Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection

by Leighann Dobbs

  Sitting before the hearth, Snow remembered each delicious detail with painful clarity – how the silver moon had hung low in a royal blue midnight sky above them while they waltzed toward the row of doors at the edge of the Duke's ballroom which lead onto the terrace.

  How the warm scent of him had teased her senses when he pulled her into his arms. How full of life his eyes had been when she had stared up into them, dazed by the impact of the moment. How her body had fairly sizzled from the currents racing between the two of them and then how it had all but melted when his lips touched hers.

  She needed to go home.

  But how could she if her step-mother, Lady Davina, wanted her dead? Her stepmother had never held any love for her, and now that Snow's father was gone, the lady might well do anything to get rid of the daughter she never wanted - even have her killed.

  The sad fact she had no one to which she could turn for help caused Snow's already melancholy mood to sink ever lower.

  She could die here in this secluded cottage deep in the forest, and no one would know, or care. Would anyone even bother to search for her?

  Of course they would not, she reminded herself, if what Simon had said were true. If her stepmother had truly paid to have her murdered, she certainly would not set up a hue and cry over her disappearance.

  Knowing the Countess Adderley's ball was tonight did not help matters one whit. The marquess would be expecting her, and how she longed to attend, yet she was left to fret within the privacy of her thoughts over how her chances of winning the dashingly handsome Marquess Kelsing were now forever lost to her.

  “What's wrong with 'er?” Snow heard Warren whisper from his place on the rug and blinked to erase the painful shadow of her thoughts from her gaze.

  “I think she wants ta go 'ome,” Anthony said.

  Chapter Five

  A wave of homesickness mixed with the knowledge she could never go back hit Snow so fiercely she hurriedly rose from her chair to go stand before the fire in an attempt to hide her tears.

  “Now you done went and made 'er cry,” Derrick complained. He punched Anthony on the shoulder and demanded, “Can't you keep your trap shut for even one day?”

  Blinking back the wetness in her eyes, Snow pasted on a wobbly smile and shook her head. “It's all right, Derrick. I have been quiet today, and Anthony is right, I do want to go home. I want it more than anything else and I wish to have everything be exactly the same as when I left, but I cannot, and nothing will be the same for me ever again, and...”

  Her voice broke on a sob and Snow turned back to the fire, unwilling to let them see her cry.

  Simon left his place at the table and came to her side. He reached over to pat her arm consolingly and said, “It's okay, milady. I know how you feel. We all do.”

  Looking into the boy's soulful eyes, Snow realized he did know. He really did understand, yet there was nothing to be done for it. An orphan could not go home because they had no home to return to.

  How heartbreakingly sad, she thought, that one so young must go about life without a soul to love them, to kiss away their tears, to soothe their fears, or even to keep them safe and warm. She reached out and smoothed her hand over his hair, sharing a moment of complete communion with the abandoned youth.

  Suddenly feeling even more wretched for being so selfish, another hoarse sob escaped her throat. Derrick rushed over, wrapped both his thin arms around her legs, and hugged tight. Snow reached down to pull the boy up into her arms and hugged him back, but before she could manage to get a grip on her suddenly wayward emotions, Snow found herself completely overwhelmed by them.

  Holding Derrick in her arms, silently swaying from side to side while hot tears spilled from between her tightly clenched eyelids, Snow gave in to the emotional overwhelm she had been battling for days and cried as if the world had ended.

  * * *

  The glow of a thousand candles lit the spacious ballroom while a hundred vases of slowly wilting, freshly cut flowers coupled with three hundred mingling bodies scented it. Marquess Kelsing, Lord Geoffrey Aldecotte, scanned the crowd, looking for Snow.

  She had promised to be here and despite how frequently he had chided himself for it throughout the past week, Geoff had to admit he had honestly been looking forward to meeting her here tonight.

  Tonight, his dark gaze skimmed the sea of faces before him while an urgent need to hear the lilting, melodic sound of her voice teased, but search as he might, Snow was nowhere to be found among the many guests.

  Had his one foray into temptation frightened her away?

  Remembering the thrill he had felt at her timid response to his kisses, the soft, dreamy sound of her delicate, pleasure-filled sighs, and the warmth of passions newly stoked in her eyes when she gazed up into his, Geoff did not think a few stolen kisses beneath the light of the moon had sent the lady into hiding. Nay, she seemed a much more courageous sort.

  Disappointment filled him even as his gaze flitted over the crowded ballroom once more. Perhaps the lady's step-mother would shed some light upon the reason for Snow's absence tonight, he thought, but Lady Davina also seemed to be missing from the crush.

  Far more dejected than he wished to admit and with no further interest in the night's social festivities since the lady who had drawn him had obviously decided against making an appearance, Geoff turned on his heel and made his way to the nearest exit.

  * * *

  “We have to do something, Simon,” Edward whispered from his pallet in the loft. “Unlike the seven o' us, she has a home and we both know she really shouldn't be here.”

  Simon stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before he replied. “I know.”

  “What are we gonna to do? Her step-mum wants her dead. If we take her back, we will only be endangerin' her more.”

  “I don' want her to leave. She cooks nice,” Richard mumbled sleepily from his pallet. He sat up and looked at them for a moment, then said, “Don't you like her, Simon?”

  She reminds me of mother, he thought, but he would never say those words out loud. Instead, he sat up and tossed the pillow Snow had made for him out of an abandoned curtain at the boy. “Of course I like her, Richard, but she isn't a dog. We can't just keep her, an' you know it.”

  Richard dodged the pillow, but barely. “Tomorrow's check-in time, right? The boss'll know what to do.”

  With that important declaration, Richard settled down onto his pallet once again and yawned once before closing his eyes to sleep.

  Soon after, Edward's soft snores echoed around the loft, but Simon continued to stare at the rafters long into the night.

  Arms crossed tightly around his middle while he fought to keep his breathing even so no one would ever know he cried, Simon spent the remaining few hours before dawn thinking not of the family he had lost but the one he had run away from.

  Chapter Six

  Geoff waited outside the front door of White Hall manor, waiting for the butler to show him in. After Snow had not put in an appearance at the Adderley's ball last night, Geoff had decided he would simply call upon her this morning at her home.

  The door opened and yet no butler met him. Instead, a scowling, kerchiefed maid cautiously poked her head through the slight opening. Geoff's brow rose. “I have come to call upon Lady Sonoria. Would you please let her know Lord Kelsing has arrived?”

  “She ain't 'ere,” the girl blurted, frowning. “An' neither is 'er ladyship.”

  She started to withdraw, but Geoff reached out to hold the door. “Wait. Please. Can you tell me where they have gone?”

  The girl paled, and Geoff's brow furled. “Are you quite all right?”

  She had started to shiver, he noticed, and after a quick glance around to check for anything which might be amiss outside the manor, Geoff pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  The girl squeaked and jumped back out of his reach, but he held up his hands and shushed her. “It is quite all right, miss. You've nothing to fear, but can you
tell me where your mistress has gone? I've come to speak with her on a matter most important.”

  “It's about my lady Snow, ain't it?” the girl asked. “Did ye find her, then?”

  Her words were like a fist slamming into his gut. Snow was missing? Choosing his words carefully, he shook his head. “No, not yet. But we will. I just need to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?”

  The girl nodded. “Aye. I was so frightened, yer lordship. But then they let me go an' I couldn't find her. She had disappeared right off the street!”

  “And which street was that, Miss...”

  “Alisabeth,” the girl said, “but my lady calls me Lissie.”

  Geoff nodded. “Lissie. A very pretty name. Tell me, Lissie, which street were you and Lady Sonoria on when she...disappeared?”

  * * *

  At breakfast the following morning, Snow waited for the boys to wash up before taking her seat at the table. They were careful not to mention her red and swollen eyes, but Snow could not skip the fact that one of them was missing.

  “Boys, where is Simon?”

  Edward swallowed a mouthful of food and then rinsed it down with water. “Reportin' in to the boss, I s'ppose.”

  “The boss?” Snow asked, and Edward nodded. “Aye. One of us has ta go at least once a week so the boss knows we ain't out causin' trouble. He'll be back soon. Don't worry.”

  Snow nodded and she tried not to worry as Edward had said, but as the day wore on and Simon did not reappear, the task became more and more difficult.

  She busied herself with mundane chores, sweeping and cleaning the hearth, and straightening the pantry, but when they all sat down for a quick lunch at noon-time, she asked, “When do you expect Simon to return?”

  “Oh, he won't be back afore nightfall,” Warren volunteered. “If he don't meet with no trouble a twixt here and there.”

  “Trouble?” Snow looked to Edward because he was next oldest after Simon and apparently the one Simon had left in charge.

  Edward shrugged. “Poachers. Bandits. Cutthroats and thieves. He'll be fine.”

  Cutthroats? Snow could almost feel the color leaving her face. These poor boys frequently ran afoul of so many dangerous creatures in their lives. Someone needed to take them into hand before one of them got himself killed.

  When she returned home...

  Snow shook her head to erase the thought from her mind. Today, she would not think of home and all she had lost. Instead, she would concentrate on naught but each moment and take what comfort she could from the fact that, even stranded in the middle of the forest in an abandoned hunter's lodge, she was not alone.

  * * *

  Edward did his best to present an air of nonchalance whenever the lady questioned him about Simon, but the truth was, he was afraid.

  Something was not right, for sure, because Simon had never before left the cottage alone, and last night, when Edward was sure Simon must have thought them all asleep, he had heard the boy crying.

  Crying.

  At fourteen, he was the oldest of their small band of rogues, and fourteen year old Simon never, ever cried. Even when facing fist and knife in the darkest, most dangerous alleyways in London, their leader had shown nothing but courage, and yet...

  Glancing out the window, Edward studied the grounds around the cottage, the trees, and even the way the sun settled upon the treetops on the horizon.

  He should be out there with Simon. They all should, but when he had woke Edward this morning, Simon had told him to stay put, to watch over the boys and the woman, and then he had set out alone.

  “Edward, would you bring me a fresh pail of water, please?” the lady said. “Take Derrick and search the shed out back for a hammer and something to put this chair together a little more sturdily, if you will.”

  Leaving his post by the window, he motioned to Derrick. Mending chairs was not his favorite chore, but anything was preferable to doing nothing and at the moment, he really needed something else – even manual labor would work – to take his mind off Simon and the chilling sense of unease he felt.

  Snow watched the boys leave the cottage and smiled. Poor Edward. He looked as unsettled as she felt with Simon gone. He had told her not to worry, but then he had stood and done just that for most of the morning.

  Fixing the chair would take his mind off his thoughts for a short while, she knew, but if Simon didn't return soon, she feared she would be joining him at his window vigil.

  Chapter Seven

  “I have a story!” Warren piped up from his place at the table the minute everyones dishes were cleared after dinner.

  “Not this time, Warren,” Vincent said, holding the lad back by the scruff of his shirt when he would have ran to the rug in front of the hearth to begin his oration first, as he had every night thus far since Snow had joined them in the cottage.

  “Tonight it's the lady's turn.” Edward declared. “Let her give us a tale.”

  Disgruntled because he would not be allowed to tell his own story first, Warren dropped to his knees on the rug before the fire and crossed his arms over his chest while Richard snickered at the petulant scowl on his face.

  “I-I haven't much to tell,” Snow admitted, running her palms self-consciously across her lap. After her bout of weeping last night, she didn't think having the boys' attention all to herself was such a good thing. “Certainly nothing as fascinating as the six of you could tell.”

  “Tell us about your home,” Derrick said, and his suggestion was followed by a chorus of agreement from the others.

  A bit hesitant to speak of the place she missed so dreadfully at the moment, Snow started with a description of the grounds. She spoke of the gargoyles standing sentinel at the end of the drive leading up to White Hall, likening them to tiny stone monsters and then of the lush, rolling lawns and the profusely flowering gardens, and her words grew more and more animated the longer she spoke.

  Unaware of the wistfulness which had crept into her tone, Snow eagerly answered the boys' questions, telling them about her life at home and how she had seen White Hall as a child their age.

  “Ye really miss it, don't ye, milady?” Vincent finally asked.

  “I do, indeed, Vincent,” Snow admitted, a wistful sigh following her pronouncement. “When I was a young girl, in the springtime, my father would picnic with me on the east lawn. We would spread a quilt upon the grass and spend hours enjoying the sunshine and...”

  Too late, she noticed Edward glaring at her from his post.

  “But enough of me,” she fumbled to recover. “Tell me more about this gentleman you call 'the boss' and how he rescued each of you again? He certainly seems a most benevolent sort.”

  "Master Geoff, I mean the boss, is the best, milady," Derrick declared.

  Settling deeper into her chair, Snow absently lifted the gold locket from its place against her heart and began to slide it slowly along the chain which held it. “I knew a man named Geoff once, not so long ago.”

  “Oh? Tell us about him, milady,” Warren prompted.

  “Well, to be precise, his Christian name was Geoffrey...”

  “I bet he's nowhere near as good a Geoff as the boss,” Derrick chimed in.

  Snow chuckled at the boy's high praise. “Well, the Geoff I knew was a Marquess, an honorable peer of the realm and a more kind, gentle, and handsome man I've never met.”

  “Yuck,” Anthony grumbled. “Sounds like you were a pinin' for him or something.”

  “It's almost full dark and Simon hasn't returned. Shouldn't we go out and search for him?” Snow asked, quickly changing the subject because Anthony's words had sent her thoughts off on a tangent upon which she preferred not to dwell.

  “We should. You should not. You would only slow us down anyway, but we can't go either 'cause we can't leave you here alone,” Richard glumly reminded her. “Someone has to stay to protect ye, milady.”

  At any other time, in any other place, Snow would have laughed at the absurdity of the
child's declaration, but Snow merely shook her head though she fought to keep the smile that threatened off her lips.

  “Must you all go? I thought perhaps Vincent and Edward...”

  “If they go, we go, milady,” Anthony spoke up. “We're rogues, an' we band together.”

  “Like fam'ly,” Derrick added, and Snow knew they would accept no further argument on the matter.

  “I shall be perfectly fine here while you boys are away. It will be no different than the hours you spend hunting in the mornings. The cottage is quite secluded, mind you,” Snow pointed out.

  Edward stared at her from beneath a dark scowl, clearly not convinced leaving her here was the best of ideas and yet also just as certain they should go out to look for Simon.

  “I doubt that anyone could find it in full light if they were searching for it, much less after dark. However, if someone should happen upon your solitary little glen, I promise to send them swiftly on their way.”

  “Ye can't do that, milady! Ye can't let anyone know yer here!” Warren grumbled with a shake of his head, clearly disgusted at her lack of knowledge of proper behavior when one was not ruled by the dictates or protected by the manners of polite society.

  “You are right,” Snow hurriedly placated. “In that case, I shall bolt the door and if someone should happen along, I will pretend not to notice.”

  “Come now, you must go. Find Simon and bring him back safely. I am afraid I won't be able to sleep a wink until he is home again,” Snow confessed, and it was true.

  She had worried about the boy all day, but it wasn't until she'd noticed that Edward, too, had grown overly concerned over the growing lateness of the hour that she had felt it pertinent to put her fears into words.

  “Are you certain, milady?” Edward finally asked, and Snow nodded.

  “Quite certain.”

  And so it was that the boys gathered their pallets and heaven only knew what other items they deemed necessary and headed into the night to search for their fellow rogue, leaving Snow alone in the cottage to fret over their safety while she waited for their return.