Slumber
An Enchanting Tale
by Felicity Harper
Legal Bits & Pieces
Slumber is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author has asserted her moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (United Kingdom) to be recognised and identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2017 Endeavours Partnership.
All rights reserved.
Slumber is published by Endeavours Partnership.
About Felicity Harper
Felicity Harper is an English author living in leafy Surrey in England, just a stone’s throw from Box Hill (for all you Austen fans!).
She is a huge fan of Jane Austen and all things Regency - apart from the icky reality of streets running in filth and the lack of indoor plumbing of course.
Felicity combined her love of sanitised Regency with a fondness for romanticised fairy tales (God bless you, Walt!) and so the Enchanting Tales series was born.
Please visit her website at felicityharper,com
Contents
About Felicity Harper
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Lavender – A Free Short Story
Felicity Harper’s Enchanting Tales
Cursed
Chapter One
Princess Clementine restlessly paced the landing. The music from the Ball had been calling to her for the last hour and she desperately wanted to go down and join in the fun. She hummed the tune and waltzed the steps as she waited for her cousin to emerge from her room. She was eager to dance with her Duke. Now she was officially out, she was sure her Father would have no objections to Sir Hugo’s suit.
When at last Lady Evangeline emerged, Clementine squealed with delight. “Oh, Evie, you look stunning!” she cried delighted by her cousin’s transformation from mousy schoolgirl to sophisticated young debutante. “We shall have to lay on extra guards to keep all the suitors at bay!” she teased.
Evangeline blushed at Clementine’s enthusiasm. “Thank you. The gown you gifted me helps, I am sure; though I shall never be as beautiful as you, dear cousin.”
Clementine waved her hands dismissively. “Do not envy me that, Evie. Papa says being pretty is a hindrance, not a gift.” As her cousin looked horrified, Clementine laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. He said it not to be cruel but because he thinks that handsome people can rely a little too heavily on their looks.”
“Well you are clever too, Clementine, so you need not worry.”
Clementine snorted. “I doubt Mr Thackeray would agree with you!” Her tutor despaired constantly of her and her inability to pay attention. “But that’s suits me well enough. I am quite happy to rely solely on being both fair of face and a Princess to land a certain dishy Duke.”
Lady Motley emerged from Evangeline’s dressing room. “Well, not all are as privileged as you, Princess Clementine,” she said dourly, cutting sharply through the happy mood of the debutantes. “My daughter must use what little she has if she is to find a husband while she is still young enough to attract a decent suitor.”
“Then my cousin is in luck, Aunt.” Clementine said, determined to keep in good cheer. She leaned towards Evangeline and spoke conspiratorially. ”I hear Lord Milton is here this evening!”
“Goodness!” Lady Motley threw up her hands. “What a dilemma you shall have then, Princess, choosing between both your suitors.”
“No, you misunderstand, Aunt Charlotte. It is Evangeline who is fond of Lord Milton.” Clementine looked to Evangeline, who smiled shyly and bowed her head.
Lady Motley quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, well, she was fond of Sir Hugo too - but then you decided you had a penchant for the Duke so that was the end of that!”
“Mother, please!” Evangeline stepped between the two women as though to shield her cousin from her mother’s acid tongue. ”Shall we go down now, Clementine?”
“Yes, of course.” Clementine said, chastened by her aunt’s spiteful tone.
“Wait!” Lady Motley drew something from her reticule. “I have something I wanted you to wear, Evangeline. I wore it at my own debutante Ball.” She started to pin the cameo brooch to her daughter’s dress but Evangeline pulled away.
“Mother. no! Think what you are doing!”
“It’s fine, Evie,” Clementine said. She tried not to look flustered at the sight of the sharp pin. “I won’t touch it.”
“There will be no chances taken around my daughter!” the King boomed, making the women start. They turned to see him waiting with a number of their guests in the entrance hall. Clementine blushed furiously. It seemed that not an occasion went by without a reminder the Princess was different from everyone else.
“Of course not, Marcus,” Lady Motley acquiesced and tucked the brooch away. “How thoughtless of me to forget.”
“Come now, Ladies.” The King held out his hand, his usual congenial self once more. “Your guests await.”
Determined to recapture her earlier excitement, Clementine descended the stairs with her cousin. She knew Evangeline felt no resentment towards her concerning Sir Hugo. And when the invitations had gone out, every person present had been reminded of the rules of attendance: no jewels or adornments that might prick the skin and no glassware allowed in the Ballroom.
The King watched his daughter as she danced with the Duke of Glossop. A proud smile played across his face. Fear and anxiety had plagued him as his daughter had grown from an infant to a mischievous child and then a determined adolescent. Each stage of her life had brought with it some new worry or unanticipated precaution he had had to put in place to ensure her safety. But seeing her now, happy and joyful and hearty, made all the worry and sacrifice worthwhile.
“How like her mother she is,” King Marcus announced proudly to Lady Motley.
“Yes, there’s no doubt she is a pretty thing,” she agreed stiffly.
“I’m talking about her spirit, Charlotte, not her looks.” He gestured around the room. ”Do you see how, just like my darling Lavinia, she draws people to her like moths to a flame?”
“Being a Princess will certainly do that,” Lady Motley said, having noticed the way the Princess was, as usual, the orbit around which the Ball revolved while her own daughter hovered on the fringes.“ Perhaps you would remind your daughter it is not her debut so much as Evangeline’s?”
“Come now, sister. Need I remind you that it was Clementine who organised the Ball in honour of her cousin?” The King chortled, hoping to lighten his sister’s mood. “Fear not. I am well aware that Clementine was thinking of herself as much as her cousin when the invitations were dispatched. But look!” He nodded to where Evangeline was dancing with Lord Milton. “Evie is enjoying herself, is she not?”
“Yes, of course.” Lady Motley tapped her brother playfully with her fan. “I shall rely on you to see my daughter marries well, Marcus. That is the least you can do for us.”
The King frowned. His sister never failed to evince what she saw as the injustice of that which never was. Charlotte had been an only ch
ild and the sole heir to the throne for twelve long years by the time Marcus was born. His birth had stolen from her that which was hers by right. That a son superseded a daughter was the way of the world but that did not mean Charlotte had bowed out graciously.
Though Marcus and his sister had never been close, he understood her bitterness at the status quo and her anxieties over her only living child. Her life had not been easy. Thrown over on the birth of her brother, she was a mother to four dead children and widowed by her fortieth birthday. It was not surprising Charlotte allowed anger to get the better of her at times. It was understandable, too, that her instinct was to protect and cosset Evangeline just as surely as he did Clementine.
“I promise you, Charlotte, that Evangeline will be taken care of.” He placed a brotherly hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I give you my word.”
“Papa! Stop looking so serious and come and dance with me!” Clementine called, interrupting her father.
Marcus smiled indulgently at his daughter. He was in far too good a mood to chastise her over her dreadful manners. “If Glossop can spare you.” Without waiting for the young man to relinquish his daughter, he took her hand and led her into a minuet.
All eyes were on the King and his delightful daughter as they teasingly tried to out-perform each other during the intricate dance. By the end of the minuet, the King had admitted defeat and the room was filled with laughter and applause as Clementine cheekily took a bow.
Despite the gaiety, more than one pair of eyes looked upon the Princess with anything but affection. One pair, in particular, were filled with loathing and menace.
Chapter Two
It was clear the Princess wasn’t paying attention. Oh she was trying not to appear rude. Gilbert could tell by the way she nodded and smiled encouragingly in his direction every now and then. But, still: it was obvious her attention was outside in the courtyard and not in the library with him.
“Who is it today, Princess Clementine?” he asked and noted with satisfaction her start of surprise. “No, wait! Don’t tell me .… “ he stroked his chin as though in contemplation. “Could it be, Sir Broad of Shoulders from the county seat of Immense Wealth But Little Intellect?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Oh! No really, Mr Thackeray … truly I was listening to you!”
Gilbert Thackeray kept his gaze over her right shoulder. He would not be another one of those poor fools who fell for those ridiculously periwinkle eyes and that halo of golden hair. “Good! Then you can give me a brief review of what I have been saying.”
He looked back just in time to see her eyes widen in alarm and her teeth working worriedly on her bottom lip. She glanced around the room her gaze landing on the papers in front of him as though that would help her.
The library clock ticked noisily. Gilbert waited.
Finally, with a wrinkle of her nose, Clementine guessed: “Was it something about the moon and the sea?”
Gilbert drew a long breath and released it slowly before turning his attention back to his pupil. ”No, Princess Clementine; that was last week’s talk about the moon’s gravitational effect on tidal patterns. You might remember it as the one you giggled your way through because a less adept knight managed to fall off his horse and dent his armour. Though why he was in full armour to parade around a courtyard I’ll never understand.”
Clementine bit her lip to stifle a giggle. Intentionally or not, Mr Thackeray always managed to amuse her; though she tried hard not to show it as it only annoyed him.
“Oh yes, I remember now! The moon affects the tide waters and Sir Monty fell off his horse!” She clapped as though she had won a hand of whist.
Gilbert closed his eyes in despair.
“Mr Thackeray, please don’t be cross with me. It was my Father’s idea for me to extend my education. He admires intellect in women and thinks I should ‘strive for knowledge that will expand my universe’, whatever that means,” she said, with a sweet smile and a shrug.
“You should consider yourself lucky, Princess. Most fathers see their daughters as little more than chattels. That your Father wishes you to seek knowledge is commendable,” Gilbert said, packing away his papers. He knew he sounded pompous but he found the Princess’ attitude frustrating and a waste of both their time. He shook his head wearily, “It is a shame, indeed, that such thoughtfulness should be wasted on such a silly girl.”
He had turned away to collect his satchel when something soft battered him from behind.
“What the …?” He whipped round to see Clementine poised to launch another cushion.
“Mr Thackeray!” she sputtered furiously. “I will have you know that I am not a silly girl!” Clementine managed to surprise even herself with her ferocity. “It just so happens that as a Princess - and a rather attractive one at that - I have no need for tidal whatnots and constellation thing-ummy bobs …” she sighed then and rolled her eyes, “but then really, who does?” She ended her tirade by launching the second cushion at him, smacking him in the face.
Silence followed as they both absorbed the impact of what she had done. Gilbert, his hair mussed and his clothing skew-whiff from the double cushion offensive, raised his eyebrows. “Am I to conclude there will be no further pretence at lessons, Your Highness?” he asked politely. He gave a satisfied nod to himself as he saw the look of chagrin that swept over the Princess’ face.
Clementine’s hand went to her mouth. Whether it was to stifle her horror at what she had just done or to hold in a giggle Gilbert couldn’t say. He swept his leather satchel and books together. “Worry not, Princess. You will not have to endure any more of my tiresome lectures.”
He straightened up and took one last, curious look at the way the sun lit her golden hair before striding from the room.
“Oh dear!”
Clementine sank back onto her chair and stared at the spot where Gilbert Thackeray had stood just a moment ago.
She felt guilty now. Poor Mr Thackeray hadn’t deserved that: especially the cushions. She bit her lip, although she couldn’t suppress a giggle which bubbled up at the mental image of Gilbert Thackeray all mussed up from her assault. His hair, usually so neat and orderly, had curled endearingly across his forehead and his reading glasses had been knocked off kilter. For once, he had looked more his actual age than the buttoned-up, scholarly tutor she was used to seeing. Her Father said Gilbert had ‘an old head on young shoulders’ but, as he had left the library, he had looked more like the young - and really quite handsome - man he seemed so determined to conceal.
Turning to the window, Clementine saw Sir Hugo dancing his horse up and down the courtyard; no doubt for her entertainment. She smiled at the thought. Sir Hugo was very handsome and broad through the shoulder and his horsemanship was by far the best she had seen. He was also a wonderful dancer and a charming companion. Really, what more could a young lady ask for? Other than her father liking him, of course, which Clementine was quite sure her dear Papa did.
Her attention was caught by the tall, stately figure of Mr Thackeray striding purposefully across the yard to the stables. His hat was pushed down on his head, taming those unruly curls. “Goodbye, Gilbert Thackeray,” she whispered guiltily and, as though he had heard her, he looked up at the window. Clementine brought up her hand to wave at him and he tipped his hat politely in her direction. Then, with a last condescending look at Sir Hugo, he continued on to the stables to collect his gig.
She was going to have to tell her father what she had done. He was very fond of Mr Thackeray and she knew he would not take kindly to her actions. She crossed the room to collect the cushions she had thrown and her face reddened with shame.
“Did I see Mr Thackeray leaving already?”
Clementine jumped. She hadn’t noticed her cousin coming into the library.
“Yes. I was unforgivably rude to him and he left.”
“What did you do that was so bad?” Evangeline asked, the laughter evident
in her tone.
“It’s not funny, Evie! Not really anyway.” As Clementine told her cousin what had happened, Evangeline didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “Evie! You mustn’t laugh! It was very wicked of me!”
“Oh come now, Clementine! You know Mr Thackeray is a stuffed shirt and a terrible know-it-all.”
“Well, yes, he can be: but, still, I shall have to apologise to him.”
“I don’t see why. He’s only a tutor after all.”
Clementine frowned. “Mr Thackeray is a gentlemen, Evie, and a friend of Father’s. Of course I owe him the courtesy of an apology. But that is a matter for another day.” She gestured to her cousin to look out the window. “Look here, have you see who has come to show off for me?”
“Yes, I saw him out there earlier.” Evangeline hung back, running her fingers across the spines of the library books. “Do you think he will propose?”
Clementine turned away from the window, clasping her hands in excitement. “I do hope so,” she said, smiling impishly at her cousin. “Though I shall, of course, make him wait for an answer. It wouldn’t do to look too keen.”
“But will you say yes?”
“Oh I should think so! After all, he is a Duke!”
“I hear the tutor left today in a fit of pique.” Lady Motley shook her head. “Ridiculous man!”
Clementine glanced across the dinner table to her cousin. Evangeline kept her head down thus confirming to Clementine that she had been the tale-bearer.
“Mr Thackeray? The man is patience itself!” The King pinned his daughter with a questioning glare. “What on earth could have upset him, Clementine?”
“’I’m afraid that was my fault, Papa. I wasn’t really paying attention … and Mr Thackeray got a bit cross … and then ….” She chewed her bottom lip and the King’s eyes narrowed.
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