The Piano Girl - Part One (Counterfeit Princess Series)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  Chills ran down my spine. “Why is that?” After Hilda, I didn’t like the sound of tonight.

  “Merner wants its independence. Due to logging, they have a thriving economy. They are situated near the present border of Yonder and Blue Sky. The people feel ignored and unheard, and due to their location, they probably are.”

  “We’re near the border?” I breathed.

  “Yes, the most difficult leg of our journey is before us. Listen closely, Dory.” His keen gray eyes demanded my attention. “Merner needs its own magistrate, someone to represent the people to the king.”

  My head hurt from all the information. I didn’t remember my mother ever being involved in Father’s politics. Maybe behind the scenes, she’d been. Maybe that’s why her lovely red hair had turned gray at an early age.

  “What are we trading this time?” I asked.

  “A table.”

  “Oh . . .” The poor people didn’t even have a table.

  “The table’s already been paid for. We’re simply picking it up and delivering it to our hosts in Merner in exchange for room and board.”

  “And they know we’re coming tonight?”

  “Yes. Months of planning, Dory.” Felix flicked the reins.

  “Do they have daughters?”

  “No.”

  Good. I smiled.

  The table was solid mahogany and heavy. It took several young men from the mercantile to load it into the back of our wagon. In another lifetime, I would have deemed several of the craftsmen handsome. But because I wore my wig hat and walnut-stained face, I was too embarrassed to take a second glance.

  With shoulders hunched, Felix flicked the reins and sighed heavily. “My informant thinks there has been a leak of information. Of all places.” His neck disappeared into his large shoulder muscles as he sat hunched over the reins.

  “So, they . . . so they know?” I stuttered. “Someone knows it’s me?”

  “No, no one knows it’s you. In all of our planning, you’ve only been referred to as the piano girl. The Blue Sky piano girl.”

  That’s why Hilda had treated me with contempt! I’d been referred to as the royal piano girl.

  “Maybe we should just keep riding,” I said.

  “No, we’ll continue as planned.”

  Mossy oak trees lined the road and were lovely in the twilight. Felix slowed the wagon to peer at a handwritten sign. Black lettering on a long wooden shingle spelled: Chavers. We began our descent down a winding dirt road.

  “Have you been here before?” I held on to the back of the bench.

  “Years ago, I spent a great deal of time in these woods.”

  “I wouldn’t call scattered oak trees woods.” A rolling green meadow lined the valley floor.

  “There used to be fine timber on this section of land.” He flicked the reins. “Remember your accent tonight. We will be dining with an elderly couple.”

  “And will you also have an accent?”

  “I am your fauder.”

  An uneasiness that didn’t resemble hunger settled in the pit of my stomach. “My Ts will be Ds and my Ws will be Vs.”

  “We should be consistent.” He nodded in agreement. “And you are never to say where you are from or where you are going. Be very cautious. You must never mention Blue Sky or Yonder.”

  “I’m afraid, Felix; all your talk of tension.” I studied his profile.

  “As your father said in his letter, I am equal to fifty men. Do not be afraid.”

  I recalled how easily he’d handled the three sisters. He had not warned me of any tension that night, yet tonight he’d warned me twice.

  “Tonight you will take a bath and a sauna.”

  “Oh, good.” For a moment, I pictured myself up to my neck in bubbles.

  He laughed softly. “I knew by this stage of the journey that you’d need a bath.”

  His sentiments reminded me that he’d helped my father plan each step of the journey. “Remind me why we stayed at the sisters’?”

  “Their father is loyal to Blue Sky.”

  Felix drove the wagon past a quaint white farmhouse into a large barn. The smell of hay and sheep mingled in the air. I climbed down from the wagon and stretched my arms above my head.

  Felix lifted the bench seat. “Here.” He tossed me a wad of dark green material. Fortunately, I caught it; otherwise, it would have landed on the straw-flecked dirt. I held the material out at arm’s length. It was a commoner’s dress with a smocked top, a huge improvement over my present attire, but vulgarly simple. I almost threw it back.

  “This is another part of your plan? A dress?” Perhaps it was from five days of eating scrambled eggs that I felt anxious, or perhaps it was the knowledge that he’d also planned our stay at the three sisters’.

  “Yes, each stop has a purpose, Dory. Your parents confided that you’ve been spoiled, and that I had only one month to reform you. I do not think it will take that long; do you?”

  Within a month, I would be Princess Alia again. Wouldn’t I? When I married Prince Wron, I would return to the lifestyle I’d known all my life. Wouldn’t I?

  I followed Felix out of the barn. “So everything’s been orchestrated? Sadie, Hilda… tonight?”

  His neck disappeared into his hunched shoulders as it often did when he was annoyed. “Outlined is a better word than orchestrated. Where we will stay, what we will trade…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “But I cannot control your response. Glean from it what you will.”

  “Were Sadie’s circumstances real?” The little girl haunted me day and night.

  “Yes, everything has been real.” He lumbered in the direction of the farmhouse.

  “Vee are nod pronouncing our Ts donighd, Fauder.” I hurried after him.

  He waited for me to catch up. “I was told you are strong willed.” His eyes studied mine. “With the right motives and values, that quality will make you a better queen.”

  “Better queen.” I tasted the words and flung the dress over my shoulder. It was all too clear to me now. “My father wanted me to have the adventure. And you’re the one who’s added the concept of a better queen.”

  Felix’s profile was stoic as he strode toward the farmhouse.

  I was right. I knew I was!

  From the porch, an elderly woman waved at us. She wore a faded apron over a long, drab dress. Her gray hair was pulled into a low bun. “Welcome,” she said, smiling. One of her eyeteeth was missing. “The sow-na is ready.”

  “Dhank you.” I looked at Felix and questioned if I should feel anxious about leaving him.

  “Go now with Liisa.” He nodded.

  I followed Liisa through a galley kitchen with white-painted cabinets to a stone-floored laundry area, and then to the back porch. Here, she paused for a moment before resting her hand on a wooden post. “The sow-na is that little house back there.” She pointed toward a rustic building about the size of Greda and Sadie’s home. “Cleans the pores. If you sit on the lower bench, it will be cooler than the top bench. If you want more heat, pour some water on the rocks. Cleans your pores.”

  “Dhank you.” I waved over my shoulder at her as I strolled toward the sauna house. Though Liisa appeared to be watching me, she didn’t wave back.

  Like the elderly woman had said, the top bench was hotter. Walnut-colored sweat dripped off me. I sweated in the dry, steamy air until I almost fell asleep. Feeling overheated, I took a cold shower.

  In the changing room, I discovered a small round mirror hung on a peg. Turning side to side, I surveyed my face. Though it was red, I was pleased to see that my complexion was no longer walnut. I stepped closer to the mirror. What was that? A hard, raised bump had formed on my chin.

  Wide-eyed, I stared at my first pimple.

  I wanted to scream! But because I had only the towel wrapped around me, I thought it best to get dressed first. I hurriedly changed into the dark green peasant dress. Below the smocked top, the material flowed loosely past my knees. While it was a
huge improvement, it was without question the second-worst thing I’d ever worn. I felt so embarrassed by my pimple and the dress that I would immediately go to bed after dinner. Mother always said that sleep was very good for the complexion.

  I wondered what caused the pimple. Perhaps it had been one of the following: walnut oil, lack of sleep, not bathing for a week, or the scrambled egg diet. All maladies were new to me.

  I returned to the farmhouse, where I found Felix, freshly showered, wearing clean overalls. I sat down across from him at the new table.

  “It feels so smooth.” Liisa ran her hand over the mahogany surface.

  “It’s a beautiful table, Liisa.” Felix looked at me and frowned. “You must reapply the walnut oil.”

  He’d said it right in front of our hostess. She must be the one who knew I was the Blue Sky piano girl.

  “Liisa is nearly blind, and she’s not who I’m worried about tonight,” Felix said.

  My stomach knotted. Who was he worried about, Liisa’s husband?

  “Because of your walnut oil, I have my first pimple.” I felt embarrassingly close to tears. “I’ve never had a pimple in my whole life.”

  “Remember your accend,” Felix said.

  “Oh, dear.” Liisa shook her head. “Don’t tell me she’s going to cry because of a pimple.”

  “I think it is the hardships of the journey,” he said on my behalf. “The pimple is ever so slight,” Felix whispered to me. “See what little pleasure a mirror brings? You’d been content enough without it.”

  How little he knew. For days, I’d longed to see my reflection.

  “Liisa, can you do Dory’s hair? It is not safe for her to wear it down tonight.”

  I furrowed my brows, frowning at Felix. I’d never had a blind woman do my hair before, and I didn’t find the thought appealing.

  “I wish my eyes were still keen.” The elderly woman rose from her chair. “Felix said your auburn hair is beautiful—thick and curly.”

  “It is a pain to brush,” I admitted.

  “Stay seated, Dory.” Felix rose from his chair. “I will apply the oil while Liisa fixes your hair.” The elderly woman ambled to the kitchen and opened a drawer.

  At least I was not going to a ball tonight.

  Liisa worked through my curls with nimble fingers. Though she tried to be gentle, her combing hit a knot. I winced.

  “Sorry, Dory. Your hair is the thickest I’ve ever worked with. Felix, do I have it all in my hands?”

  “Yes.” Leaning from side to side, he studied me.

  After braiding it, Liisa tied it off with a ribbon. I thought we were done, but then she began pinning, and if I was not mistaken, she pinned my hair in the shape of a box on the top of my head. She began working higher and higher, bobby pinning each row.

  “My arms ache,” she moaned.

  “Here, stand on this chair.” Felix pulled a chair out from beneath the table and centered it behind me. The blind, elderly woman stood on top of the chair and fashioned the last inches of the braid on top of my head.

  My skin was stained a walnut color, I was dressed as a peasant, and now my hair was fashioned like a box on top of my head. Thank goodness we were only dining with the elderly.

  “Can I see a mirror?” I asked.

  Felix bit the insides of his cheeks and shook his head. In the past, someone denying my request would have proven enough to throw me into a royal tantrum. But I was too tired and hungry to complain.

  “I will go to bed immediately after dinner,” I whispered while Liisa puttered in the kitchen.

  “On account of the pimple or your hair?” Felix whispered.

  “If you will let me see a mirror, I will tell you.”

  His cheek muscles bunched. “Ask Liisa if there’s anything you can help her with. And use your accent.”

  I found the elderly woman in the corner of the kitchen at the cookstove. She opened the oven door and pulled out a baking sheet of warm, golden-brown yeast rolls. They looked and smelled delicious. She flipped the pan over a basket lined with a yellow-and-white checked tea towel.

  “Dory, can you carry this to the table?”

  “Yes. Hov did you knov id is me?” Hmmm… the Ws would be tricky.

  “I can see your outline. Like a willowy gray shadow.”

  After placing the basket on the table beside Felix, I returned to Liisa’s side. “Hoh may I help?” I hated the accent.

  “I’m so pleased that you asked. Please set my new table for ten guests.”

  “Den?”

  “Yes. The silverware is beneath the window.”

  An open wood box hosted butter knives, forks, and spoons. I carried it to the table and ignored Felix’s secretive smile. I’d sat at a table all my life, so of course I was aware of how to set one. I set a salad fork, a dinner fork, and the butter knife to the right, blade facing toward the plate, followed by a spoon, followed by a soup spoon, and lastly, a dessert fork and spoon paired together above the plate. After setting six place servings, I ran out of silverware.

  “Liisa, vhere is your udder silver?”

  “I have all the silver in the box.”

  “Yes, bud id is nod enough.”

  The elderly woman huffed softly under her breath as she made her way to the table. With her long, wrinkled fingers, she felt a place setting with her left hand. “Why are there so many forks?” she asked.

  “For da salad, da main dish, and desserd.”

  Liisa felt the dessert fork above the plate area and shook her head. “And why so many spoons?”

  “For da soup, da entrée, and desserd.”

  “Do you think we are royalty?” Facing me, Liisa lifted her sparse gray brows. Her dark gray eyes peered at the pimple on my chin. “Set one spoon, one knife, and one fork at each plate.”

  That made my job a lot easier.

  While I finished aligning the last place setting, there was a commotion in the entryway. Guests had arrived. Several young men and women strolled into the kitchen, laughing and conversing. A young and pretty dark-haired woman hugged Liisa. “Thank you, Grandma.”

  I wanted to die. Liisa was hosting young adults tonight, and I looked ridiculous with my box bun and a pimple on my chin. With a wry smile, Felix met my gaze. He’d known! With my fists by my sides, I fumed as Liisa’s guests seated themselves around the table.

  “Uh, Dory.” Liisa stood in the middle of the kitchen like she could no longer make out where I was. Didn’t she see the silhouette of the box on my head? I walked toward her, and she appeared to look right through me as if she didn’t see my gray shadow. I stopped a few feet in front of her, and she looked around me.

  “Dory,” she said. “I need your help, dear.”

  “I’m righd here in frond of you.”

  “Where?” Liisa reached out and with anguish in her dull eyes said, “Everything is dark. It happens when I am tired. Please tell my husband. Ramsey is on the porch.”

  I left the kitchen in search of an elderly man and found one on the front porch smoking a pipe, seated in a rocker. “Liisa vanded me do dell you dat she is dired and can’d see.”

  “Huh?” Wrinkling his nose, the plump, white-haired man didn’t understand my accent in the slightest.

  I knew Ramsey was an ally. “Liisa wanted me to tell you that she is tired and can’t see.”

  “Oh . . .” He rose from his chair. “Why didn’t you say so the first time?”

  I should have.

  When we returned to the kitchen, Liisa was seated in a rocking chair a few feet from the table. Ramsey sat down across from Felix, which left me alone in the kitchen looking at everyone. Perhaps I should sit down also, so I wouldn’t feel like a performer.

  “Does Dory have on her apron, Ramsey?” Liisa asked.

  “Nope. I don’t see one.”

  “Wear your apron, Dory.” Liisa pointed to a column of cupboards.

  I opened the top drawer. Bottles of spices greeted me. For some reason, the young people had st
opped conversing to watch me. I slid open the second drawer to the noisy clatter of pans. In the third drawer, there was a horrid sage-green apron, which I pulled out. The only thing nice about it was that it would almost completely cover my horrid dress. I slid the apron opening above my head and pulled it down in front. It came to my knees. When I went to tie it in back, it was too wide, so I wrapped the long ties around me and tied it in front.

  “Dory, the chickens are in the oven. They need basting.” The old woman was bossy. Her granddaughter was seated at the table. Why was I, a guest, preparing the meal? Felix! He was behind all of this.

  I walked around to the oven that Liisa had earlier pulled the yeast rolls from, but there was nothing inside.

  “The other oven,” Liisa said.

  I returned to the main kitchen area and realized there was another white stove. Two knit hot pads sat on top. Holding a pot holder in each hand, I opened the oven door. Steam leaped at my face. I stepped back, alarmed.

  A giggle escaped the red-haired woman at the table; she must have seen me. Conversation resumed as I pulled the large, heavy pan from the oven and set it on top of the stove. Three lightly browned chickens baked in bubbly drippings. If I hadn’t had an audience, I could have eaten all three, right there. I wondered if they were our birds. I glanced at Felix. He averted his gaze.

  “Are you basting them, Dory?”

  I looked around the kitchen. I had no idea what basting meant. “Fe—” My eyes widened. “Fauder,” I said. “Fauder.”

  “Yes, daughder.”

  “May I speak vidh you on da porch?” I strode out the front door and stood in front of the shingled siding where there were no windows. Felix soon joined me and closed the door behind him.

  “I’m not going back in there unless you help me. I don’t know how to baste. Everyone’s watching, and I’ve never been alone in a kitchen before, and you know it.”

  The top of his balding head turned a little red. “I will help you.”

  “Is my humiliation planned?”

  “No, not at all. To baste”—his hand felt heavy on my shoulder—“get a spoon and scoop the drippings from the pan and pour them over the chickens and then put the roasting pan back into the oven.”