Secondhand Charm (13 page)

Chapter 27

I accompanied Princess Annalise arm-in-arm, at her insistence, down the long corridors of the castle from lamp to lamp. This didn’t endear me to the other ladies following behind us, all of whom seemed so much more accustomed to their gowns and jewels than I felt.

I had endured an agonizing hour of having my hair set in place by Dorothy, who took out her frustrations with life upon my scalp. Then she buried my tall hair arrangement under a canister of talcum powder. This, Annalise assured me, was a necessary part of my disguise. Dorothy informed me coldly that it was the height of fashion, and didn’t they powder their hair in Merlia? There was pink powder for my cheeks and red tint for my lips, all of which made me long for a good scrub. If I couldn’t bear the beauty treatments, how would I mimic the manners to pass myself off as a young Merlian lady at a duchess’s soiree?

My corsets clamped me like a vise. I carried a velvet purse just like Annalise’s, with my leviathan snoozing inside, and tried to step gracefully down the winding stairs in my satin slippers, though the steps were uneven and I couldn’t see my feet. The women generated a roving cloud of powder and perfume, which made it hard to fill my corseted lungs with air.

Dorothy had looked askance upon my gypsy luck charm, but I refused to part with it. It would take all the luck I could muster to make it through this night without exposing myself as an impostor, a girl from Maundley playing dress up.

I kept my wrap close around me, and my face pointed down, as we exited the castle. The heavy door guard with the thick mustache and the belt full of keys was there, but he took no notice of me. Would to goodness the king might be as unobservant as he.

It was a cold, crisp night with a sky full of stars. We proceeded down the steps to the courtyard where the ceremonial guards still marched, their breath forming frosty puffs. Just beyond them, a pair of carriages stood waiting, their horses stamping their feet. At the sight of Princess Annalise, the guards ceased marching and stood at attention, bayonets up. Annalise pulled me closer to her, and we hurried on through that tunnel of men and weapons.

“Evie?”

I nearly tripped and fell. Annalise paused to locate the voice. But I had already found it. Not that I needed to look.

Aidan stood near the gate, close to where the carriages awaited us.

“Evie!”

My heart leaped into my throat. I tried to stuff it back down behind my ribs where it belonged. Him, here, now? Seeing me in these ridiculous clothes?

Or would he perhaps not find them ridiculous?

You don’t care, Evelyn Pomeroy
,
I told myself.
You don’t care a whit, and stop thinking you do. Don’t look at his lips.

Aidan waved his hat in the air and ran toward us. A chorus of shocked noises emerged from the ladies who were gathered behind us.

So much for gowns and jewels fooling any man alive. What was he doing here?

It’s your friend, Mistress
,
my leviathan said from the depths of my purse.
The one you are fond of.

Stop calling him that
,
I told him.
I’m perfectly well aware who he is.

Aidan stopped a few yards away from us. He stared at me, his face full of bewilderment. His gaze took in my powdered mound of hair, my altered figure, my clothes, everything. He looked down at himself, at his canvas workman’s trousers, his worn boots and faded shirt.

Princess Annalise’s eyes missed nothing.

“Ladies,” she said to her retinue without looking at them, “into the carriages with you, tout de suite! Mademoiselle Marie craves privacy to speak with her acquaintance.”

“But … he called her ‘Evie,’ ” one of the young ladies protested.

“Her middle name, naturally,” Annalise said. “We’ll be along momentarily.”

She watched the others leave. My need for privacy did not, it seems, extend itself to her.

“So, Evelyn,” she said aloud, when the other ladies had been tucked into equipages by the attending footmen, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend?”

A stab of possessiveness startled me. I didn’t like her calling him that, nor looking at him that way.
For the love of heaven, Evie
, I scolded.
She’s only toying with him. And why should you care? One kiss doesn’t mean you own him.

Aidan cared. His jaw dropped. Remembering himself, he whipped off his hat and bowed.

“My lady,” he began, his face flushed. Then he turned. “Mademoiselle … 
Marie
?”

“What brings you here, Mr. Moreau?” I said, finding my voice for the first time. “I had not expected to see you after this morning.”

A silence hung in the air between us. Then the Man of Duty reasserted himself.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “I thought you might come here. The man at the door, he seemed to think a girl of your description might have passed this way. But how … ”

“So charming!” Princess Annalise said, before I could think of an answer. “Your kind, gallant Mr. Moreau has spent the day searching for you, dear. Do you have a Christian name, Monsieur Moreau?”

He looked at her feet. “Aidan, my lady.”

“Aidan Moreau,” she repeated. “A handsome name. Tell me, Aidan Moreau, what it is you do. What is your occupation?”

“He’s a stonemason,” I said.

“Of course you are,” Annalise said, nodding. “I can see it in your build. The keen eye, the careful hands, the broad shoulders. But so young! Are you apprenticed?”

“No, my lady,” Aidan said, holding himself a bit taller. “That is, I was, but I’ve completed my journeyman status, and now I’m searching for a post.”

“Then you shall have one,” Annalise said, relinquishing my elbow and taking Aidan’s instead, which instantly annoyed me. Realizing it annoyed me annoyed me even more. She drew us close together. “Did you know, Evie dear, that King Leopold has promised me a wedding gift of a menagerie, to be built on the castle park?”

I shook my head. No, I didn’t know. How on earth would I?

“I adore animals,” she said, giving me a wink, “as you well know. And my husband-to-be has granted me that a building be built where I can take a stroll every day and visit with my beloved creatures. It will be the wonder of Chalcedon. Scientists and foreign visitors will come and marvel. An elegant building, large enough to house spacious pens for bears, and apes, and even tigers. And there will be whole indoor pools for sea creatures, tortoises, and fish … ”

“Why were you looking for me?” I asked Aidan.

Oh, I could read volumes of science books half written in Latin, but what I would give for the wisdom to read his face.

“To make sure you were all right,” he said slowly. “Chalcedon is no place for a young lady to be alone. Especially at night.”

Annalise patted Aidan’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you had such loyal friends, Evelyn?” she asked. “He
must
come help the workers with my royal menagerie. Mustn’t he?” She elbowed me but addressed Aidan. “I insist upon it. The work has already begun, and you will live in the lodges where the other workers reside.” She flashed her smile at both of us. “Then you can see more of Evelyn, when she is free.”

Over in the carriages, I could see the faces of two of the princess’s young ladies flattened against the glass to watch us.

“You will come, won’t you?” Annalise said. “Tomorrow morning, report for duty. I will send a message for the architects to expect you.”

Aidan looked to me for a moment. I got the impression he was looking for my advice. I had none to offer him. I shrugged slightly.

Aidan bowed his head. “And who, my lady, shall I say has sent me?”

“Tell the foreman that Princess Annalise herself has sent you.”

Aidan’s eyes grew wide. He bowed again. “You’re really all right then, Evie?”

Princess Annalise laughed. “You can see that she is, Master Aidan.”

Still he watched me. “You don’t need anything?”

“Only just look at her! She lacks for nothing now.” Annalise gave my arm a squeeze.

And still he waited for my reply. “It’s kind of you to ask, Aidan,” I said. I meant it. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

He nodded, once.

“Congratulations on the post.” I tried to smile in a neighborly, friendly way. A prekissing, back-in-Maundley kind of way. “You’ll build a beautiful menagerie.”

Trumpet fanfare broke out from the entryway to the castle, and a herald announced the coming of King Leopold, who appeared in the doorway.

Aidan took another step back.

“I guess I’ll be moving along, then,” he said. “Got to get home.”

Home. “Are you staying with the Rumsens?” I asked him.

“For tonight,” he said.

“Please give my regards to Mrs. Rumsen,” I said. “And Dolores.”

Aidan gave me a odd look. “If you say so,” he said. “Good-bye, Evie.”

“Good-bye.”

Chapter 28

“Curried duck egg, mademoiselle?”

Out of nowhere a silver tray of quivering half-eggs, artfully drizzled with a fragrant orange sauce, appeared almost under my nose. Not that I had much experience being waited upon, but this struck me as obtrusive.

“Thank you,” I said to the server at the soiree in the meekest, weakest, most genteel voice I could produce. “I would love one.” He spooned one onto my plate. Its surface, I saw, was sprinkled with little dark, moist spheres. What could those little round things be? Capers?

I smell fish eggs!
said an eager little voice in my head, coming from the purse in my lap.

Oog. I pushed away the curried duck egg sprinkled with caviar.

“You sang like a nightingale, darling,” King Leopold told Princess Annalise. “Did she not, my friends? Does not my future queen have the voice of an angel?”

“Of a Siren, even,” said a young lord, who struck me as rather too pleased with his russet-colored beard. A lady slapped him playfully with her napkin.

“Right you are,” the king replied, raising his glass. “To Annalise, the enchanting lady from the sea whose beauty and singing have ensnared my heart completely.”

“To Annalise,” they all replied, some more eagerly. Annalise favored them with a smile.

Annalise’s radiant beauty drew all eyes in the room to her like fruit flies to a cut apple. She so far outshone all other ladies present that neither those ladies nor their husbands could take their eyes off her, ignoring the server and his platter of hors d’oeuvres. The ladies, in particular, could only soothe their bruised feelings by criticizing everyone else in the room—their clothes, their weight, their complexions, their gambling tendencies.

I amused myself by diagnosing and cataloging the illnesses I imagined I saw in those at my immediate table. Lord Franklin, jaundice, by the look of his yellow, flaccid face. He could use a less rich diet and some sunshine. Count Andrin, from the burst vessels in his nose and cheeks, was visiting the wine tray far more than he should. Both the duchess and Lady Louise Sauvage, I was sure, could benefit from daily doses of prunes.

Not everyone at my table was cold and haughty. I almost wished they were. To my immediate right sat a pale young courtier who’d been introduced as Anthony Boudreau. He sat there, I might add, at Princess Annalise’s insistence, and he’d spent the entire evening trying to draw me into conversation. He chewed with his mouth open.

“Eggs, Princess?”

Annalise glanced up at the server. Her fork clattered onto her plate. “Oh! I … I detest eggs.” She waved the platter away. “Their smell nauseates me. Away with them, quickly, please, if you would, my man.” She shot him an annoyed look. I’d hate to be him.

The server, a tall, oily, spectacled man fairly bursting out of the seams of his starched shirt and stiff suit, bowed and disappeared on silent feet. Princess Annalise whipped out her fan and fluttered it before her face.

“My dear,” King Leopold said with concern, “I never knew you were so affected by eggs. Are you quite well?”

“Oh, it is nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, still fanning madly. She took a sip of wine from her glass, then placed it back down on the table, but missed, knocking it against her plate and spilling its contents all over the table linens.

“Clumsy me!” She rose quickly.

Servers appeared like rabbits popping out of holes and sponged away the spill. Annalise sat back down, fanning herself, fidgeting, and watching the room. At last she rose once more.

“Pardon me, ladies, gentlemen,” she said, “but I believe a moment of fresh air would do me good. Please excuse me for a few moments.”

The king and several ladies rose to accompany her. Ought I to have done the same?

“Pray, stay where you are and enjoy your supper,” she begged. “I’ll only be a moment, composing myself.” And, gathering up her purse and clutching her skirts very charmingly, she hurried off toward the draped glass doors that led to the balconies.

Her departure left me only one empty chair away from King Leopold. I stared at my plate to avoid any danger of him recognizing me. This left me face-to-face with the offending egg.

“It was an odd song the princess sang, I daresay,” said a weedy-looking woman clad in an orange gown. “Those Merlians do express themselves strangely.”

“Come! Our manners!” cried the king, looking my way with great concern. “Gentle ladies, do not forget that this lovely young woman, Lady Marie Bellinger, is Princess Annalise’s own Merlian cousin. I dare say Merlians are as apt to find our Pylandrian music odd, as we are to marvel at theirs. Isn’t that so, Cousin Bellinger?”

All eyes at the table fixed upon me. What could I say to sound like a gentlewoman at all, never mind a Merlian?

“But that’s scarcely a fair question,” the king said, reproving himself. “Tell me, cousin, does music run throughout your family? Won’t you favor us with a song as well?”

Oh,
no
!

“It lacks a few days yet before this young lady will
be
your cousin, sire,” observed the duchess, seated at supper with us.

“Mere formalities,” said the king. He raised his hands and clapped for our hostess’s butler, who appeared instantly. “Tell the conductor of the orchestra, please, to prepare his men to play a piece for Lady Marie Bellinger to sing.”

“Oh yes, Lady Bellinger,” said Anthony Boudreau, working his way through a roasted quail. “I should be most eager to hear you sing.”

“My lord king,” I said, affecting a stuffy, congested voice. “Pray do not inconvenience the orchestra master. I do not, I confess, claim anything like unto my cousin’s gift. I lack both the native talent and the will to polish my art that she has shown.”

The king, who looked resplendent tonight in a crimson coat with his coat of arms emblazoned upon the front, looked unwilling to surrender. An admirable quality for a king, in general, but at present I found it extremely vexing.

“An instrument, then,” he said. “Or perhaps an exhibition of dance?”

“My lord,” the butler intoned with a voice of velvet. “At present, the orchestra is preparing to vacate the stage. Lady Fitzmaurice has engaged a circus of extraordinary performers to amuse us next.”

“A circus!” cried the king. “I haven’t seen a circus since I was a child, visiting the Rovarian court with my father.” He raised his glass to Lady Fitzmaurice, the duchess. “Bravo, my dear duchess. You do know how to treat your guests.”

The duchess beamed. I brushed the caviar off my curried egg with my fork and blessed the advent of the circus. It had saved me from a ghastly fate, and I planned to cheer their performance. The caviar rolled around my plate, and I contemplated trying to flick some into my purse for my nameless little leviathan, but decided the risk was too great.

No fish eggs?

I’m sorry,
I told my friend.
I can’t give them to you here.

I must go swimming soon, Mistress,
he said.

I know.

I’ll take him as soon as possible, I promised myself. I remembered clearly this morning’s disaster at the Rumsens’ and I imagined my leviathan leaping into a bowl of punch … 

The king’s gaze kept drifting toward the door where Annalise had slipped outside. He seemed on the verge of going after her. I thought of Aidan coming after me. My thoughts had traveled this well-worn track all evening. Why had Aidan come? What did he feel for me?

And why had I treated him so coldly?

And still, why, oh why had he kissed me in the first place? And how soon could I abolish the thought of it? All this aggravation, just because some brute of a neighbor boy, with two full lips but only half a brain, had used me for kissing practice. Oh, I made myself sick!

The party showed no signs of stopping. Servants cleared away the orchestra’s chairs. Conversation buzzed at each table. Perfume drifted from imposing centerpieces of fresh-cut hothouse flowers. Repulsive though he was, it was tempting to lay my powdered head upon Anthony Boudreau’s shoulder and fall asleep.

I raised my glass to my lips and paused. I had the uneasy feeling someone was watching me.

Someone was. King Leopold.

I met his gaze for an instant, then lowered mine. My heart thumped in my chest. Please don’t recognize me.

“Cousin Bellinger,” the king said, “did we meet when I visited Merlia last summer?”

I kept my face low. “No, my lord,” I said to my roll and butter.

He stroked his close-cropped beard. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, my lord.”

He frowned. “I could swear I’ve met you before.”

Once again I felt all eyes at the table upon me. Wherever the king’s interest lay, their curiosity followed.

“I am sure that my lord’s far-reaching acquaintances include many young women who resemble me.” I took a sip from my glass.

“The odd thing,” the russet-bearded courtier said, “is how little you resemble a Merlian.”

How I wished Annalise would return! “Oh, is that the circus about to begin?” I said. “I’ve never seen one.”

Lord Redbeard favored me with another welcome piece of his intellect. “Small wonder, that,” he said. “Those wild islanders of Merlia aren’t civilized enough for a circus of their own.”

“That’ll do, Ralph,” the king said.

“More civilized in Pylander, are you?” I retorted, before I could quite stop myself. “As it happens, I spent some time touring the countryside of Pylander before arriving here in Chalcedon, and while I was traveling along the king’s highway just a few days ago, my coach was robbed by a highwayman!”

“How romantic!” cried the wispy woman in the orange dress.

“Not at all,” I snapped. “It was brutal and horrid. He could have killed us all. As it is, he killed the driver in cold blood and made off with the coach, horses, luggage, and all the mail.”

“Salmon fillet?” said the oily servant, who’d returned with a new tray.

Annalise returned to her seat, which King Leopold held out for her. His attention, however, was all on my story.

“Where was this, cousin?” the king demanded. “Which stretch of road? What province?”

“I was en route to Fallardston, heading north,” I said. “I am lucky to have my life. The bandit was a lone desperado, but he was threat enough to subdue and rob an entire coach of passengers. Is this how the civilized peace of Pylander is upheld on the king’s roads?”

“Lord love me, Cousin Marie,” Annalise said, placing a fluttering hand over her heart. “You never told me you faced such perils on your journey. I should have died of fright!”

“Salmon
fillet
?” the server repeated, waving his platter before me.

“Yes, please,” I told him, for he was rather imposing, but even at awkward times I was fond of fish. I wondered if I should regret my outburst, wondering if I’d said too much or said it too poorly to maintain my disguise.

The server dropped the fillet onto my plate with his tongs, and its juices splashed all over my bodice.

“For shame, man,” the duchess cried, giving the server a scathing look. “Be more careful!”

Princess Annalise giggled slightly. The server’s spectacled eyes closed in mortification. He made a silent retreat. I dabbed myself with my napkin.

“I apologize, Lady Bellinger,” the duchess said. “These extras one hires in for parties … ”

“It’s all right,” I said. Heaven knew, the purple gown was not my own.

“Lady Bellinger is a brave young woman!” Anthony Boudreau declared, without pausing on his artichoke.

“Nothing of the sort,” I said. “It takes no bravery to be robbed.”

“We’re missing this marvelous circus,” Princess Annalise said, with rather a forced smile. “How droll of you to find them and bring them here for us, Lady Fitzmaurice.”

“Well, I only just heard of them two days ago,” the duchess replied. “They came and did a demonstration for me, and I couldn’t resist. They’re Rovarians. They call themselves ‘The Circus Phantasmagoria.’ ”

I abandoned my salmon and turned toward the dais where the orchestra had been. There stood the circus, two men and two women clad in tight-fitting, garish-colored, tasseled clothes with hoods that covered their hair. The women, especially, were shocking in that their skirts barely reached their knees, while their legs were clad in bright hose like the men. One man wore face paint and juggled colorful balls while the other, who was shirtless and wore no paint, juggled flaming batons. One young woman astonished us all by leaping and tumbling across the stage in front of them while the other woman twirled a spinning baton, then pulled a series of daggers from her belt. With them she impaled the four corners and then the center of a square target, with deadly precision.

The duchess’s guests all gasped, then clapped. On cue, one by one, the ball juggler ceased, the flame juggler quenched his torches in his own mouth, the acrobat landed in an impossible split-legged pose, and they all bowed together. Then the ball juggler whistled, and the guests exclaimed in wonder.

For, prancing out onto the stage, in a tiny jacket and cap, came his monkey.

“Chick-chick-chick-eeet!”