Chapter Two
"There you are!" Hilda exclaimed as Beatrice nearly knocked her down the servant's stair. "What took you so long, and you're soaking wet!"
"No time to talk." Beatrice called. "Alexandra needs this."
"Well hurry up, and change into dry clothes. Mistress Meade wants you to serve the tea. You're the responsible one."
Beatrice didn't have to run if she was just serving tea. Her mistress would take several minutes showing Mistress Slater the new features of the house. The new and expensive gas lights that were recently installed, the updated indoor plumbing, and the new hardwood floors that were resistant to magic and that the servants drew straws each month to pick how has to keep them shiny. Yes, she had just enough to make sure both Miss Alexandra and Mister Daniel were taken care of.
She handed Amanda the vial she brought from Christina, seeing that Miss Alexandra was already stirring from the induced slumber. Just in time, Beatrice realized since Amanda had already cleaned most of their young mistress's mess. But that was mostly likely a response Marc's arrival. They were close friends, Beatrice knew, but as much as she knew they liked hanging around each other, Beatrice disliked with the house of Slater met with Meade. By themselves both Amanda and Marc were equally polite and amiable towards her, but together was a different story.
Climbing once again the servants' stair she took a short detour, pulling on her cleaner set of clothes and hurried back up the stairs. Taking a deep breath and knocked on Mister Daniel's room. She wasn't worried when she didn't receive a response back and calmly opened the door. Her young master was seated on his bed nursing a half empty bottle of gin holding up a photograph. The curtains were still drawn shut making the room even darker than it should have been and there was distinctively unwashed air that filled the room. But there was good sign. The tray of food she left on his desk was empty, showing every sign of being consumed. He was starting to get his usual appetite back that was a vast improvement, now if she could only get him to wash again.
"Mister Daniel," Beatrice said cheerfully opening the blinds. Though it was dark out from the rain, he flinched backwards like a newly born dragonet. "How are feeling this morning? I see you ate your breakfast. If you are still hungry I can sneak something up from the kitchen for you to eat. My father has his hands filled with creating a meal just for Mistress Slater."
She waited watching for a reaction, and got one. Daniel jumped slightly at the name, a slight scowl crossing his face.
"That woman is here," he said slurred. "She coming here to gloat, isn't she?"
Beatrice began to turn on the gas lights. "Oh I don't think she's here to gloat about that. I beg your pardon your mother would never let you marry Sophia Reyes anyway, no matter the dowry. Her father was part of the scandal that cost your father his life years ago."
"I know," Daniel muttered, starting to sound like his old self, "you're right, you're always right."
"Not always," Beatrice said humbly, "but that's close enough."
Daniel chuckled softly as he held up the photo of Sophia. "I thought I could have a life with her Beatrice. We had so many similar interests. We wanted so many of the same things." He looked less like the womanizer he had become after his father's death, and more like the person she he knew he could be given the half chance. "She was the first woman I could see myself being with a very long time."
"How long?" Beatrice asked hoping this relationship had changed him for the better.
"A year?" Daniel said after careful thought and completely oblivious to Beatrice's exasperated expression. "Ten years? That's a very long time."
"Yes, Mister Daniel," Beatrice replied evenly. "Yes it is."
It was a start, she decided. But a very good start would be getting him out this room.
"Your mother would want you to come down to the rest of the household," Beatrice began as Daniel placed the photograph on to the nightstand, "And it would be a good way to show Mistress Slater you aren't afraid of her."
"I am not afraid of her," Daniel protested.
Beatrice raised her eyebrow conveying eloquently what her current position did not allow her to voice aloud.
"You're right, I am. But you know there are bad witches-"
"Those who use the Dark Arcana." Beatrice added.
"Those, I'm positive Wilhelmina is one of them. I bet there some burial plot behind her house, with the remains of animals skeletons or something."
"I am not," Beatrice said taking a step away from her role of servant to express her disgust, "breaking into her house again."
"It might be necessary." Daniel was on his feet pacing towards his wardrobe. "Wilhelmina is up to something. The last time she visited my mother she was plotting against our family."
She couldn't tell him he was being paranoid, so she just let him ramble on. Maybe the paranoia was a good thing; it was bringing him back to the person he was before Sophia. Hopefully though there will be less bed hopping and skirt chasing. Though it would put a damper on the servants' bets on when some girl might show up at the house with a baby in her arms.
After running a bath for him, she called to Daniel as he shaved in front of the mirror. "Do your clothes need to be pressed?"
He shook his head nearly cutting himself. "I think they're fine."
They weren't, and Beatrice ironed them anyway before heading out to the parlor room. Sheila, the head of staff handed her the tea tray, her stern expression relieving a bit.
"Just in time as always," she noted. "They're inside. Be careful of acid remarks." Shelia pressed the door open for her and Beatrice entered.
No one in the room, besides an appreciatively blond Alexandra, took notice of Beatrice as she carefully brought the tea tray in.
Mistress Meade and Mistress Slater were talking outwardly about the weather, but given the metaphors that kept being used it was just a veil for the insults they kept handing to each other.
Serve the tea, Beatrice told herself, and the quicker she can get out of danger.
She placed the tray on the table and began to pour it into the cups, making short efficient movements.
"You heard the Prince of The Eastern Isle has arrived, I suppose," Mistress Slater commented, not even registering the fact that Beatrice handed her cup of tea.
"Yes Giovanni," Mistress Meade said, taking the cup of tea, He's here to show support to some of the trading companies in the city as well as bit of soul-searching. There is also rumor of him searching for a bride."
"That is every prince's secret motivation when visiting a foreign country." Mistress Slater replied, not making a move to drink. "No wonder they're throwing him a ball."
"Good for the city though."
Beatrice had moved across the room to fix tea for Alexandra who polity scooped in a cup of sugar.
"Business mostly," Mistress Slater said firmly. "The dressmaking, the flower shops, bakeries, and of course the spell shops."
"Oh yes, people use magic to make anything look beautiful."
Standing behind Mistress Slater, Marc's eyes grew wide in horror as his hand twitched slightly to where Beatrice knew he held on to his Mistress's special potions.
Mistress Slater only smiled tightly. "And some people will use their children to keep the family life comfortable."
Beatrice saw the daggers erupt in Mistress Meade's smile.
"At least my children didn't go running off to her aunt's house."
Beatrice quickly began to gather up the tea as the women began to launch into an epic battle. But she couldn't make a quiet exit for Daniel entered the room drawing attention towards that area of the room.
"Lovely for you to join us." Mistress Meade said to her son.
"Lovely indeed," Mistress Slater echoed and Alexandra moved slightly aside on the couch to leave a space for her brother. "Though the last time I saw you, weren't you in brighter spirits? What changed?"
"I think you know," Daniel said shortly, as his mother frowned at him.
"We behave ourselves," Mistress Meade said sipping her tea. "We always treat even our most discourteous guests with respect. The House of Meade has honor."
"The same can be said for me." Mistress Slater's façade of politeness crumbled slightly, as her eyes narrowed slightly. The Meades despite the scandal surrounding the death of Master Meade, were still one of, in not the, most influential families in Moda. People respected them enough to want to be seen around the gates of their home after all. Nothing except a major tragedy could place even a stain on the Meades reputation. It was for these reasons Mistress Slater still came to call despite the bad blood between them. Power in the city came in three ways, inherited, money, and reputation, and the Meades had all three in grand amounts.
"Unfortunately," Mistress Slater said, "I have urgent business that has slipped my mind. Sorry I can't stay for dinner," she rose up smartly and without waiting for Mistress Meade's polite parting words snapped her fingers. "Marc."
He snapped to attention wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and grabbing the umbrella.
"Beatrice," Mistress Meade said with a nod to her, "Show them the way out."
Curtseying to her mistress, she opened the door politely leading Mistress Slater the way she knew very well.
Amanda, scurrying halfway down the hall carrying golden candlesticks, halted abruptly at the sight of them. Amazingly enough she didn't manage to drop a single one before Mistress Slater's cold stare.
Marc, as his mistress headed towards the door, glance at Amanda mouthing "Forget the pail."
Amanda sighed unhappily and went to go put the candlesticks back up. Beatrice grateful the nasty trick in the making was halted for another day, turned and went towards the kitchen.
"Don't put that in there!" Her father yelled at his young helper. "That'll kill the flavor. And Robert keep your eyes on the soup, you can't let it burn! No potions, Mistress Slater can tell the magically enhanced food!" He began to muttered words in the language of their home as he furiously began to stir a pot of sauce.
"Papi," Beatrice said. "You can relax. Mistress Slater won't be joining the Meades for dinner."
Her father turned, still holding a soup spoon dripping with red tomato soup, "You can't be serious, after all my hard work!"
The assorted servants who took the unlucky draw of being in the kitchen gave each other surly looks.
"Papi, your heart," Beatrice's scrambled about looking for the potion he forgot to take on purpose.
"Its fine, I'm fine," he said darkly, tossing the spoon back into the pot. "My pride's just hurt. This was going to be the meal that Mistress Slater wouldn't even think to turn her nose up to."
"You can always make it again when she stops by again, she likes imposing on Mistress Meade's hospitality. And," Beatrice said slowly, "Mistress Meade requests your flan for dessert."
A slight smile curled on her father's lips. Flan, though by nature a very simple dish, when made by her father was far the most wondrous delight to tantalize the senses, including the magically enchanted variety as well.
"Well then," her father said pulling himself straight. "We still have dinner for the Meades." He was already reaching into the icebox for the milk and cream. "And flan."
Robert, who in the process of dumping the soup, placed it back where it belonged and joined his companions in drawing straws to see who will get to leave.
"Is it for two Meades or three?" Papi asked measuring out the caramel.
"Three, Daniel is up on his feet again."
"That boy," Papi frowned as he stirred the ingredients in the bowl. "A man of his age should have more care with his life. He's eight years older than you, you're nineteen and you have more sense than him. More sense than your sister too, come to think of it."
"Hilda was sixteen when it happened-" Beatrice began.
"Doesn't excuse common sense," Papi muttered. "Have you spoken with Mistress Meade yet?"
Beatrice pulled at the sleeve of blouse. "Not yet.
"She's not going to be upset because you want to be stop to be just a servant here," Papi said oblivious to Beatrice's discomfort. "You're young, you have many talents, and you'll be able to find something you can make a living out of." He turned taking with his hands into his daughter's. "I don't want to spend your live being a nursemaid."
"I'm not a nursemaid-"
"Mija," Papi said quietly, "you must have bigger dreams than this. You're young enough that marriage isn't the only option for you. Your friend Christina-"
"I don't have any ability with magic, besides she already has a new apprentice now," Beatrice said half humble, and half disgruntled. It was upsetting moment for her, who excelled nearly at whatever she did after putting hard work into it find she didn't have gift in magic. Christina on the other found it most amusing. "I doubt there are places you call tell stories professionally."
"If there are," Papi said kissing her forehead. "You'll find them. But now, I have a dessert to prepare!"
"Papi," Beatrice said as she watched him grow agitated, this time from excitement. "Your heart-" her disproving words were cut short by the bell flying into the room. Fluttering about like a little bird it came to rest in Beatrice's open hand. Around the rim readin elegantly slated letter: the parlor room.
"Remember to stay calm," Beatrice cautioned tucking the bell into her pocket. She turned to Robert who was sullenly returning to his station. "Makes sure he stays calm."
Beatrice bustled down the hallway, taking care to more alert than usual. Though she suspected that Amanda and Marc had a trick in the works, she didn't know if it was completed or not.
Returning back to the room, she found Mistress Meade by herself idly flipping through the pages of a book.
"Ah, Beatrice," Mistress Meade said lowering her book, "I like to have some words with you."
Given the her mistress had pleasant smile on her face, and not the celebrated stern gaze she gives to those who were against her wishes, Beatrice only had slightly minor sense of fright. There was no way that Mistress Meade had heard about her consideration of leaving her post. The Meades had never treated them poorly like some family; Marc had told her less than savory tales of what happened at the House of Slater. No, the Meades were probably the best people she could ever work for, but truthfully deep down she didn't want to stay as a servant. She wanted much more, she wanted to fulfill her dreams, travel, meet new people, hear different languages and so many different things. Times were changing after all: a woman's way to success didn't have to be through marriage. It could be whatever she wanted.
All she needed to do was find the courage to go out there in the world alone. She had always lived with her family never being alone, used to taking care of them and them taking care of her. The Meades, Amanda, Nicholas, and all the other servants here were part of her family too, and she wasn't sure she wanted to part with quite just yet.
"Beatrice I have a proposition for you," Mistress Meade said with no preamble. "But first I take you have heard about Prince Giovanni?"
Beatrice nodded keep her expression still. "Yes."
"I am relatively close friends with his uncle, the Grand Duke Buca di Beppo. He mentioned earlier this year about a nephew of his he wanted to be exposed to more sights and sounds of the world. At the time I had no idea he was talking about the Prince, and offered him to treat him as well as any guests. While the Prince won't be staying with us, I have arranged for Daniel to be a companion of the sorts for him as he visits parts of the city. It goes without out saying I want my son doing something worthwhile to occupy his time." She smiled again at Beatrice, this time a nod to her for bringing Daniel back to world of the living. "I would like you to their on the occasions when the Prince is about. I trust you the most, and you have the keenest sense when things aren't as they should be."
In another mood, Beatrice would had taken note of the odds words Mistress Meade had said, but is so happened she was struggling with the idea that she was going to be serving royalty as well as watching over the Meades. But, she realized, if she preformed even beyond her usual standards, this could lead the door open to future possibilities. A good recommendation from Mistress Meade, a way to wrangle security for her family, and a way…
And way to future prospects.
"Are we in agreement Beatrice? I will talk to Shelia about shifting around your chores with the Prince is here. But I expect you to perform at your usual standards-"
"I'll do it," Beatrice said a bit too excitedly, glad that her ominous feeling about the rain had reaped nothing, "I'll be glad too." She added with a more demure tone.
And after Mistress Meade said she was dismissed she went to find Hilda and tell her of this latest development. She could feel in the air, things were going to start changing very soon.