset at Dr. Artha’s passing.

  As much as the day felt like a very strange dream, I needed to focus in order to get through Cecilia’s party. The Duke of Moravia was coming back into town for the first time since my father’s funeral, in order to finalize the engagement between his daughter and Alex. Of all nights I would have to be prepared, it was this one.

  *4*

  ◊

  Hours later, I was still mulling over the events at the market. Mostly, I kept reliving my time with Ferdy. Part of me hated how much I thought of him and his irresistible, irreverent smile.

  But thinking of Ferdy was a welcome distraction. My feet were aching in the newly repaired shoes Ben had brought me, my back was sore from walking all over the castle, and I could feel my hair falling out of its pins as I changed out linens, scooped up laundry, and mopped up messes.

  I was just about to head to the kitchens to check on dinner when Ben came up beside me in the hall.

  “I heard Cecilia was pleased with the money from the market,” he said as he matched his pace to mine. “Even though she was upset it took us so long.”

  “It’s money. Why would she be upset at all, other than when there’s too little?” I asked, blinking away Ferdy’s face from my thoughts. “Wait. Did she know you were home while I was gone?”

  “No.” Ben grinned. “I’ve been running around the castle, gathering information.”

  “You’ve known the Duke of Moravia was coming since Alex finished his last semester at Oxford,” I reminded him. “What more do we care? What more should we care?”

  “If we’re going to survive here with Alex in charge, I thought it would be best to make sure we have the upper hand. And a lot of that includes collecting information that is not readily shared with us—or anyone else.”

  “You only make people angry when it comes to blackmail. Cecilia’s glasses are one thing. Business with the manor is another.”

  “We have both been spying on Cecilia’s movements for years, between your unauthorized trips to father’s dwindling library and my midnight forays into the kitchen. Besides, how did you think I found out Cecilia was happy enough with the money you brought back that she didn’t question how long it took?”

  “I told her that there were some new vendors I met who were willing to pay more for certain items.”

  “Lying is a sin, Nora.”

  “So is extortion, Ben.” I stuck my tongue out at him playfully. “The difference between us is that I am telling the truth, as that is more or less what happened.”

  We came to a full stop as I told Ben the story of my adventures in the heart of Prague. It was a respite from work, and even though I maintained a serious expression throughout, I was decidedly amused by Ben’s reaction. He was not surprised I chased after the thief, but he was angry when I told him about Ferdy.

  “You should stay away from men like him,” Ben said. “He was not interested in helping you just to be a good Samaritan. He wanted rewarded, an in a more ... intimate way, clearly.”

  “I have stayed away from men like him,” I said carefully. “But Ferdy was a gentleman. Or enough of one, anyway. Besides, I told you, I’d lost one of our father’s books, and I needed to get a good price. You know how Wickward is. It was very nice meeting Mr. Clavan, and if we do have to sell more of Táta’s books for Cecilia, I will be more assuredly going back to see him.”

  Ben snorted, and I knew he had no argument against me.

  “Ben! Nora!”

  We turned around to see Betsy, one of the English maids Cecilia hired on her last trip to London, as she trotted up beside us. Along with her sister, Mavis, they made a good pair of friends as well as workers.

  “What is it, Betsy?” Ben asked.

  “Her Ladyship is going mad,” Betsy said, ignoring some of her golden curls as they bobbed out of her pins and into her face. “His Grace has arrived early. She wants everything ready at once.”

  “Did she slap you?” I asked, noticing Betsy’s cheeks were very red.

  Betsy lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No, but she tried,” she admitted. “She’s very upset, Nora.”

  “If she’s on one of her tirades, we’d better hurry, then.” Ben gave me another meaningful look. “Be careful, Nora.”

  I nodded. “You take care, too.” They hurried off to prepare for His Grace’s arrival, while I stayed at the entrance to the kitchens, watching as Lord Franz Maximillian Chotek, the Duke of Moravia, walked into the great hall wearing his fur-lined greatcoat, supple leather boots, and a fine traveling suit.

&nbs
p; The Duke had a mix of the Czech and Slavic features that marked him as a proud Bohemian. His nose was pointy and hard, with his narrow face and dark, coal-colored eyes. From what I was able to remember of him, standing next to Cecilia at my father’s funeral, it did not seem as though he had changed much in the last decade, although the fashionably rounded curls of his imposing mustache now had more of a black and white mix creeping around his mouth. But other than that, Lord Maximillian was still clearly a man that believed in destiny, provided that his destiny involved prestige and creature comforts.

  His daughter, Lady Teresa Marie, trotted after him like a prize foal at a horse auction. She had amber hair, a shade or two darker than Betsy’s, that was combed back and held up with ribbons. It made her look childish, and the pastel colors that were currently popular in London heightened this impression. But then, I remembered Ben had mentioned she was only fifteen. She was supposed to wed Alex just a few days after her sixteenth birthday. In many ways, she really was just a child.

  A rush of unexpected sympathy overcame me, as I thought how Teresa Marie was just like me, a young woman who was caught up in the plans of all the people surrounding her.

  I sighed, thinking of how I’d felt when Mr. Clavan spoke of freedom with me. That strange mix of longing and sadness briefly settled on me, and wistfully I yearned for the day when my destiny would become my own.

  “Eleanora.” Cecilia appeared behind me like an apparition, and I nearly jumped.

  “Yes, madam?”

  “Everything needs to be ready for His Grace and his daughter. Go and see that it is taken care of.”

  I gave Cecilia a small, flippant curtsy. “Of course.”

  “You can dispose of your mockery as well.” Cecilia clapped her hands together angrily. “I will not tolerate any mishaps tonight, Eleanora. I will hold you personally responsible if anything—anything at all—goes wrong.”

  I gulped but said nothing as she dictated more chores for me to attend to later on, listing everything from sweeping the floors to dusting to laundry to serving tea after supper.

  By the time she was done, I was surprised she had neglected to tell me to offer an animal sacrifice to God to make sure it did not rain. As much as I was sure she would keep her promise to punish me, I would have refused to do so. I liked to think God would have ignored her as well, since it began to rain soon almost as soon as the butler announced dinner.

  Personally, I was glad for it. The rain was another reminder that reality was bigger than what was before me, and there were things even Cecilia could not spoil.

  Not that she will hesitate in finding a way to blame me anyway.

  I tried my best not to worry, but when Betsy called for me once more, I could only groan at her anxious tone. Any sign of trouble meant more trouble for me.

  “Is something wrong, Betsy?” I asked. “Did Priscilla complain about her food again? If she did, I will force it down her throat myself—”

  “No, that’s not it, Nora. The housekeeper just told me another coach has just pulled up to the front.”

  “And?” I shrugged. “It’s likely more of His Grace’s luggage.”

  “It’s a very grand coach,” Betsy said. “Much more grand than the one His Grace arrived in.”

  That was surprising.

  “Were we expecting anymore guests? Did Cecilia say anything to Graves or the housekeeper?”

  “No, I already talked with Graves.” Betsy shook her head fiercely, her curls swinging back and forth in pretty protest. “He didn’t know anything, and he’s the butler. Please, Nora, come and see.”

  Recalling Cecilia’s threat, I knew I had no choice but to investigate.

  “Don’t fret; I’m coming.” It was hard for me to put the bread aside and follow her out to the front hallway.

  As we watched through the window, several liveried footmen descended from the coach’s box and then hurried to open the carriage door.

  A veiled woman, wearing a long, black dress stepped down out of the coach. She stepped confidently onto the cobblestones that surrounded the front of our estate. I watched as she surveyed our manor, looking up and down the east and west wings, before finally looking toward the main entrance.

  Even from where I was, even with the rain and fog between us, I could tell this was a lady of great power.

  “Cecilia’s not going to like this.” I stayed transfixed, as the woman made her way to our front door. She was going straight in, I realized, and I had to admire her for her forthright manner as much as her steadfastness.

  “She’s from London,” Betsy whispered. “Astounding.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “The coach. It’s got the crest of the House of Wellesley on the side, look.”

  I glanced over to see that Betsy was right. There was a coat of arms that was familiar in many ways, even though I could not place it. “Wellesley?”

  Betsy giggled, seeing my apparent confusion. “It’s the family of the general who defeated Napoleon.”

  “Oh. Yes, I see.”

  “They’re a prominent family in England, thanks to the Duke of Wellington’s service to the Crown,” Betsy said. “I wonder why they’ve come.”

  The question of their arrival stumped me as well. I watched as others alighted from the carriage. Among them were two men wearing greatcoats and hats. Because of the rain and shadows, I could not make out their features much more than to know they were gentlemen.

  I tapped my fingers together thoughtfully as Graves opened the door. From the angle I was watching, I saw they entered with very little hindrance, despite the butler’s attempts to prove himself one.

  “What do you think?” Betsy whispered.

  “Nora, what’s going on?” Mavis asked. Her brown eyes, the same shape as Betsy’s, blinked back unshed tears. “Her Ladyship never told us she had more guests arriving. What do we do?”

  “Do only as you are told,” I said in a hushed voice. “I don’t think these are guests of Cecilia’s.”

  “She’s going to be so upset with us!” Mavis pouted. “She’s going to punish us severely after this.”

  “You will be fine,” I assured her. “The responsibility is mine.”

  “I don’t think we can be sure,” another maid said softly. “Madame Cecilia is very clearly upset by the sight of the new arrivals.”

  Scooting toward the hall entrance, I saw that she was right; the hall was chittering with the small talk between my stepfamily and our guests one moment, and in the next everyone went silent and still.

  I watched as Cecilia stood up, prepared to do battle. “Who do you think you are, coming here without an invitation? And you, Graves, how could you let them in?”

  As far away as I was, I could still see Graves’ throat convulse with stress.

  Before he could answer, the lady reached up and removed her dark veil. Her gray hair was piled up onto her head in an intricate style, and I could see her high forehead and classic British features; her heart-shaped face became an ironic quality as I watched her. She had the face of a lady, but wore the smile of a viper. And when she spoke, I felt the vibrations of her words echo throughout the whole castle.

  “Perhaps the better question, Lady Cecilia, is who do you think you are, and what makes you think you can keep me from entering at all?”

  The small party began to murmur uneasily amongst themselves once more. I slipped out of the kitchen another step, careful to stay in the shadows of the servants’ entrance.

  I could not stop watching Cecilia attempt to stare down her uninvited guest. She was fighting a battle she would never win, and I found myself looking forward to the coming spectacle.

  “I am the mistress of this manor,” Cecilia insisted. “My husband died and left it to me. It is mine by right of inheritance.”

  The lady’s smile curved, suddenly even more dangerous than before. “Well, if that is what you think, let me answer your first question and introduce myself properly.”

  Sh
e inclined her head, only by mere degrees. “I am the Dowager Duchess of Wellington, Penelope Ollerton-Wellesley, in service of Her Majesty, Victoria, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen and Defender of the Faith.”

  “That means very little to me.” Cecilia quickly looked to the Duke of Moravia in a hurried manner. Her sallow cheeks brightened with fury. From Lord Maximillian’s expression, I could see he was no longer annoyed by the interruption. Rather, he was now looking at Lady Penelope with undeniable interest and curiosity.

  “Wellesley, did you say?” he asked, and Lady Penelope gave him a shrewd nod.

  I put my hand over my mouth, trying to hide my smile. I did not know why a dowager duchess from the other side of Europe would come and visit Cecilia, but it was nice to see someone displace her.

  “Well,” Lady Penelope said, her voice tight, “it meant considerably more to my son-in-law, who was your husband as well as the husband of my daughter.”

  My world began to crumble at that moment, as I realized who Lady Penelope was.

  “Grandmother?” My mouth dropped open in shock as I heard myself speak.

  Behind me, I could feel the stares of Betsy, Mavis, and the other maids all turned on me, while Lady Penelope shifted her gaze in the direction of my hiding spot.

  A memory of my mother, back when I was only five, came back to me. I remembered her as she worked through brushing my hair, lamenting my knots, even as she awed over my Bohemian curls. “Grandmother would adore you, just for your curls,” she whispered, before telling me stories of how her mother would always brush own her hair, long and straight, each Sunday before church.

  The memory faded, and I found myself still concealed in the shadows of the servant entrance. My grandmother was searching for me, and I suddenly felt completely trapped as her eyes slid over the darkness around me.

  “Who is there?” she asked.

  My hand covered my mouth. I felt foolish, I felt trapped; I was unsure of what to do, or if indeed I should do anything at all.

  I was not the only one who seemed beyond words. Cecilia stared at her, the wrinkles on her forehead piled with stress lines and her mouth flapping open and closed, as though she was trying to say something, but God in his goodness was refusing to let her words sully the earth and its atmosphere.