Garden Princess (10 page)

“I’m afraid the darling boys lost all interest in Torch Lily when I arrived,” Hortensia went on. “I sent them on their way, and I could tell she was a bit piqued about it. She ought to try to hide that better, as it does nothing for her looks. Not that she has to worry about those any longer. Her flirting days are over. As are those of that daisy creature.”

Daisy creature — that must be the girl with the diamonds. Thinking of her made Krazo remember the princess. Last night, when he wasn’t having nightmares about the woman in the dark room, he had dreamed about the princess. She had cried again in his dream, but this time, when she had seen him, she had smiled and spoken in the same soothing voice she had used with the dairymaid. He liked that voice.

Just then Hortensia tossed him a packet of envelopes tied together with a white ribbon. “I’ve finished my letters,” she said.

These letters were not invitations but carefully worded missiles addressed to the families of her guests. Krazo knew what they said because Hortensia often read them aloud as she wrote them, snickering when she reached the last few lines:

A variation on this letter was the phrase
beautiful flower,
for here Hortensia would occasionally name the actual flower, in which case she would not only snicker but also howl with laughter as she signed her name.

There was a similar version of the letter for families of her male guests, only that version didn’t mention the garden, and it was always phrased to suggest that the young man had begged Hortensia to be allowed to stay on as a courtier.

Like her party invitations, these letters were written on magically scented paper. The magic must have been extremely powerful, because after one whiff, the recipients would swoon with joy and brag to their friends and neighbors: “Yes, that’s right. Our little Mary’s living with Lady Hortensia now! You have heard of Lady Hortensia, haven’t you? They say she’s got the most beautiful garden in the world.” Krazo, whose job it was to deliver the letters, had seen it happen often enough. The magic grew stronger over time, until, at last, everyone who had ever known one of Hortensia’s guests — even family members — forgot about them.

For those guests who had come to the party by coach, it was Hortensia’s practice to send the letters home with the coachmen, whom she cleverly enchanted so that they would remember nothing untoward about their brief visit to Flower Mountain. Krazo knew Hortensia must have sent the coachmen from yesterday’s party home already. It would be his job to deliver the remaining letters today.

“What about the princess?” he asked.

He couldn’t have said why it mattered to him, but he did want to know what had happened to her. What flower had she become? Where was she in the garden?

But Hortensia sat up, a look of alarm on her face. “The princess? I forgot about her!”

Krazo tilted his head. In his experience, Hortensia had never forgotten about a guest before.

“Are you sure she came? Did you see her?” asked Hortensia.

Much as he wanted to lie, Krazo knew it could be dangerous. “Yes.”

“When? Where?”

“Yesterday . . . in the garden.”

Hortensia groaned. “How could I have been so careless?”

“Maybe she went home with the coachman,” Krazo suggested.

“She couldn’t have! I know she wasn’t in the carriage! And the gate was locked at all other times. She must be on the grounds somewhere.” Hortensia picked up the pen and dipped it in the ink bottle. “The coachman may have reached home by now. They’ll be wondering what’s happened to her.”

She whipped out a piece of stationery. She didn’t laugh as she wrote the letter; instead she snarled, “Flower, indeed! I’ll wager the girl’s as ugly as a clump of sod. I don’t know what I’ll do with her, but I can assure you that it won’t be pretty!” She addressed an envelope, shoved the new letter inside, and added it to Krazo’s bundle.

“Make sure you deliver the king’s letter first,” she told him. “Go! Now, as fast as you can! I’ll rip your tail feathers out if there’s any trouble over this.”

Krazo would never have dared point out that it was hardly his fault she had forgotten the princess. But he did think it as he looped the ribbon around his neck.

The packet was heavy, and at first he wobbled in his flight. He had to circle the garden several times before he found his balance. He saw Hortensia gather up her writing things and leave her marble couch. He saw her intercept the gardener on a nearby path. The gardener took the writing desk from her, and the two of them hurried toward the house.

And then, because the thought of tail feathers being pulled out was not a pleasant one, Krazo hurried on his way.

It wasn’t long before the argument in the banquet hall attracted attention. The servant who had been sleeping in the next room came in first; Adela, still trapped under the table, recognized him by his missing heel. This servant began arguing that mopping the floor was more important than doing the dishes. Then came the two feather dusters, insisting that Hortensia considered their work superior to any other. Soon more servants showed up, until the banquet hall was filled with men squabbling over whose job was most essential and who would get to sit next to Hortensia at supper that evening. Adela was just wondering if she should try sneaking out the door when a new voice, loud enough to be heard over the rest, called out, “Gentlemen, enough!”

The words “My lady!” buzzed around the room. Adela, looking toward the door, saw the hem of a white gown.

Hortensia waited for quiet. And then, “I regret to inform you that we have a problem. There is a young girl who came to the party yesterday. Her name is
Adela,
” she said, making the name sound distasteful.

“Do you mean Princess Adela? I saw her yesterday,” said someone. Adela thought she recognized the voice as belonging to one of the guests she had met the day before.

“You’re sure? A rather plain girl? Rather
ugly
?” said Hortensia.

“Well, I —”

Another voice broke in: “I saw her this morning in the garden. I talked to her.”

It was Garth! Adela bit her lip.

“She was acting strange,” said Garth. “Something about daisies and magic and —”

Hortensia cut him off. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, my lady!”

“Listen to me, all of you! This girl — this princess — is dangerous.”

“Miss Adela — dangerous?” Garth sounded incredulous. “Are you sure, my lady?”

“Of course I’m sure. You’ll understand how frightened I am when I tell you that the girl has gone completely mad!”

“Mad!”

“An unfortunate condition caused by a combination of mountain air and too much sun. It’s hard to say what horrible things she might do. I’m afraid for my life!”

“I can’t believe Miss Adela would hurt anybody.”

“Then you’re a fool!” Hortensia snarled. She stamped her foot, but when she spoke again, her voice was honeyed and sorrowful. “Or, more likely, you don’t care about me.”

“No, my lady! Why, I would die to protect you!”

The other men rumbled in agreement.

Hortensia clapped her hands and raised her voice. “The man who loves me the most will be the one who finds the princess and brings her to me. That man will sit beside me at supper tonight.”

The rumbling of the men was louder this time.

“Do you want her alive or dead, my lady?” asked Garth.

Adela was hard put to decide which was worse — the question or Hortensia’s quick answer: “Alive, naturally! Alive if at all possible! I have never had a
garden princess
before. Go on, now — quickly! Search the garden! Search the grounds!”

There was a scuffle as the men fought to get out the door. Only Garth lingered behind with Hortensia. “I don’t want to leave you alone, my lady,” he said. “If anything happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself. I would have brought Miss Adela to you this morning if I’d only known.”

“We’ll find her soon enough. The front gate is locked, and she can’t get out. She may even be inside the house.”

“I know where she’ll be, my lady. Miss Adela loves flowers. I’d guess that she still does, even if she has gone mad. She’ll be in the garden.”

“Very well, then. Show me!”

Adela saw Hortensia’s skirt swirl around. She peeked out from under the tablecloth just in time to see her leave the room, Garth hurrying behind. She listened to their retreating footsteps. She heard the far-off noise of the front door opening and closing.

The house was quiet.

Adela let out her breath.
Dangerous,
Hortensia had called her. But how dangerous could she be, crouched under a table with no way of defending herself?

She listened to the faint voices of the men outside. “Oh, Princess! Where are you?” And “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Just as if it were a game of hide-and-seek! It was only a matter of time before they came to look for her inside the house. She had to do something — find a better place to hide. If only she could stay hidden until . . .

Until what? Until someone came to rescue her? By now her father and Cecile must be wondering where she was. But they would have no reason to suspect any mischief. If anything, they would assume that the partygoers had had a late start coming back and had decided to spend the night at Hortensia’s or at some inn along the way.

And when she and Marguerite didn’t come home today? Cecile would surely begin to fret, but Adela’s father had never been one for worrying. “I expect the carriage has broken down,” he would say. “I’ll send someone to look for them.” And what good would whoever he sent be against a witch who could turn girls into flowers and men into witless slaves?

I can’t just sit here waiting, thought Adela. I have to rescue myself.

The front gate was locked, yes, but there must be a key for it somewhere. The keys at home were kept near the servants’ entrance, just off the kitchen. Keys for all the doors in the palace, keys for the stables, keys for the various outhouses, keys for all the gates — all hanging from hooks neatly labeled by the housekeeper. Was it too much to hope for something like that here?

Apparently it was. Adela found the kitchen quickly enough, but there were no keys to be found there — only stacks of dirty dishes. “Never mind! There are other places,” she told herself.

She began to look in earnest, slipping from room to room, opening drawers and cupboards, lifting the lids of chests, and peeking inside boxes. She was careful to stay away from the windows. Even so, she felt as if she were being watched by all the images of Hortensia. They were everywhere: portraits on walls, miniature pictures set out on tables, busts on pedestals. At least she has one weakness, thought Adela. She must be as vain as anything.

Unfortunately, Adela couldn’t think how to use Hortensia’s weakness to any advantage. She found herself wondering what King Ival would have done. How, for example, had he escaped from the beautiful witch who had enchanted him? Adela couldn’t remember. But she did recall another story in which King Ival had come up against a witch so ugly that she went about cloaked in a dense fog. In that one, he had been helped out by a friendly mole who could see in the dark. And there was also the story illustrated by the tapestry in the library back home. In that one, King Ival had been helped by a dog who had turned out to be an enchanted princess. Helpful animals under enchantments were a common theme in stories about King Ival.

Adela couldn’t help thinking of the magpie. “Enchanted prince?” she wondered aloud.

Hardly. Enchanted thief was more like it! She couldn’t imagine any creature less interested in helping her. She was just going to have to help herself.

Upstairs she found a long, carpeted hallway lined with doors and, naturally, more portraits. Pushing open one door, she found a room with four unmade beds, a wardrobe, a dresser, and yet another portrait of Hortensia. She opened the wardrobe; it was empty. She pulled open the dresser drawers, and they were empty as well. Not even a stocking, thought Adela.

The next few rooms were the same: unmade beds, empty wardrobes, and empty dressers. So it was with all the rooms, until there was only one door left, only one more room to search, and Adela despaired of ever finding the key.

But her hopes lifted when she opened this door.

Unlike the other rooms, this one was filled with clothes. There were dresses everywhere — crammed into the wardrobe, tossed over the chairs, and lying in heaps on the floor. It’s her room, thought Adela. If there is a key, this is where I’ll find it.