Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“It is a big night for you, isn’t it, Highness?”

Leopold jumped. He turned to see who was addressing him so casually and upon seeing Captain Thurlow, he almost laughed out loud from the insanity of it. Leopold had never spoken to Thurlow in his entire life. The man was his father’s advisor and personal bodyguard, the commander of Gwent’s army, and the single most influential person in the entire kingdom, second only to the king himself.

Leopold did not like him; he never had. For one, Thurlow was almost twice his age. They had nothing in common. Plus, how could Leopold think highly of a man who bore more authority than the future king of Gwent? Perhaps that was the reason Thurlow had come, Leopold mused. It was about time the man paid due respect to his future king, not that it would have made a huge difference.

There were other, weightier reasons why Leopold disapproved of the captain.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Leopold replied, tying the cravat matching the formal evening ensemble he had donned for the evening. He did not turn back toward the mirror; he did not need to for tying his cravat or relaying ever so subtly that he was not keen to have Thurlow in his presence at all. Leopold spoke to Thurlow as much with his eyes as with his words.

“Must be quite a treat, getting to choose from the best of the best that Gwent has to offer,” Thurlow said with a sly grin. “A lot of men would envy you.”

“Do you envy me, Captain Thurlow?”

Thurlow chuckled. “Perhaps I do a little bit,” he said, “but I am afraid my heart was smitten long ago and nothing can undo it.”

“Oh?” Leopold said, shocked that a man like Thurlow was capable of being in love.

“Well, we can’t all expect true love to waltz its way into our hearts, can we?” pronounced Thurlow. “Some of us have to fight for it.”

Leopold finished his cravat and dropped his hands to his side. He stared intensely at the man who was taking tremendous liberties with innuendos and arrogant smiles. “Is there something in particular I can assist you with today?” Leopold inquired, shortly.

“I am worried about the king, your father,” Thurlow said. “I visited with him briefly today and had tremendous difficulty discerning his words. He seemed possessed with the intent to make something clear, but I could not understand. His nursemaid Anna said that you spoke with him last evening. I was wondering if he might have said something to you that might bear light on my quandary.”

“Said
something
? I am not sure what you are asking of me,” said Leopold. “He is my father. He said many things.”

“Of course, Your Highness, and please forgive me for my prying. I simply want to perform my duties to the best of my ability and I thought you might be able to assist me with that. I meant no disrespect.”

“I see; and just what
are
your duties, Captain Thurlow?”

“Pardon?”

“Your duties. What are they exactly? I know you are the king’s personal bodyguard. That is all well and good, but I will not need a bodyguard once I assume the throne. You understand, of course.”

“Yes, Highness.”

“You command the army. I have seen with my own eyes the impressive caliber of Gwent’s military forces and I commend you. You are well suited to the ranking.”

“Thank you.”

“The question I have is about your duties within the kingdom.”

Thurlow’s limbs tensed. “What kind of questions?” he asked, methodically.

“I am privy to a great deal of information that comes from the mouths of Gwent’s citizens; people of every kind of class and social standing,” replied Leopold, “and I hear some rumors about men you employ here within the castle grounds.”

“And what rumors are those, Your Highness?”

Leopold did not answer straightaway. Instead, he merely examined Thurlow to decipher his body language and those messages that were communicated without utterance. It took little delineation for Leopold to conclude that Thurlow was biting his tongue, biting a temper that was undeniably formidable.

“A slew of things actually,” Leopold said, relinquishing his equally stern composure and playing about with his tied cravat as though nothing untoward had even transpired, “ranging from drunkenness to misuse of authority. What do you know of this, Captain?”

“I know all about rumors,” Thurlow replied, meeting Leopold’s mellowness head on and reverting back to his original tone of familiarity and confidence, “and I can assure you, Prince Leopold, that rumors are all they are. My men are brave, disciplined, and willing to serve. I can assure you of this.”

“Be that as it may, I would not want the people of Gwent to think that my first actions as their king included me ignoring their concerns. Please be prepared for my thorough analysis and supervision of your garrison very soon. I assure you there is nothing to be unduly concerned about. I simply want to learn.”

Thurlow was a statue of resolve and self-restraint. Leopold had no doubt that the captain’s blood was boiling at that point, but was astounded at how well the man maintained his composure. What an enigma Captain Thurlow was. Leopold may not have liked the man, but he was intrigued by him.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” Leopold inquired.

Thurlow shook his head passively. “No, Your Highness,” he responded. “I have taken up enough your time already and you have a busy evening ahead. I will see your Lordship at the ball and until then, I respectfully bid you adieu.” Thurlow bowed and then turned on his heel and proceeded toward the entryway of the foyer toward the hallway.

“Captain Thurlow!” Leopold hollered.

Thurlow turned and faced him. “Yes, Your Highness?” he replied politely.

“He was a bad father.”

“I’m sorry?” Thurlow was in complete shock.

“During my last conversation with my father,” Leopold went on, “he said he was a bad father. I don’t know if it will assist you in your duties as you hoped, but there you have it.”

Thurlow bowed a second time and turned, quickly entering the hallway and all but sprinted down the main staircase. Once well outside the castle walls, he spotted Halsty and made his way toward the man who’d been waiting anxiously for word on how the well-rehearsed meeting with Prince Leopold had gone down.

“Well?” Halsty said as Thurlow approached.

“For the most part, Sergeant, it went as I had expected,” Thurlow said, his eyes drawn and fuming, darting about at the surrounding area and each wandering passerby. “The pompous imbecile all but confessed that he will be disbanding the Hussars once he becomes king. He even had the gall to insult me with sarcasm and act like he was trying to help me. Damn it!”

Halsty was alarmed by Thurlow’s angst. The captain had approached the prince knowing full well that he was baiting the would-be-monarch to learn the breadth of his arrogance and ascertain his agenda. It was not supposed to have been the other way around.

“Sir,” Halsty said, “as your predictions have come to fruition, you should be more than pleased. Our plan is in place, its wheels put in motion, and before you know it, you will never have to pretend to heed one more impotent command of that ‘
pompous imbecile
.’”

Thurlow was pleased; but that was not to say there weren’t nagging pebbles in his shoe. “Leopold said that the last thing the king and he discussed was that William believed himself to be a bad father,” Thurlow said out loud, but without direction, as though he’d meant Halsty to hear it only as an audience to the dramatic monologue.

“A bad father, you say?” Halsty commented on Thurlow’s cryptic soliloquy, “That is strange. Who knows what bizarre and ridiculous conversations exist between those two. It is of no concern to us.”

Thurlow shook his head. “That is where you are wrong, Halsty,” he declared forcefully. “It is of great concern.”

“Why?”

Thurlow contemplated long and hard on his answer. He had to make Halsty understand that nothing could be left to chance; no minute detail was insignificant. Small stones were but vital pieces of the whole mountain.

“It was a deathbed confession,” Thurlow said plainly. “Williams’ demise may come without our help after all. That makes for the possibility of accelerating our plans even more. I want our candidate prepared for this evening.”

“Tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

Halsty grinned. “Certainly, sir. I will see to it immediately. Will our candidate himself be attending the royal ball?” he asked, laughing quietly. Thurlow responded with subdued gleefulness, as though he was still entwined in the exhilaration of uncertainty and chance.

“Yes, I suppose he will,” Thurlow replied. “He has a dance with destiny.”

Of all nights for Bethany to have a conniption and lose complete equilibrium, why did it have to be this night? It was a special night even for a non-believer of whimsical fairy tales. But she could not get the image of her mother kissing Peter—or that man who might have been anyone
except
Ella’s uncle. Bethany was not entirely certain why she was so irked by the prospect of her mother’s indiscretions with a man besides her own husband. Henry Armitage had been guilty of that and much worse on multiple occasions. Why shouldn’t his wife be able to satisfy her own appetites if their marriage was deemed worthless by the spouses themselves? Bethany had been at odds with her mother’s actions as of late, but it still was not in her nature to be unfair.

Still she could not shake the disappointment in her heart. Bethany had struggled so very long with almost every element of Isolda’s characteristics as a mother, an aunt, and a God-fearing woman. Perhaps if her mother had at least valued virtue, there would be something Bethany could respect. As much as it pained her sense of feminism to proclaim such an archaic ideal to herself, Bethany did believe in the sanctity of marriage and monogamy. If she ever chose to marry, she wanted the exact opposite of what her parents had.

While Isolda and Aislinn had been fluttering about the last several weeks with talk of royal balls, dresses that the prince may or may not have liked, and the triumph of securing the entire kingdom of Gwent for their posterity, Bethany had withdrawn herself to her own dreams and ambitions. Did it even occur to her mother that her other daughter might have had hopes, as deluded as they might have been, to find true love—even at the royal ball? Even with a man like Prince Leopold? Bethany was no stranger to the appeal of the Prince of Gwent. Each and every maiden she knew was titillated with Leopold’s charm and decorum. Bethany was not without her own predilections toward a handsome prince, a royal wedding, and living as a queen in an enchanting castle. What was so very wrong about that? She’d asked herself that many times.

Bethany chided her childishness and continued in her preparations for the royal gala. Truth be told, what she dreamt for her life was not all that enchanting: love, marriage, family… joy. Well, enchanting yes, but far from an illusion.

After several more minutes passed, Bethany began to panic. She could not find her jeweled tiara nor the yellow gown. Her heart was racing. It was not hanging in her wardrobe or anywhere in her chamber. The tiara had been tucked away in her jewelry box just that morning. Now it was nowhere. When Bethany asked Grace if she’d moved it, the maid shrugged her shoulders. Bethany hated to be paranoid, but she sensed from Grace’s reaction to the inquiry that there was something the maid was not revealing. There were only a few short hours till the carriage would arrive ready to take the Armitage family to the castle. There were other gowns she could have worn but Bethany did not consider it. She had loved the bright yellow dress from the moment that Aislinn had hurled it to the floor. She’d adored the tiara since Isabella had placed it atop her head like she was a princess, so many years before.

Bethany made her way to her mother’s dormitory and found nothing but an empty room with laundry strewn across the floor that two maids were beginning to pick up. Quickly, just to be sure, Bethany rummaged through her mother’s closets to see if somehow the yellow dress had found its way there.

It had not.

As Bethany sped down the hallway toward Aislinn’s bedchamber, she could hear female voices echoing from behind the closed door. Both Isolda and Aislinn’s voices were very recognizable. She approached the ornate, carved partition between the hallway and Aislinn’s dormitory and lifted her hand to knock. She stopped suddenly, however, and was suddenly possessed by instinctive curiosity to catch her mother and sister in an element of surprise without time to neither secure pre-thought nor align their equally self-serving and all-too-convenient agendas with one another.

Bethany entered the room and both Aislinn and Isolda shot their faces toward the unannounced intruder. Bethany’s wind was knocked from her diaphragm. She could not, with mind or body, comprehend what she was seeing.

Aislinn stood proud and brilliantly stunning in a bright yellow gown that featured a form-fitting bodice with a yellow sash that draped from the top, underneath the right arm, down to the left side of the waist and short sleeves that flowered high up on her arms and settled loosely just below her shoulders. On top of Aislinn’s beautifully gathered golden hair: a tiara.