Princess of Glass (7 page)

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behind a hedge. The glass did have a faint greenish tint, but nothing like what he thought he'd seen.

"What is it? Do they have exotic flowers?" Marianne peered toward the little house. "It looked green for a moment, but now it looks bare."

"Green? You saw it too?" Christian tried not to sound too eager. He'd thought his eyes were playing tricks again.

"I didn't see anything," Poppy said. "Except the fish in that pond there." She looked as though she were going to spear one of them with the tip of her furled parasol. Really, she was an odd girl.

"No matter," Christian said uneasily, steering them away from the greenhouse and the fish. With a note of forced casual-ness he asked if they cared to join him at a nearby tea shop for some refreshments.

"Of course we do," Poppy said, turning her back on the pond readily. "Young ladies are always hungry, you know, because we're not allowed to eat properly in front of potential suitors."

"What about me?" He wasn't sure if he was offended or not.

"You? But you're our friend," Poppy told him, linking her arm through his again. "Like an older brother."

"Ooh, I love strawberry icing," said Marianne. The green glass house seemed to be completely forgotten.

But Christian couldn't forget. What did it mean?

And what did Poppy mean by an "older" brother?

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***

Invited

A week after Poppy visited the Royal Gallery with Christian and Marianne, the Seadown household received a royal invitation. They were in the breakfast room and Poppy was pretending to like kippers when it came.

The butler presented his silver tray with the thick invitation on it with great reverence, and Lady Margaret looked a bit wary as she took it. Though Her Ladyship was a cousin of the king's, royal invitations had been rather thin since Poppy arrived. The princess had been presented to King Rupert and Queen Edith, but other than that had not set foot inside the palace. Poppy hoped that her sisters were receiving warmer welcomes; from their letters that appeared to be the case.

Marianne was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. "Will there be a gala? With fireworks?" She turned to Poppy. "It's almost the queen's birthday. Last year they had a gala, with food and music and fireworks!" Her eyes took on

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a dreamy look. "And Dickon Thwaite kissed me in a rose bower..."

Lord Richard put down his newspaper. "Young Thwaite did what?"

Marianne blushed bright pink and applied herself to her kippers. Poppy caught her host's gaze, and they both grinned.

"Whatever it is," Lord Richard said mildly as he went back to his paper, "I hope that it is properly chaperoned this time. And that there is a card room for Poppy."

Lady Margaret read the invitation twice. "This is most exciting," she said finally. "And also a bit... unusual."

"Tell us!" Marianne tried to snatch the invitation from her mother, who calmly held it out of her reach.

"Well, it appears that there will not just be a gala for the queen's birthday, but a masked ball two weeks later as well." Lady Margaret shook her head. "Rupert has never done something like this before."

"Rupert has never wanted a houseguest to get married so badly," Lord Richard remarked from behind the paper. "Having ties to the Danelaw's navy is nothing to sneeze at, and the princesses are too young for Christian."

"I'd best not go," Poppy said. "Seeing me will only remind everyone of Alfred, and Queen Edith detests gambling besides."

Her hosts protested, but Poppy was adamant. Upstairs, Marianne continued to pester Poppy. Poppy lay across the other girl's bed, knitting something pale blue and fuzzy.

"Don't be a goose, Poppy, you must come." Marianne was

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posing in front of the mirror, sucking in her cheeks and batting her eyelashes. "What is that you're making now? Giant garters to go with the giant socks?"

"Those socks turned out beautifully, thank you very much," Poppy retorted. "Since you kept mocking them, I intend to give them to your mother at the holidays. This is a scarf."

"Ooh, for Christian?"

"For you, actually, since you mocked the bed socks," Poppy said dryly. She sat up and held the coiled blue thing against Marianne's neck. "Not with that gown, of course," she said. "It will hang down in a long curl. You'll love it, especially with your dark blue gown."

A heavy sigh preceded the maid, Ellen, as she came in. "I wish I had more than one gown," she muttered.

"You do," Poppy said shortly. "I've seen them."

Ellen gave her a baleful look. "Not nice ones."

Poppy gave up and turned her attention to her knitting. Ellen seemed to know that Mrs. Hanks would never fire her, and she used it as an excuse to address Poppy and Marianne like she was a rather depressing social acquaintance. She wasn't stupid, though, and was respectful enough whenever an adult was nearby.

"Her Ladyship says that the dressmaker will be here soon to discuss your new gowns, Lady Marianne," Ellen said. "The princess, too, if she likes." Her sour tone made it clear that she thought Poppy was a fool for not wanting a new ball gown.

Ellen stomped about the room, loudly tidying up and rearranging chairs. "Eavesdropping," Poppy thought, as Marianne

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pored over her collection of magazines, looking for just the right gown.

"I want something spectacular for the masked ball," she said to Poppy. "That's going to be the really grand affair. But you'll need at least one new gown: my birthday ball will be right between the two royal parties.'" She paused. "I hope everyone won't be too busy to come to my birthday."

"Of course I'll come to that," Poppy reassured Marianne. "Everyone will.' I just don't know about the masquerade at the palace."

"You really should attend," Lady Margaret said, coming into the room.

"I'm not even sure that I was invited," Poppy said, looking for an excuse to get out of the royal celebrations once and for all. "If it was for the Seadown family... Invitations have come specifically for me in the past." She smiled inwardly, thinking that she had hit on the perfect answer.

"Actually, what it said was that 'every eligible young lady was invited along with her guardians,'" Lady Margaret gave Poppy a triumphant smile. "You happen to be an eligible young lady."

"And so am I," Ellen said. They turned to look at her.

"I'm an eligible young lady," she said louder. She thrust her chin out. "And you know that I wasn't born a maid."

Poppy gave a low whistle. She had to admire Ellen's bravery. Sullenness was one thing, but coming right out with her grievance in front of her employer was quite another.

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Lady Margaret, however, was not in the least bit nonplussed. She smiled at Ellen and gave a little nod.

"That is true, my dear," she said. "And there is no reason why you should not attend the balls. We will have some gowns--"

"I don't need your charity, thank you," Ellen interrupted, her face turning red. "I'll get my own gowns."

Dropping her knitting, Poppy leveled her gaze at Ellen. "You could be a bit more gracious!"

"It's all right, Poppy," Lady Margaret said gently, handing Poppy her needles and snarl of yarn. "If you do change your mind, Ellen, please tell me. I would be happy to help you find some suitable gowns." She smiled at the young woman.

"I don't need charity," Ellen repeated, her face cloudy.

Ellen stumped out and they could breathe again.

"You'd think she would be a little more grateful," Poppy said. That was as gracious as she could manage.

Lady Margaret shook her head. "Poor child. Life has been hard for her."

"It would be awful to go from
having
maids to
being
a maid," Marianne agreed. Then she wrinkled her nose. "But I wish she wouldn't snap at us. We're not responsible for her father's downfall!"

Poppy pursed her lips. "What if you had a ball gown made--supposedly for me--and we gave it to Ellen so it wouldn't go to waste? Since I'm not going to the gala."

"Yes, you are!" Marianne poked Poppy in the ribs.

"An interesting idea, though, Poppy," said Lady Margaret.

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"I don't know where she'll get a gown otherwise. Perhaps I'll have one of Marianne's made over for her, so it doesn't seem too overbearing."

"Just don't let Ellen help," Poppy said. "It won't do her any good if she sets it on fire trying to iron out a wrinkle."

They heard a scratching sound at the door. "The dressmaker, ma'am," said the butler, and they followed him to the sitting room where the fussy little man was waiting with his pattern books and measuring tapes.

"All three of us need gowns for the upcoming royal gala and the masquerade," Lady Margaret told him. "Even Her Highness. That's in addition to the gowns we ordered for Marianne's birthday ball, of course."

"Ah, a charming pair of young ladies," the man said. "With such dark hair and fine figures, they could be sisters. And you, Lady Margaret--a third, only slightly older sister." He bowed and kissed her hand.

Poppy snorted, but she did consent to look through the book of patterns. "Who knows? I might decide to attend," she thought. "If only to keep Marianne and Dickon Thwaite out of the rose bowers."

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***

Goddaughter

Hardly able to believe her luck, Ellen slipped back up to the narrow bedroom she shared with one of the other maids. Lady Margaret had said that she could go to the royal gala! Her Ladyship had even offered to have gowns made for her, but Ellen had another plan.

This was her chance. The foreign prince would be there; she'd seen Prince Christian when he came to call on Marianne and Poppy, and he was very handsome, and kind. Moreover, he wouldn't know about her family, about her past, and he could take her away from those who did know. Mrs. Hanks never let her wait on him, in case she spilled something on His Highness, and that was all for the good now. She wouldn't want him to recognize her at the gala.

But Ellen would need to be dazzling to draw his eye away from all the other ladies. And that meant not just a gown that had been given to her out of charity, but jewels, fans, dancing slippers, and a costume for the masked ball that would stun

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all who saw her. The Seadowns, despite their kindness, were unlikely to do that much. They certainly wouldn't set her up to outshine their own daughter and their beloved Poppy.

Going to the washstand, Ellen reflected that it was odd how much alike the three of them looked: Poppy, Marianne, and herself, and yet how different their circumstances were. Poppy was a princess with some sort of mysterious scandal attached to her name, Marianne was a wealthy heiress who thought of nothing but gowns and beaux, and Ellen was the daughter of an earl who found herself ironing the other girls' underclothes.

But that was all going to change. Soon.

She lifted the full pitcher and slowly began to pour water into the basin. She stared intently into the sheet of liquid as she poured.

"Madame Corley," she called. "Godmother? It's Ellen-- Eleanora!"

Instantly the water turned green and the plump-cheeked face of her godmother appeared. "Hello, my darling! What is it you wanted?"

"I'm going to a ball, to
two
balls," Ellen blurted out in excitement. "And I need gowns! And slippers! And fans and jewels! Oh please, Godmother, say you can help!"

Her godmother's smile broadened. "Of course, of course, my darling girl! How happy I am for you! You shall have the best of everything, and every young man shall fall in love with you!"

Ellen felt her cheeks begin to glow. Her godmother would help her! She would dazzle Society at the balls, and be swept away by golden-haired Prince Christian!

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"You will need to come to me, to prepare yourself and have your gowns fitted," her godmother said. "Pour the water back into the pitcher, so I can teach you the way to my home."

Carefully, Ellen tipped the broad basin back into the pitcher, then began pouring the water into the basin once more. It glowed green immediately, and her godmother gave her the directions to her palace.

She had suspected that her godmother was not merely some kindly sorceress, but also a woman of rank. And now it had been confirmed. Her godmother spoke with great elation at the prospect of Ellen coming at last to her palace, where the girl could be treated as befitted her birth. The only catch was that she would need to do it before midnight, but without being observed.

Ellen was about to ask if there was any other way, or if she shouldn't wait until everyone was asleep (which would be some time after midnight), when the sound of the latch turning made her jump and spill the rest of the water down her skirt.

Lydia, the maid who shared Ellen's room, put her hands on her hips in disgust. "Now I'll have to carry up another pitcher of water while you change," she groused.

"I'm sorry," Ellen whispered.

But it was no good. Lydia hated her. She had to make Ellen's bed every day, because Mrs. Hanks required the maids' rooms to be kept tidy at all times, and Ellen could never get the sheets to lie flat. Ellen could never remember to bring up two pitchers of water, one for her and one for Lydia, either. The one time she had remembered, she'd spilled both on her