Authors: Elizabeth Townsend
“But she’s the princess!” Henry interrupted in a loud whisper. “You know—the one from the ball, with the slipper!”
“What?” Lottie turned to Henry. “Go along! You mean—Miss Ella? She ain’t a princess!”
“No, but she might be, if you let her in! Her stepsisters stole her slipper, and Miss Ella’s got to get it back!”
“Slipper? But the prince has got the slipper!”
“Lottie, she’s got two feet, right? There was two slippers, and she only lost one. Her stepsisters got the other! Right now, upstairs probably!”
Lottie stood frozen for a second, then suddenly bustled into action. “For heaven’s sakes! They’re in the Lavender Salon, miss. We had to make up a tea tray to go to ‘em. I’ll point out the way!”
“Oh, Lottie, thank you so much!” I said.
“Good!” said Henry. “Now you just follow Lottie, miss. I gotta run, but I’ll be back!” And he took off out the door, Archibald trotting along with him, as I stared amazed after him. “Henry! What are you—”
“Now never you mind, miss,” Lottie interrupted. “You didn’t want to cart that great dog through the halls, did you? Likely he’s taking him back home.” She bundled me protesting out of the pantry and through a maze of halls and servants’ quarters until she opened a green baize door, and we peered out into a richly paneled corridor. “I can’t go beyond this, miss, or I’ll lose my job,” she whispered. “But it’s down this way to the right, and up the first stairway, then down that hall to the left, and the Lavender Salon is the third door on the right.”
Right, up, left, third door. I squeezed my eyes tight to remember, then turned to Lottie. She shoved me gently into the hall. “Don’t get caught now, or they’ll chuck you out on your ear. And don’t bring me into it, ‘cause I don’t know you.” She patted me on the arm and added, “Good luck, miss!” Then she shut the door firmly behind me.
I took a deep breath and looked around. Part of me was painfully conscious that I was standing in the king’s palace wearing a kitchen dress under my worn cloak; part of me felt abandoned by Henry. But mostly I felt determined that though my stepsisters had ruined my father and stolen my dreams, they would not fool Prince Gregory with my slipper. I was going to get it back, and, and—well, leave that part until later.
So I walked as quietly as I could down the hall, nearly on tiptoe. In a minute I was at the bottom of the staircase. I had just placed my shaky hand on the polished wooden rail when voices in the corridor behind me made my heart crash within my chest. Nearly tripping over my skirt, I dashed up the stairs.
I ended in a dither at the top, peering around into a richly wallpapered, burgundy-carpeted hall. Left, wasn’t it? I had to move; someone could still see me from the bottom of the stairs.
My heart pounding, I stepped to the left. All of a sudden I caught sight of myself in a long mirror, looking like a child playing hide-and-go-seek. I felt a sudden insane desire to giggle, as if I were young again, sneaking around Merton Manor, spying on Lucy and Gerta. I stifled a laugh.
The third door loomed up on the left. It was large, ornately carved and polished, with a golden handle. I raised my hand, lowered it, raised it again. Should I knock? Or just peek in? It was my stepsisters, after all; perhaps I could slip inside and hide in a corner till I caught their attention. On the other hand, this was a palace. Palace etiquette was doubtless strict. Better to knock—
“Here, you! Who are you and what are you doing?”
I whirled around in a panic and saw a footman, tall and frowning, striding down the hall toward me.
He must have followed me up the stairway
, my frozen brain thought.
I have to escape! Escape!
And I flung open the door and bolted into the room.
Strange that it was called the Lavender Salon, I thought as I looked around myself in confusion. This room was hung with dark green drapes. And where were my stepsisters? As I glanced around wildly, I could see three figures silhouetted against a tall window opposite the door—but they were an older couple and a young man. They seemed to be in conversation, but at my entrance they broke off and stared at me, and it was then that I realized I had made a mistake. Lottie had said right, not left; this wasn’t the Lavender Salon; and I probably
should
have knocked.
My knees went weak, but I made the best curtsey I could and whispered, “Your…Your Majesties?”
13
In the Library
As I curtsied, a footman grabbed my arms. Through a merciful haze I could hear him saying, “Sire, pardon the interruption! I will remove this intruder immediately—”
“I—I can explain—sort of—” I managed to gasp. “The Lavender Salon—” But the footman was hustling me out into the corridor, and I was starting to see visions of dungeons when a voice commanded, “Hold a minute!”
The footman stopped and turned me around, and I looked into the eyes of Prince Gregory. “Aren’t you—?” he asked, then added, “We’ve met?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Was I still breathing?
“Then you’re—” He reached out a hand.
“Son?” The king had followed Prince Gregory and was looking on with one eyebrow raised. “I was under the impression that this was an intruder!”
“Father, this is—”
But he got no further, for a voice I knew all too well squealed, “What’s going on? Why, that’s Ella!”
I turned in my captor’s grasp and looked across the hall. Gerta, Lucy, and Princess Seraphine were staring at me through a doorway that framed a glimpse of lavender floral wallpaper. Lucy elbowed Gerta and hissed, “Hush!”
The king folded his arms and surveyed us all. Lucy glared at Gerta. Gerta shrugged her shoulders. I took the opportunity to get one arm free of the footman and gasp out, “Your Majesty, I beg your pardon. I was looking for my stepsisters, and I opened the wrong door by mistake.”
The king turned to me and gestured toward Lucy and Gerta. “These are your stepsisters?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Under his direct stare I felt myself shrinking. I glanced at my stepsisters. Lucy frowned at me and twisted a bit of black and white fur in her hands.
“And that slipper!” I blurted out. “That’s what I came for—it’s mine!”
“I knew it!” Prince Gregory said.
“
Her
slipper?” Lucy raised her chin. “This is
my
slipper! I brought it because I lost one at the ball, and Her Royal Highness informed me that a slipper had been found!”
To my surprise, Gerta’s face turned pink, and her eyes widened in anger. “Oh, no, you’re wrong, sister dear,” she snapped. “It’s mine! Don’t you remember how I was saying I had lost
my
slipper?”
The king surveyed us all blankly, then motioned to the footman. “Thank you, we shan’t be needing you any more.”
The footman moved away down the hall with several backward glances, and the king returned to the door of the Green Room (as I thought of it) and said, with a commanding glare, “I think we will all be more comfortable in the library.”
We trooped in after the king, and he waved us to seats, but I doubt that any of us felt comfortable.
“Now,” said King Randolf, leaning on the back of a chair and tapping his fingers on it, “Will someone please explain this situation to me?” There was a small pause, then several of us started to speak at once. Lucy’s piercing voice won out.
“It’s quite simple really, Your Majesty, and I do so apologize for this intrusion. I regret to admit that this is our stepsister, Ella. She helps in the kitchen. That sort of thing. I really can’t explain why she’s here unless she’s gone mad.”
My breath caught in my throat, and my cheeks turned crimson. “Lucy!” I began.
“But what is all this about a slipper?” grated out the king.
“My slipper—” began Lucy.
“
My
slipper—” Gerta interrupted.
“
My
slipper!” I insisted. I glanced at Prince Gregory, and he gave me the ghost of a wink.
“Perhaps, my dear, the slipper they are referring to matches the one that Gregory found at the ball,” Queen Jane said calmly. Everyone else was suddenly still.
King Randolf straightened. “Is that so?” he inquired, glancing around at the three of us.
“Why, of course, Your Majesty…” Lucy began, then petered out under his stare.
“I think it must be,” blustered Gerta.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
The king turned to his wife. “I want this settled,” he growled.
“Then perhaps it would be wise if Gregory brought us the slipper he found, so we can compare.” Queen Jane looked around at us all with a quiet smile. “After all, they may
all
be mistaken. There seem to have been several slippers lost at the ball, and there’s no use fussing until we know if this slipper really does match the one Gregory found.”
“Do it,” said the king briefly, gesturing at Prince Gregory, who bowed slightly, nodded at me encouragingly, and left the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him. The king strode around the room for a few minutes. “Seraphine, what do you know about this?” he asked, stopping beside her chair.
“Really nothing, Father.” Seraphine stared out a window and yawned. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
“They’re your friends.”
“Well, not
her
.” The princess looked pained and gestured at me with her fan. “I never met
her
before.”
“Hmph!” King Randolf continued his striding.
After another long pause Lucy leaned forward in her chair. “Your Majesties, if I might take this opportunity to say how grateful I am for your hospitality and the charming carriage you sent for us—”
“The coachmen have lovely uniforms!” Gerta added, leaning in front of Lucy.
“You’re welcome,” said the queen politely.
The king frowned at the door and tapped his foot. It was quiet again for several minutes. Lucy stared sulkily out of a window. Gerta fidgeted. The queen glanced at me with curiosity, then looked back up at her husband. A clock on the mantel ticked. I successfully prevented myself from screaming.
At last voices were heard down the corridor. We all turned toward the door, and the king strode over and threw it open.
“Come in, Greg—” he started, then stopped and said, “I beg your pardon!” For a large brown shaggy form was hurtling through the door: Archibald, followed by Henry at the end of the leash saying “Down, Archie! Sit!” to very little avail. After him trooped Mrs. Wilkins, her head held high and a parcel under her arm; Anna Cameron, glancing my way and giving me an excited smile; and her fiancé, James Totley, taking off his hat and bowing apologetically to King Randolf.
“Mr. Totley, may I ask—” the king began in an outraged tone when, “I have the slipper, Father,” was heard from the door. Prince Gregory had entered behind the mob.
“But I seem to be entertaining more people than I had bargained for,” grated the king. “Mr. Totley, you at least I know, but these others—! Would you introduce me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty! Of course! My fiancée, Anna Cameron—” Anna dropped a low curtsey. “Her…dressmaker, Mrs. Wilkins—” Mrs. Wilkins bowed with dignity. “And—and a young friend—I didn’t catch the name—”
“Henry!” said Henry, bowing deeply. “Henry Perkins, Your Majesty, Sir!”
“Pleased, I’m sure,” said the king, bowing slightly. “And the animal?”
“Archibald, Your Majesty!” said Henry. “Sit! Give him a paw!” These last remarks were spoken in undertones to Archibald, who was sniffing under a chair.
“Unnecessary. But your business, all of you? I was in the middle of important business, myself.”
There was more silence, then Anna took a deep breath and said, “I expect it’s the same business, Your Majesty. We came about Ella, and the slipper.”
The king tilted his head and glanced at Gregory, who was stifling a smile, and said, “Then shall we proceed?”
“Yes, Father. Here it is.” He handed the king the slipper.
King Randolf considered it, then walked over to Lucy and compared it with the one she held. “They’re the same,” he said briefly.
There was silence yet again, except for Archibald’s snuffling. He had found a very interesting smell next to the fireplace.
“Well?” said the king.
Queen Jane smiled gently and looked around at us all. “You know what they say, dear,” she said. “If the shoe fits—wear it!”
“An excellent idea.” The king turned to Lucy and gestured at a straight chair near the fireplace. “Lady Lucinda, is it? Please take a seat.”
Lucy stared around at all of us, mouth open. “I—I’m not…” The king’s frown caught her eyes. She sent me a poisonous glance and flounced onto the chair.
“But what if it fits all of us?” wailed Gerta, twisting her handkerchief in her hands.
“Then we’ll draw lots,” snapped King Randolf. “Son, this is your business. Straighten it out!”