A/N – this is just a little one-shot that I thought up when I was reading back over my main project at the moment, Making Her Own Way. There is a line in chapter 12 that states:

'The Queen of Tortall and her young subject chattered blithely and irrelevantly for some time, discussing everything from the state of the snowy roads between Corus and Shadowflax, to the prospects of a good barley crop in the north next summer, to the latest court scandal, involving a young nobleman and a pretty but suspiciously pregnant-looking laundress.'

I got to thinking about court scandals (the ones that really so happen, not just the ones that everyone thinks happen), and how they are created and solved. I wondered exactly what Thayet and Illa were saying about this particular scandal. I've tried to write this from an unusual perspective, and it has also been a bit of a writing exercise for me, as the socio-economic status of my narrator has required completely different language and quite foreign moral codes to those that I am used to working with. Read and review, and let me know what you think!

The Story of a Scandal

They told me that this weren't a good idea. I didn't listen.

'But Ma,' said I, 'there's many a smart, pretty young common girl as goes off to work in the palace, an' I can wash clothes as good as the next'un. Sure an' they'll be a darn sight more int'restin' than the stuff we mends 'ere, might be a bit of an adventure! 'Sides, they need laundresses, an' we need the money. Surely 'tis a better life than I could hope to get sittin' here useless in the slums.' Ma still looked a bit worried, though, an' then old Aunty Doss spoke up.

'Sure and there are a good many common girls as go to work up in that there castle,' said she, and for a minute I thought she were on my side, but then she goes on, 'An' there's like near as many as comes back home to the lower city with an 'ead full of fancy dreams an' a bellyful of some poor, 'alf-noble whelp that'll never get what's theirs 'cause their ma took in washin' and their da was just havin' a little fun on the side before 'e went back 'ome to 'is wife an' kids.' I don't think ma liked the sound of that, but it's not like it should've been a surprise to her. Half the kids round 'ere 'ave the Conte nose! But when I said as much to Ma, she just said:

'Yes but they ain't my grandbabies, are they now, lass?' I weren't quite sure just what she meant by that. We ain't no richer than most of the folk hereabouts, and we ain't got no more learnin' neither, so I dunno why she were goin' so high-an'-mighty about it all. No one thought any the worse of those girls as came back from the palace with a kid. An' poor ma. I don't think she knew it, but it weren't as if I'd never seen the inside of a man's bedchamber. If she didn't have grandbabies already, 'twas only 'cause she were lucky. Or unlucky, mayhap. But I talked 'em round. Ma's a piece of cake, really, for all she worries. I can twist 'er right round my pinkie finger. Aunty were a bit more of a challenge, but. She's a strong woman. She always used to joke that it were a shame she'd never married, she'd 'ave made a good queen! I myself thought she'd 'ave made a better Lord Provost or some such thing, but o' course I never told 'er that. In the end, though, she had to let me go. The month's rent come in, and there didn't seem to be anybody as wanted ma to do their mendin' work, so they sent me off to the palace to see if I could bring in a few extra coppers.

I got me a job straight away, in the biggest laundry. One of the other girls in there said if you were young and pretty an' knew when to hold yer tongue, that was really all they were lookin' for. It's not as if it were hard work, or somethin' that couldn't be easily learned. So I worked there. There ain't much excitement in scrubbin' other people's clothes, even if they are all fine silks an' velvet an' lace, but it were a sight better that darnin' socks with Aunty Doss an' 'er eagle eyes lookin' over my shoulder. An' in time, they started to let me out of the washroom to collect an' deliver laundry baskets from people's rooms, and that's where the story really starts.

We formed a bit of a clique, us young girls as worked in the main laundry. There were about five of us, all around eighteen or nineteen years old, all passably 'andsome, an' all from the lower city. We used to eat our lunches together in the servants' mess, an' I reckon some of our chats would've turned a noble lady our age fair green in the face.

'Whatever you do,' said Tessy, the buxom blonde who'd been working here the longest out of all of us, 'don't accept any kind of payment; money, jewellery, anything. I ain't sayin' there's no such thing as an honest whore, but it ain't the sort of word you want used in the same sentence as yer name, I can tell you. Course, the nobles, if they knew, they'd call you that anyway, but we common folk know the difference between a prostitute an' a good, respectable mistress!' We all giggled, but we made a note of her advice. We respected Tessy. After all, she were the only one of us who 'ad actually slept with anyone important.

'You see the beauty of havin' things this way,' she went on, 'is that the common folk don't really mind. The way they see it, sleepin' with noblemen is part and parcel of a maid's duties, an' so it ain't like anyone'll think any the worse of you for it. An' face it, girls, if you were back home, you'd be getting' knocked up every second week anyway. At least here there's a chance that you'll meet someone who's 'alf-way to bein' a gentleman about it.' T'was a good point, but, never havin' met anythin' vaguely resemblin' a gentleman myself, I weren't exactly sure if such a creature really existed. Nevertheless, I was rather looking forward to the afternoon's laundry run. But Tessy weren't quite finished.

'An' one more thing,' she warned, 'if 'e gets you pregnant, never, ever, tell 'im. For all 'e calls 'imself noble an' brave, he'll run. Mos' likely never want to see you again. Never give a bent penny towards 'is child, and nat'rally, never make an honest woman of you. No, just go your way back home and don't raise a fuss, it'll just break your 'eart, if we hardened city girls 'ave any 'earts left to break.'

x x x x x x x x x

I'd never believed that I could fall in love. Still don't, in fact. Fallin' in love is something noblewomen do. Innocent, sheltered dolls who still believe that someone can be perfect, who turn a blind eye to a person's bad side, no matter 'ow much it's glarin' in the faces of the rest of us. No girl could've been around as much as I 'ad and still believe in love. Which is why I 'ave so many other words to describe 'ow I felt when I first opened that door an' saw 'is smile as 'e struggled with an' overflowin' basket of laundry: flattery, passion, lust, desire. Because I tell you, I didn't believe in love. Still don't in fact.

So I smiled back, and took the basket from 'im, ignoring the rush of heat as our fingers touched. I balanced it on one hip and walked away, swingin' my backside ever so slightly. I could feel 'is eyes on me all the way down the hall. An' the next afternoon, when I came back with the clean clothes, he smiled at me again an' asked me my name. I told 'im, an' then asked 'im 'is. 'E said 'e answered to Frosken of Dallamire; 'e were a knight on leave from fieldwork, an' 'e asked me if I wouldn't care for somethin' to drink. I said:

'Thank you kindly, Sir, but I'd best be getting' back to the laundry.' He jus' laughed an' said they 'ad too many girls workin' in the laundry as it were. That sounded somethin' akin to orderin' me to stay, so I decided not to chance it, and followed 'im inside. I asked 'ow 'e knew there were so many girls in the laundry. He told me 'is friends were down there often, an' always come back lookin' real satisfied, but 'e didn't think they got that much pleasure just from lookin' at clean clothes! I laughed, an' said 'e'd guessed well, but he replied that it didn't really take more'n 'alf a brain to work that one out. An' I liked 'im all the more, 'cause he were a nobleman, but 'he didn't pretend that everythin' were all clean-cut an' dandy like most of 'em do. So we drank our tea, an' then 'e kissed me, an' I let 'im, cause I already said, I felt for 'im all those feelin's that weren't love but were good enough for a girl like me. An' one thing led to another, an', well, you know… It don't sound like much of a romantic build-up, but when 'e's a noble an' you're a laundress, that's 'ow it works.

So I became 'is 'afternoon woman', which suited both of us just fine, until the month when I didn't bleed as usual. Tessy's dire warnings rang in my ears. 'If he gets you pregnant, never, ever tell him.' I didn't listen. I didn't know what I wanted Frosken to do about it. I didn't even know what I wanted to do about it, and I knew that for a common girl it were no great disgrace to bear an illegitimate child anyway. But because I felt all those things that weren't love for 'im, I foolishly decided to tell 'im. Deep down somewhere, very well 'idden, I really did 'ave some morals, an' I was sure it weren't fair to go off an' 'ave 'is child without at least tellin' 'im first. So the next after noon when I went to 'im, I did.

'Milord,' said I, 'we both of us know you ain't got no mind to marryin' me, but just tell me this. 'Ow long do you really want t' have me as yer 'kept woman' afore you move on t' someone new an' excitin' an different?' 'e just smiled 'is meltin' smile an' said 'e'd keep me for as long as I wanted to stay. I was tryin' t' work out if this were a good thing or not, in light of the situation, when he suddenly asked me why I were wonderin' this, and quite by mistake I blurted out:

'Cause I'm goin' t' have yer child.' He was quiet for a while there. Guess it came as a bit of a shock to 'im. But then 'e asked,

'Why are you telling me this? I can't exactly do anything about it.'

'Oh, I know,' said I, 'but I just thought it'd be nicer t' tell you now, rather'n turnin' up in a few years time demandin' payment.'

'Is money what you want, then?' His voice sounded almost cold, now.

'Bless you, no! Someone very wise once told me never t' take money from a nobleman. But,' I added slowly, 'I really was wonderin', though. I know you said a thousand times you could never marry me, but wouldn't this help change yer mind?'

'Are you out of your mind, woman!?' That seemed to 'ave touched a bit of a nerve.

'I can't marry you! You're a coarse, common, laundress with no idea of how to behave in public. Besides which, I am already betrothed, to a pretty, gentle, charming noblewoman.' That hurt. It was the first I'd ever heard about 'is betrothal, but then, really, 'e could've been married already for all I knew.

'But all that,' I said, 'me being common an' all that rot. Why didn't tha' matter when I was just your mistress, eh?'

'You wouldn't understand,' 'e said, cross like, 'commoners never understand. You're good for cooking food, washing clothes, scrubbing floors, and cheap sex without ruining anyone's reputation, but that's about all.' If I 'adn't been so upset, I'd 'ave been angry. An' I was annoyed, 'cause Tessy'd been right, and all stupid, puffed-up noblemen were the same, even though I'd thought Frosken of Dallamire were different. I thought how dumb I'd been, an' I strode towards the door without stoppin' to pick up the basket of dirty washin' sittin' beside it.

'What are you doing? You have to take the laundry, it's your job!' I gave th' basket a spiteful kick.

'I won't work for someone as doesn't respect me. An' I'm sure you could find any number of pretty laundry girls who'd be more'n willin' to collect your washin', an' do everythin' else as goes with it!' 'E was really angry now, 'is face 'ad gone all red an' blotchy.

'Get out of here, then, you common whore! I never want to see you again!'

'What you wants,' I said, all grand like, 'Is none o' my concern.' I waited until I were safely out in the quiet corridor before I let the tears stream down over my cheeks. I didn't believe in love, but I was startin' t' think that this was how you felt when it was taken away. By the time I returned to the other girls in the laundry, though, my anger seemed to have overtaken my sadness.

'Just make sure you spread the word,' I told 'em, 'about what a scoundrel he is… they all are. I want everyone from the lowest stable boy to the queen to know never to trust him again, an' to know what those young noblemen really get up to when there's no one else around.' They promised me they would start some rumours, an', well, everyone listens to the maids. They always have the best gossip.

I didn't go home. I was too proud to listen to Aunty Doss saying 'I told you so' forty-seven times a day. But more to the point, I was too proud to let myself be defeated by one act of unkindness. I will stay here, as a reminder t' everyone that the word 'noble' doesn't mean what it used to. But the gossip will die away, and my child will never know its father. That's the way I want it to stay.

Because men are bastards.

Noblemen more so.

A/N – I feel that it became a bit weird towards the end there… actually I think the whole thing was pretty weird, but most of it was written after midnight, because I wasn't tired and it wasn't dark and I wanted to get it finished, so maybe that accounts for it. Actually, the only reason why the whole lot wasn't written at about 2 am in the morning is because I ran out of paper! Let me know what you think… as I said, it's just an experiment written from an unusual angle. And if you haven't read it already, check out Making Her Own Way as well!

Lady Muck xoxo