Chapter Twenty-One #2
She turned, and hurriedly began to undress, pulling off her sleeping gown.
The interest of a prince had stripped her of her modesty.
Her skin looked nearly blue. Her nipples pebbled.
So thin I could see the articulation of each rib and knob of her spine as her hands searched out the sleeves of her smock.
“You are upset that I came?” Her face emerged through the neck of the undergarment.
I handed her a pair of stockings. “You wore my dress.”
She sat to pull them on, the white silk climbing her calves like a snake shedding its skin in reverse. “It was in the trunk in the attic—”
“It was my wedding dress,” I hissed.
“No.” She paused, one leg extended in front of her, toes pointed. “You wore green.” The stocking went up and over her knee. “I remember.”
I picked up her basquine. “Hurry,” I told her.
She stepped in, and I began to work on the laces on the back.
“Not my wedding to your father.” I pulled the laces and then pulled them tighter.
Elin exhaled a mouth of air. “My first wedding. To the girls’ father.
” With a final vicious tug, I fastened the knot.
“I did not know,” she protested, stepping into her petticoat.
“Ignorance persists where ignorance dwells. You had said there was a trunk of my mother’s things in the attic.
And then I found yours gathering dust and did not think you would mind so much.
The dress had a train and bare shoulders.
It was out of necessity. How else would I have gone to the ball?
” She went to the deep-set window. “How else would I have met the prince?” She turned back to me.
“Let us set our sights on loftier ideals. Would you really deny me my happiness over a dress?”
I grabbed her kirtle in a fist and thrust it toward her. “I have never denied you a single thing.”
She took the bundle from me. “Except going to the ball.”
“Which you went to.” I picked up what remained of my blue dress from the peg it hung on, gathering its folds into my arms.
“And you did little to support me—me, who has lacked a family since I was eight years old! When all I want is to make a new family, my own family, once I am married.”
I held the dress against my chest, taken aback. “You have repeatedly been offered a family—this family!”
She shook her head. “It does not work that way. Families are not offered or negotiated. A woman—” She reached for her book, which sat on the end of her bed.
I spoke before she could begin quoting at me.
“Of course families are negotiated. We are all in negotiation. A marriage begins with negotiation and continues to be one. And that is if fortune smiles upon you! If you are not viewed as chattel, or property. Do you really think it will be so simple? You will go to one ball, and your world of sorrow will be resolved in a single stroke?”
Her eyes darted to the foot of the bed. “A good wife is a man’s best wealth.”
“You stupid girl.” I shook my head. “For even if that is true and there is a prince downstairs, you are not yet anyone’s wife and you still live here with us.
” I went to the door, unable to stomach any more from her.
I did not look over my shoulder as I told Elin: “Be downstairs in three minutes and no later.”
I stopped in my own room to lay the dress on my bed, taking care with the fabric and folds.
The organza had not lost its color, though it had gained the brittle, stuffy smell of years in storage.
I could not check for the stains since the sleeves were missing.
Rubbing the cloth between my fingers, I wished I could unstitch so much of what had happened.
I thought of Otto’s shiny shoes, stomping beside mine on the dance floor.
Of Mathilde’s gray eyes, searching my own for reassurance and answers.
Of the yellow dress my daughters had made me.
Of the blue one, that had been entwined with it all.
Mostly, I thought of my poor Rosie, who might rise at any minute to see a prince’s carriage in the drive, only to have her renewed hopes dashed, once more, like a bad dream that insisted on recurring.
Outside, Wenthelen had offered hot coffee.
Otto waited empty-handed and the footmen stood frozen like statues, but Simeon had sprawled onto the front steps, holding a steaming cup, boots thrust forward into the gravel.
I had never invited him indoors, but my solecism appeared to have gone unnoticed, for he was content, picking at a bit of lichen on the stonework.
Nearby, Otto peered about the property with predatory focus.
“Elin will be right down,” I informed them. “And if you’d like to wait inside, I—” I was about to make apologies, but Otto interrupted me.
“We’ll stay outside,” he insisted. “And won’t put you out long.”
Not suitable. I nodded, curtly. To Simeon, I said: “The ball appeared a great success.”
“We ran out of punch,” he confirmed. “Did you try the hot chocolate? It was imported. The chocolate, that is. We heated it ourselves.”
I was saved from answering, for Elin appeared behind me in the doorway. Simeon scrambled to his feet, leaving his porcelain cup on a stone plinth.
“Prince Simeon,” she breathed, dropping into a curtsy. In the few minutes since I had left her, she had fastened her hair and added color to her cheeks. When she rose, she added: “This is quite a surprise.”
The prince returned her obeisance with a short bow. “A happy one.”
She donned a sweet smile. “If our existence is a play, the unscripted scenes add depth and spontaneity. I’ll savor this unexpected visit for a long time to come.”
“Quite!” Simeon turned to Otto, a look of mirth on his face, and then back to Elin. “Shall we take a stroll? You can give me a tour of the…” He nodded off into the orchard. “Trees.”
I did not believe that the prince cared for the trees a whit.
But the overcrowded grove might offer a bit more privacy than a drawing room with two chaperones.
Otto and I followed a few lengths behind them as Elin and Simeon took the path along the side of the house, toward the apple trees.
Ahead of us, Elin’s uncovered hair looked bright and clean against the many gnarled trunks and wet grass and a sky that threatened unpleasant weather.
We walked in uncomfortable silence. I wished we could hurry.
I was eager to finish this strange stroll, for the day was cold and I did not like journeys that had unclear endings.
But, ahead, Elin was picking her way with dainty steps, taking advantage of the prince’s proffered hand at every shift in the uneven terrain.
After a moment, Otto cleared his throat and nodded ahead to Lucy’s mews. “That’s where you keep the bird?”
I nodded. “She’s weathered over there on that block.” I pointed to the stump and circle of gravel.
He looked up at the sky and back over at the small structure as if making conversation pained him. “Why not just hunt here? The property is big enough and you have the open skies.”
I stiffened at the reminder of our encounter in the woods. “There’s nothing left to hunt here.” Lucy had been trawling our grounds since we’d first arrived.
Otto narrowed his eyes at the laurel hedge—the same one I had hurried through the first day I had met him—in the direction of the little path that led to the stream. “A goshawk would be better for the woods. No need for all that land. It would hunt from your arm.”
I glanced over, annoyed that he was explaining hawks to me—but more annoyed by the suggestion of a gos. Goshawks were not birds kept by the gentry. “What do you know of falcons?”
“Not very much,” he acknowledged. “I used to know an austringer. To ride with him.”
I did not want to discuss hawks or falconry with Otto. Not after he’d seen me covered in mud, holding a dead rabbit. Not after he’d deemed the very activity unsuitable. So I didn’t respond until the quiet became uncomfortable, and only then to change the subject.
“It is a long journey from the palace.” I turned to face the many apple trees.
“Aye.” Otto’s voice was gruff. “The prince was determined.”
“To see Elin?”
“To see Elin.” He nodded.
“You must not have slept.”
“We slept in the carriage.” He shook his head. “We shall not disturb your peace for much longer.”
I wanted to be rid of Otto, but his desire to be rid of me, too, was irritating. I could not help myself. I narrowed my eyes and held his. “No,” I said. “The prince need not spend any further time at the home of women who are not suitable.”
Otto’s eyebrows rose, surprised, I think, at first by my tone, but a subtle realization soon crossed his face.
He stopped walking and I paused beside him.
I felt the briefest pleasure—the certainty of a final tug after tying the loops of a knot.
But as it cinched, I wondered if I had not gone too far.
He nodded. “The prince has … infatuations.” He was carefully choosing his words in a way that focused my attention. “They do not last long. They are fleeting and … best left alone.”
I sucked in some of the cold air. I was not clear if he was talking about whatever had been intimated with Rosie, or what was happening ahead of us in the apple orchard.
“Just as he has been left alone with Elin in the woods?” I nodded ahead. During our brief exchange, Simeon and Elin had continued into the orchard, out of sight.
Otto’s head rose, sharply. He looked alarmed, and then, with a start, stalked off in their direction.
“They cannot have gotten far,” I called, resigned.
“They should not be unchaperoned,” Otto called back. He sped up his pace and I struggled to follow. We hurried, leaving the path and picking our steps over apples that had turned and layers of wet leaves, Otto rushing ahead, and then doubling back to hold branches out of my way.
“This is silly,” I told him.
“They should not be unchaperoned,” Otto repeated. I scowled at his back.
I saw a flash of fabric through the trees ahead.
“There,” I said. “Elin,” I called, peering through the trees. “Elin?”
She and Simeon, framed by the knobbed trunks, the near-naked branches stretching up to scratch the overcast sky, came into sight. They saw us and waved. The hands between them were clasped. Elin’s cheeks were flushed and there was a leaf in her hair.
The prince held up her hand, as if presenting a prize. He spoke to Otto. “Isn’t she the most modest, marvelous little flower? Just as I told you.”
“Your Highness—” Otto started.
“So untouched,” the prince said, moving the hand in his own to his lips.
Elin flushed. “Stepmother,” she called, her cheeks pinking further, her eyes bright. “We are engaged.”
“It’s true,” Simeon said, dropping her hand so he could cup her chin. “We are to be married.”
Instinctively, Otto and I stared, not at them, but at each other.
It was only through his expression that I truly believed I had heard correctly. His face reflected the same astonishment and revulsion as my own.