by Maggie Hoyt
Maribelle gasped. “And we get to decide who plays on our turn, don’t we? You should go! You’ll get us a point!”
Roompilda carefully lined up her shot, and hit the ball a few inches forward through the wicket.
Unsurprisingly, Lord Piminder decided we should play his ball on our turn. I sat next to the purses, my fingers itching to rifle through Roompilda’s carpetbag. I would need a distraction after all.
When Maribelle finished her turn, I caught her eye and motioned for her to sit next to me. She plopped in the chair with a wide grin.
“Sooo, Evelyn,” she sang, “tell me about Hugo Piminder.”
“Maribelle …”
“He is attractive for an old man.”
“Maribelle!”
“Only, I thought you were on the side of Cl—”
“Maribelle, I promise I will tell you everything later if you stop,” I hissed.
Maribelle closed her mouth and then pretended to lock it with a key.
“Besides, you’re supposed to be helping me get into Roompilda’s carpetbag!”
Recognition dawned on Maribelle’s face. “Oh no, I completely forgot! What do I do? Should I stand guard while you look in the bag?”
“Lady Frandsen, Madam Stidolph?” Lord Piminder called. “My turn is complete.”
“You can have a go, Roompilda,” Maribelle called out. “I just went.”
As Roompilda took the field, I whispered, “On Lord Piminder’s next turn, I need you to talk to Roompilda. Ask her about her lessons, anything, as long as she’s paying attention to you. Then, when it’s your turn again, say your knee hurts or something and she should go again.”
Maribelle nodded. “I won’t disappoint you, Evelyn!”
With her floppy-wristed croquet swing, Roompilda could only inch her ball toward the next wicket. She gave her ball sort of a hard tap and returned to her seat. I nodded at Maribelle.
“Roompilda!” Maribelle said. She stood up, still holding the arms of the chair, and lifted so that the chair seemed to stand up with her. Then she waddled over and planted next to Roompilda.
I leaned over and undid the clasp on Roompilda’s carpetbag. Maribelle was between me and Roompilda, but her back was to me. Just keep Roompilda’s attention, Maribelle. I started to reach my hand into the carpetbag.
“Umm …,” Maribelle stammered.
“Yes?” Roompilda said. I thought I saw her eyes drift away from Maribelle and toward me. I snatched my hand back.
“Oh! Well, I just wanted to say … umm … now I can’t … actually, I wanted to ask you …”
Of all the times in Maribelle’s life to draw a blank! Every time Maribelle paused, Roompilda’s gaze darted toward me. I’d placed my arm on the back of the chair holding the purses, my hand tantalizingly close to that carpetbag. Just give me a few seconds, Maribelle!
“I was just curious, umm … where did you get your carpetbag? The black and white stitching is really lovely!”
Well, that ensured a rather pointed glare from Roompilda in my direction. I cursed under my breath.
“Ladies,” Lord Piminder said, bowing and gesturing toward the court.
“Oh, Roompilda, you should play again!” Maribelle said, in that slow and deliberate tone people use when they’re obviously lying. “Umm. My toe hurts!”
Roompilda simply raised an eyebrow. As she walked onto the court, Maribelle turned and gave me a giant grin and winked. I smiled tersely back and began to reach back into the carpetbag, only to stop inches above the opening as Lord Piminder sat down beside me. I quickly patted all the purses until I reached my own, hoping I didn’t look suspicious.
“Reaching for a sweet?” he asked, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I won’t judge.”
Apparently, I had looked guilty, although only of being an older lady who kept sweets in her purse.
“You know,” he began, “I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed croquet. It is such a game of strategy, don’t you think? I’ve heard the really good players can link continuation shot after continuation shot so that their turns almost never end! I do wonder, in the nine-wicket version …”
While he droned on about croquet, I watched Roompilda. She was setting up a long shot to the wicket, and she had the unfortunate position of needing to hit it uphill. With her flimsy swing, she’d be lucky if the ball didn’t roll right back to where it started.
Sure enough, the ball didn’t stay put, but instead of rolling straight back, it took a little bit of a curve and landed a few inches away from my blue ball. You could knock it anywhere you like, I thought.
A loud burst of laughter came from the direction of the hedge maze. Another gaggle of young people had just made it through. I looked at the wide skirts of the young women. If a ball went into the crowd, those skirts would hide it. You’d have time to look through the carpetbag. You could find the queen’s message, and figure out what she had planned for your daughter. I would not surrender Fanchon to Roompilda’s whims. I would aim for the crowd.
As Roompilda left the court, I jumped out of my seat.
“I haven’t played in forever, Hugo. Let me go.”
I hustled into position before he could object. I knew if I just tapped her ball and sent it into the crowd on the croquet shot, I’d have the same problem as last time. I’d have to hit the continuing shot, and Hugo would interfere and try to teach me something, and I’d miss my chance at the carpetbag again. It had to happen now. I needed one mighty shot.
I swung the mallet hard and sent my ball screaming toward Roompilda’s. The red ball took off toward the crowd of people, taking a bounce as the field leveled off and rolling its way into hiding. There were a few shrieks as ladies jumped out of its way. Oh, please land under someone’s skirt, I prayed.
“Oops! Well, I suppose I’ll need to wait for her before I can continue,” I said as Roompilda trekked stiffly toward the crowd. “I just need to check something in my purse.”
I hustled toward the chair and leaned over the purses, hoping it would look like I was rummaging through my own purse for sweets. My hand quickly found the envelope in the depths of Roompilda’s carpetbag. I pulled the message out and read.
As requested, notes on the potential families
Rundle—Keen. Suave but arrogant. Demands seat on board of E.E. Will fit in at court.
Relish—Eager to please. Seems young. Will sell E.E. to his own firm. Will need to lie about that or E.R. will balk.
Farthingbras—No dowry demands. Father very influential. Doesn’t (can’t?) speak. Has already made poor impression on both F.E. and E.R. Unlikely.
I recommend Rundle or Relish. Preference and permission to proceed?
R.
Then, in a different handwriting at the bottom:
Rundle. Best to keep E.E. in the family. Proceed.
No dowry demands? Clearly, this was about marrying Fan. Damian wanted a seat on the board of Envers Enterprises, while Herb would sell it—to that weasel Norbert Easom, no doubt. E.R.—well, that had to be me, didn’t it? Of course I would balk if someone tried to sell off my daughter’s inheritance. F.E. was Fan, and R could only be Roompilda. She’d sent this letter to the queen, presumably, so that had to be the queen’s response at the bottom. Proceed with what?
“Oh, Roompilda, I’m so sorry you had to walk so far!” Maribelle said.
I stuffed the letter and the envelope back in the carpetbag and stepped away from the purses. I hadn’t put the letter back in the envelope, so she’d know I read it, but I was too angry to care.
“I can’t believe you hit her ball so hard, Evelyn!” Maribelle finished.
“It was a complete accident!” I said, although it was obviously anything but.
Roompilda dropped her ball onto the playing field. When she turned toward me, one corner of her mouth was turned up in a haughty smirk, as though she knew what I was up to and didn’t care. She thought she’d already won. I tried to smile sunnily, hoping I didn’t look as troubled as I felt. I finishe
d taking my turn, but my mind was no longer on the game.
She hadn’t meant to prepare Fan at all! Perhaps that was a fortunate side effect, but all she really cared about was getting Fan to pick a husband. I should have wondered why she didn’t send us calling, or why we never went to teas. Roompilda only engineered meetings where one of those three could woo Fan. The queen had made a list of families she wanted on Aiden’s side, and Roompilda had come to ensure Fan married into one of them. The queen didn’t care about Fan having a title in order to visit Ella. She was making a marriage alliance, and Fan was the pawn.
My turn completed, I returned to the chairs to fume. Just then, Roompilda pulled out her pocket watch.
“As delightful as this has been,” she said, “I’m afraid I have to be somewhere else. It was nice to meet you both.”
She sauntered past me, still smirking, and retrieved her carpetbag.
“Oh! Nice …” Maribelle trailed off, as Roompilda had already left, not bothering to wait for a response.
“Hmm. That was … abrupt,” Lord Piminder said. “Well, perhaps we can still make this work. If Evelyn would like to take over Roompilda’s ball, I would be happy to play black and blue. Although black and blue does have rather better field position. Why don’t I take over red and yellow, and Lady Frandsen can come play black?”
“Sorry, I have to go as well,” I said. I grabbed my purse and dashed off after Roompilda.
Where did she have to be? I briefly entertained the possibility that she just wanted to escape us, but my insides were churning, and I was certain something was wrong. I needed to find Fan, I thought. If I followed Roompilda, would she lead me right to her?
I chased Roompilda toward what seemed to me to be the entrance to the maze, keeping my eyes fixed on her hair. I didn’t notice I’d walked through a tennis court until the ball whizzed past my head, but I ignored the jeers and stuck to my course. I likewise did not notice that Clarrie Babcock was running after me.
“Madam Radcliffe!” she called breathlessly.
I stopped and turned around. “Clarrie, I can’t right now—”
“Why were you playing croquet with Lord Piminder?”
“What?” I studied her expression. She was trying to maintain her poise, but her eyes said she was terrified—terrified that I was double-crossing her, I realized. “He took a liking to me, and I’ve been using that to suggest things that will help you. That’s why he lowered the amount. I promise I’m on your side, Clarrie.”
She nodded. “My fairy godmother will help me, right?”
“I’m really confident she will. I just had to get Lord Piminder to set things up right. The fairies needed him to pick a date.”
“It’s just that Terence said that fairies hardly ever help anyone anymore, and we should forget about being together.”
Uh-oh. The back of my mind was screaming that Terence’s cold feet were a major problem. The front of my mind, however, was determined to find Fanchon immediately.
“Well, I think he’s wrong. You do still want to marry him?”
Clarrie forced a smile and nodded. It was not a very good lie, but I didn’t have time for this now.
“Clarrie, I have to go. But keep your chin up. I’ll be in touch soon, all right?”
By now, of course, I’d lost Roompilda, so I ran toward the entrance to the maze, hoping that really was her destination. When I arrived, I scanned the crowd. Most of these people were in line for the maze, and Roompilda certainly wouldn’t be among them—but Fanchon might, I thought. I looked through the line, then turned to the dance floor, and the luncheon tables, but to no avail. Where had Roompilda gone?
Then suddenly, I heard a gasp behind me. I turned to see people leaving their conversations to rise up on their toes and crane their necks, all trying to get a better look at something. I pushed through the crowd that was gathering near an old beech tree.
“Since the moment I met you, I have been captivated by your loveliness. I could sing your praises to the sun, the moon, and the stars!”
I froze at the edge of the crowd. Fanchon stood under the tree facing a kneeling Damian Rundle, who quite loudly proclaimed his devotion to her. She looked like she wanted to run away, but the crowd was quickly hemming her in.
“I can think of nothing I would want more than to spend eternity with you. Fanchon Envers, will you be my wife?”
The girls in the crowd oohed, and I heard a few cries of “That’s so romantic!” I saw Fan glance up at the multitude, and I knew she was feeling the pressure of her audience. These were exactly the tactics I planned to use against Lord Piminder. This was why I wanted a throng waiting for Clarrie to emerge with her gold—how could Lord Piminder disappoint all those people? Every girl out there would hate Fanchon if she turned down such a “romantic” proposal. I needed to help, but how?
Before I could make a move, we heard another voice from the crowd. “Don’t listen to him!” Heribert Relish stepped into the circle. “I may not have his way with words, but I think you are the prettiest, sweetest girl in the whole world. If you marry me,” he said as he knelt next to Damian, “I promise I will take care of you as long as I’m alive.”
“Did you hear that? He has not noticed your skin, soft as a doe’s and white as snow; your lips, red as a rose’s petals; your hair, black as—”
“Oh, come on! You stole that from a fairy story! He’s just trying to impress you—he doesn’t really care for you.”
“And you do? At least I respect the great man that was her father!”
Herb leapt to his feet. “Well, I believe Fanchon should break free! Free from her father’s tyranny!”
I raised an eyebrow. That was a false note, if you wanted to woo Fan. I would have thought Roompilda would have told him—I suddenly remembered the note. Keep Envers Enterprises in the family, the queen had written. The queen had chosen Damian, and Roompilda had sabotaged Herb.
Damian rose languidly to face Herb. “So you’ll unload her inheritance, and then what? How’s a groveling worm like you going to provide for a wife?”
“I work for Norbert Easom—”
“Name-dropper!”
“What about you, you pompous git? You’re a glorified desk clerk! How are you going to pay for ball gowns on a government salary?” Herb shouted.
“I am a valuable advisor to the minister of the Treasury—”
“Prancing bore!”
“Fawning toady!”
“Say that again!” Herb postured, inching closer to Damian’s face.
The two suitors seemed to have forgotten all about Fan. The more they fought, the more she faded into the background. I found myself hoping for a brawl. Then maybe I could help her slip out of here. Before Damian had a chance to respond, however, Justice Farthingbras emerged from the crowd and strode toward the two men. He put a hand on each of their chests and shoved them apart, then knelt down and held his hand out toward Fan.
“Hah! So the brute offers his hand?” Damian scoffed.
“Come on, Justice. Everyone knows you’re a creeper!” Herb said.
The crowd gasped at the arrival of a third suitor. Any minute now, they were going to start clamoring for Fan to pick one. I had to step in, now. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t sure what to say. I ruled out a logical explanation of how Fan didn’t really know them and still needed time to think right away.
“Miss Envers, believe me when I say only I can offer you the life of sophistication your beauty deserves,” Damian said, returning to his knees.
“I already have the connections! I can introduce you to a world of luxury and ease!” Herb dropped a knee as soon as he saw Damian move, not wanting to be the last left on his feet.
I can play the stepmother, I thought. I mean, obviously I was her actual mother, but I could forbid her from seeing any of them, just like a wicked stepmother would do. I was about to step into the ring when I felt a hand grip my arm.
“Don’t,” Roompilda said.
“Watch me.
”
She pulled on my arm even harder. “She must choose one of them.”
“No, she’s choosing none of them. You know perfectly well they want her money, not her. That’s how you pitched her to them. You coached them on how to propose.”
“Her Royal Highness has willed that Fanchon marry one of these three noblemen—”
“My daughter is not a political pawn!”
“Of course she is,” Roompilda said. “The queen and the crown prince cannot pass up such an opportunity to make an alliance. Any of the three families is acceptable. Let Fanchon make her choice.”
I looked at Fan, who’d finally managed to spot me in the crowd, and her eyes pled with me to find her a way out. So much for getting an invite to the palace, I thought. I was going to be in trouble for this.
I yanked my arm from Roompilda’s grasp and started walking toward Fan. I still hadn’t decided what I would say. Should I go wicked stepmother? I thought of that fairy tale book I’d bought. I could set some impossible tasks for them. But then what about when Fan really did want to get married? I needed something difficult, but not impossible, something we could control …
“Enough!” I shouted, silencing the squabbling boys. “In the absence of Fanchon’s father, it falls to me to weigh these proposals and choose a suitable husband for my daughter. It saddens me to say that I cannot accept any of these suitors.”
The crowd gasped. The three young men had twisted around to watch me. Herb’s jaw had dropped, while Damian scowled at me. Justice was as expressionless as ever.
“Ever since the first day of summer, my daughter has been unable to smile or laugh. I know not whether this is some curse, but I cannot send her to her wedding day in such a sad state. Therefore, I will issue this challenge: the man who makes my daughter laugh is the one she shall marry!”
The crowd broke out into hushed murmurs—a good reaction, I thought. I’d have to see what people were saying later, but I thought that was a pretty spectacular speech, if I do say so myself. Especially for on the fly.
