When she had gone, Lady Tremaine rang the bell to summon another maid, then sat on the bed with a sigh. She had come to the country to relax, not contend with antics such as these. She briefly wondered how Anastasia and Drizella were doing, but before she could get up to write them a quick letter, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” This time it was a tall, lanky girl, a
ll arms and legs. “Yes, could you please let Lady Hackle know I will need Rebecca to help me dress this evening? Thank you, dear.”
The young maid nodded and skittered out of the room, awkwardly mumbling something as she left. Lady Tremaine shook her head. She realized the dressing gong had already sounded while she had been talking with Mrs. Bramble, and now it looked like she might be late.
Perhaps it’s best I don’t impress this gentleman from dangerous lands, she thought, laughing to herself.
Lady Tremaine needn’t have worried about arriving late to dinner. Rebecca dressed her and did her hair with dexterous skill and speed, and she descended in time for dinner after all.
The guests gathered in a large, beautiful room. Two crystal chandeliers holding white candles cast a lovely glow on everyone assembled, catching on jewelry and sequins and causing everything to glitter. Lady Tremaine always found the ladies in these circles amusing. To her they looked like vibrant, exotic birds decked out in all their finery, in contrast to the gentlemen in their black tails. Lady Tremaine preferred the way of actual birds, the male birds with their colorful plumage and the lady birds in their somber browns and blacks.
She had gotten used to mourning-period clothes. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to progress to purple until this evening, and that was only to make her friend happy. So tonight she, too, felt like one of the lady birds, glittering and showy, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. It suddenly seemed very audacious to be wearing purple. But she quickly reasoned it was the customary transition color between black and more vibrant colors after the mourning period, and Lady Hackle was probably right. It had been six years; it was time to move on.
Lady Tremaine didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Some of the guests were milling around the room chatting with each other, while others were sitting in little groups on the velvet chairs and love seats having lively conversations. She didn’t quite feel like herself in the dress her friend had picked out for her. She told herself she wasn’t betraying her husband’s memory by wearing it.
Though the mourning period was long over, she still felt her clothing should reflect her loss and heartbreak. She tried to ignore the tiny twinge that told her she was ready to find love again, even though it shone within her like the sparkling gray crystals that decorated the bodice of her dress and the matching necklace, earrings, and bracelet Lady Hackle had lent her that evening.
Then a delightful feeling came over her: she suddenly realized it was precisely because she didn’t feel like herself that she indeed felt beautiful that evening.
Rebecca had done a remarkable job on her hair, and it did look fetching with the dress Lady Hackle had picked out for her. She fancied the crystals on her dress lent a glint to the hints of silver in her hair. She wasn’t a young woman, but she didn’t feel she was old enough for her hair to be quite so streaked with silver. This evening, for some reason, she liked the way she looked. It made her feel stately, as if the silver was a badge of wisdom, and perhaps even of her heartbreak. It had only begun to show in the years since her husband had passed away.
She felt that she had acquired a lot of new things since her husband died. The most surprising, though it shouldn’t have been, was that her little girls were now almost young women. They seemed to transform overnight, though it felt like only a few short months ago that they were just little things running around the house, tormenting their nanny or stealing treats from the cook and then hiding in the pantry to eat their plunder.
And then she remembered the evenings where she would sit with them until they fell asleep, crying themselves into exhaustion because they missed their father so much. Anastasia and Drizella had cried so many tears for their father, there had been no room for her own. Lady Tremaine had to be strong for her girls and do whatever she could to make them happy again. Her heart ached a little for those days. She wondered if it had been a good idea to leave them in London, but she knew if they were going to learn their lesson, it was the right thing to do, though she hoped keeping them at home hadn’t decreased their chances of a match with Lady Hackle’s boys.
As she looked around the room, she didn’t see any faces she didn’t recognize. It was the usual set of lords and ladies, and she had to wonder if this mysterious man Mrs. Bramble had been going on about actually existed. Perhaps it was all just downstairs talk. If there was indeed any talk downstairs at all.
And then she saw him. He looked completely out of place. Not because he wasn’t a gentleman or finely dressed, but because he was too good looking. He had dark hair and striking eyes, and there was something about him that set him apart from the other men in the room.
They didn’t make men like him in London. He was too perfect, with his finely sculpted features, his strong jaw and cleft chin. He was like something out of a fairy tale. She wouldn’t be surprised if his name were Prince Dashing, that’s how perfect he was. She had never seen such a handsome man possessing such an unmistakable boyish charm. She could see it from across the room as he talked to Lady Hackle, the two of them laughing, her friend completely charmed by him.
She could almost swear they were talking about her. She wondered if she was blushing, then scolded herself for acting like a giddy schoolgirl. She quickly sorted out her fluttering feelings, set herself straight, and choked down her nervousness. She had never felt in less control of her feelings before, but she managed to gather herself just in time for Lady Hackle and this mysterious man to make their way across the room to where she was standing.
“Lady Tremaine,” Lady Hackle said, “I would like to introduce you to Sir Richard. He is visiting us from the Many Kingdoms.”
Lady Tremaine smiled and put out her hand. “So this is the much-talked-about Sir Richard. It is lovely to meet you,” she said as the gentleman kissed her hand.
“I’m honored to meet you, Lady Tremaine.” He looked her in the eye with such intensity that her heart started to flutter again.
“So, tell me about these Many Kingdoms, Sir Richard. I find it interesting that so many kingdoms could coexist without conflict. That so many kings and queens could reside in such close proximity peacefully.”
Sir Richard laughed. “Oh, the courts within the Many Kingdoms have their local conflicts but never with neighboring kingdoms. There always seems to be some wicked person causing trouble for one kingdom or another, but never in ours. Thankfully in our corner of the Many Kingdoms we are a peaceful court free of wickedness. I wish I could say the same for our neighboring kingdom; it is rumored there is a beast there that runs wild.”
A beast! Well, that was certainly unusual and mysterious. Lady Tremaine wanted to keep the conversation going, and she knew the best way was to ask questions. She was suddenly happy her mother had sent her away to finishing school as a girl, as she was quite adept at the art of being a lady. To that end, while she was curious to hear more about this beast, she didn’t want Sir Richard to think she was too interested in the more unusual aspects of his homeland. “And what sorts of local conflicts are there, Sir Richard?”
It felt odd calling this man by his first name, too intimate for someone she had just met, but she was already besotted with him.
“Oh the usual sort of thing,” he said, smiling. “There was the old queen who tried to have her daughter killed because she was jealous of her beauty. You know, the typical problems you might find in any kingdom.” He said this so offhandedly that Lady Tremaine laughed.
“I’d hardly call that usual. It sounds like fairy tales,” she said.
“Well, nothing of the sort has ever happened in my hamlet’s court,” said Sir Richard. “It’s a peaceful place. So far, our kingdom has been left out of the book of fairy tales, and we intend to keep it that way.”
Lady Tremaine thought that was an odd thing to say. “So this book of fairy tales is real, then? I’ve heard talk of it.” She did not want to mention her servant’s hysterics, nor the fact that she now wondered if the book he was referring to was in
fact the very same book Mrs. Bramble had just given her.