by Aya Ling
“Easier for those who can afford to hire a lawyer. I’ve heard that a third of the nobles got divorced.”
A third! Maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising, since marriages among the rich and powerful are rarely based on love. From my experience in the Season, a lot of men and women meet for a few times and then the man proposes.
I wonder what the odds are of the prince getting a divorce if the real Katriona doesn’t get along with him.
Hang on, we’re talking about Bertram here. I have to put in a good word for him, even if Amelie seems determined to stay single.
“Come on, surely you don’t believe Bertram will treat you that badly? Even if he looks kind of scary when he doesn’t smile, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you. Actually, if anyone were to ask me, I’d say you are more intimidating than him.”
“My sister’s husband was as meek as a lamb when she first met him.” Amelie lays down the brush with a decisive thud. “All I want to do now is to keep my job and lead a peaceful life.”
Poor Bertram.
12
“So, what did you do to attract His Highness?”
Dozens of beautifully powdered faces stare at me. I’m sitting with the noble ladies while Edward is again grouse-hunting with the men. I would have liked to have gone with them, but Edward told me that although there was no rule preventing women from joining a shooting party, it would look especially awkward if I were the only woman who wanted to go out and watch men firing at pheasants and geese and ducks. And so, I have to stay indoors with the ladies, who have nothing better to do except to talk, sip tea, and play cards.
“We have been dying to learn how you seduced the prince,” Claire says, her eyes brimming with curiosity. I can almost imagine her thrusting a mic beneath my chin like a reporter.
“Um . . .” I reach for the teacup only to find it already empty.
“Pardon my bluntness, but Bianca usually attracts more attention. Fancy sharing with us how you managed to capture our prince’s heart?”
I really wish I could escape from this room. “I . . . I kind of met him when I went to see Elle and her mother.”
“Do you mean the servant girl who turned out to be the daughter of the late earl?” Constance says. “Such a fascinating story! I’ve been looking forward to meeting her, but unfortunately she is too busy to come.”
The conversation turns to Elle and the amazing story of how she elevated her status from penniless servant to daughter of an earl. Perhaps it’s just as well that Lady Petunia had a headache this morning, most likely from drinking too much wine the previous night, or she’d be irritated that so many women are intrigued by Elle. However, while Constance is fascinated by Elle’s rags-to-riches story, I don’t think she’d be happy to welcome Elle as a daughter-in-law. Seeing that I’m unwilling to talk too much about Edward, the ladies gradually let their attention move toward other juicy bits. I hear about Lord Alfred writing letters to Lady Bracknell—who is already married, by the way—and how Lady Priscilla has produced five daughters—too bad she has failed to produce a son—and that Minnie May is coming out soon, and would someone please draw up a list of eligible suitors for her?
It’s all so very boring, so I keep drinking cup after cup, even though I’m not a huge fan of chamomile tea, until I actually have to leave for the toilet. Athelia does have toilets that flush; however, only the richest can afford them—just as with cameras. Some modern appliances exist, though they’re still in the early stages. In fact, Edward has mentioned to me that they are building a new railroad, which will be completed by the time of the wedding.
“Excuse me,” I say, rising. “I need to be gone for a moment. I’m afraid I had too much tea.”
On my way out, I run into Lillie. She has her hair down, and it curls gently on her shoulders. A perfect, angelic beauty.
“Hello.” I give her a smile. I would keep going if she didn’t call my name.
“May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Um . . .” The bathroom is just around the corner. “All right.”
Lillie clasps her hands together. “I . . . I would like to apologize to you.”
“Whatever for?”
She looks up at me hesitantly. “Constance said I appeared rather forward with Edward. So, I wished to seek you and explain.”
I debate whether I should mention to her that there was this girl who sent Edward a baleful letter, dotted with tear stains, asking him why he didn’t choose her at the ball. Or the other amazingly resourceful girl who managed to ambush him when he was going to the greenhouse—Bertram caught that one before she could get Edward into a compromising situation. Neither girl, of course, had bothered explaining anything to me.
“I’ve known Edward since Constance married his cousin,” Lillie says, smoothing back a lock of her hair. “I wasn’t much older than Rosie, but he was so kind and attentive to me. I had my own garden at home, and he was instrumental in helping me choose the seeds and species. I’ve rarely interacted with anyone outside family, since I haven’t been brought out, so Edward has become my best friend.”
What am I supposed to say? Thanks for telling me; now, get lost.
“Will you forgive me, Katriona?” Lillie says, her tone plaintive. “I really hope that I didn’t cause any misunderstanding between you.”
“You didn’t.” Edward didn’t even mention a word about Lillie. Not that we have managed to talk much in private, especially amid a house party. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—my bladder is going to burst.”
Her eyes widen in shock. I don’t know if it’s because the word “bladder” is rarely used or if she’s realized she’s been keeping me too long, but I don’t bother to find out. Nature calls—an emergency call, in fact.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I notice in the mirror that one of my hairpins has fallen out, and my hair is in danger of breaking free. I decide to head back to my room.
Somehow, I get lost. This Pemberley-like place isn’t as enormous as the palace, but I’ve only been here for a day. And I have never been good at directions. I used to get lost in my own school even after one semester.
I hurry along the corridor and find myself on a balcony. It’s not the typical kind that projects outside a building, but rather, it overlooks a larger room on the lower level. Rosie is bent over a desk, her face screwed up in concentration as she writes in a book.
It is rather interesting to observe her from where I stand. I suspect that the construction of this balcony is quite convenient for the parents wanting to check up on their children. After all, no one has surveillance cameras in Athelia.
And then I hear a door being thrown open, and Thomas swaggers into the room. He slams a fist on her desk.
“Roly-poly! Have you stolen Tristan’s old stuff again?”
Rosie quickly slips the book into the desk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve been looking for his arithmetic workbook, volume two. Come—hand it over. I know you sneaked it from Tristan’s room when I was away in boarding school.”
He stalks over to her, his hand outstretched. Rosie’s lip quivers, but she shakes her head. “You can get away with copying the answers, but you’d still flunk the tests. And then you’ll get in worse trouble when Father gets your report card.”
I can’t see Thomas’s face, but I’m pretty sure he’s mad. “Don’t you play Goody Two-shoes with me, Little Miss Rosie. It’s not like those workbooks are going to do you any good. Girls have no business doing arithmetic anyway. Your brain isn’t fit for mental exertion.”
Now, that’s going too far. I take the staircase that leads to the lower level and easily find the room where Rosie and Thomas are speaking. I fling the door wide open. “Morning.” I offer what I hope is a charming smile. “Sorry for barging in without knocking, but I heard you talking about arithmetic and wondered if I could be of some help.”
Rosie stares at me, her eyes round and wide, her delicate white hands gripping the s
ides of her desk.
Thomas looks as though he just swallowed a live fish. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, but I guess you didn’t understand. So allow me repeat it: I could help you with your math—arithmetic—problems.” I keep my smile confident and push down any bit of doubt I’m having. Math was never my strong suit, but I’m pretty sure my high school math skills are sufficient for the problems in a thirteen-year-old’s arithmetic workbook. Plus, if he needed to copy the answers from his older brother’s book, he can’t be too bright.
“Ladies don’t mess with academics.” Thomas doesn’t look at me, but his voice is gruff. He doesn’t treat me with the same harsh condescension he has shown toward his sister, but it’s only because I’m a princess.
“This one does.” I put my hands on my hips. Maybe I shouldn’t interfere with their education —after all, this is nothing like child labor—but Thomas’s disparaging remark about a girl’s mental capability has gotten on my nerves. I don’t want Rosie believing that she’s inferior.
“How about a bet? Suppose you show me your arithmetic workbook, and I’ll work on the problems you want to copy from Tristan’s. Rosie has the old workbook with answers, so we can compare to see if mine are correct. If there’s a single question that I can’t do, then I’ll ask Bertram to take you riding.” From an earlier conversation with Constance, I know that Thomas is obsessed with horses, and Bertram is a great trainer. As I expected, the boy’s face lights up. “But if I can complete every problem, then you’ll promise not to bother Rosie. You will apologize and concede that a girl is capable of studying the same subjects as a boy.”
Both children seem taken aback at my confidence.
“Aunt Kat,” Rosie says hesitantly. “Have you taken arithmetic lessons before?”
I just give her an enigmatic smile. “What do you say, Thomas? Or are you so terrified of losing that you don’t even want to bet?”
That does the trick. “Fine.” Thomas plunks his workbook—which looks brand-new—on Rosie’s desk.
13
The men caught an avalanche of birds from their hunt. For breakfast, we have roast pheasant, partridge, chicken sandwiches with buttered cucumbers, and turkey meatballs dipped in a rich tomato-and-cheese sauce. There’s more than enough to feed an army, which makes me cringe. Back home, I remember how Mom would save scraps or freeze leftovers for us whenever she wasn’t going to be available. Anything home-cooked was better than pizza and burgers.
I mention to Constance about the abundance of food, but she just pats my arm. “Don’t worry, dear—I always arrange for the leftovers to be packed into food baskets. We will be going over to the village to distribute the food.” She smiles. “Part of our duty, you see.”
An image of those villagers lining up to welcome Edward and me pops up in my mind. Serfdom—that’s what Philip and Constance are running here. Maybe it’s normal, and maybe the villagers are happy with the arrangement. Still, it doesn’t mean I should be comfortable with it. I take up my fork, making a deliberate decision to finish everything on my plate.
When Edward takes his seat across from me, I smile at him. Yesterday, I had a total victory over Thomas. I did have some apprehension about completing the questions, but it turns out I needn’t have worried. My high school math totally trumped his thirteen-year-old Athelia-boarding-school math.
Edward smiles back, but there is a questioning look in his eyes as though he’s wondering why I’m in a good mood this early in the morning. Usually, I’m grumpy and impatient—at the palace, I rarely get much sleep because of the onerous and time-consuming princess duties. I start to open my mouth, but Lillie glides into the room, radiant as usual, and pauses near us.
“May I sit here?”
While Constance imposes formality with dinners, even going as far as installing name cards on the table, she’s more lax when it comes to breakfast. Since everyone gets up at different times in the morning, there is less restriction on where people can sit. Lillie doesn’t really have to ask, but she glances at me as though she needs my validation.
Back off; he’s mine.
“Go ahead.” I shrug.
She looks as if I just tossed her a piece of candy. A servant pulls out her chair, and she sits down, a smile playing on her lips as she shakes out a napkin and spreads it on her lap.
“Did you know that we are going to the village today?” Her eyes follow Edward’s.
Edward nods and takes up his cup. “You will also be going, I presume?”
“Of course. Will you please take me to the gardening store? I would love to have some advice on how to plot my own garden.”
A stab of jealousy hits me, but I resolve not to let it show. I remember what Krev said about the old Katriona coming back, and I tell myself that Lillie is a better replacement. There are still eight months—longer than the time that Edward and I have known each other. And even if my marriage to Edward cannot be nulled, he will be able to divorce the old Katriona and marry Lillie instead. Amelie had said that divorces aren’t that uncommon for nobles.
“I thought you already had your own garden.” There’s a hint of frost in Edward’s tone.
“It needs to be redesigned. And I would dearly appreciate if you could help me with it.”
Claire, who is sitting next to me, starts to ask questions about my new life in the palace. How do I feel now I’m princess? When is the engagement going to take place? Have I picked my gown for the ceremony? They’re tedious questions, but they keep my attention away from Edward and Lillie. Edward looks at me now and then, but I harden my heart and force myself to keep talking to Claire.
Let him go, Kat. He deserves better.
When breakfast is over, Edward comes up to me.
“I am afraid that we won’t be able to share a carriage,” he says, touching my arm. “There is a shortage of carriages, so you will have to sit with the other women. I will go on horse.”
“Um . . . do you mind if I choose not to go? I promised Rosie I would spend the day with her.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Since when do you know her so well?”
I brief him on the little drama I had yesterday with Thomas and Rosie. “You see, after I made Thomas eat his words, Rosie looked at me like I was some kind of hero. She doesn’t have much company apart from a simple-minded governess, so I told her I’d go to her.”
“Then I shall stay with you. Let me inform Constance that there is a change of plans.”
“But you promised, Edward,” Lillie says, suddenly appearing next to him. “You promised that you would help me select my catalogue.”
“It’s all right,” I quickly say. “Really, there’s no need for you to stay as well. Constance will be disappointed if both of us choose to remain behind when she has already arranged for us to go. And Lillie needs your help just as Rosie needs mine.”
Edward fixes his gaze on me—piercing, shrewd, probing. There’s a flash of hurt as well; it disappears as quickly as a shooting star. I stare back unflinchingly. The old Katriona is coming back, I chant in my head. Lillie will be a better choice.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine with Rosie.”
“Very well.” His voice is calm, but when he walks past me, he leans over for a second, and his lips brush past my ear. “You may try, but you will not succeed.”
Before I can respond, he is already heading toward the door that leads to the parlor. Lillie throws me a smirk—I get the impression she is pleased that Edward has decided to go ahead without me. For a moment, I itch to pull her away, grab Edward’s arm, and say I’m sorry. But I don’t want him spending the rest of his life with the old Katriona—a girl I’m sure he barely knows. A girl who could be similar to Bianca.
I bite my lip and wait till Edward and Lillie have disappeared from sight.
* * *
Rosie is doing needlework when I arrive. Her head is bent over a snowy white dress, her pale blond curls spilling over her shoulder, the thimble on her th
umb gleaming silver as she sits by the window. From a distance, she looks like the ideal Athelian woman—demure, patient, hardworking. But as I approach her, the dress on her lap seems too large and cumbersome. Moreover, despite being of similar age, her face lacks Paige’s carefree, bucolic expression.
“Hello, Rosie.”
Her hand pauses and she looks up. Her entire face lights up. “Aunt Kat! You really came!”
“It’s Kat,” I say, leaning over her chair. “Don’t you have a maid or a servant to sew for you?” Not that there’s anything wrong with Rosie doing her own work, but after witnessing the army Constance commands, it feels strange to me that she can’t just get someone else to do menial tasks.
She shrugs. “Mama said every girl must learn how to use a needle and thread. Sometimes Thomas makes me sew the buttons on his shirt even though he can have Faith do it.”
Yeah, Thomas does look capable of bullying his little sister. Still, I’m surprised that she has to do embroidery when she’s only nine.
“Isn’t it the same with you, Kat?” Rosie’s large eyes are full of curiosity. “Don’t you have to do things for your father—and brothers, if you have any?”
“My father passed away when I was a child. And no, I don’t have any brothers.” One Bianca is enough, I mutter in my head. “But surely you have other stuff you can learn. That math book your older brother gave you . . . do you have math lessons?”
Rosie shakes her head and looks down. “Mama said a girl ought to learn music and literature to the extent of making her company pleasant with a male acquaintance.”
“Rubbish,” I say without thinking. Her mouth falls open; she stares at me—an altogether familiar expression for those moments when I let slip evidence of my un-Athelian upbringing. I really should conceal it when I can, but sometimes there are things—such as child labor—that are too shocking for me to keep my mouth zipped. “You only need to learn for yourself. And I don’t get why you don’t need to learn math.” I remember Poppy, her brow furrowed as she tried to balance the checkbook while Elle explained patiently to her. “Look, you’re supposed to grow up and get married and run a household, right? What if you give a servant some money for purchases, and he comes back with the wrong change, and you couldn’t tell the difference? Do you want to be swindled?”
