by Sky Sommers
I nod at my other guests and then at Greta who scurries off to get their meals from the kitchen.
‘Where were we?’
‘The silversmith and how you and your silver tongue get people to comply,’ Belle says.
‘Nothing magical about it. Yes, I like to talk to people, it’s fun. I find out a lot about their likes and dislikes, their wishes and wants, the life of people I meet. Everybody wants to tell their story. Everybody wants and needs at least someone to listen to them,’ I say.
‘Everybody?’ Belle asks, narrowing her eyes at me now.
‘Everybody.’ I nod.
She emits a low laugh, ‘Even me?’
I think long before I answer, ‘If it may please Your Majesty, everyone knows your story of the Belle and the Beast, pardon me, Your Highness,’ I nod at the king.
‘No pardon needed. That is still my nickname and I’m fine with it,’ he smiles a roguish smile.
‘As I was saying, everyone knows your story, Your Majesties, but yes,’ I turn to Belle, ‘even you have a story that nobody knows that is worth listening to. Even you need someone to listen to it.’
If I hadn’t eavesdropped at the palace kitchens when delivering a sample of my chicken liver pâté to your cook two years ago, I would have never known you wanted to do something useful with your father’s inventions. Nor would I have had an idea to start up with those inventions and turned to you to market them as yours.
‘Chicken livers, anyone?’
The livers are dissected in silence.
By the emptying plates I deduce they are liking things so far.
‘I see you have put the linen and the drapes we let you purchase from the palace to spectacular use. Hasn’t she, dear?’ Beast asks Belle, rather loudly for the benefit of all those that were straining to hear.
‘Hm? Yes, yes, the place looks humble, but stately,’ Belle says and chews on, deep in thought. ‘We shall be dining here again.’ She announces for the benefit of the room. And me.
After the chocolate cake, which is really a brownie with powdered sugar, Belle puts down her spoon and says, ‘I love your cooking. So, I’ve decided I like you. You are candid. You have a mind of your own. I want you for my lady in waiting.’
Unexpected. It would make it more convenient for us to meet to discuss inventions. for her. But inconvenient for everything else. For me.
‘If it may please Your Majesty, thank you for this kindness, I will always treasure it, but I fear for your own sake, I must decline,’ I say.
Belle blinks back her surprise, ‘Why for my own sake? Are you unreliable or something worse?’
‘No, Your Majesty. I have a very big family. Besides myself and my husband, there are four children. If we all lived at the palace, there would be too many mouths to feed and house….’
And all the kids would put on airs even if they did live in tighter quarters than now. No no, that would just defeat my whole purpose.
Although, Ella would love to live at the palace, I’m sure.
‘Four, you say?’ Belle picks up her fork and dives into a grilled nectarine.
In our business dealings she has never had a reason to take interest in my family. Or my extended family for that matter.
‘Four, Your Majesty. Plus this restaurant would have to close down since there would be no one who could cook the way I do,’ I smile.
Belle taps her nose and pushes her plate away. ‘Yes, after the meal I’ve had tonight, I see you have a point. We would be destroying our favourite restaurant if you did what I asked. Fine!’ she puts down her spoon, ‘Instead, we’ll come here often, at least once a week and you’ll always, always sit with us and tell us the state of the affairs. That way, we can put your talents of interview to good use,’ she nods at Beast who seems deep in thought.
When he doesn’t answer straight away, Belle taps her wine goblet which makes a noise not dissimilar to that of an overturned bucket.
Empty.
I motion for Greta to bring more wine.
‘Beast?’ Belle taps her goblet until he looks up at her.
‘Yes, darling. Of course, darling. Anything you want, darling.’
Belle looks at me, ‘He doesn’t even know what he said yes to, but I’ll take what I get, if you know what I mean.’
‘You only want good things, darling,’ he says.
Belle smiles, ‘In this case, yes. I think we have found our caterer,’ she says beaming at me. ‘For the ball,’ she adds. ‘The chocolate cake is a must.’
‘Thank you?’ I say, my mind racing ahead about how I am going to deliver all she might require.
‘We pay well and it’s just 200 guests,’ she says, lifting her glass. ‘Don’t you think it’s a marvellous idea?’ she turns to Beast.
‘Yes, I think it is, although Grace might need some help from our kitchens and serving staff, I believe,’ the king says and I nod.
‘She can have anything she likes, as long as she produces food this good,’ Belle says.
I stand up offering a plate of oranges Greta has brought, ‘To cleanse your palate,’ I explain and take their dishes off to the kitchen.
‘Come to the palace tomorrow, the ball is in two months, so we don’t have time to dally,’ Belle says as a parting shot.
Hans and Peter are tending the stove, cleaning the dishes, looking frazzled. Ella is nowhere to be seen. My kitchen is in a right state, but I’ll worry about that later.
Once everyone is in bed, I’ll have this place to myself and I can think about what I was just commissioned to do. No, was commanded to do, but neveryoumind.
When at midnight I am wiping down the dishes for the night Ella storms through, throwing me three perfect words to end the night, ‘I hate you!’
I sigh.
For which sin this time?
I guess Greta overheard the queen’s proposal.
I hope Greta relayed also the offer and acceptance to cater the ball.
At least Ella will be able to see the ball from the kitchen window. She’s a legitimised, but a bastard stepdaughter of a bastard stepsister. I doubt that she’ll be invited. Besides, I need all the help I can get.
‘Love you too, sunshine!’ I call after her, having read somewhere, in another life, that nothing dismantles hate as fast as unconditional love.
‘Chicken livers, anyone?’
Ella
Friday, April 5th
The king is the pauper!
Tom the pauper is the king! The same one who turned out to be a courtier…who then turned out to be the king.
Our king.
His Majesty.
Lovingly known as the Beast.
And Grace KNEW!
She’s been having an affair with her half-brother?!? That can’t be right... Maybe that’s why Father didn’t make a big deal out of it… He didn’t believe they could. They couldn’t have, could they? No, I don’t think Grace would go for incest.
How did I find out?
We were expecting noble guests. Grace had planned a nine-course dinner. I figured it would be someone special. Never in my life did I consider it would be King Thomas dining with us. With Queen Belle and Prince Charming!
When I saw the royal carriage pull up, I think I might have dropped something. Next thing I knew, it’s the three of them walking towards our door. I was about to be touching distance with Prince Nicholas! I almost hyperventilated and to be honest, felt a little nauseous at the same time. As far as anyone knows, the Prince is not betrothed to anyone.
I held up a silver tray to check if I had a decent dress on and no smudges on my face.
I spied Betty and her family craning their necks to get a good look at the royals. Queen Belle, of humble origins herself, has made a point of teaching elocution at our school. Now, I guess, she’s making a point that mixing a
nd mingling with the commoners is somehow normal. I’ve never seen any of them so close. One good look at the royals as they came through the door and at the King especially and I almost fell over.
The king turned out to be the same courtier Grace had spoken to in the gardens the other day! The very same pauper she keeps feeding in our kitchen once a month!
I have met the king before. Worse, I have been flippant to him. Even worse…he saw me bring John up to my room that night when he pretended to be tutoring me.
OMG.
I don’t want to go out there. In case King Thomas asks about my MALE tutors and makes me out to be a harlot in front of Betty. Worse, he can make me a harlot in front of the prince.
I need to tell Grace that Greta will have to serve them tonight.
Except I can’t give her the true reason.
Would she believe I am besotted with Prince Nicholas and don’t want him to remember me as the wench who served him his dinner in case there is a ball and I am invited?
Yes, THAT Grace might understand. She’s anxious to get rid of me. If I am ever to be presented at court, I can’t be the servant girl! If I go out there, I will always be Cinders, even if the name didn’t stick at school. ‘Wench’ or ‘servant girl’ or any other name that drops from the royal lips in my direction will stick. Betty is out there. Any nickname Prince Nicholas or King Thomas or Queen Belle might off-handedly give me over the course of this one evening will stick. And this time, there was no way it would ever unstick. I can’t go out there. I will tell Grace I can’t go out there! Not tonight!
If that won’t persuade her, I’ll just tell her that I might be very accident-prone around the royals and if she wants to spill soup in the queen’s lap, then sure, I’ll go.
Oh, I hope I don’t have to go out there. I’m feeling rather queasy all of a sudden. So, I might actually throw up in someone’s lap. Whether it’s from seeing the prince or the king or the both of them, I don’t know.
Eating an apple helped. Turns out, I was just hungry. Phew. Also, Grace understood my hesitation and sent Greta to tend to the royals instead, relegating me to kitchen duty. To be honest, I was surprised she didn’t try to take revenge on me for telling on her. Maybe it was all innocent and she is not the king’s mistress? Maybe she knows that I have connected the dots and is trying to make me think it’s all innocent?
Argh, all this thinking is making my head hurt.
At least now I can safely spy on the royals through the window in our kitchen door. Well, the only one I’m spying on is Prince Nicholas, really. Our Prince Charming is very easy on the eyes. In person, he looks even better than in the royal portraits we have at school. Or on the notices they hang outside of school, in the town square, for that matter. He has dark blond hair and grey eyes and his muscular torso tapers down to his narrow hips making him look dashing. His face dimples when he smiles. He has a kind smile. Greta almost tripped when she backed away from their table and he caught her! Now I’m a little jealous of her! He is also chivalrous, not just gorgeous. The way Father writes about him in his newspaper, he is also kind and generous. He has had bridges built across swamps. He donates books to our school library. He has started receiving foreign dignitaries with his parents. Oh, I wish Father had done an interview with him and taken me along to take dictation! I might have gotten to know him a bit better.
How could Grace have thought he was a philanderer who had boinked most of our female guests out there when they had just arrived? Maybe she judges other people by how she does things. Maybe she IS the king’s mistress after all. But…that might mean she could know about the prince’s dalliances. No! I refuse to believe our Prince Charming is a dog. He is nothing like John. Which means I must believe Grace was just being spiteful, doesn’t really know anything about anything and cannot be in the king’s confidence or his mistress.
Oh, now I wish I did hear what our guests are thinking. I used to be thankful I couldn’t hear most people, only Hans and Greta, Betty, Peter and, unfortunately, Grace. I wish I knew what Prince Nicholas was thinking.
I do hope we have a ball soon and if Prince Nicholas asks me to dance, maybe I’ll have a chance to find out if he is as dreamy as he seems. Dreamy doesn’t necessarily equate to kind and loyal and not a hound-dog, but a girl can hope.
Tuesday, April 9th
I can’t believe it - I’m even more popular!
It’s because I have something my school-mates want.
After the royal visit, all the girls at school started nagging their suitors to take them to our restaurant and all the boys are begging me for reservations. Tasha even said I could borrow her carriage, if ever I needed. She’s hoping that secures her a reservation any time she likes.
They are all just hoping to get another glimpse of the royal couple. To sit close to them, to be able to replicate their gestures, their dress-style, anything to leave an impression that they belong at court. Which is an illusion for quite a few of the aristos, I believe.
For all I know, that was the first and last visit of the royals to our establishment, but all the aristos and merchants and important village folk are gagging to be in the presence of our elusive rulers.
Still, if everybody is offering favours in return for a reservation, I can be nice to Betty’s posse. They are kind of opening up and being nice back. They have abandoned Betty and keep hovering around, so I guess they are my ‘friends’ now… I don’t think Betty noticed, though, being nose-to-nose with John again. Yuk. At least Simon is back at my side, walking me to classes, now that John is…not. Simon seems nice, but so did John. I hope not all aristo boys are like that dog. To the hell with him! He can have Betty, if he wants. I can’t stand him anyway.
Who cares what date it is
My life is truly over.
It’s been two weeks since John’s ‘tutoring’... and my flow hasn’t started. It was supposed to start a few days after I…after we…after he…
It’s all his fault! He should accept responsibility. Even if loathe him right now, he can’t just leave me in the lurch!
I need to talk to John. Maybe if things are...the way they are, maybe he’ll reconsider marrying me, previous engagement or not, Betty or not. I know life will not be ideal with him, but it’s better than a bun in the oven without a man by my side…oh, the shame…
John makes me sick. Literally. When I told him about my predicament he paled and said it can’t be possible on the first try. I showed him a textbook where it says in black and white it quite is. He got angry and suggested I get rid of it, like Betty does. He even suggested I should ask Betty which witch she goes to with her aunt in order to handle her...problems. Me ask Betty? Hand the girl who hates me my biggest, most shameful secret? She will never forget John liked me for two whole weeks and she will destroy me, if she gets the chance. I’ve heard her think exactly that. At least I don’t think John has told her about us. Otherwise she’d be thinking about it. Wouldn’t she?
If Betty goes to a witch with her aunt to handle her problems - plural - then how many of John’s babies has she gotten rid of?!?
An aunt.
I have an aunt.
I need to talk to Mellie.
Mellie suggested I do something crazy. First, she suggested a baby might be a good thing. Then she asked what John looked like. I told her he has dark brown hair, like I used to have and that he has brown eyes. She then asked if there are any other aristo boys who look like him who are interested in me. When I pointed out that I wasn’t looking for John’s replacement, she cut me off and said that that’s exactly who I need to be looking for.
Mellie said it happens all the time. Aristos don’t tend to leave their own in the lurch, she said. When I pointed out John might have missed that instruction, she waved me off and said ‘Not John.’
She told me to purposefully lure someone, do the deed and pin John’s baby on the new guy!
/>
She had meant the other guy’s family would do the honourable thing! If they believe it’s their boys’ kid, they will acquiesce to the match. Because most aristos are honourable, Mellie said. She also reminded me that thanks to Father - well, actually thanks to Grace, but nevermind - I am of an appropriate social status. She also said it shouldn’t be difficult to find another aristo boy who would be interested in me AND whose family would be more honourable.
I must have looked like a fish out of water for about five minutes.
I told Mellie I wouldn’t do it.
John didn’t consider me his equal. Why else did he… Of course, he remembers when I was plain ole Betty Lyman. He knows I’m not born into the privilege and title. But so does Simon!
It wouldn’t work!
Mellie asked me to describe Simon, so I did.
I guess Simon is as tall and his skin is as light as John’s. Simon’s hair is dark blond, like mine now, but mine is coloured. Mellie said that if the baby is born with dark hair, it could just be from my side of the family with my natural colour. Simon’s eyes are brown, like John’s. Mellie said I could try to get Simon to ‘tutor me’ in something. I’ve been so distracted, he could tutor me in pretty much anything.
No, no, no, I can’t do this.
Even if I could try to save myself, who says Simon won’t do exactly what John did?
Except Simon has a good heart. Maybe life by his side would not be so bad?
All this thinking is giving me a headache and I’m already feeling pukey.
Chapter 11. The Boyfriends
Grace
I hear a door creak upstairs and the pitter-patter of small bare feet, so I yell, ‘Ooh, who’s up and about? My precious boy, that’s who!’
I wipe my hands on my apron and go up. By the time I reach there, Henry has already sat himself on the wooden potty and smiles.
‘Hello, my pet, did you have a nice long afternoon nap? Daddy’s at work and Hans and Greta are in the yard, playing, and Ella is at school,’ I can only hope, ‘so it’s just you and me, see?’
