Princess of Athelia

by Aya Ling

  At the end of the hall is another set of heavy doors. My stomach gets fluttery at the sight of the crowd of well-dressed people seated in an enormous living room. There’s Claire Fremont—breathtakingly lovely as usual—sitting with her mother, and several others with whom I was acquainted during the Season. I’ve met them while playing croquet at Claire’s, or they’re friends I have called on with Bianca. There’s even a girl that looks familiar—I recognize her as the one who shrieked and jumped when Krev let loose a mouse at the ball. And finally I spot Henry. He looks relieved when he sees us. Next to him, the duchess has an annoyed look on her face, which immediately vanishes when I meet her eye.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Philip says, barely concealing the excitement in his voice as though he is presenting an exotic animal in a zoo. “Our most honorable Highness and his bride have traveled all the way from the capital and come to join our company.”

  There is a flurry of movement. Skirts rustle and people smooth their hair. The members of the aristocracy stand up and bow or curtsy. I could get used to this, then I mentally smack myself. I will be leaving eventually, and there is no reason to be happy about people paying their respects merely because I’m tied to a royal family.

  Edward squeezes my hand. I have received guests in the palace before, but this is the first time I’ve had to deal with so many people. I swallow and try to arrange myself to look as calm and gracious as Constance. Even though I have been in large gatherings before, I am used to being ignored—keeping everyone’s ears safe from my piano playing and singing. Now, there is no escape as everyone’s attention is on the prince and me.

  Philip and Constance lead us around the room, introducing us to Lord so-and-so, Lady so-and-so—names that I can barely remember. My mind is already jammed from learning Edward’s ancestors. I’m glad for Edward’s hand on my arm. His touch is warm and comforting, his presence a pillar of security.

  Lady Fremont and Claire greet me with wide, sunny smiles. In the past, they kept their focus on my sister. They looked at me with disdain or not at all. I can’t help deriving a small vindictive pleasure at being the center of attention now.

  Henry’s greeting is more warm and genuine, but I can feel his gaze darting behind me, as though I am concealing someone. When Edward engages the duchess’s attention by talking about some trivial detail of our engagement, I tell Henry: “Elle can’t join us here. I’m sorry—she has been super busy these days.”

  He stiffens for a second, though his smile doesn’t waver. Henry may be more approachable compared to Edward, but growing up as one of Edward’s cousins, he also knows how to mask his emotions when necessary. “I had expected something like this. Is it about the school for girls that she plans to open?”

  “She told you already?”

  Henry darts a glance at his mother, then speaks in a low voice. “She has asked if I could convince a few instructors at the Royal Institute to teach a few courses at her school.”

  “Wow.” I’m impressed at Elle’s efficiency and resourcefulness. “She really is set on opening that school.” I rub my elbows and feel a pang of guilt for declining her request that I voice support for girls’ education.

  This time, Henry’s cheerfulness vanishes. There is a pained, almost forlorn look in his eyes. “She certainly is. She might seem gentle and soft-hearted, but she possesses a determined, single-minded resolution when faced with difficulties. It is an admirable quality, but sometimes I think she cares more for . . .”

  “Henry,” the duchess lays a hand on her son’s arm, then glances at me. “I do apologize for interrupting, but there are some people we were going to speak to before you arrived. It would not do to keep them waiting.”

  There is a challenging note in her tone and look. Henry opens his mouth for a second, but no sound comes out. With a triumphant grin, the duchess steers him away. I wish I could yank her hand off and tell her to stop interfering in her son’s love life, but what can I say when Henry allows himself to be trodden on?

  “Let him alone, Kat,” Edward whispers in my ear. “If he is truly attached to Elle, he will not disappoint her.”

  “He’d better,” I say fervently, though at the same time I also wonder what Henry had meant to tell me. Does he mean that he believes that Elle cares more for her charity efforts than for him?

  A while later, I wish I could retire to a room. We have spent the whole day traveling. I long to throw off the heavy gown I’m wearing. If this socializing goes on, I will have to tape my eyelids to stop them from closing. Wait—this world doesn’t have plastic tape. Yet.

  Edward seems to sense my weariness. “Cousin,” he says in a low voice. “My apologies, but we would request for a while to rest and change. It has been a long day.”

  Philip doesn’t look too concerned. “Pshaw, it’s not even five o’clock! Surely our Princess Katriona is capable of greeting her subjects. It’s not that taxing compared to those balls that last until early morning. A cup of strong coffee will help restore her spirits.”

  “At least stay a while longer to meet the children,” Constance quickly says, seeing that Edward is narrowing his eyes. “They have been longing to see their Uncle Ed. And, of course, to meet Katriona.”

  She hails a servant, ordering that the children be brought to the sitting room. I look up at Edward and raise my eyebrows. “Uncle Ed?”

  He remains impassive, but I think I detect a glimmer in his eyes. “Is that a problem?”

  “It hardly suits you. An uncle should be hearty and jolly and present a fatherly image—not that broody, moody person I see.”

  “No stranger than Aunt Kat.”

  I make a face at him. This time he smiles; I feel like recording it as a victory. Uncle Ed and Aunt Kat—I have to admit the names sound good, even though it feels way too early to be thought of as an elder relative.

  Presently, the servant returns with a boy and a girl. They march, almost like the children in The Sound of Music, their postures as stiff as bricks. But their eyes—large and expressive like their parents’—gaze at me with eagerness and curiosity.

  “Darlings,” Constance says, taking them by the hand and pushing them forward. “Uncle Ed has finally decided to get married! Isn’t it exciting? And he’s brought his bride to see you.”

  Edward loops an arm around my shoulder. “Say hello to Aunt Kat.”

  Constance gestures to the boy, who looks about twelve or thirteen. “This is Thomas, my second oldest.” He touches a hand to his forelock and nods at me like a well-trained soldier. “And this is Liana Rose, but we all call her Rosie.” The girl doesn’t look older than ten. She’s a small, dainty thing who reminds me of that glass shepherdess on the mantelpiece when I still lived at Lady Bradshaw’s house. No wonder she’s called Rosie.

  I wink at her, and she gives a tiny smile, which she quickly covers up with a delicate white hand. I feel as though I’ve met someone I can be totally comfortable with.

  “By the way, where is Tristan?” Edward says. It’s then that I recall he told me that Philip and Constance have three children.

  “He’s still away at boarding school—they have a huge rowing competition this week.” Constance shakes her head. “The older he is, the less he listens to his old mother.”

  Just then, a servant rushes up to Philip. “Lady Lillie has just arrived.”

  A girl attired in a pristine white dress enters the room. She has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, which curve into crescent moons when she smiles. Although her dress is simple, and she doesn’t have any ornaments apart from a string of pearls, her exquisite face definitely draws the attention of all men in the room.

  “Oh, do forgive me for arriving late,” she says breathlessly, coming toward us. “Our carriage broke down on the road, and it took such a long time for our coachman to ride to the nearest village for help.”

  “What an unfortunate incident!” Philip says. “Is anyone injured? I’ll call our doctor.”

  “Father has a scratch
on his leg, but it’s nothing to cause great worry over.” She sees me; for a second her eyes narrow, but then she breaks into a radiant smile and holds out her hand. “My name is Lillie; I am Constance’s sister. Are you the famous Lady Katriona who has captured Edward’s heart?” She says Edward’s name in a casual tone that hints they are well acquainted.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I say. “I’m Kat—I mean, you can call me Kat.”

  “Lillie will be coming out next year.” There’s a note of pride in Constance’s tone. “If her mother cannot make the journey, I will be accompanying her to court.”

  Lillie’s smile wavers for a second. She darts a glance at Edward. “If Mama wasn’t so determined to perfect my wardrobe, I could have had my season this year.”

  There’s no doubt that she deeply regrets the delay. What difference does not debuting this year make? A seed of suspicion starts to form in my mind.

  Lillie turns to Edward. “Guess what? I’ve brought you several tulip bulbs from Enrilth. If we try cultivating them in the palace now, they’ll be a treat for next year’s flower show.”

  I blink. I didn’t expect her to be into gardening.

  “I appreciate the gesture,” Edward says. “But I’d rather leave the credit to you.”

  “Edward, I bought them especially for you.” Lillie’s tone is plaintive—a bit whiny even. “I trust your skills will do them better justice than mine. You’ve never refused me before.”

  “Lillie,” Constance says in a low, urgent voice, giving me a lightning glance.

  It’s official: she’s the 999th girl to have a crush on Edward.

  10

  The journey was so tiring that I slept until midmorning the next day, so Constance had Amelie bring me a late breakfast tray instead. Then she took me on a tour of the house, which lasted so long that we were late for lunch. I counted two grand halls, three dining rooms, four parlors, and a dozen sitting rooms. There’s a healer’s room for the family doctor, as Constance boasts that they don’t need to ride to the nearest town for medical-related emergencies. They even have special rooms including a lamp room, a china room, and a muniment room where they keep parochial records, charters, deeds, and other important documents. Bedrooms are too many to count, and there’s even a “bachelor’s row” to separate the single guests from the married. The steward and butler and housekeeper get their own rooms, while the rest of the servants share a servants’ hall that reminds me of a hostel or dormitory. Even though the duke’s house lacks a throne room and palace guards and other stuff that comes with the royal package, it is pretty overwhelming. Constance seems pleased whenever my jaw drops or I let out a gasp.

  Edward has gone grouse-shooting with the men—a popular pastime with the titled and wealthy, so I am left with the women. Everyone is nauseatingly polite and respectful, even when I occasionally behave like a country bumpkin, which again reminds me of how they ignored me in the past. I’m sure few of the smiles they give me are sincere, and it bothers me that I have to paste a huge, fake smile on my face in return. Again, I wish Poppy or Elle were here with me.

  At noon, when the men return with cartloads of game from the shooting, Constance insists on having a picnic outside since the weather is uncommonly warm today. Like a general barking orders to soldiers, she directs the servants to set up a buffet style table on the lawn, with clusters of small round tables under the trees. As I observe her discussing with the butler the choices of meat and the seating arrangements, I realize this is the kind of woman that Madame Dubois wants me to emulate. Organized, efficient, well acquainted with every single minute detail and rule. Which is so not me.

  The table looks in danger of crashing from the weight of food placed on it. There are platters of pheasants and partridges and deer, a giant wooden bowl of salad greens, slabs of cheese and fresh rye bread, cakes and jellies and puddings, and coffee and tea. I don’t even know where to start.

  I look for Edward, but he is already occupied with Philip, Henry, and other men. I suppose it isn’t appropriate that we stick together like glue all the time, so I quash the awkward, shy part of me that’s threatening to rear, and do my best to socialize. Even though I’d rather sit away from the crowd with a book.

  “Where are the children?” I ask, looking around. I remember Rosie smiling shyly at me, and I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

  Constance looks surprised. “In the nursery, of course. It is the governess’s responsibility to take care of them.”

  The tone of her voice suggests that I had said something foolish. Excuse me, but neither my lady nor princess lessons has covered anything concerning children. “Um, I just thought since the weather is so nice today, they might enjoy having lunch outside with us.”

  “Children have no business mixing up with the grown-ups,” Lady Fremont says coldly. She’s been civil enough, but there’s something in her eyes that sparks of resentment. Which is perfectly understandable. Her two prospects for her daughter—Edward and Henry—have been snapped up by me and Elle. “They will have plenty of time for social activities in a few years.”

  Constance digs a fork into her watercress salad. “God knows that I wish they never grow up. It really makes one feel old, you know. I know I shall resent it when the time comes for Rosie to be brought out.”

  “How is Rosie getting along recently?” Lady Mansfield asks. She also treated me like I never existed, especially since I ruined her dinner party by splashing champagne on Andrew McVean, but now she can’t be more friendly. “Didn’t you tell us that your eldest tried to lead her astray?”

  “She has much improved now, thank heaven.” Constance rubs her forehead as though to ward off a headache. “Tristan has always spoiled her dreadfully, but taking her to the woods to go climbing trees, jumping over stiles, and getting her frock dirty and torn? I had to put my foot down. I could not have my little girl growing up a savage.”

  “You won’t have cause for worry, since most of the time the boys are away at boarding school.”

  “Well, that reminds me. I need to give Tristan another talk when he comes back. He may have stopped with shaping her into a tomboy, but he’s been feeding Rosie’s head with ideas lately.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  Constance presses her lips in a slash. “He calls them modern, but I call them dreadful. He lent Rosie his books at that boarding school—books that a pure-minded young girl shouldn’t be around. I confiscated one book that had pictures of the human anatomy. It is positively disgraceful for her to be learning about such distasteful stuff when she should be concentrating on her own lessons. I told her to put everything she read out of her mind and worry about performing a court curtsy.”

  “You needn’t worry, Constance,” Lady Fremont says, simpering. “Considering that Rosie is your daughter, and a little beauty who takes after her mother, she won’t have much trouble with suitors.”

  “Making the right choice for marriage is no easy deal,” Lady Petunia says, joining the conversation. “You don’t know how much I have pleaded with Henry to pick a suitable girl from a good family, but he has been fixated on that Bradshaw girl. She might no longer be a servant, but the fact remains that she lacks a lady’s education. Did you know that she offered to help me do my hair? As if I didn’t have enough maids for that.”

  She sends me an irritated glance. As if I had anything to do with getting Henry and Elle together. If anything, my original goal was to separate them so Elle could marry Edward. But with so many women present, I’m worried that any defense of Elle might backfire and produce an opposite effect. From how Constance seemed so concerned about making Rosie into a little lady, I doubt any of them will approve of a union between Henry and Elle. Heck, I’m pretty sure that they don’t think too highly of me either—a girl who tripped over her feet during her presentation.

  “Excuse me,” I murmur and get up. The aroma of roast pheasant is assailing my nose, and my mouth is watering after pretending to be satisfied with a meager plate of s
alad. Plus, I need a break from the conversation—it’s getting more and more difficult to smile and agree with their views.

  I grab a plate and help myself liberally to food. Even in the palace, you can’t get pheasant that’s caught on the same day it’s cooked. Let Constance and the others gape at my appetite; I have endured their conversation all morning and I’ll be pissed off if I need to endure an empty stomach as well.

  Laughter rings out near me, just when I poured myself a tall glass of lemonade to go with my piled plate. Then someone stumbles in my back, my hand is jolted, and a chunk of meat falls on my dress. Half of my lemonade spills down my front.

  “Oh I’m so sorry!” Lillie gasps. “I was talking to Mother and didn’t notice you behind me.”

  Her mother also apologizes profusely, but like Lady Fremont, I sense the same restrained resentment in her face. Unless I’m much mistaken, Lillie’s mother also harbors anger toward me—anger that I stole her daughter’s chance to be queen.

  I tell myself to stop speculating; for all I know, they could be genuinely upset about humiliating me in front of the party.

  “It’s all right, don’t worry about it.” I squat on the grass to pick up the meat off the ground. A small gasp comes from Lillie; immediately a servant rushes over and tells me not to trouble myself.

  “Katriona . . .”

  “I’m fine. Just excuse me for a moment.”

  I slip away from the picnic buffet, dabbing my soaked front with a handkerchief. Actually I’m not too miffed about Lillie, since her accident gives me a perfect chance to get away from the crowd. I feel the need to breathe in privacy after all the socializing since breakfast.

  Amelie doesn’t say anything when she learns what’s happened. There’s a peeved look on her face as she strips me down, tosses away the soiled dress, and laces me into a new gown. But when she finishes tying on my sash, she puts her hands on her hips.