Princess Of Glass Part 9

"But you seemed quite taken with her," King Rupert stated for the hundredth time.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Christian said, and then shook himself a little.

Why had he said that? Lady Ella was certainly pretty, but more than a little strange, in his opinion. And not the good kind of strange, like Poppy. Yet the first thing he had done that morning was to ask Queen Edith if she knew Lady Ella's 128.

family. That was what had started the endless round of questions by King Rupert. Christian could predict what was coming next.

"Bretoner? You're certain?" King Rupert leaned over his desk eagerly.

This was the most important question to the king, and he would never be satisfied until they had tracked down Lady Ella and had her write out her lineage to the twelfth generation, Christian was sure.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Christian said. "She had no accent and she said that she lived in Castleraugh. I believe that both Pop--Princess Poppy, that is--and Roger Thwaite know her."

"The princess wouldn't know: she isn't Bretoner," King Rupert said dismissively.

"True, however--," Christian began, but the king was off and running.

"We must make sure that this girl comes to our masked ball," King Rupert said, turning to gaze out the window at the royal gardens, face set with thought. "Everyone who was invited to the gala has also been invited to the masquerade, so that shouldn't be a problem. The difficulty will be recognizing her." He put his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed.

Christian wondered if he should just slip out. Or excuse himself and go. He wanted to visit Seadown House and talk to Poppy, though he could not remember why. Had he been planning on asking her about Lady Ella? No, that didn't seem right. He could always ask Roger Thwaite about that. Still, he would probably remember when he got there.

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Just as Christian got to his feet, a footman knocked at the door and then entered carrying a silver tray.

"What's this?" King Rupert turned away from his window, irritated, and caught Christian in the act of escaping.

The footman, who valued his job too much to show any sign of surprise at the prince's guilty, frozen stance, merely presented the tray. "Today's correspondence, Your Majesty," the man said blandly.

One of the letters, a small creamy envelope with a blue seal on it, made the king turn to Christian. The prince, for his part, was wondering if he dared slip out of the room with the footman when the servant was dismissed.

"Seadowns are throwing a ball next week," King Rupert said. He grunted. "Trying to marry off that princess, do y'suppose?"

"It's Marianne's birthday," Christian said. He wondered if Lady Ella would be there. The Seadowns didn't seem to know her, but Poppy did.

"Oh yes," King Rupert said, and shrugged. "Should probably make an appearance. Send Edith and the girls at the least. You, too, I suppose. The Thwaites are already planning the marriage feast for the younger son and Lady Marianne, but no harm in trying if this Lady Ella proves unsuitable." The king was already turning back to the window, his mind elsewhere.

Christian beat a hasty retreat.

He also had an invitation to Marianne's ball waiting in his room, along with letters from his parents and sisters, and one, oddly, that came from Westfalin. The envelope was creased and water-stained, and the writing nearly illegible. He stuck it in 130.

his pocket to read later, pulled on his riding boots, and went to pay a call on the Seadowns.

He had hardly ridden out of the palace gates before he was hailed by Roger and d.i.c.kon Thwaite, who both looked rather grim. Christian reined in to meet them, curiosity over their dire expressions winning out over disappointment at the distraction.

"What's happened? You look like you've had some bad news," Christian said.

"I say, Christian," d.i.c.kon said, shaking his head in puzzlement. "Did Lady Ella seem cursed to you? I thought she was charming, but Roger's gotten it into his head that she's under some sort of enchantment."

"An enchantment?" Alarm spread through Christian. "We must help her! Quickly, the palace has weapons we can use!"

"Capital! We'll need swords and pistols!" d.i.c.kon looked eagerly at his older brother, who was staring at both of them with consternation. "Coming, Roger?"

"You're both acting like idiots," Roger said, almost musingly. "This is perhaps part of it..."

"Part of what?" Christian steadied his horse with one hand. Why were they all sitting on horses in the middle of the street? Had they been on their way to the park? He turned his horse in that direction and the brothers flanked him, their horses moving at an easy walk. He felt his belt for a pistol, then couldn't remember why he would be armed.

"I believe that Lady Ella is under an enchantment," Roger 131.

explained. "And I think it's spreading. The two of you are not behaving as you normally would, even around a beautiful young woman." He shot a sly glance at Christian, then at d.i.c.kon. "Especially considering that both your attentions should be elsewhere."

d.i.c.kon looked quite astonished. "Where do you mean?"

"Precisely," Roger said, much to Christian's confusion. But the older Thwaite brother did not appear to be teasing them or reveling in their bewilderment. Rather, he seemed to sink deeper into thought, a frown settling on his face and creasing his forehead. "Precisely."

"Look here, fellows," d.i.c.kon said eagerly. "Do you think if we ride around the park long enough, Lady Ella will put in an appearance? There's quite a few ladies out today."

Christian, too, was craning his neck for a glimpse of dark hair. He remembered Poppy then, and Marianne, and felt a jolt. He hadn't been riding to the park! He had been on his way to Seadown House. Feeling muzzy-headed and faintly embarra.s.sed, he was about to suggest that they invite Marianne and Poppy to join them when Roger did it for him.

"I must speak with Princess Poppy," Roger announced. "Let's go out this way, toward the Seadowns'. Come to think of it, I should probably inform Lord Richard of my suspicions as well. And talk to El--talk to an old friend, if she is there."

Christian, relieved to have remembered his destination, didn't ask who in the Seadowns' household Roger considered 132.

an old friend. d.i.c.kon, for his part, was so busy looking for Lady Ella that he was almost sitting backward in the saddle.

"She must be around here somewhere," the younger Thwaite kept muttering.

Finally Roger grabbed the reins of his brother's horse. "Just come along, d.i.c.kon, we'll get you sorted out later."

133.

Investigator

Roger, thank heavens!" Poppy leaped to her feet, scattering her knitting across the floor, when the butler showed Christian, Roger, and d.i.c.kon into the parlor. "I just sent you a message!"

She barely stopped herself in time: she had been close to throwing her arms around the older Thwaite brother in relief. She looked at Christian, almost blushing, but he was glancing around the parlor as though he had never seen it before. d.i.c.kon Thwaite, too, looked around with an expression of mild interest, taking no notice of Marianne on the sofa. Poppy raised her eyebrows, and Roger nodded gravely.

"d.i.c.kon, Christian," Poppy said loudly. "Why don't you chat with Marianne while Roger and I discuss something?" She kept her voice bright yet firm. It was the same type of voice she used when trying to get Pansy and Petunia--her youngest sisters--to do something without any tantrums.

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"Are you plotting something, Poppy?" Marianne looked up with a twinkle in her eye, her hands tangled in yarn.

Poppy had been trying to teach her to knit in order to distract Marianne from the two topics that obsessed her: her birthday ball and Lady Ella.

Marianne had awoken that morning with a pounding headache and a memory of the gala that differed from Poppy's. She remembered Lady Ella being not just pretty, but devastatingly beautiful, and both Christian and d.i.c.kon dancing only with the mysterious charmer, ignoring Poppy and herself entirely. She was almost violent in her feelings toward Lady Ella, and no amount of correction on Poppy's part would convince her that her memories were wrong.

Having given up trying to talk to her friend about enchantments and the truth behind Lady Ella's ident.i.ty, Poppy had instead gotten her to talk about her own ball. She had hinted about gifts, both from herself and Marianne's parents, and even agreed to dance at least one dance, just to appease her friend.

Poppy explained all this in a rush to Roger as they took up a position by the window seat, half-hidden in the long purple drapes. Poppy found her eyes searching each pa.s.sing carriage, as though she expected a familiar face to arrive and provide help. But the depressing truth was that no one was coming.

"But what about Eleanora?" Roger's voice was low. "Oh yes! Eleanora!" Poppy was almost as pa.s.sionate about her as Marianne was. "I insisted on coming home as soon as 135.

she left the ballroom, hoping that we could catch her changing her gown or something. But having the carriage brought round took so blasted long that it was nearly one o'clock before we arrived. And there she was, waiting to help Marianne and me undress as though she hadn't been throwing herself at Christian just an hour before!"

"The gown? The jewels? There was no sign of them?"

"None at all," Poppy affirmed. "In fact, I stayed up until nearly dawn searching most of the house. And this morning I sneaked upstairs to look in the maids' rooms."

"Did you ask her about it directly? What did she say?"

" 'I don't know what you mean, Your Highness,'" Poppy recited. " 'I never left the manor, Your Highness. I wouldn't have a gown fit for a ball!' " Poppy gritted her teeth. "All sweet ignorance, and all of it a lie."

"Now, Your Highness," Roger said, flushing.

Poppy remembered belatedly that Ellen, no matter how trying, was Roger's childhood friend, and checked her temper. Slightly.

"Call me Poppy," she said. "And I'm afraid it's true. There was none of the nonsense that my sisters and I went through. She didn't start babbling incoherently, she didn't suddenly lose her voice. She looked right at me with big eyes and lied. Just as she lied when I asked her why, then, was her hair so full of pomade? Why did she smell of exotic perfume? And, more tellingly, where were her stockings and why was she limping?"

"Limping?"

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Roger looked concerned, and Poppy had to fight down another sigh. It would not do for him to be just as smitten with "Lady Ella" as the other gentlemen, with or without enchantment.

"I would imagine it was from dancing for hours in those impractical shoes," she said. "I'm sure she'll be fine. In the meantime, we really must figure out what is happening."

"What is happening in here?"

Poppy and Roger looked up, startled, as Poppy's words were echoed from the doorway. Lord Richard had just come into the room, and was surveying the a.s.sorted young people with his typical amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Rehashing last night's gala? Gossiping about who danced with whom?"

Lord Richard had been in the garden with friends during most of the gala, and had not seen Lady Ella. But his ears had been filled with the story of how Poppy's gown had been copied by the mysterious upstart, as Marianne labeled her, all the way back to the manor the night before. More speculation had occurred over breakfast, of course, which caused the gentleman to barricade himself behind a newspaper.

"Papa," Marianne said peevishly. "There's no use ignoring it: Lady Ella ruined the effect of Poppy's gown and stole away all the gentlemen!" Marianne gave d.i.c.kon an uncharacteristically scornful look.

Clearly startled, Lord Richard studied his normally cheerful daughter and then glanced at Roger and Poppy before turning back to Marianne. "All "All the gentlemen? My dear, I hardly think the gentlemen? My dear, I hardly think 137.

it possible for one young girl to commandeer all all your dance partners at once." your dance partners at once."

Before Marianne could reply, Poppy took Roger by the arm and led him across the room. "Cousin Richard, if we might have a word with you in your study?"

Lord Richard nodded. "As you seem more yourself today than the rest of the household, I am quite agreeable," he said.

"What's this all about?" The earl hardly waited until the study door was shut to ask the question.

First Roger, then Poppy poured out everything they knew: how Eleanora the penniless orphan had become Ellen the maid, then gone to the ball in a gown copied from Poppy's and entranced everyone who saw her there. How no one, not even Lady Margaret, had recognized her, and how this morning Christian and d.i.c.kon were both muzzy-headed and obsessed with this Lady Ella, while Marianne and her mother both reviled the mystery woman for being so spectacular and desired.

"I can't find any sign of the gown, the slippers, none of it," Poppy said. "I've asked her over and over again about last night, but she denies everything."

Seated behind his grand desk, Lord Richard toyed with a letter opener. "I see." He pursed his lips. "Poppy, if I may ask a rather sensitive question: does this in any way recall the ... unpleasantness you and your sisters suffered from?"

"Not at all," Poppy said promptly. "Oh, it feels like some kind of spell, but that's just my intuition. Ellen seems pleased. I believe that she could talk about it if she wanted to. Eve seen 138.

her walking around the manor at all hours of the night, and always covered in soot with an expression like the cat who stole the cream. You didn't see her last night, but I..."

She trailed off, finally noticing the expression on Lord Richard's face. He was quite gray, and his eyes were bleak.

"Did you say covered in soot?" His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Poppy had to clear her throat twice before she answered. "Yes. Why?"

Lord Richard merely stared over their shoulders for a long time, then he looked down at his desk, still pale. "This is something to think about, indeed. How did you avoid falling under the enchantment?"

Poppy opened her mouth to counter his question with one of her own, but thought better and meekly said, "I have garters knit especially to protect me."

"And Thwaite? What about you?"

"I happened to be wearing a charm given to me by a magician, sir," Roger said quietly. He, too, had become silent in the face of Lord Richard's terrible expression.

"Good. Keep them with you at all times. Now if you'll both excuse me. I would like to speak to Ellen. Alone." He reached for the bell pull, and Poppy and Roger retreated to the parlor.

Now Poppy didn't know what to think. Lord Richard knew something, Ellen was quite possibly a willing partic.i.p.ant in the spell and didn't want to talk about it, and Christian was alarmingly obsessed with "Lady Ella." The comfortable little 139.

world she had known here in Breton just days before was all coming down around her ears.

"At least it wasn't my fault," she murmured. "Of course, it wasn't before, either, but that didn't help."

She wanted to write another letter to Galen and Rose-- she had already sent one that morning--but it was futile. They wouldn't receive the letter for nearly two weeks, and it would be yet another two weeks before she had a reply.

She was both consoled and a little frightened, too, by Roger's look of shock. The consolation came from not being the only one thrown by Lord Richard's reaction. The fright, however, came from discovering that even with Roger's knowledge of spells and magic, and Lord Richard's steady intelligence, they hadn't found a ready answer for what was happening.

Back in the parlor, Christian was playing chess with Marianne while d.i.c.kon looked on. The scene was so much the way things had been before the royal gala that Poppy was quite rea.s.sured. If they could just avoid talking about Lady Ella until this was sorted out, everything might be all right after all.

Exchanging a relieved look with Roger, Poppy sat on the sofa and took up her knitting.

"I wonder if Lady Ella plays chess?" d.i.c.kon mused brightly. Poppy cursed.

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