Bianca sighed. “You’re right, Vivi. I’ll try to do better. I’m just… so sad.”
“Oh darling, I didn’t mean that.” Vivienne swung the door open and came the rest of the way into the room, kneeling down at Bianca’s side. “You have every right to be sad, if that’s what you feel in your heart. But you are doing this for good and noble reasons, and I don’t want you to miss out on the joys you can have, even in the midst of your sorrow.”
Bianca looked at her cousin. “That was quite poetic.”
“I thought so.”
“And you’re right, of course.”
“Of course I am.”
“So who have you brought to see me?”
A bundle of cloth with feet came mincing into the room. “It’s only me. I would have seen you in one of the salons, but Vivi thought you might prefer we met here in your suite.” The pile of fabric slithered down to lie on the bed, revealing a lovely young woman with honey-colored hair and a charming smile. “I’m Eleanor Wellesley, your highness.”
“Please, do call me Bianca, Lady Wellesley. I’m not at all accustomed to being given a title.”
“Well, in that we are alike. I shall happily call you Bianca, if you will call me Eleanor, or, better still, Ella.”
“And you may both call me Madame High Muckety-Muck. Now, let’s pretend you’re already friends, and start looking at dresses!” Vivienne’s impatient outburst left Bianca smiling, and she realized her friend had been right. She might as well enjoy what she could.
Ella pulled a pad of paper from beneath the fabric, and flipped it open to a few simple sketches. “These are the gowns that have been most popular this season, although, if you want my advice—” She hesitated, until she saw Bianca nodding vigorously. “I would dress you in something different. Every woman in Albion is wearing an empire waist, but you’re a foreign princess. You don’t want to follow trends, you want to set them.”
The next half hour was spent with Ella sketching, and Vivienne making suggestions. Bianca only spoke up twice, once to insist—over Vivienne’s objections—that her back be fully covered. The second time was when she exclaimed in delight over the final drawing.
“I love it!”
“As do I.” Vivienne nodded in approval. “Despite your appalling insistence on modesty.” She glanced at the clock over the mantel. “Alas, I shall have to allow you free rein now. My father has requested my appearance for a bit of royal duty.” She kissed them both on the cheek with great affection, and then swooped from the room. Ella looked at Bianca, and they both started giggling.
“Honestly, I think she does it on purpose to make us laugh, but Max says she’s always been this way.” Ella stood up and fetched a tape measure. “Now, before we look at fabrics, I should take your measurements.”
Bianca stood and held her arms out to the side, but Ella shook her head. “Not for a dress like this, your highness. I’m going to need you all the way down to your chemise.”
Bianca didn’t argue, but her fingers were slow in undoing her dress. She wondered how the couturier would respond to her scars, but once her back was bare all Ella did was cluck her tongue softly.
“So that’s why you didn’t want a low-cut back.”
“I… I don’t ever show them to people.”
“Well, then I’m touched by your trust. But you needn’t worry. I shan’t talk about them with anyone else, and I’ll make careful note of how high your neckline needs to extend. Your scars are your own, to reveal or not, as you choose.”
Ella started measuring, and for a few moments there was silence. Then Bianca spoke up.
“You didn’t ask how I got them.”
“I assumed if you wanted me to know, you would tell me.”
“Perhaps I will.” There was something about this kind, gracious woman that made Bianca trust her. “But not just yet, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Ella wound up her measuring tape. “Now for the fun part. Would you like to look at fabrics?”
Bianca adored the cloth Ella had brought. Each was lovely, but they became even more so when Ella would select two or three, and describe how they might be put together. At one point Bianca caught herself fingering a soft, white mesh with threads of silver wound through it.
“Could you make me a gown out of this?”
“Well, not on its own; the mesh is too sheer. But with an underdress, perhaps something like this?” Ella pulled a lovely pink from the pile, but Bianca shook her head.
“What about this, or this?” She held up two shimmery swatches of silk, one in silver, the other in an icy pale blue.
Ella cocked her head, and rifled through the pile as she spoke. “That would be lovely; maybe with this as an accent?” She held up a thin velvet ribbon of a blue so dark it was almost black.
“That’s perfect.”
Ella nodded in agreement. “It’s a winter palette, like fresh snow. You’ll look like an ice princess.”
“Or a snow maiden.”
Ella arched an eyebrow, and Bianca flushed. “Is that significant for some reason?”
“Someone told me I was like a snow maiden, only in his life for a brief season.”
“That someone wouldn’t happen to be the Dame’s exceedingly handsome grandson, would it?”
Bianca was surprised. “How did you know?”
“I have a singularly observant husband who loves to gossip. He said, and I quote, that even when your eyes are elsewhere, it’s like your whole body keeps track of him. And that Robin ignores you so intently, it’s like he’s calling your name.” At that description, Bianca felt her blush deepen. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why am I making you gowns to meet other suitors, when you obviously feel so strongly about Robin?”
“It isn’t that simple. Do you know Robin well?”
“Not at all. I know his grandmother, however. She’s my Godmother.”
“Oh!” Bianca thought hard about how to phrase her next question. “Do you know much about her people?”
Ella laughed, and leveled a very direct gaze on Bianca. “Know? I don’t actually know anything. But I’ve guessed a great deal.”
“Ah.”
“Indeed. Ah.”
“Robin doesn’t seem to think we could be together, at least, not in the long term. And I can’t force him to care for me, if he doesn’t want to.”
“Hmmm.” Ella began carefully folding fabrics. “I wonder if he will be able to force himself to stop.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I must consider Toldas, as well.”
“You mean, your campaign to take the throne?”
Bianca laughed gently. “I never would have called it that. I think taking the throne is something I want about as much as I want to marry a stranger. But it seems as though the people need me, and I cannot turn my back on them. Not when I, more than anyone, understand what it’s like to suffer under my father’s hand.”
“Haven’t you been through enough?” Ella’s warm eyes were full of sorrow.
“I don’t think the fates care.” Bianca tried not to sound pitiful. “I was born into politics and intrigue, and I cannot be free of them just by wishing it so. At least this way I can use my life as I choose, instead of being treated as a puppet.” She flopped down onto the corner of the settee, tired of the emotional sea she was drowning in. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Very well.” Ella thought a moment. “When do you think the welcoming ball will be held?”
“I asked Vivienne the same thing; she says three weeks. We have to give the messages time to reach the other kingdoms, and then they’ll need to travel here.”
“Well, I should be able to have most of your wardrobe done by then. Anything in particular you’d like to wear to the ball?”
Bianca’s eyes moved back to the white mesh.
“Make me the snow maiden gown for the ball.”
Chapter 19
Bain
es snorted in derision. “They must be fools, to put their camps so near Albion.”
The band of men had left the palace a mere eight days ago, and already they’d come across the first of the work camps. From where they hunkered down on the mountain’s ridge, it spread out below them, nestled in a tiny dimple in the range.
“An’ where would ye put a coal mine, man? Upon the bright briney beaches? They dinna hide because ‘tis no sin ta mine coal.” Connelly rolled his eyes at Baines. “The way ye talk a body’d think ye’d prefer if we had ta search high n’ low.”
“Not prefer it, exactly, but it would add to my feelings of superiority.”
Connelly chuckled, and Baines turned to address the men who were waiting downhill, where their silhouettes wouldn’t give them away.
“There’s only about forty armed men to guard the entire camp. They mainly watch the road and occasionally scan the mountains, but they aren’t very vigilant. They’re there to keep the miners from running, not to keep anyone else out.”
One of the men spoke up. “There must be three hundred people in that camp; why do you suppose they don’t just leave?”
“It’s not just men down there, Tom. It’s whole families. If the miners try anything, I imagine the guards have orders to start shooting at the children first.” A grim silence settled at his words. “Besides, where would they go? Don’t forget, they’re royal prisoners. If they try to go home, they’ll just be taken and sent back. Or executed.”
“Where will they go?” Sean Kelly raised a practical question.
“King Regal has offered them shelter in Albion. But I don’t imagine they’ll be staying there long.” Baines drew back his lips in a wolfish grin. “I imagine soon enough they’ll be marching back with the army, ready to reclaim their homes.”
***
The plan went perfectly. They waited until sunrise and then crept down the west-facing slope, overwhelming the guards on duty with ease. The guards in bed were caught completely unprepared: unawake, unarmed, and undressed. By the time the sun was fully in the sky, they were all gathered in a huddle, surrounded by Baines’ men on one side and the miners on the other.
That was when things went a little awry.
“You can’t leave them here!” A pretty little maiden, no more than twelve, stamped her foot in indignation. “Brannon will hang them for incompetence.”
“Molly—” Her father tried to shush the girl, but she shook her head so vigorously her braids whipped back and forth.
“No, Da! It isn’t right. They’ve done their best by us, and we can’t just leave them to rot!”
Baines rubbed his face in frustration. He’d planned on leaving the guards stranded in the mountains, while the miners were escorted back to Albion, but almost as one the miners had objected to that idea. The little girl was only the most vocal.
“Brad shared his tea ration with Ma when she took a fever, and William snuck that note out for Ned, so he could tell his sweetheart where he was. You better stand up for them, Da! Tell those men!”
Molly’s Da stood silent, but Baines listened to the girl. He looked around. The miners were all conspicuously clean, and well fed. They didn’t look like people who’d been forced to slave away in a mine. A few of the men and women had coal dust beneath their fingers, but still…
“Brad, is it?” Baines addressed the guard Molly had gestured to a moment ago.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on here?”
Brad didn’t hesitate. “We was sent out here, same as them, and the word was we had to make ‘em work. But we got to talking, and it just didn’t seem right, them being taken from their homes like that, for no good reason. So we worked it out.” Brad gestured around to the miners. “They’re all here, their families, I mean, so they just decided to stay here, and resettle. Food comes in for the camp, and no one’s bothering them about more and more taxes. It’s not bad.”
“Doesn’t the crown notice that there’s no coal being mined?”
“What’da’ya mean, no coal being mined?” One burly man stood forth. “We’re new to it, but we’re learning the trade. It’s something to do, at any rate, better than lolling about all day.”
“But, what about the children?” Baines asked.
“They take lessons proper, as they should.” Brad answered. “Except the days Sir Miles comes to view the camp. Then they all go down to the mine with their parents, but only the first levels.”
“And what do you men do?” Baines gestured at the soldiers.
“Hunt, mostly. Bring in extra food. The crown sends basics, but fresh meat is better. We also keep watch for Miles, so that he don’t catch us out.”
“Well, I’ll be stumped.” Baines looked to Connelly. “Shall we take them with us, then?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but you can’t do that.” Brad was respectful, but firm. “Most of us got our own families, and if we all just disappear with your lot Brannon will assume we helped them escape. It’ll go bad for our blood. You can take them, right enough, we can’t stop you. We wouldn’t try to stop you, even if we could, but you need to beat us good and proper, so the king don’t realize we was in on it.”
Molly squeaked. “No!” She looked at Baines with wide eyes. “Can’t you just leave us here? We don’t need to be rescued. Then no one has to be beaten.”
Baines looked at her seriously. “The trouble, lass, is that this coal is being stockpiled, to be used in a war against Albion. We need the mine shut down.”
A solemn quiet fell over them all, and then Connelly stepped forward.
“Why, ‘tis simple as kin be. Listen close…”
It took them the rest of the day to pack the mine with dynamite. Every blasting charge in the camp was affixed to one of the wooden braces that held up the mine’s tunnel walls. While the men and women worked in the mine, the children picked over their supplies, taking as much as they could without making it obvious that anything had been taken at all.
That night they sat around the campfire, eyeing the fuse that ran into the depths of the mine.
“You’re sure, lad?”
“I’m sure, Master Baines.” Brad nodded. “Me and Jeph don’t have any kin to speak of, to be worried if they think we’re dead. We’ll see the folk over the mountain, and then we’ll go see Lord MacTíre, like you said.”
“Just give him the note, laddie.” Connelly nodded at the paper he’d scribbled on earlier. “He’ll look out fer ye.”
“And we’ll keep track of the other boys. If they can get their families clear, we’ll be ready for them in Albion.”
“Good man.” Baines clapped the young fellow on the arm. “Best get some sleep. We should all head out at first light.”
***
It was sunset the next day when the entire mountain range shook with the explosion from the mining camp.
Sean Kelly laughed over the rumble. “One down.”
Chapter 20
Bianca was hideously uncomfortable, for a great number of reasons.
For one, she had been woken up before daybreak to begin preparing for this event. After hours of scrubbing, polishing, and brushing, she was now standing in the warm spring sun, wearing a gown made from gold brocade and a heavy white cape that lay like a blanket on her shoulders and back and dragged several feet on the ground. Ella had also furnished her with a beautiful golden circlet. It was tasteful, and elegant, and exceedingly heavy.
She looked immensely royal, and was positive she would make a good impression, provided she didn’t pass out from heatstroke or headache.
Her second reason for discomfort was the overwhelming ceremony of it all. Really, it was silly. Most of the suitors had trickled in over the past week and been hosted by various noble families in the capital. The final invitee had arrived yesterday, so today they all trooped out of the city gates and came parading back in, freshly washed and polished, so the citizens could cheer them on.
Bianca co
uldn’t remember the last time she’d taken part in something so ridiculous.
But, if truth be told, most of her distress came from the other occupants of the platform. Oh, Vivienne had been a delight, to be sure, bolstering her spirits and giving her pointers over the past few weeks, trying to help her feel prepared to meet these men. And Fain was a bulwark against all fears. His calm, solid presence tended to make her feel like everything would be fine, in the end. And Isabelle and Regal had treated her like a member of the family, introducing her to the nobles of Albion and planning small parties and amusements to keep her occupied while they waited.
But, at the end of the platform, in a discreetly drawn chair, was Dame Merriweather, and, inevitably, by her side was Robin.
They hadn’t spoken together in three weeks. Not a word. They saw one another almost constantly, because no gathering—be it on the business of war or a casual dinner among friends—was complete without the Dame. And where Merriweather went, so too went Robin. Bianca would watch him, when she thought she could manage it without being observed. He seemed at ease and composed, if not entirely happy. She couldn’t decide if it hurt her more to see him so unconcerned by her impending betrothal, or if it would be worse to have to watch him suffer. She supposed it didn’t matter. His heart seemed whole, and she might as well be grateful for it.
Even if it made her want to cry.
She tried to accept it, as he had. She tried to forget about their weeks together in the mountains, and focus instead on the future. She may not have wanted to marry, but she found it gratifying to be doing something to help so many people. She attended all the meetings on the war, no matter how mundane, and learned all she could. She also started spending time with Vivienne, letting her cousin teach her about running a kingdom. She was so busy and full of purpose that she might have actually managed to put her feelings for Robin behind her.
If only he weren’t there all the time. It was impossible to forget him when he was always before her eyes.
So she stood on the platform, ready to lay eyes on the men who had come to court her for the very first time, and felt like the greatest of fools, because she had to do it with Robin looking on.
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 13
