Slumber

by Felicity Harper

  “Yes, m’Lady.” Muttering to themselves, both girls hurried away to do her bidding.

  “Thank goodness I’ve got a day off coming up,” Molly whispered. “This place is wretched with that old bat in charge.”

  Clementine left the disgruntled servants still complaining bitterly about her aunt and crossed the lawn in search of her cousin. Evangeline was in her dressing room, having the final fittings done on her dress.

  “There you are, Lady Evangeline.” The seamstress cut the final thread. “Have a look and tell me what you think.”

  Evangeline turned and twirled before the full-length mirror and the light fabric billowed and swirled about her. “It’s wonderful, Mrs Harvey! The colour suits me well don’t you think?”

  The seamstress stood back to admire her. “Very well, I would say.”

  “Does it suit me as well as it did my cousin?” Evangeline asked, watching in the mirror for the woman’s reaction. Mrs Harvey’s smile faltered for a second. “Why - yes - my Lady,” she said but she stumbled over the words. Evangeline heard the hesitation and her smile froze. “You may go now,” she said shortly. “I do not wish to keep you from finishing the rest of my gowns.”

  “Of course, my Lady.” The seamstress packed her sewing things away. “Enjoy your party,” she mumbled and slipped out of the door.

  As she observed Evangeline humming to herself and twirling this way and that in front of the mirror, Clementine wondered if her cousin was aware of how others perceived her. Mrs Harvey was just a seamstress but what might her guests think of her acting as though there was nothing amiss at the Palace? Even worse: what would they think when they saw her dressing her hair in a similar style to that of the Princess and sporting a dress which was identical to the one Clementine was still wearing as she lay in deep Slumber high up in the Tower Room?

  “What are you thinking, Evie?”

  “What?” Evangeline spun round. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s your cousin, Clementine,” the Princess stated flatly but Evangeline didn’t seem to have heard her. She searched behind the curtains and looked beneath the bed. Clementine stood by her side.“I’m here.”

  “C-Clemmie - is that you?” Evangeline whispered.

  Clementine hesitated. Evangeline seemed unable to hear her as clearly as Gilbert did. Perhaps if she shouted ….

  “Yes! It’s me!”

  Evangeline screamed.

  “No, wait!” Clementine called after her. “Evie! Tell them about the rose!”

  But her cousin was running down the hallway, frantically calling for her mother.

  “Argh!” Gilbert jumped up from behind his desk. It was no good. His house had become intolerable without her! He slammed open the study door, startling Hetty who had been about to knock. The girl screamed and dropped her tray.

  “Oh blast!” Gilbert bent to help pick up the pieces. ”I’m sorry, Hetty. I had no idea you were there.”

  “S-alright, Sir.” Hetty spoke cautiously, as though she were dealing with a wild animal. “I can do this.”

  “If you’re sure,” Gilbert said, eager to be on his way. It was a matter of minutes before he was in his gig and on his way to the Palace. He reassured himself that it was a simple duty call to tell Clementine what little he had learned and to speak with the physician but, the nearer he got to the Palace estate, the more urgent it felt to check on Clementine and make sure she was well. Although not normally a rash man, he gee’d his horse into a faster gallop than was wise on the narrow country roads and only narrowly missed a carriage coming the other way.

  “You bloody fool!” the driver shouted at him as he passed.

  A queue of carriages was waiting to go through the Palace gates when he arrived. He stood on the seat of his gig and tried to see what was happening but the bigger, grander carriages in front blocked his view. Slowly, they inched forward until, eventually, it was Gilbert’s turn to go though.

  A guard grasped the bridle of his horse to stop it from proceeding further. “Can I see your invite, please, Sir?” he asked.

  “Is the King in residence?” Gilbert asked, puzzled by what was going on.

  “No, Sir,” the guards said. He held out his hand. “Do you have your invite?”

  “No. I am here on a matter concerning Princess Clementine.”

  “Is he coming or going or what?” a driver called from his perch on a large, stately carriage that was waiting behind Gilbert’s gig. The guard waved Gilbert on.

  “Go on then, Sir. You best take this round the back though or you’ll get pinned in.”

  Gilbert lifted his hand to the guard and continued to the Palace. Following the guard’s suggestion, he clattered round to the stables, away from the main courtyard. He dismounted, still shaking his head in amazement at the crush of coaches which were parking up and offloading their elegantly dressed cargoes, then slipped into the Palace and up the stairs to the Tower Room where he greeted Agnes and asked after Dr Fellowes.

  “He’s downstairs seeing to a cut. One of the party guests took a tumble.” Agnes tut-tutted. “’Tis shameful, if you ask me, having a party when the Princess is in this state.”

  “In whose honour is this party?” Gilbert asked, looking out of the window to see if he could spot Clementine loitering among the guests. What must she think of this?

  “It’s for young Lady Evangeline.” Agnes screwed her face up in disapproval. “It seems she is continuing with her Season.”

  Lady Motley’s doing no doubt. Gilbert doubted Evangeline would have enough wit to see how inappropriate it was to continue with her cousin in a Slumber state and, even if she did, he couldn’t imagine her having enough gumption to defy her mother.

  Agnes was running a brush through the Princess’ hair. “How is she?” Gilbert asked, feeling for Clementine’s pulse and finding it still strong and steady.

  “There’s been no change,” Agnes said lovingly. “The physician’s been giving her the tincture but it’s running short now and, if His Majesty cannot find more, then …” She stopped brushing and looked at Gilbert pleadingly: “… my girl is doomed.”

  Unable to share his own frustrations at his lack of progress, Gilbert offered the distraught nurse the only words of reassurance he had. “The King cares for nothing so much as his daughter,” he said. “He will do all he can.”

  He wondered bitterly, as he had many times these past few days, what good it did him to have so much learning when - the one time it mattered most - his knowledge counted for naught.

  “I must speak to the physician,” he told the old nurse. “Do you know if there has been any word of when the King will return?”

  “Bless you, Mr Thackeray, that you think anyone would bother to tell me! But the physik might know.”

  Leaving Agnes, Gilbert went in search of Dr Fellowes - which also gave him a good excuse to search for Clementine.

  The turnout for the soirée was insultingly healthy, Clementine observed. Few, it appeared, felt it wrong to flirt and eat cake while the Princess lay dying in the Tower. Perhaps they thought her merely indisposed by the silly old curse, she thought sourly.

  Her aunt was in her element. It seemed to Clementine that, in her brother’s absence, Lady Motley saw herself in the role of Regent rather than merely the hostess of an afternoon tea party. Evangeline was also enjoying a good deal of attention. She was fairly glowing with pleasure from the flattering comments she was receiving from her guests and particularly from the tender regard being bestowed upon her by Sir Hugo.

  “Lady Evangeline, I must say that dress flatters you tremendously!” Lady Renchurch cried when she spotted her among a gaggle of admirers. Evangeline thanked her coyly and Lady Helena, herself a young debutante, added, “I simply adore what you have done with your hair. ‘Tis most flattering.” Even Sir Hugo exclaimed how well the colours Evangeline was wearing flattered her youthful complexion. Clementine had been wrong to think the guests would find it odd tha
t her cousin should style herself so closely on the absent Princess.

  Clementine would have been pleased for her cousin - had it not been that it was her life Evangeline was stealing.

  The Duke of Glossop, too, exhibited remarkably few signs that he was at all worried by the inability of his intended to attend the party due to a pressing case of near death. None, in fact; though Clementine did allow he had perfected a sad moué of regret every time her name was mentioned. At one point, he even managed to elicit sympathy for the fate of his beloved while openly staring at Lady Renchurch’s ample bosom. She tried to remember what it was she had once found so attractive in the Duke: and found she could not. He was still handsome but what did that mean when he was also a scoundrel and a knave?

  “What will happen to the Princess, do you suppose?” Lady Renchurch was asking in an undertone of the rest of her little group.

  “My uncle believes a wise woman might hold the answer,” Evangeline smiled sadly. “Though I doubt that can be true.”

  “Actually,” Sir Hugo announced, to the delight of the Lady Renchurch, “I believe I have the answer!”

  “Oh, do tell, Hugo!” she trilled, tapping him coquettishly with her fan.

  Sir Hugo gestured them closer. “I am in the process of having an entire wing of my house made over to my intended,” he told the astonished group.

  “But Clementine might die yet, Sir Hugo.” Evangeline said and no one could have missed the distress in her voice.

  Sir Hugo wagged his finger knowingly. “Ah! But I have learned of a secret formula that is keeping my beloved alive.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I intend to have the potion replicated enough to last the rest of our lives if need be.”

  “You will marry her still?” Lady Renchurch asked in astonishment.

  “Yes. The King cannot live forever and he will need a protector for his daughter. As her husband, I will be her protector and the King’s only hope of having an heir.”

  “An heir?” Evangeline asked, sounding both upset by the turn of the conversation and somewhat confused.

  Sir Hugo lowered his voice. “The Princess can still bear children!”

  The conversation was now somewhat beyond the innocent Lady Helena and, to some extent, even Lady Evangeline but Lady Renchurch’s eyes widened in horrified delight. “And you would?” she asked. Clementine was utterly appalled.

  “For the sake of the Kingdom,” His Grace told them piously, “I would do my husbandly duty.”

  “My uncle wouldn’t allow that, I’m sure.”

  “The King has a duty to his people, my Lady. He cannot hold his own, selfish wishes above the needs of those who look to him for leadership.” The Duke paused for dramatic effect. “And the people of Rosenly will need an heir.”

  At that moment, Gilbert crossed the lawn and made towards them. He looked straight at Clementine. “Lady Evangeline,” he said, cutting across the conversation, “I am looking for Dr Fellowes.”

  “Frackeray, old chap!” the Duke hollered. “Looking for a new pupil are you?”

  Gilbert ignored him. “Dr Fellowes, Lady Evangeline?” he asked again and Evangeline waved her hand dismissively.

  “He was here earlier but I’m sure he’s gone now.”

  “Mr Thackeray!” Lady Motley was marching over to the little group, who had now gathered in the shade of a great oak. “To what do we owe this … visit?”

  “As I told your daughter,” Gilbert replied, “I am looking for Dr Fellowes.”

  Clementine pointed to where the physician was disappearing round the back of the Palace. “Never mind,” he said. “I see him now.”

  “Now, see here, Mr Thackeray!” Lady Motley said imperiously, “I cannot have you turning up just as you see fit!”

  “I am assisting his Majesty in finding a cure for the Princess, my Lady.” He looked around at the garden party which was now in full swing. “But I can see you have other, more pressing concerns on your mind so I shall leave you to it.”

  “Dreadful man!” Lady Motley proclaimed as she watched him march away.

  Neither Clementine nor Gilbert spoke until they had reached the rear courtyard which Gilbert quickly surveyed to make sure they were alone and out of sight of the guests.

  “Gilbert! I am so happy to see you!” Clementine squealed. “Did you find out anything?”

  “Yes Clementine. I think someone is trying to kill you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The garden party was still in full swing when Gilbert and the Princess left the Palace Estate.

  “Why didn’t you tell Dr Fellowes?”

  “Because I have no proof.”

  Gilbert had told the physician only that it had been a rose thorn he had found in the Princess’ finger but nothing more. “And think about it, Clementine: don’t you think it would be unwise to risk whoever is behind this finding out that we know - especially with your body still in the Tower?”

  “Then you think it was the rose?”

  “Absolutely. And I am more convinced than ever that it was a deliberate attempt on your life. Don’t you think it strange that someone would send you a rose knowing the potential harm it could do?”

  Clementine shrugged. She was still sceptical about the idea of someone trying to kill her but she was wondering about one thing. “Might the person have wanted me to fall into Slumber rather than actually kill me?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  Clementine looked away. There was no good reason to feel ashamed but she still did. “The Duke said he wished to marry me and give the Kingdom an heir - whether I was in Slumber or not.”

  Gilbert pulled hard on the reins. “That bastard! He will marry you over my dead body!”

  Clementine was astounded. She had never seen Gilbert so angry. That he was so in her defence made her feel comforted beyond her understanding. “Thank you Gilbert.”

  Gilbert glanced across at her. “No matter what that fool says, Clementine, your father would not allow him to take you away.” He smiled at her, seeking to lighten the mood, “You have the King of Rosenly at your side and now you have a humble tutor to champion you too. What more could a young Princess ask?”

  “Nothing!” Clementine said sincerely. “I consider myself incredibly fortunate.

  ”

  Mrs Finn’s brows practically disappeared into her hairline when Gilbert requested ginger cake and tea to be sent out to the garden.

  “It’ll be out in a jiffy, Mr Thackeray!”

  “There,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “we can have our own garden party.” Clementine tried to smile but she couldn’t quite manage it. Gilbert shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Clementine. I should not have left you there. To see them all enjoying a garden party while you are .…”

  “Dying?” She smiled then, a sad melancholy smile. “Don’t be sorry, Gilbert. I needed to see that for myself.” She twirled, taking in the little garden with its gate leading out to the fields and the magic waterfall. “Anyway, it’s wonderful to be back here.”

  “You’re not dying, Clementine,” he said fiercely. “That is not going to happen!”

  “Then let us pretend, just for today, that all is well,” Clementine begged. “We shall be just two normal people enjoying each others’ company.”

  “Normal - Hmm?” Gilbert said, going along with her. “You mean, apart from the extraordinary factor of there being an actual Princess in my humble home, of course!”

  Clementine laughed. “Yes. Apart from that. Oh! And also that I’m technically a ghost.”

  “Everything is normal, remember? So no talk of ghosts, Clementine.”

  A nervous looking Hetty came out into the garden, carrying a tray laden with tea and cake. She glanced about her and a small nerve ticked in her cheek as she set the platter on the table. “Is there anything else, Mr Thackeray?” she asked, already backing away.

  “No, thank you, Hetty,” Gilbert sa
id cheerily and the maid practically ran back inside.

  “I do believe your servants think you are a bit cuckoo,” Clementine said with a soft smile.

  “They might be right.”

  Gilbert moved closer to Clementine, looking down at her as though he wanted to kiss her. “For all I know, you are merely a figment of my imagination.”

  “Gilbert Thackeray! Are you telling me you spend a goodly amount of time thinking about me?” Clementine teased and - to her delight - Gilbert’s cheeks reddened.