Serial Fun - Installment 4

 

Yes, sewing happened today, but it's just finishing off  a batch of cloth diapers for a  long-overdue baby gift.  Nothing interesting to write about.  But they'll get cleared out by tomorrow afternoon and then I can start on the next project with a clear conscience.  So,  I'll go ahead with the next installment.  If you are late to the party, the first three installments are HERE...but it posts the most recent first, so you've got to read from the bottom up.

    Rita worried all morning Thursday about getting away from the palace alone, and decided she’d try the same approach that worked before.  She and her mother’s secretary finished the invitations shortly before luncheon, so after lunch she went to the library and picked out a book, then went to her apartment as if she were going to spend the afternoon reading.  Esmerelda, her personal servant, was bustling about with nervous energy, chattering to Rita about Prince Gregory’s immanent return.  Es was a former servant of the queen’s, and Rita was never quite sure if she was supposed to be her servant or her nursemaid.  Rita had outgrown nursemaids and governesses, obviously, and actually should have been off to finishing school at her age, but since her illness her parents had been reluctant to send her away for her education.  So, she stayed at the palace with Es to make sure she didn’t overtire herself, and special instructors in dance and the arts to augment her tutor’s instruction.  She did well enough academically, but missed out on the camaraderie she would have had at a school with other young royal ladies.  With her nerves already on edge,  Esmerelda’s chatter as she sewed became a positive aggravation.  Rita couldn't focus at all on her book but forced herself to wait what she hoped was a reasonable amount of time before she finally sputtered, “Es!  How on earth can I concentrate on this book with you carrying on this way?”  In mock exasperation, she dropped the book on the settee and headed to her dressing room.  “I’m going out to the stable!”  Esmerelda came in and clucked over her as she changed into her riding habit.

            “Are you sure the riding master can go out with you today, Your Highness?”  Esmerelda was actually a little afraid of horses and went riding with the Princess only when it was absolutely necessary.

            Rita sighed.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’ll just brush Zephyr if he can’t.  I just have to do something!”  Esmerelda looked at her a little skeptically.  “Why don’t you go help air out Gregory’s apartment?”  Rita suggested.

            Esmerelda brightened.  She was very fond of Gregory and was glad to get permission to go and help prepare for his homecoming, even if it did mean leaving the Princess unattended.  But, she would be perfectly fine in care of the stable master, Esmerelda told herself, so she curtseyed to the Princess, wished her a good ride and scurried off.

            Rita breathed a sigh of relief.  If Esmerelda was busy, and thought the Princess safely occupied, she thought she just might be able to sneak off. So far, so good.  Indeed, the Princess heading out in her riding habit was a common enough sight that no one questioned her as she headed out toward the stable.  But one of the stable hands, Jerry Rattes, saw her  as she approached and hurried over.  “Oh, your Highness!” he sputtered.  “We didn’t know you intended to go riding today!  Mr. Leifert has taken Prince Gregory’s horse out for exercise...would y’like for me to go see if I can catch him so he can ride with ye? 

            The Princess sighed.  “No, Jerry, that’s OK, I’ll just brush Zephyr.”

            Again, the stable hand, who’d been with the family longer than Rita could remember, looked uncomfortable.  “Well, your Highness, since we didn’t think anyone was going riding today, Alfred’s riding Zephyr.  She hadn’t been out since Tuesday, and...”

            Rita held up her hand.  “I should have told you this morning, but I didn’t decide to go until just a few minutes ago.  Do you know which way they went?”

            Jerry shook his head.  “No, ma’am.  I was mucking out the stalls and I didn’t see which way they went.”  He thought for a moment, trying to be helpful.  “Ginger is in the stable, if ye’d like to ride her.  I can saddle her and Miss Esmerelda’s horse, an’ ye could get one of the ladies to go with ye.”

            Again, Rita sighed, trying hard to seem disappointed.  “No, Jerry, that’s all right.  I guess I just wasn’t supposed to go riding today.  Thank you, anyway.”  Rita turned as if she were heading back toward the palace, but when she heard Jerry close the stable door she stopped and glanced about.  There was no one in sight, so she ducked behind a tree, looked about, and headed off across the pasture as quickly as she could.

             The Princess was relieved to see that the red scarf was hanging from the scullery door.  Isabella must have been watching for her because the door opened before Rita had even had time to knock.  “Oh, Rita!”  Isabella sounded relieved.  “I hardly believe you’re here.  I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

            Rita was breathless from hurrying as quickly as she could.  “I’m sorry I’m so late.  I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get away.”

            Isabella, in the same patched dress and wrapped braids as the last time Rita had seen her, gestured to a chair placed by an ironing board.  “I hope you don’t get into trouble on my account.”  She looked at Rita anxiously.  “How did you manage?”

            Rita grinned wryly.  “I was sneaky.  I will need to be careful when I go back, though.”  --I hope I don’t get caught, she thought.

            Isabella smiled at her.  “I’ll have to talk while I iron.  If the ironing isn’t done when they get back, there will be trouble for sure.”  She licked her finger and tested one of the irons sitting on the hearth.  “Almost.”  She took a deep breath, and she stared into the fire in the fireplace for a moment.  “You know, I have a few wonderful memories of my mother and father together.  I think what I remember most was laughter...real, happy-sounding laughter.  If I ever have a goal in life, it would be to marry someone who would be a friend and companion ...to have a relationship like I remember my parents having for a little while.  But my mother died when I was five, and I don’t think I ever heard my father laugh again....”  Her account of her life up to her father’s death, told as she ironed and starched her stepsister’s clothes, very nearly duplicated what the Grand Duke had told Rita.  There were, however, a few details the Duke hadn’t known.  How, after her father’s remarriage, many of Isabella’s things mysteriously broke or disappeared, so that she finally packed up her few remaining treasures and hid them away; how, whenever her stepmother took the girls shopping, things were purchased for Eugenia and Hortense, but suddenly it was “too late” to buy anything else that day and promises were made to return later for Isabella’s new dress fabric, new hat, shoes, et cetera -- promises that were only kept if Isabella’s father noticed that she did not have the new hat, dress or shoes when the other girls did.  However, when Isabella arrived at the point at which her father died, her story took a dramatic turn from what the Grand Duke had believed to be the truth.  Her father’s body had been returned home and was lying in his bedroom being prepared for burial by the servants while Isabella sobbed outside the door, when Lady Alicia suddenly announced that she wanted to speak with Isabella alone in the parlor.  Isabella was utterly unprepared for what her stepmother had to say to her.  She was told that, since her father was now dead, the whole estate now belonged to Lady Alicia...and, since Isabella was not one of her daughters, she should not expect to enjoy the same privileges as the true daughters of the house.  Furthermore, Lady Alicia stated that Isabella would be expected to earn her keep, and she could start by changing into a work dress and helping the cook prepare dinner.  There were many extra people to feed that night, and the cook could use an extra pair of hands.  Then she was dismissed.

            “It was more than I could stand.”  Isabella sighed.  “So I ran away.  I wasn’t thinking sensibly -- I just left.  It was cold and raining, and I was scared and alone.  If I’d had any sense at all, I’d have gone to some of Father’s friends, but instead I went to my favorite thinking place...that crook in the old apple tree.  I cried and I cried, thinking more about Father’s being gone for good than my stepmother’s plans for me.  I suppose I finally dozed off.  I had strange dreams in which my Father kept trying to tell me the name of someone who could help me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.  I dreamed -- or thought I dreamed -- people were taking me to the dungeon.  There was a doctor, but he wasn’t the doctor Daddy always called for.  He spoke in a strange accent and made me afraid.  Then, one morning, I woke up.  I wasn’t in my bed or in my room -- I was on a straw mattress in the attic, all by myself.  I was very weak, very tired, and very thirsty.  I tried calling for Martha, the maid, but no one came.  I finally crawled on my hands and knees to the table, drank some stale water from the pitcher that was there, and crawled back to bed.  I don’t know how much longer it was before Martha really did come with a fresh pitcher of water.  She said that my stepmother didn’t know she was up there, and she cried.  She said almost all the servants had been sent away, and that my stepmother had moved into the Master’s bedroom.  She helped me...get up a bit, then said she’d come back when she could.  For the next couple of days, she crept up whenever she could and brought me some broth and bread.  Then, my stepmother caught her and said that she had better things to do than wait on me, so I had to get my own food and drink.  I literally drug myself around for a week, then even Martha was sent away with I don’t know what threats, and I was told I was now going to be the cook, maid and laundress for the family.  I had to sleep in the attic, since all the servants quarters were closed off to cut expenses.  I didn’t even know how to cook or do laundry...it was awful.”

            Rita was shocked.  “How could you let them do that to you?”

            Isabella switched irons.  “I had no one to turn to for help.  Oh, I protested and fought and rebelled and defied, but it didn’t help.  I was beaten nearly every day, sometimes more than once.  As weak as I was, I’m surprised I survived it.  I suppose I secretly hoped that if I made her angry enough, she would beat me to death.  But she did a worse thing.”

            “What?”

            “My father had given my mother a set of porcelain figurines, lovely little ladies dressed for various holidays, for her birthday, just a few months before she died.  He kept them in his desk.  Apparently, my stepmother found them when she moved into his room.  Anyway, one day when I was being particularly stubborn, she took me into her sitting room, walked over to her secretary, unlocked it, and took out the little chest that held those figurines.  Then she said ‘I’m very tired, Isabella, of your impertinence and disrespect.  I own this house, and everything in it.  You have no rights here at all.  I should think you would be grateful to us for not turning you out of the house.  I could do that, you know.’  Then, she took the Valentine’s Day figurine from the chest.  ‘These trinkets were your mother’s, weren’t they?’  When I nodded, she turned and flung the piece into the fireplace.  Of course, it shattered into bits.  Then she took the May Day figurine from the chest, and just as I cried, ‘No!  Please!’ she threw it down as well.  I was horrified, and she looked at me.  I never knew how much she hated me until that moment.  ‘Do you see, Isabella, that I can destroy anything that has any significance to you at all?  It belongs to me.  If I were you, I would consider a more cooperative attitude.’  Then, she took the Christmas figurine and toyed with it for the longest time.  I felt like I was dying, and I honestly think something did die in me that day.  Finally, she said ‘Well, Isabella?’ and I knew, she knew, and my stepsisters knew that she’d won.  I looked at the floor and said ‘Yes, ma’am.’  She put the little statue back in the chest and locked it back in her secretary.  Then she told me to go and scrub the floor in the dining room.  Being beaten was bad enough, but I could bear that.  Watching her smash my mother’s figurines...that was as if she were killing my mother all over again.  That, I couldn’t bear.  So I became the household servant.”  Isabella paused to change irons and wipe tears away from her face.  Rita was only slightly surprised to see that her own cheeks were wet as well.  Isabella took a deep breath and continued.  “So now you know.  I need a friend outside of these walls if I’m ever going to get away.  She won’t just let me go -- then they’d have to hire servants again, and that would be less money available for parties and dresses.”

            Rita frowned. “Are you going to run away?”

            Isabella sighed.  “I’ve got two problems to solve first.  The first is that I have nowhere to go.  The second may seem a little ridiculous, but I think you’ll understand.”  She took a breath.  “I cannot leave without what’s left of my mother’s figurines.  If my stepmother would ever leave the secretary unlocked, or leave the key lying about, I think I would just take them and go, whether I had any place to go or not.”  She smiled ruefully.  “When I do leave, you can bet I will go farther than the old apple tree!”

            Rita began slowly, “Isabella, what if I told someone who could help...” but Isabella interrupted, with so much panic in her voice that Rita stopped and stared at her, dumbfounded.

            “NO!  Rita, you can’t tell anyone...at least, not until we have a plan of some kind.”  Isabella licked her lips and looked pleadingly at Rita.  “Don’t you see...if anyone started asking questions about me, and my stepmother heard about it...I don’t know what she’d do.”

            “But...,”Rita began again, but her voice trailed off as she looked at the utter terror in Isabella’s face.  She sighed.  “All right.  I won’t tell.”  Rita was a bit angry with herself, knowing that Godfrey would get Isabella in a minute if he knew what was going on.  --But, she thought, --he thinks she’s dead.  He might very well ask questions first...and that could get Isabella into serious trouble.  Rita sighed.  “So what can I do?”

            Isabella sighed with relief.  “You can help me plan what to do when I can leave.  Maybe even help find a place for me to go...it wouldn’t be so bad, being a housemaid or cook for someone reasonable.” At that moment, the clock in the upstairs hall began to chime four o’clock.  Isabella’s head jerked up, and her anxiety returned.  “They said they’d stay for tea, but they may not.  Sometimes my stepmother tells me she’ll be gone much longer than she really intends to be gone.  I’m not sure she isn’t trying to catch me being disobedient.  You’d better go, just in case they come back early.”

            Rita was already getting up.  “I need to go anyway, before someone notices I’m not where they think I am.”  She took a breath.  “I probably won’t be able to sneak off next Thursday, but I’ll try.”

            Isabella sighed and her wreath of braids glinted in the late afternoon light as she shook her head while she walked Rita to the door.  “Don’t bother.  I’ve heard there’s a ball next Friday, so the lot of them will stay home taking beauty treatments.  I’ve already heard my stepmother talking about getting the masseuse to come in next Thursday.  Maybe I can see you in two weeks.”

            Rita nodded.  “I’ll try.  And I’ll think hard ‘till then.  Good-bye!”  She slipped out the door and hurried across the yard to the cover of the wood at the edge of the orchard.

            Isabella waved her off.  “Good-by, Rita, and thanks for coming!”  Then, she sighed against the sudden bleakness of the next two weeks and quickly set about making sure there was absolutely no sign that Rita had been there.

To be continued...