Garden Princess (20 page)

It was only then that it occurred to him that the entire ballroom was meant to be a garden. Not just any garden, he thought.
Hers.
What else could explain the magpie he had seen? He looked around, noticing for the first time that there were other magpies in the room. His eyes came to rest on one halfway across the floor, talking to a daffodil. Was it the same one he had seen before?

Edward walked toward him. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I was looking for the princess. . . .”

The magpie chuckled. “Good luck, there!” He nodded toward the back of the ballroom. “She’s out in the hallway — said she wanted to be alone.”

There was a door at the back of the room. He slipped through it and found himself in a hallway as grand as the ballroom, with chandeliers down the length of it, a thick red carpet, and gilded furniture to sit on. But there was no sign of the princess.

It was his mother who had insisted he come to the palace. She had guessed how he felt about the princess. “Of course you must return the jewels to their owners, Neddy. But after that, you must go see her. You ran off without telling her where you were going or what you were doing.” He had made up his mind that his mother was right. He needed to talk to the princess. He needed to explain his actions and apologize for his cowardice. But first he needed to find her.

He shivered. It was cold in the hallway, and he noticed a pair of glass doors in the distance. The left-hand one was ajar, letting in the night air. He walked toward it.

And saw her. She was standing outside, her dandelion crown lit up by the moon, her breath making a mist in the air. She must be freezing, thought Edward.

He pushed the door open. “Princess?”

As she turned, the feathers of her crown gleamed like diamonds in the moonlight. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. “Edward?” she said.

She came inside, and he closed the door.

“Is it really you?” she said.

He pulled off his mask.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “When you left, I thought —”

“That I was a thief,” he finished for her.

“No! I thought you might have been hurt — or killed . . . something awful.”

Which was what his mother had said she would think.
The princess won’t know what’s happened to you, Neddy. She’ll worry. . . .

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I went to look for my mother, and —”

“Did you find her? Is she all right?”

He had expected doubt or even anger from the princess. But he heard only sympathy and concern in her voice.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, I mean, she’s older now. But she’s happy and healthy. She married a doctor after I left. And she had more children. I have a half-brother and half-sister who are older than me. . . .”

“She must have been so happy to see you!”

His mother had cried. He’d had to hold on to her to keep her from falling down. “She was happy,” said Edward.

But the princess’s interest in his mother — her interest in
him
— was distracting him from his purpose.

You must tell her how you feel, Neddy. You must tell her everything. . . .

“Please,” he said, “could we talk for a bit? I know you want to be alone, but —”

“Alone? I don’t want to be alone!”

She sat down on a small couch. Edward sat beside her. He began with the speech he had rehearsed in his mind. “I need to tell you how I came to be at Hortensia’s and why she did what she did to me.”

“I know why. She was a witch who liked to hurt people.”

How easy it would be to let it go at that. To place all of the blame on Hortensia. To avoid having the princess think the worst of him.

But he hadn’t come here to do what was easy. He had come here to do what was right, and so he went on. “When I was little, there was only my mother to take care of me. My father died before I was born, and we never had much money. We were always hungry, and as soon as I was old enough, I got a job helping a man clean chimneys. I didn’t like the work. It was hot and dirty, but I noticed something. I saw that the people whose chimneys we cleaned weren’t like my mother and me. They had nice things. They had plenty to eat. They even had fires to keep them warm in winter, which was why they needed a skinny little boy like me to sweep out their chimneys.”

The princess must have heard the bitterness in his voice. “That made you angry.”

“It was unfair. Why should other people have so much, and we so little? So one day, after I’d swept the chimneys at a big, fancy house, I noticed a bit of money sitting on the mantel. It was only a few coins, and it seemed to me nobody would ever miss them, and I slipped them into my pocket. But my master saw me and made me put the money back. And when we were outside again, he kicked me onto the pavement and told me to be on my way; he couldn’t have a thief working for him.”

“You were only a boy,” said the princess.

“I was. But that still doesn’t forgive what I did next. I should have told my mother what had happened. I should have at least tried to find another job. But I was ashamed of having been caught, and I was still angry about how unfair it was — other people having so much. So instead I took to stealing. It was only food at first, and I told myself we deserved that food, just like the coins I’d tried to take. But after a while, I got to stealing more than food — things I could sell for money.

“It wasn’t long before my mother found out. She made me promise I’d never steal again. So I promised and said I’d find work. But I went right on stealing and told her the money came from odd jobs I’d picked up. Time and time again, I lied to her. She’d gotten sick, and we had nothing to eat and barely a room to live in — I didn’t know what else to do. Besides, no one would have hired me. I was too well known as a thief. That’s what I told myself, anyway. I confess I never actually tried to find work.”

He felt sick with the shame of it and wondered what the princess thought of him. But she was only listening, waiting for him to go on.

“Then one day,” he continued, “we found a letter pushed under our door. It was pink, and it smelled like perfume.”

The princess’s eyes grew wide. “Hortensia!”

He nodded. “I didn’t know why it had come. Why should I be invited to a party that must surely be for rich people? My mother asked the same question — said it must be a mistake and I’d better not go. So I told her another lie. I told her I knew Lady Hortensia. I made up some nonsense about pulling her out of the way of a runaway horse and how she was grateful to me. I told my mother the invitation meant good things and that Lady Hortensia would help us out of our troubles. I doubt my mother believed me, but she was so sick by then, she didn’t have the strength to argue. I told myself I would go to the party, and I would steal a few things from the wealthy people there. Then I would come back, and I would find a doctor and pay all the rent we owed, and it would be the last time I ever stole anything.

“Or lied,” he added softly.

“Anyway, when I got to the party, I sneaked into the house while everyone was admiring the garden, and I found all her jewels. But Hortensia caught me stealing and — well, you know what she did. And now you know why. Because I’m a thief.”

“You
were
a thief,” said the princess. “You’re not anymore. I spoke to someone tonight who told me you had returned her jewels. Did you return everything?”

“All that I could. But there were some things I didn’t recognize. I suppose she must have stolen those before I came to her garden party.” Edward reached into his coat and pulled out a small bundle. “These are for you. Maybe you and your father can return them, the way you said.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? I could have helped you.”

“I — I didn’t want to be there when you realized what I was,” said Edward. “When you realized I was a thief.”

“Oh, Edward! Just because you were once a thief doesn’t mean you are now. Obviously, you’re not! Why, even when you disappeared with the jewels, I never thought for a moment that you’d stolen them.”

These were the words he had dreamed of hearing her say! But Edward could still hear another voice in his mind. “That’s not what Hortensia said. She said I would be a thief forever.”

“Hortensia said all kinds of horrible, untrue things,” said the princess.

There was something in her voice that made him remember that last night, when Hortensia had made her cry. What cruel, untrue things had she said to the princess before turning her into a dandelion?

“She was full of lies,” said Edward.

“Yes, she was.”

He took her hand. “If you hadn’t come to her garden party — if I hadn’t met you — I would still be there. You saved me.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would be a dead dandelion,” said the princess. “We saved each other, you and I.” She squeezed his hand.

I’ve done it, thought Edward. I’ve told her everything, and it’s all right.

Or, rather,
almost
everything.

“Adela?”

She smiled, the color deepening in her cheeks. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

“I love you,” he said.

She held his gaze. “I love you, too.”

One morning, late in June, everyone was up by dawn. The king and queen, Henry, Marguerite, and Garth came down to the palace courtyard to say good-bye to Adela and Edward.

Cecile was fussing. “I can’t believe you’re not taking a carriage. And you’re wearing trousers, Adela! Promise me you’ll wear something more suitable when you visit Lady Isabel’s garden.”

Adela was checking the girth on her saddle. “I promise to clean up for Lady Isabel, Cecile. And it’s much easier for us to go by horseback. Besides, we’ll need a wagon eventually, but not until we get back from our voyage. We may need two or three, depending on how many plants we collect. I’ll have to hire them once we know.”

“It all seems so reckless!” said Cecile. “Sailing off to the ends of the earth —”

“We are not sailing to the ends of the earth. I’ve shown you the map.”

“You and Edward might at least think about getting married first —”

“Getting married can wait, Cecile. Collecting plants in the right season cannot. And if you’re still worried about a chaperone, rest assured that Dr. Sophus will be with us for the entire journey. Besides, you haven’t got time to plan a wedding for us. You’ll be too busy getting ready for Garth and Marguerite’s in September.”

“You
will
be back for it?” said Marguerite, repeating a concern she had expressed many times already.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“I do wish you would take along a few of your father’s knights,” said the queen.

“Edward and I
are
knights, Cecile! Besides, in three days, we’ll be aboard one of the royal ships. We’ll be fine until then. We’re going to stay at an inn tonight, and tomorrow we’ll be at Edward’s mother’s house,” said Adela. And after that, who knows? she thought. They might camp out under the stars. No sense mentioning
that
to Cecile.

“But the islands sound so . . . dangerous!” said the queen — not for the first time.

“Now, then, dear,” said the king, “I’m sure Edward and Sophus will take good care of Adela.”

“More likely she’ll take care of us,” said Edward, who was coming across the courtyard with Adela’s tutor. They were leading three horses — two of them saddled and ready to ride, the other laden down with bundles. “Adela’s better with her sword than anyone I can think of, not to mention the fact that she’s won a medal for bravery.”

“Father gave
you
the same medal,
Sir
Edward,” said Adela. “Don’t forget that.”

“Well, then, I guess I can probably manage to crack someone over the head with a shovel if I need to.”

“Speaking of gardening equipment, have we got it all?”

“Everything on your list.”

“And I have the maps,” said Dr. Sophus.

Adela was thrilled that her tutor was coming with them. In addition to bringing maps, she knew he had packed a collection of books about the local flora of the islands they would be visiting, an almanac for predicting weather conditions, and some poetry. “To entertain us in the evenings,” he had explained.

Adela hugged her father and Garth and exchanged kisses with Marguerite and Cecile. She tried to give Henry a kiss, but her brother refused to look at her, burying his face in Cecile’s dress. He was angry that she was leaving.

“We’ll be back soon, Henry. We’ll bring you all kinds of surprises!” she told him.

“Flowers and bushes and trees — we’ll bring you your very own jungle,” said Edward.

Henry peeked out at them, his attention caught by the word
jungle.
A moment later, he threw his arms around Edward and then Adela.

“Good-bye!”

And then they were off. The palace and the royal city fell away behind them, and it occurred to Adela that the last time she had traveled along this road, she had been going to Hortensia’s garden party. Trapped in a carriage, tied up in a corset, her feet pinched by her shoes, with no idea whatsoever that she was about to meet up with a witch — or an enchanted magpie! How much better to be riding in the open air, wearing comfortable trousers and boots. Not to mention having Edward as company. She smiled at him, only to see that he looked pensive.