Chapter Seven: Breakdown

"Cécile!" a voice said next to me.

I opened my eyes groggily. Why was I so tired? I felt like I could go to sleep for a hundred years.

"Cécile!" the voice said again, more urgently. It was Élisabeth, one of the other maids I shared my room with. "You've just got to get up!"

"I can't, I feel awful," I groaned, "I'm so tired."

"I know that," Élisabeth replied, looking nervous, "but please, Madame Langlois will be up any minute if you don't! And you're already in trouble with her!"

I knew she was right. I tried to stand up but couldn't, and swooned dizzily back onto my mattress.

Élisabeth clutched at her heart, scared for my sake. She put a hand to my forehead and exclaimed, "You're burning up, Cécile!"

I shivered violently and she covered me up with her own blanket as well as mine.

"How could she do this to you," Élisabeth said roughly. "This is all her fault, making you go out in that storm yesterday."

"I didn't do it," I said weakly.

"Of course you didn't," she replied immediately. "I just can't believe her." I must have fallen asleep to Élisabeth's grumblings, because the next thing I knew Madame Langlois was standing next to my bed with her hands on her hips.

"How dare you!" she screeched, and I sat up, trying to ignore the pains in my head. Sunlight was streaming into the small room. "You have the audacity to shirk your duties when you've just been punished for your reckless behavior?"

"She didn't do it," I heard Élisabeth say from the doorway.

"You'll stay out of this if you know what's good for you," Madame Langlois told her nastily. "And as for you! You are to get up this instant and wash the windows in the hallway!"

"Yes, Madame," I said, attempting to stand up. When I nearly fell over again, Élisabeth rushed to my side.

"Can't you see she's ill?" she pleaded, sounding hysterical.

"No, Élisabeth, I'm fine," I said softly. Madame Langlois smiled triumphantly, knowing I wouldn't disobey her, and left.

"We both know you are not well," Élisabeth said reproachfully.

"I can wash windows, that is a simple enough task," I said stubbornly. I got dressed as quickly as I could and set off downstairs. Ten minutes later I found myself doing chores and thinking of what Maman would say. I realized with horror that I didn't know, I couldn't even imagine what she would tell me. Would she say to go to bed? Would she say that it was best that I not anger Madame Langlois even more?

My eyes filled with tears. There must have been something wrong with me, forgetting my family. I had been here too long. I needed to leave, to get out. I wanted to run away. I stood up quickly and threw my towel aside, and as I did suddenly the past year came rushing at me: being worked like a slave, taking tea to the infuriating prince every day, the lack of sleep, Margaux, my family, the storm of the day before, and most of all Madame Langlois' horrible smirks.

Suddenly everything started spinning. My head, my stomach, everything was exploding with pain. I let out a cry. Then I hit the ground.


"Cécile?"

I opened my eyes and gradually the scene came into focus. I was lying on my pallet, and Élisabeth sat next to me, looking worried.

"Cécile, how are you feeling?" she said.

I wanted to reply that I was all right, but the words wouldn't come out, I was too tired. I drifted back to sleep.

"How is she?"

"She's not very well, your highness."

"Then she must be moved from this filthy room! I demand it! Put her in one of the spare bedchambers in the east wing."

"Yes, sire."

My eyes fluttered open and before I fell back asleep I thought I caught a glimpse of…no, it couldn't be, it was impossible…the prince? Looking at me? Or had I dreamt it?

"Was that the prince?" I said weakly as soon as I could.

"What?" Élisabeth said.

"The prince," I repeated.

"Yes, he was here a few hours ago," she said, looking confused.

A few hours ago? It had seemed like but a moment ago to me. I looked around lethargically. "Where am I?"

"The east wing," another voice answered.

"Élisabeth?" I called.

"She left, dear," said a kind older maid called Hélène, smiling down at me.

What a horrible mole on Hélène's chin, I thought sleepily. I wondered with a pang whether I had said that aloud or in my head.

"Where did she go?" I asked.

"Where did who go, love?" Hélène said.

"Élisabeth," I answered. Why couldn't Hélène remember the question I had just asked her?

"She had to do her chores, she's been gone for hours," Hélène said.

It was as though I couldn't hold a conversation without falling asleep in the middle of it, and it was frustrating me. But before I could think anymore about it, I dozed off again.

"Cécile, please eat this," I heard Élisabeth's voice.

"Hélène said you left," I tried to tell her, but it came out too softly.

"Please, eat this, you haven't eaten in nearly two days," Élisabeth pressed, putting a spoon toward my mouth.

"I'm so hot," I moaned, and Élisabeth pulled back the blanket. A fire crackled. A fire in the servants' quarters? I thought dazedly. How odd.

"Just eat this, Cécile," she pleaded.

I had only had a few mouthfuls of soup before I felt like retching. "No more," I begged before I fell asleep again.


There was a cold compress on my forehead.

I looked up. It was Élisabeth again.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"A little," I said. I surveyed my surroundings wearily. "Where…?"

"The east wing, remember?"

I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head. "How long have I been here?" I asked in a hoarse voice.

"About a week and a half," Élisabeth replied. She tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear and flipped the towel on my forehead to the cool side.

A week and a half? I only remembered snippets: Hélène grinding strange-smelling herbs, a doctor looking at me, feeling hot and cold at the same time, nausea and terrible headaches, Élisabeth trying to comfort me.

And the nightmares. The horrible nightmares. Papa lying in bed as Maman nursed him. Sophie crying, though I didn't know why. The prince, holding fast to my hand as I tried to run away from him. Margaux, pointing her finger at me and accusing me of stealing as I protested in vain. Madame Langlois, just laughing.

I tried to prop myself up in the huge four-poster bed. Someone had drawn back the curtains, and the morning light was pouring cheerfully into the room.

Élisabeth stopped me. "Lie still, Cécile. Doctor's orders. And the prince's, too," she added with a slightly sarcastic smile.

"The prince?" I said, thinking of my dreams with a shudder. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's only been in here night and day, making sure you're well," Élisabeth said. The prince? Making sure I was well? Surely this was not the same prince I took tea every day. "He ordered that you be moved here, and he brought in the royal doctor to examine you," Élisabeth went on. "And when that doctor couldn't get you to wake up, he got another doctor. And if that wasn't enough he's been visiting you four times a day."

I couldn't speak for a moment, I was so shocked. "I don't recall any of it," I said truthfully.

"Well, this is the first time I've actually had a conversation with you since--" she counted quickly on her fingers "--last Sunday."

I let out a kind of whimper. I'd missed so much work. "Is Madame Langlois going to fire me?"

"Don't you think about that old witch," Élisabeth said, bristling. "It's her fault you're sick at all, she had better let you rest for a few weeks. Or she'll have me to answer to." She put the cloth in a bowl of water, and squeezed out the excess before slapping it savagely back onto my forehead. "I am not afraid of her," she said, her jaw jutting out.

I smiled and briefly imagined the pretty Élisabeth standing up to Madame Langlois. A rather funny thought. Not too far-fetched, either.

"I'm going to get you some soup," Élisabeth announced, leaving the room.

I frowned, pondering what she'd said about the prince. This was all so uncharacteristically kind of him. I couldn't imagine why he would bother.