The Prince and the Seamstress

by Jerry Starks

The group of young men around the table erupted with laughter. It was early evening, and the inn was full of patrons. As she expertly navigated the crowded room, the serving girl evaluated the four young men. Tom and Ed and Bos she knew well enough, but the fourth was new and his shabby clothes did not speak well for his ability to pay. Arriving at the table she put fresh drinks before three of them. The fourth looked up at her, his one eye inquisitive but confident.

"Have you got any money?" she asked, kind but direct. When he hesitated, she went on, "I'm sorry. The Master says we can give a poor man one drink, but after that he's got to pay."

She watched his face with professional interest. He was unsure of himself, yet at the same time, too sure of himself. A curious set of emotions slipped across his face.

"I…" he began, then after a brief internal struggle, he sighed. "Well, I guess I'm done drinking for the night then."

"Awww, what a shame!" Ed laughed good-naturedly.

"Yes," said Bos, "I'm shocked! You walked in here like you owned the place. I've been expecting you to produce a hefty purse from somewhere in your rags!"

Their laughter was loud, but the waitress noticed the poor man joined in a moment later than the rest. At a corner table, a wealthy young man rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

"Come, Gilly," said Tom, "we'll all chip in for one more drink for our poor friend."

Payment guaranteed, she put the mug down in front of the poor man. His face doesn't look very starved, she thought on her way back to the bar, I wonder why he's using that disguise? Three to one the eye-patch is false, too.

"Well, now, friend," said Ed, "we've bought you a drink: let's have a tale. What happened to your eye?"

"Wait a minute," said Bos. "I'm not going to spend the whole evening calling him 'friend.' What's your name?"

"I'm Topher," said the one-eyed fellow, after taking a slow pull from his mug. "And I lost my eye as a child. I was staying with cousins one summer and a bully thought it would be funny to push my face into a wasp nest. I was really ugly for a week. The rest of the welts went away, but I got three stings in my eye, and it never recovered. Then I was sent home."

"What happened to the bully?" asked Ed.

"I don't know. I hope it was painful."

"So what do you do now?"

"I wander about trying to get odd jobs here and there. For some reason, having only one eye makes people think I've only got half a brain, and they won't trust me with much of anything."

"Your Majesty, the ladies are in the grand salon awaiting your presence."

"Thank you, Lady Eleanor. Well, into the fire we go."

In the grand salon, four women with their assorted daughters were seated in watchful elegance. Occasional bland observations were offered, agreed with, then carefully analyzed, and recorded in memory. The atmosphere was charged, but restrained. As the Queen entered the room, the ten ladies swirled gracefully to their feet and bowed.

"Good afternoon, Ladies," said the Queen as she crossed the room and sat in her chair with the door on her left and the window on her right. "Please be seated. Lady Eleanor, would you serve the tea?" She sipped her tea, giving everyone else permission to partake, and scanned the group. "Countess Regen, your daughters have grown so much!"

"Thank you for noticing, Your Majesty. I've spared no expense to bring them up as true ladies of distinction."

"A little perfume could help with that," said Duchess Sylvia. "But where is Christopher, Your Majesty? It's always such a delight to have him with us." There was general agreement with that statement.

"He is out hunting for a few days, but he sends his regrets. How is the Duke? I heard he was under the weather recently."

"I keep telling him not to stay out late, but he's such a trial. If I didn't keep after him night and day he'd be completely hopeless."

The look Countess Regen gave to Lady Anne said And probably a lot happier.

Lady Anne nodded slightly. "I am sure that Christopher wouldn't be so onerous," she said. "I was explaining to my Lydia here that it would be simple bliss to be married to a young man as charming as Christopher."

Duchess Sylvia said, "At least my Daphne wouldn't out-weigh him. Some women have no control over their appetite."

Seated beside their mother, Countess Regen, Grace and Sapphire smiled smugly while Lydia blushed and looked furiously at the floor. She was a little overweight, but by no means fat.

Ah, thought the Queen, another day in the royal garden of delights.

"You made the Queen's coronation gown all by yourself?" The young man sat in the cottage watching a medium-sized black woman repairing a pair of satin pants. The cottage was small, but it boasted two rooms. The larger one was the combined kitchen and workroom, and at this moment it contained a table, two chairs, the seamstress, and the Prince.

"Ever' las' stitch, honey-chil'. An' dat was de fussiest cloth Ah evuh worked wid. But Ah guess yo' Momma liked it all right. 'Course she looks good in anythin'. Yo' momma was bo'n wearin' clo's."

"How long have you been Mother's seamstress?"

"It's gettin' close t' thuhty years now. Ah met huh when she fust came t' town aftuh marryin' yo' Daddy. She needed a seamstress an' Ah made huh a gown fo' deir fust pahty. She liked it, so we been in bus'ness evuh since. Ah sorta he'ped huh figger out some o' de social ties, huh bein' new t' town an' all, an' she kep' me busy makin' clo's. An' dat, honey-chil', is how things wuk out sometimes."

The Prince looked at the woman with mock severity. "Beulah, I don't suppose I'll ever stop being your 'honey,' but I'm a long way from being a 'child'."

She finished the knot and snipped off the thread. Then she calmly looked the young man up and down. "Oh, Ah'll grant you is big enough, but has you growed up any since las' year? Is you learnin' how t' run dis here kingdom, or am Ah gonna have t' pack mah bags and git 'nother job when yo' Daddy passes on?"

The Prince leaned back in frustration. "Every day I sit with Father going over the legal system and local politics. Then the Prime Minister goes on endlessly about economics and trade. Then the General tries to teach me military strategies and the entire history of the continent. Then Mother grills me on the social position of everyone she's ever heard of. I'd go crazy except for one thing."

"Whut's dat?"

The Prince leaned forward and grinned at the seamstress. "I took up your challenge to meet some people outside of the palace. Every couple of weeks I spend two or three days on a 'hunting trip,' only I don't go hunting. I dress down and hang out in the town here."

At this, Beulah leaned forward a little, and grinned challengingly. "An'…?"

"I'm seeing how justice works from the other side of the court. I'm learning how economics works when you're not rich. I'm finding out how to use strategy when you don't have a bunch of soldiers with you. And…" he paused dramatically, "I'm having a lot of fun, too."

"Topher, honey, Ah's proud o' you! It's beginin' t' look like dat head on yo' shoulders is good fo' somethin' b'sides keepin' yo' ears apart." She got up and moved toward the fireplace. "Kin Ah git you a cup o' tea?"

"Yes, please." The Prince leaned back in his chair, a cocky look on his face. "So I think I'm doing just fine in the Prince-In-Training business, and I expect I'll be one of the greatest kings in our history. King Christopher the Great. That has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Beulah poured out two cups of hot tea. Not looking at the Prince, she asked, "An' whut is you doin' about findin' a Queen?"

He shrugged. "Waiting, of course."

Beulah set the kettle on the table and looked at the young man. "Waitin'? Fo' whut? It's a long time 'til Chris'mas."

"No, silly! I'm waiting to fall in love."

"Fall in love?! You think it's jes' an accident?"

The Prince sat up. "Well, I mean, you just fall in love, right? You see the right girl and you just fall in love, and everyone lives happily ever after. Right?"

Beulah rounded on the Prince, her arms akimbo. "So dat's whut you's lookin' fo'?" she demanded. "Jes' a pretty face? A pretty face an' a nice figure an' off to church you go? Whut kind o' sense is dat?"

"But I have to follow my heart…"

She bore down on him. "Dis here gal is de one whut's gonna bear yo' chilluns an' gonna have t' manage de stuff you ain't got time t' handle. She gonna have t' support you when you ain't got no place else t' turn, an' gonna be de mos' impo'tant pusson in yo' life! An' you is gonna leave dat choice up t' yo' glands?!"

The Prince sat in shocked silence, but Beulah was building up steam. "She gonna have t' han'le de wimmen o' de court as well as ever' ambassador's wife dat comes t' visit, an' keep track o' all de intrigues you ain't gonna have time fo', as well as host'ss ever' pahty an' ball. She gonna have t' be smahtuh an' shahpuh den any three people in yo' kingdom… an' you think yo' throbbin' haht kin tell you dat?

"So when de nearby kings starts gettin' pushy and thinkin' dey'd like some mo' terr'tory, is you gonna tetch yo' for'head t' see if you feels like defendin' yo' borders? Or when dem barons out east starts gettin' uppity, is you gonna take yo' pulse t' see whether or not t' settle deir hash?"

"Now that's not the same…"

"Oh, don' lissen t' me," she said, turning back to put the kettle by the fireplace. "Ah only watched yo' uncle make a fool outta hisself, an' end up married t' de prettiest shrew in six kingdoms. You talk t' him about 'happ'ly evuh aftuh.' "

Christopher was thoroughly annoyed, particularly because he agreed with Beulah about his uncle… and his aunt. "So the Prime Minister was right," he said, totally deflated, "love has nothing to do with it."

Beulah turned back toward the boy, concern wrinkling her mahogany brow, "No, honey, love's got ever'thing t' do wid it. Topher…" She paused until he looked at her. "Ah's sorry Ah got so riled jes' now. Here, have some tea an' lemme take mah foot outta mah mouf."

The Prince stared gloomily into the cup of steaming liquid. Beulah sat down and stirred her own cup.

"Topher, you is right an' Ah was wrong. Love's got ever'thing t' do wid gettin' married. Ah was jes' tryin' t' point out dat love gots t' be a lot mo' den gooshy feelin's. You gots t' choose who you gonna allow t' stir up yo' blood, an' you gots t' choose befo' yo' blood stahts stirrin'. Now Ah ain't got nuthin' 'gainst gooshy feelin's, but when dey wears off, den whut's dis gal gonna be like? Is she gonna have enough brains t' keep you int'rested when her face ain't quite so pretty as it used t' was? An' whut about money? Ef you gots any brains you don' want a wife whut's gonna spend all yo' money and den want mo'. Y'see, honey? Get dat brain o' yo's workin' on dis here issue."

"You're right, Beulah," he said, startled by the realization. "This has got to be the most careful choice I've ever made."

Beulah looked into her cup of tea, stirring slowly. "Is it really yo' choice? Has you spoke wid yo' Daddy 'bout dis?"

"Oh, yes. We talked it over a couple of years ago. He said he'd give me until I was twenty-five to find a wife, and after that he and Mother would step in and…" He looked up with realization. "Beulah! That was almost two years ago! If I don't find a bride, they'll pick someone for me and I'll have to marry her whether I want to or not! I've got to work fast!"

"Now jes' calm down, honey-chil'. You ain't gonna b'lieve dis, but havin' yo' Daddy an' Momma choose yo' bride might not be de wuss thing dat could happen."

The Prince jumped up and put his hands on the table, leaning toward the woman. "Not the worst?! Are you kidding? That would be… that would be–"

Beulah set her cup down sharply and raised her voice. "Topher! How well d' you know yo' Daddy an' Momma? An' how well d' you think dey knows you? Do you really think dey'd pick someone dat dey knows would make you miser'ble? Now set yo'self down an' turn dat brain back on!"

The Prince sat down reluctantly. "Oh, suppose they wouldn't choose an absolute gorgon. But how am I going to find a bride myself? Most of the ladies of the court have daughters, but they all remind me… they remind me of Aunt Sylvia." His look toward Beulah was slightly shame-faced. She smiled grimly but chose not to comment.

"But maybe that's just the way they act at court," Christopher continued. "Maybe they think they have to be stiff and snide to get ahead. How can I find out what a girl's really like through all the formalities of court etiquette? Sometimes I can't even tell what I'm thinking in that palace." He signed deeply.

"And the couple of girls I've met in town… well, I'm in disguise. I try not to be too inquisitive so they won't ask me a lot of questions. And they're always in groups, whispering and giggling together. How in the world do I get past that to find out what a girl's like?"

Utter lack of concern graced the features of Beulah's face. "Ah's sorry, honey, but Ah is fresh outta cheese."

"Cheese?"

"T' go wid yo' whine."

That stung. "You're laughing at me! I've got a serious problem, and you're laughing at me! Now listen, Beulah–"

"No, you lissen t' me, Mr. King Chris'opher de Great. You is got mo' brains an' mo' money an' mo' influence an' mo' opp'tunity den any six men in dis here town, an' you is tellin' me you cain't figger out how t' fin' out whut a gal's thinkin'? Ah better staht packin' mah bags."

Beulah got up in disgust and took her cup to the sink. Prince Christopher also got up and stomped to the door.

"Well, fine then! I will figure it out, just you watch!" and he left, shutting the door rather firmly.

Beulah carefully washed out her cup and dried it with a towel. She looked at the door and smiled, murmuring to herself, "Mebbe Ah won' staht packin' jes' yet."

The small tailor shop was situated on a main street. It was small, but boasted a very selective clientele. "Very good, Lord Giles," said the tailor. "Will there be anything else?"

"That will be all for now, Benson. Will you be able to finish it in two weeks?"

"With no problem, your Lordship."

"Thank you. You are an excellent tailor and I tell that to all my friends."

"I am very gratified by your business, your Lordship."

The young lord wandered out into the busy street. The spring weather was bringing people out, and the streets were full of people about their business, as well as the beggars and opportunists. A young man wearing an eye patch and ragged clothes was squatting by the corner of a building.

"Here, boy!" called Lord Giles. "Come with me!" He walked down the street as the other obediently followed a few steps behind him. Watching their reflections in the windows across the street, Giles said in a low voice, "Don't walk so straight; you look like a trained footman!"

The poor man slouched and added a little shuffle to his pace, scuffing his shoes. Lord Giles led them to his house in town. They went into the fenced yard and Lord Giles sat on a bench just outside the front door, surveying the street.

"Here, boy," he said, "can you polish boots?"

"Yessir," said the other, and he knelt down and started cleaning the boots of the young lord.

"So, if you're going to go through with this charade," said Giles, carefully looking absently at the street and speaking in a low voice, "you need to be more careful. You were lucky that night in the tavern, but I don't think Gilly was completely convinced."

"You're right," said the Prince, "But I'm learning. I'm watching other people and learning how to act like one of them."

"You're improving, Christopher, but keep practicing. By the way, where do your parents think you are- in case I get asked?"

"I told them I'm out hunting."

"That's reasonable. I'll come up with some hunting stories if need arises."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Giles. I could never have managed without your extensive experience in mischief-making."

"My pleasure, Your Highness."

"'Nora, honey, could you hol' still fo' two mo' minutes?"

An eighteen-year-old girl stood on an upturned washtub, her head nearly touching the roof in the cottage. Beulah was draping material about the girl, carefully pinning it here and there.

"Where did you get this material, Beulah? And who is the dress for?"

"Ah done got dis from de Queen husself some time back. She say Ah kin use it fo' whutevuh Ah wants, and Ah knows a gal whut could use a pahty dress." Beulah smiled warmly as she pinned a tuck on one side. "Ah wants t' surprise her wid it, and you is jes' about huh size, so Ah appreciates yo' help. Dat's fine, you kin step down now."

The girl stepped down from the washtub and turned around so Beulah could see her handiwork. Beulah made a dismissive noise, and commented, "Well, Ah 'spects it'll do."

Lenore stopped half-way out of the pinned dress pattern. "'It'll do'? Beulah, you're the Queen's own seamstress! This dress is gorgeous just like this, and when you finish it'll be stunning!" She finished extracting herself, handed the material to Beulah, and started putting on her own dress.

"Thank you, honey," As she carefully folded the material and put it on the table, Beulah casually said, "Ah ain't been seein' you aroun' here much lately. Is you takin' up wid some nice young fella?"

Lenore groaned as she finished adjusting her dress. "As if that will ever happen! No, my stepmother finds lots of chores to keep me busy. Lately she's taken to hiring me out when there's not enough for me to do around the house."

Beulah sat down at the table and threaded a needle. "Hirin' you out?"

"Actually, it's more like volunteering my services to the town. Extra washing or cleaning or gardening… anything that she thinks will make me look like a drudge. Last week when everyone got together to harvest the corn she had me hauling water for eight hours. 'In case the men need a drink' she said. More likely it was the horses, or the flowers, or who knows what she did with all that water."

"Hmmm. Ah was gonna offer you some tea, but Ah guess mebbe Ah won't." Beulah started basting a piece that would become a sleeve. "On de udder han', sounds t' me like you is gettin' seen by lotsa folks aroun' de town. Bein' a 'ttractive gal like you is, dat might could do you some good."

"Attractive?" Lenore sat down heavily in the chair opposite Beulah. "I'm as plain as a mud wall, as my stepmother and both stepsisters keep telling me. And they're right: Grace and Sapphire are the pretty ones."

Beulah sighed heavily. "Honey, you gots t' learn t' lissen t' whut people say, not t' whut you think dey is sayin'. Ah din't say nuthin' 'bout pretty. Pretty is whut comes outta a paint jah, like it do fo' Grace an' Sapphah. Ah sed you is 'ttractive. You's a good worker, you gots a good attitude– mos' o' de time–, you gots a clear head on yo' shoulders, an' you 'ppreciates whut udder folks does, an' Ah'm here t' tell you: dat's 'ttractive. A pretty face might turn a fella's head, but a good char'ctuh is whut'll keep 'im true t' you. Ef he's a fella wuth havin', 'course."

Lenore sat for a moment digesting this information.

"So, wid all dis runnin' 'roun' town, ain't you seen nobody dat tickled yo' fancy?"

"Well, actually there is a fellow I rather like, but I don't think anything will come of it."

Beulah returned to sewing the sleeve. "Tell me 'bout 'im. Who is he?"

"I don't really know much about him. He showed up in town a couple of months ago, and he's not always around. He says his name is Topher."

"Mmm," said Beulah noncommittally. "Dat's a diff'rent sort o' name. Whut's he like?"

"Well, he's a fun person to be around; he's witty but not cutting. He seems to get along with everyone alright, and there's something about him that's rather attractive. He seems to be a good worker, but of course he only does odd jobs now and then."

"Why dat?"

"Well, he's only got one eye."

Beulah looked up sharply. "One eye?"

"Yes. He wears a patch over his left eye. I heard he lost it when he was a child; some bully did something awful and now he's only got one eye. It's really a shame that people won't help him more. He seems very bright, and I'm sure he could learn a trade. He's got quick reflexes and a very good memory, but nobody gives him a chance: they all treat him like he's an idiot."

"Hmmm." This time Beulah was thinking.

"And when he helps me do something, it's like… like he's helping me to be me. He makes me feel like I'm worth something."

"Dat's ver' impo't'nt."

"But no matter how nice he is, I'm not going any farther with him." She sighed a little. "I'm not so desperate to get out of my step-mother's house that I'll marry a beggar."

"Like Ah said, honey, you gots a good head on yo' shoulders. An' besides," Beulah continued her stitching, "fo' all yo' complainin', Ah specs you handles yo' step-sistuhs pretty well, and prob'ly yo' step-momma, too."

Lenore relaxed into a half-smile. "They're so predictable," she said, shaking her head. "I can put them in almost any mood I want. I don't, of course, but I probably could. And step-mother, too. She's so single-minded. Her only goal in life is to get either Grace or Sapphire installed as the Prince's bride." Lenore started to mimic her step-mother's voice, "Remember that the Dutchess Sylvia is the wife of the Queen's brother, as well as the second cousin of the Duke Peter and Duke Reginald…"

"Ver' good," chuckled Beulah. "Has you learned all de intrigues at court?"

"I try not to listen, actually; it's all so spiteful. But I do basically know who's related to whom, and how influential they are… at least from my step-mother's viewpoint."

Beulah started on the other sleeve. "Ah'm not 'ntirely s'prised. You is yo' mamma's daughter, sho' nuf."

Lenore moved her chair closer to the older woman. "Tell me about my mother, Beulah. I only have a few vague memories of her."

"Father, do you have a few moments before you leave?"

The King looked up from the documents on the breakfast table. "I think that can be arranged, Christopher. Master Hale," he turned toward his Steward, "You may leave now. I'll want to review the new trade agreements in…" he looked quizzically at his son, "half an hour?"

Christopher nodded, knowing perfectly well that Master Hale would remain within earshot for the entire time.

"Shall I leave too, dear," the Queen looked up from her tea. "Or is this a family topic?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, please stay." The Prince grinned nervously, then finished his coffee.

"Well," said the King, still perusing a paper while buttering a piece of toast, "You look pleased about something. Are you finally going to tell us what you've been up to, running around town all those times you said you were out hunting?"

Christopher's cup hit the table a little harder than he had planned. "You mean… you knew all the time? But, how…?"

"Christopher," said his father, giving him full attention, "beside my paternal interest in your well-being, it is one of a King's duties to keep track of the Crown Prince. But since the reports said you were behaving prudently and not likely to get into any real danger, I decided not to interfere. So, what has been more important than being out hunting?"

"Perhaps you've been hunting for something in the town?" said the Queen amiably.

The Prince stared at his parents for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "You two are the best!" he crowed. "I only hope I'm half as clever as you when I'm your age!"

"I hope you'll be better than that," smiled the King.

"Well, I was going to tell you all about what I've learned from a poor man's viewpoint, but I suppose you already know everything."

"No one ever knows what another person has learned," said the King, "unless that person tells him. I know where you've been and generally what you've been doing, but you'll have to tell me what you've learned."

"Well, I've learned what it's like to haul water for a whole day. I've learned what it's like to have people distrust you because you're dressed in rags. I've learned what it's like to be jeered at because you're a cripple." He paused for a moment. "And I've learned what it's like to feel helpless. That was the hardest lesson of all."

"Christopher," said his Mother admiringly, "I'm very proud of you! That took a lot of self-control and humility. You have cousins older than you who have never learned half of those things."

"I agree with your Mother," said the King, "And I'm also proud of you. Those are the sorts of things that no tutor in the world could teach you inside a palace. Now, tell us about this girl you're seeing."

The color drained from Christopher's face, then returned with a vengeance as he blushed gloriously.

"Francis!" scolded the Queen. "You should have let Christopher bring it up himself. He was going to, you know."

"Yes, I know. I apologize, Christopher, but this is an important topic to discuss and I don't want to run out of time. What do you know about this girl?"

The previous exchange had given Christopher a chance to collect his thoughts. He took a deep breath and said, "She's industrious and diligent. She's intelligent, fairly clever, and likes to laugh. She's honest and very thoughtful, and…" he blushed again, "and she has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

The King nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds as though you still have some wits about you. Who are her family?"

"Well, I'm not sure just yet. She doesn't seem to like to talk about her family, and I couldn't push too much because I haven't told her about mine."

"I suppose fair is fair."

"I know her father died a few years ago, and she has a couple of step-sisters who treat her like dirt, but that's all I know... so far."

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"About six weeks… but only occasionally, you know."

"Yes, I know. Still, it seems that a really interested person could have found out more." The King paused, evaluating the situation.

"Does she have a name, dear?" asked the Queen. "It seems so silly to be talking about a person as if she were an abstraction."

"Her name is Lenore."

"That's a nice-enough name. Does her family seem to have money?"

"Well, if her clothes are any indication, I wouldn't say her family was rich. But really, money isn't that important, is it?"

"It is often an indicator of experience. How well do you think she would get along with the society in the palace?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll fit in just fine. Why wouldn't she?"

The Queen sighed and folded her napkin. Then she looked her son in the eye. "Christopher, I'm afraid I'm becoming less impressed with you in this particular situation. You're behaving just like a love-struck farm boy for whom choosing a wife is no more important than choosing a new suit of clothes. That is not your situation. Your wife is going to have to thrive – not just survive, my dear, but overcome – in the extremely complex world of royal society. So far you have given me no reason to believe Lenore would last more than a week amidst the waspish, devious, seductive, double-tongued, well-practiced back-biters… who grace our court." She turned her head and said over her shoulder, "Master Hale, you did not hear that."

Without missing a beat, the King took up the discussion. "You have got to start thinking like a king. I'm sure it has been great fun running about pretending to be a beggar, but you've got to come back to reality. You are not shopping for a lover, Christopher; you are choosing a Queen. Has all the time you've spent with your mother been wasted? Did you pay any attention at all to what she does and how she does it? Your wife should not be your mother, but she's got to be as good as your mother or else your kingship will be remarkably unsuccessful."

The King rose from the breakfast table and went to the door. There he turned, and said quite affably, "I'll be happy to continue this discussion when you've got more information." Then he left the room in the company of Master Hale.

The Queen and the Prince finished their breakfasts in silence. When she rose from the table, the Queen said, "I'll be in the grand salon all morning, dear."

"Mother," began Christopher, then he paused. "Mother, have you been talking with Beulah lately?"

"Not recently, dear," she said. "Why?"

"I had her repair some pants for me a few days ago, and we got to talking." Here he imitated Beulah's voice. "An' she gabe me a piece o' huh min', let me tell you." They both smiled, and Christopher continued. "And it sounded a lot like what you and Father were just saying."

"Well," smiled the Queen. "I've always thought Beulah was a wise woman. You've reinforced my faith in her."

The rain was falling gently but gave no indication of stopping any time soon. The door to the stable opened to allow a young woman to push a wheelbarrow full of straw and manure out into the yard. After dumping the load on a compost heap some twenty yards away, she returned to the stable. The sogginess of her cap and dress indicated that this was not the first such trip she'd made that morning. She leaned the wheelbarrow against a wall, and was about to close the door when a shabbily-dressed person darted in.

"Mind if I step out of the rain for a bit? Oh, Lenore! I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't work here," said Lenore. The edge to her voice reflected her frown. "Unless my dear step-mother can't think of anything dirtier for me to do. When she heard that Bos sprained his ankle, her tender heart was broken, and she insisted that I could do his work today. So I watered and fed the horses, mucked out all of the stalls, and I finished early. I do not feel obligated to let anybody know that I have an hour free to myself."

"I… don't suppose you'd care to go for a walk?"

She glared at him. Then she chuckled reluctantly. "Topher, you are the most diplomatic rascal I've ever met. Let me see: you are either telling me that I need a walk in the rain to get clean, or that taking care of ten horses is too easy and I need more exercise."

Topher's eye twinkled with delight. "I can never hide anything from you." He crossed to a bench and gestured grandly. "Will it please you to rest your weary bones, my lady?"

"You're too kind, my lord," she said as she came over with exaggerated dignity and sat. "Particularly since it is neither your bench you offer nor your employment from which you offer this rest."

"Yes," he agreed cheerfully, sitting next to her. "That makes it easier all around. But lest you consider me a total vagrant, I will point out that I worked all day yesterday hauling trash at the palace."

"Am I supposed to be impressed by that?" she asked, then dropping the formal caricature she continued wistfully. "I really wish someone would see beyond your eye-patch and give you a chance at a real job. I'm sure you're clever enough and diligent enough to learn a trade. Have you tried talking with someone at the guild hall?"

"I am studying, Lenore," he said seriously. "I'm a sort of apprentice to a man, but the work is rather erratic, and it doesn't pay very much yet. So I do odd jobs to help fill in."

"That's wonderful, Topher! What kind of work is it?"

"Well, my master doesn't want me to talk much about it, but it involves a lot of organizing and managing and… sort of… bartering." He smiled sheepishly. "But it has rather good prospects… eventually."

"How good? And how 'eventual'?" Lenore carefully controlled her interest.

"Oh, really good. But probably not right away. It will be awhile yet before he lets me get involved in the actual business."

"And until then he gives you nothing? You wear rags and have to work like a tramp to survive? What kind of master is he?! Are you sure he's not just leading you along?"

"Oh, no! I'm sure he's sincere. I just… well… it's hard to explain…" he ended lamely.

Lenore sighed. "Well, I hope it works out for you, Topher. It really is a shame you can't get a decent job. You're so good with people. I watched you organize the children during the harvest. They actually accomplished something after you put them in order, and they seemed to be enjoying it as well. That's a rare gift."

Topher's eye lit up and he grinned unconsciously. "I look at a job like that as a sort of puzzle: how can I get from here to there in the most efficient way?"

"Yes," said Lenore enthusiastically, "And it's not always the straightest route, but you look for the best route."

"Exactly!" Topher caught Lenor's enthusiasm. "So you try to arrange the people into the places where they're most useful and they usually end up most satisfied. My father…" He stopped suddenly.

"Yes?" said Lenore with interest.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "my father is rather good at that sort of thing."

"Who is your father? What does he do? And if he's so good at 'arranging people' why doesn't he arrange something for you?"

"He's… he's a sort of steward of a really large… group of guilds, I guess you could say. It's rather complex and there are particular difficulties involving me."

"Well, I don't think much of him," she said, somewhat deflated. "If he can't see your talents behind that eye-patch, he's not much of a steward."

The rain pattered on and one of the horses shifted a little in its stall. After a moment or two Topher spoke. "Lenore," he said hesitantly, "What's your dream? What would you like your future to be?"

She gazed out through the rain for a moment. "To be the respectable wife of an honest man," she finally said. "OK, maybe I'm a little more particular about the man involved, but basically that's it. Sometimes I feel that I'd do anything to get away from my stepmother, but I'm not ready to live on the streets, so I wait."

"You don't want to live on the streets, Lenore," said Topher seriously.

"I wouldn't," she said firmly. "I'm nowhere near that desperate. But… sometimes I wish…" She let the sentence drift off.

"I understand the Prince needs a wife," said Topher casually. "Have you considered that?"

She stood up abruptly. "I have to get back to work." She strode over and grabbed the pitchfork she'd placed against the wall by the door.

"Lenore, wait! What did I say?"

"Topher, I get enough mockery at home; I don't need to get it here."

Topher got up and caught her hand away from the pitchfork. "Lenor, I am not mocking you." He paused, still holding her hand and looking directly into her eyes, then continued. "You are compassionate, you are honest, you are thoughtful, and you are diligent. I've watched you working around town, and everyone thinks of you as a woman of worth. Alright, your step-mother and step-sisters excluded. Please accept that as truth. I think you would make a wife… a wife the Prince would be proud of."

Lenore relaxed, and even smiled a little. "Thank you, Topher. That means a lot to me because I think you're a valuable person, too" Then she took a breath. "But I really do need to get back home. I hope we'll meet again soon."

She replaced the pitchfork, then walked off into the rain. Topher stood there a moment. When he walked off, in a different direction, there was a noticeable purposefulness in his stride.

As they were all early risers, the breakfast table was usually the place where family business was conducted. Everyone was fresh and there was a distinct lack of courtiers vying for attention. Of course the Steward was there, and usually one of the Queen's Ladies-in-Waiting, but otherwise the royal family could almost relax in the small but bright dining room..

"Father," said Christopher, "would the budget allow us to host a fancy ball in a few weeks?"

The King thought for a moment, then replied, "I think the budget could stand it. Is there any particular reason you want this ball?"

"Yes, there is," he said. "And for that reason, I want it to be a masquerade ball."

The Queen looked up with interest. "That has several very interesting possibilities. Master Hale and Lady Eleanor could be host and hostess, which would relieve us of that burden. I might actually be able to enjoy this ball!"

"That does sound appealing," agreed the King. "Of course, we'll need to establish an antechamber where each guest will remove their mask and identify themselves before entering the ballroom. I'd rather not provide easy access to any known assassins."

"I'll start planning today," said the Queen. "But tell me, Christopher, what's your real reason for this ball?"

"I want to introduce Lenore to you without letting the whole court scratch and claw at her. I figured if everyone were in masquerade I could arrange for a quiet meeting without everyone listening in."

"That borders on being devious," said the King, "but it's intriguing enough to try. I imagine you'll want to invite everyone in town to further hide your young woman? That will stretch the budget a bit more, but I suppose we don't have to provide a full sit-down dinner for everyone."

"Thank you," he said.

"'Nora, honey! Whut you doin' here? Whut's all dem tears 'bout?"

"Oh, please let me stay here for a few hours, Beulah! I've just got to get away from that house!"

"You come right on in, honey, an' you stay 's long 's you want." Beulah wrapped the crying girl in a motherly hug.

"How?" sobbed the girl. "How can they be so hateful?"

"Yo' step-fambly bein' mean t' you agin, ain't dey?"

"I hate them! I hate them!" Anger was pushing the tears aside.

Beulah reached over to a shelf and got a piece of fabric. "Here, honey," she said, handing the cloth to Lenore. "Rip on dis fo' awhile."

Lenore savagely tore the cloth into pieces. "This" –rip– "is what I think of their fancy dresses, and this" –rip– "is what I think of their makeup, and this" –rip– "is what I think of their arrogant manners…"

Finally she stopped, breathing heavily and looking at the destruction of cloth before her.

"Thank you, honey," said Beulah calmly. "Ah wuz needin' some fresh rags aroun' de house."

Lenore looked up sheepishly. "Then I guess I'm good for something."

Beulah laughed. "Honey, you is good fo' so much mo'n whut you think. Now tell me whut happ'nd."

"What do you think happened, tonight of all nights?" She collapsed into a chair by the table.

"Um… you wuz goin' t' de ball, huh?"

"'Was' is right." Lenore sighed with resignation. "I know the dress I made wasn't fancy. It was hardly good enough to wear to a fiddling dance; but it was mine! I worked for the fabric and I made it myself!"

"An' dey laughed at it."

"Laughed? They said it looked like something a kitchen drudge would come up with. But then they started pulling, and they ripped it to pieces! Then they laughed again! How could they?" She lowered her face to her hands and wept.

Beulah patted her arm. "Some folks is jes' small an' wrinkled, no mattuh whut dey looks like on de outside."

After a few moments, Beulah said, "So is you calmed down now? Mebbe ready to think 'bout sump'n else?"

Lenore sat up and took a deep breath. "All right, Beulah. I've gotten it out of my system. What did you have in mind? I hope it's noisy: I'd rather not have to listen to the music from the palace if I can avoid it." Even as she spoke, strains of music came through the open windows of the cottage.

"Dat's one probl'm o' livin' slap up agin' de palace. Ah guess Ah jes' stopped lis'nin'. On de udduh han', dere's some benefits bein' dis close." Beulah smiled and got up from the table. She walked over to an old chest and opened it. "Now tell me de trut', Lenore. Would you still like t' go t' de ball t'night?"

"Of course I would! But I'm not going to go dressed like a beggar. No prince is worth that much embarrassment."

"Ah'm glad you thinks so. So how 'bout you wear dis instead?" She pulled a dress out of the chest and held it up to Lenore. The dress shimmered deep blue and purple in the candlelight. The round neck glistened with jewels, and the diaphanous long sleeves were gathered at the wrist by gold.

Lenore gasped. "But that's… that's the dress…"

"Uh huh," smiled Beulah. "Dat's de dress Ah bin workin' on. Ah s'spected you might could use a gown like dis, so Ah went an' made it. Come on, honey, put it on. We both know it fits."

"Let me wash my face quick!" Lenore scampered over to the sink and quickly slapped water over her face. Beulah handed her one of the rags she had just torn, and she quickly dried her face and hands. Excitement lit her face as brightly as the jewels. The beautiful dress seemed to flow over her shoulders and around her waist.

"Lookit you now: de Stah uv Indyuh!"

"Oh, but what will I do with my hair? And a mask: it's supposed to be a masked ball!"

"Jes' calm down, honey, we ain't done yet. Awhile back de Palace had some ambassaduh's from 'way out East. Ah got t' be friends wid one o' dere servant wimmen, an' she taught me a few tricks. Evah wonder how dey makes dem turbans dey wear? Well, set yo'self down, Nora, an' lemme see how good mah mem'ry is."

Ten minutes later a turban enclosed Lenore's head. "Beulah, this is amazing! They put these on every day?"

"Well, stric'ly speakin', wimmen don' wear turbans: de menfolks do dat. But, wimmen do wear veils, an' dat's whut'll be yo' mask. We'll jes' tack dis on here… and den tack it on de udduh side… Dere! Yo' own momma won't know you. An', fo' yo' dainty li'l foots…" Beulah held up two fur slippers. Their long toes curled up showing satin beneath, and sequins gleamed near the ties.

"I can't believe you! You've thought of everything! The shoes, this dress…" She touched the jewels around the neckline, then a cloud crossed Lenore's face. "Where did you get these jewels?"

"Ah wuz gettin' t' dat. De queen and me– well, we go way back. She sent some gowns fo' me t' work on, an' she wants 'em back tomorrah mornin'. Ah spent half de day takin' dese jools off dem dresses, an' puttin' 'em on yo' dress."

"Beulah!" shrieked Lenore.

"Lenore!" Beulah's voice stopped the protest that was threatening to burst Lenore's dream. "Calm down! Like Ah says, de queen an' me go way back. Dis sort o' thing has happen' befo', an' 's long as eberyting is back where it come from, dere ain't no problem. But it done took me half de day t' take 'em off, and it's gonna take dat long t' get 'em back on. You gots t' promise you'll bring dis dress back here by midnight so's Ah kin get de queen's gowns back t' huh by tomorrah mornin'."

"Beulah, are you sure? I'll take this all off right now rather than get you into trouble."

"Honey, trus' me. Ah knows whut Ah'm doin'. Now you go an' have yo'self a gran' time."

She led Lenore out into the garden and through an unobtrusive gate. Lenore found herself standing in the palace vegetable garden.

"De front do' is jes' 'round dere. Now, have fun and git yo'self back here by midnight. Ah gots a long night ahead o' me."

The ballroom at the palace was aglow with candles and crystal. Standing near the thrones, Master Hale and Lady Eleanor greeted each guest as they came in from the anteroom, explaining that everyone was to keep their mask on for the entire evening. It was part of the evening's entertainment to try to guess who everyone was.

"So have you found your true love yet, Christopher?"

The one-eyed beggar spun around sharply to face the young man dressed as a rich, turbaned merchant. Seeing the beggar's angry expression, the merchant quickly said, "Don't worry, I looked around carefully before I said it. I'm not going to let out who you are." He winked behind his mask.

The beggar relaxed. "OK, you got me that time, Giles. But if I even remotely looked like myself I'd be badgered to death by every matron in the kingdom. As it is, I feel like a fish in a small pond surrounded by kingfishers. The women are desperately trying to figure out who everyone is."

"The one and a half masks are effective: you look sort of like a pirate. How do you manage only using one eye? And isn't that your regular peasant disguise?" Giles gazed absently about the room so as not to attract too much attention to this conversation.

"Yes, but I washed it for the evening. After all, this is a party."

"You shouldn't get too spruced up. You might give yourself away."

"I washed the clothes, but I didn't bathe today. That's been effective enough so far."

"So, as I asked before, has your true love shown up yet?"

A bevy of women began to drift towards the two young men. The Prince heard the rustle of skirts, so he said, "Not yet, but I'm not too concerned. Now, if you'll excuse me, Christoph— Oh! I mean, Good Merchant."

Three sets of female ears pricked instantly and three bodies changed vector towards the two young men. The matron dressed as the Queen of Hearts managed to speak first. "Oh, Your High–, I mean 'young man'," she smiled gushingly, "Wouldn't you like to dance with my daughter. Come right this way, I'm sure you two will have a lovely time."

"Thanks a lot, pal," Giles muttered as he allowed himself to be escorted across the dance floor, the two other matrons competing for his promise to dance the next with their daughters. The beggar smiled brightly and shuffled off in a different direction.

Lenore was enjoying every minute of the ball. Her dress swirled wonderfully and the little fur slippers made her feel as if she were dancing on clouds.

"Thank you so much for hosting this lovely ball," she said to her current partner. He was an older gentleman dressed as a shepherd, who made an awkward dancing partner as he stood a little hunched over.

The King was startled, but managed to cover his surprise. "What makes you think I'm the King?" he asked with careful neutrality.

"Oh, I have no idea who the King is, so I'm just thanking everyone I dance with."

"That's a very generous attitude," he said. "I wish more people had it. You dance very well."

"Thank you, good sir. Well, when I was little my father arranged lessons for me, but that was several years ago, and I haven't had much opportunity since then." Oh, please, thought Lenore, let's not go into that. Just let me enjoy this night.

"Dare I risk the secrecy of the Ball by asking if you're a local girl?"

"Indeed I am, and proud of it. But it's very unlikely you've ever met me. My stepmother… keeps me out of sight most of the time." She sighed.

"This seems to be an unpleasant topic," said the King kindly. "Let's talk of something else. What do you think about international trade?"

Her surprised laughter shimmered through the music, and the two of them whirled away into the dance.

In a small alcove across from the refreshment table, a Valkyrie was talking with a hunched-over Shepherd. They seemed to be looking nowhere in particular, but their eyes scanned the room constantly. With practice, peripheral vision can become extremely accurate. They spoke with minimal movement of their mouths.

"We really ought to have a masquerade ball more often, Francis, this has been a wonderful evening."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Elizabeth," replied the Shepherd.

"Not being the hostess is a rare treat for me. Not being the Queen is an even rarer treat. And all those years I spent under a German governess are finally paying off: I think I've convinced almost everyone that I'm from Heidelberg. I'm having conversations like an ordinary person, and it has been most enlightening."

"In what way?"

"I've been told that the Queen is getting fat, that she has no taste in paintings, and that emeralds are distinctly unbecoming on her. So, my dear, I'm afraid I shall have to change them all to diamonds."

The king's laugh was lost in the general merriment of the evening. "I've found out some interesting tidbits, as well. Did you 'meet' anyone interesting, being a foreigner and all?"

"Do you see those three by the window, the woman with two younger women – probably her daughters?"

"The ones in green?"

"Yes. The color becomes them: they're quite poisonous. Oh, damn! Here she comes." She sipped her drink to fortify herself for the oncoming engagement. The woman bore down on them like a green thundercloud.

"Well, uh, Valkyrie, have you ever seen such nonsense in your life? Probably half of the important people in the kingdom are here and I can't tell who is who. A masquerade ball! Ludicrous!" Lady Summer was practically vibrating with frustration, her mouth a tight thin line somewhat at odds with the flowing opulence of her mask and headdress.

"But issn't tat teh whole itea? Gettink to know pipple vitout teh formalitiess?"

"Nonsense! There must be lots of people here who are low class scum and I resent this… situation… that lets them think they are my equals."

"I haf chust met a fery charming mann: Schepherd. Schepherd, tiss iss Lady Summer."

"Um pleeze t' meetcha, ma'am," the King said as he touched his cap and bowed.

Lady Summer ignored him. "The riff-raff they've allowed in here! My daughter was asked to dance by a young hooligan. He was some delinquent from the slums, and a cripple, no less! He only had one eye!"

"Schurely it vass a costume…"

"He wore rags, and he wore them like he was born in them. Of course my daughter, Grace, turned away without even answering him, but the nerve! Trash like him asking my daughter to dance! There are certainly going to be some changes around here."

The Queen was taken aback by this announcement, but she managed to regain her poise, and politely asked, "Chainches? Ven vill tat be?"

"When the Prince marries one of my daughters. Anyone can recognize their breeding and nobility, even with these silly masks we're forced to wear, so I'm quite certain that the Prince will choose one of them to be his princess. And when I naturally move into the Palace, there'll be no more idiocy like this, I assure you!"

The Valkyrie's smile broadened slightly, but her eyes sparked dangerously. "I am schure it vill be a little cooler below before tat happenss."

Before she could quite work out what that meant, Lady Summer was distracted. One of her daughters waved frantically so she abruptly left without another word. The shepherd touched his hat and said "Nice meeting you, ma'am" to the retreating backside. Then he turned to the Valkyrie.

"What a terrifying prospect for an in-law. But what was your last remark… 'cooler below before that happens'?"

"Hell will freeze over!"

The next dance was a complicated one, with groups of four which periodically re-grouped and repeated the dance. It was a great dance as a mixer, as everyone eventually got to dance with everyone else. The young beggar was hugely amused by the various reactions he got from his temporary partners. It was a fine contrast to his building frustration at not being able to identify the girl he was looking for. His mind was buzzing as he danced automatically. Where was she? He was certain his parents had invited everybody in the town, so she had to be here somewhere. If this didn't work out, he'd have to concoct some other method of introducing her to his parents. A small gasp broke through his mental preoccupation.

"Topher?" whispered his current partner. "You're here, too! Oh, that's wonderful!"

It was Lenore.

"Lenore!" he whispered back. "I've been looking for you all night! I didn't expect to see you dressed like…" They separated briefly following the dance figure. Three– two, three, four; four– two, three, four.

"Oh! But of course! Isn't this dress lovely? A friend of mine…" Three– two, three, four; four– two, three, four.

"Lenore, I've got to talk to you! I've got to see you tonight…" Three– two, three, four; four– two, three, four.

"Oh, but I can't stay too late. Can it wait until tomorrow or maybe…" Three– two, three, four; four– two, three, four.

Some dances are not conducive to whispered conversation. A moment later the circle shifted, Lenore went left and Topher went right. It was extremely hard for Topher to maintain any sort of social grace for the rest of the dance.

Lenore was also lost in thought. She was a little surprised at how delighted she was to see Topher. Really delighted. She knew how she felt about him, but she could hear Beulah in the back of her mind saying, "Dat's all well an' good, but whut do you think about 'im?" What did she think? The interview in the barn kept coming back to her.

When the dance finished, Topher made a bee line for Lenore. "Lenore, I've been looking for you all night! Please, we need to talk." He took her hand and led her to the side of the room.

"Well, just for a minute: it's getting late. I'm so sorry, Topher. I never imagined…" she hung her head, "I never imagined you'd be here. Please forgive me."

"Oh, that! Don't even think about that. But I need to have you meet some people."

"Topher, I'd love to, but I just can't. I've got to leave soon, and nothing can change that."

"Not even… a direct command from your Prince?"

"What do you mean…" Then Lenore gasped. "Topher?"

He grinned and stood up straight. "The last half of 'Christopher.' A good name for a disguise, don't you think?"

She couldn't say anything, but thoughts were re-arranging themselves furiously in her mind.

"Lenore, the more I know you, the more I respect you, but beyond that— I love you. I want to marry you. The reason I put on this whole masquerade was so you could meet my parents without the whole kingdom knowing it. Please, let me introduce you to them."

The clock started to strike twelve. "No, I just can't. I've got to go, now!" Then as she pulled her hands away, she said louder, "I've got to go, Your Highness!"

Ten pair of eyes snapped toward the couple, and ten matrons strode purposefully toward them. Lenore managed to slip between them and escape while Christopher was surrounded. As she ran out of the ballroom, she thought, I really hated to do that to him, but I've got to get back to Beulah; for lots of reasons! She ran down the front steps. The front of the palace was lit by post lights and carriage lights, but the side toward the gardens was dark. One or two people were moving about the carriages. Just as she was about to turn toward the garden, her foot stuck in some tar between the paving stones. Hearing someone running in pursuit, she left the slipper and ran around to the gardens, yanking off the turban. Her deep blue dress blended with the shadows.

The next morning at breakfast, the King perused treaties. There was never an end to paperwork.

"Why do I think we're going to pay for last night's entertainment?" commented the Queen.

The King barely looked up from his reading. "We pay for everything, my dear, so we might as well get some enjoyment on occasion."

"Yes, and last night was fun." She sighed. "And I suppose that today's meetings with the ladies of our court won't be much worse than normal."

The King took time to look his wife directly in the eyes. "Your grace and diplomacy always amaze me, Elizabeth. I love you as my wife, but I rely on you as my Queen."

"Thank you, dear."

At that moment, the Prince came in.

"Good morning, Christopher," said the King, returning to his stack of treaties. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

The Prince smiled weakly. "Not much. I still can't believe how it failed. The whole purpose was to introduce Lenore to you in a gentle, non-threatening way. And that's the one thing that didn't happen. The whole event was a monumental flop."

"You're too harsh on yourself" said the Queen. "You displayed a great deal of ingenuity, and yet, when your disguise was revealed, you dealt with the situation rather well. Dancing with every one of those twenty-seven young ladies, and beginning after midnight at that. And that young girl as well; was she, what, fifteen?"

"She said she was fourteen. Actually, she was the most interesting person of them all. Keep an eye out for her in a few years."

"Well as I said, you handled yourself very well, dear."

"My mind was elsewhere."

"So we noticed," said the King. "But you were patient and polite to them all. I'm pleased that you recognized your duty and did it."

"Eat some breakfast, dear," said the Queen. "You're not so invincible that you can function without sleep and without food."

Christopher wolfed down some food while his parents attended to some of the thousand and one details necessary to keep a kingdom functional.

"I'm going to do what I probably should have done all along," he announced, "I'm going to find Lenore, bring her to the palace, and introduce her to you."

"You have all morning, Christopher," said the King, "but you must return by noon. We have to meet with the ambassador, and you must be there."

"Yes, sir."

"And afterwards, we need to discuss your marriage."

There was a stunned silence from one third of the royal family. "But… but, you haven't even met her."

"Christopher." The King looked him squarely in the eye. "The two years have passed and you haven't settled on any girl yet. Your mother and I have identified several qualified, advantageous candidates for marriage, girls who seem to be good matches and are likely to become a strong ally as your Queen. The decision needs to be announced soon."

Christopher struggled to control himself. "I'd like to enter another candidate, Father: Lenore. I'll find her as quickly as I can. Please say you'll meet her."

"You have until noon," said his father.

The Prince bowed briefly to them, then walked swiftly out of the room.

"You never let up on him, do you?" said the Queen, stirring her coffee.

"Life never lets up," said the King. "If he doesn't have the wit to ask who the candidates are, then he'll have to wait to find out."

"What did you think of her, Francis? You were able to spend more time with her than I."

"She dances well, and has an intuitive grasp of economics. She also seems to know who's related to whom, and who are the major influencers at court. She has a refreshingly optimistic outlook, but she's no fool. How did you recognize her?"

"I recognized the jewels on her dress. Once I realized that Beulah was involved, I paid close attention to her. She handled herself rather well at the refreshment table: engaging but not gullible. She even out-maneuvered Lady Summer, which gets high marks in my book."

"I hope Christopher calms down enough to find her. I really cannot give him any more help."

"No, I agree: he's got to figure this out himself. What did your investigation turn up?"

"Lenore's father was Duke Aelfin."

The Queen cocked her head momentarily. "Related to the Morgens on his mother's side, to the Beauforts on his father's side. He married Jeannette Tael, a commoner, and they had one daughter. Jeannette died in that awful sickness sixteen years ago. On one of his travels he met Countess Regen who was a widow with two daughters; he brought her home and married her. I often wondered what had happened to Jeannette's daughter."

The King nodded. "Yes, she's definitely one of the high contenders on the matrimonial list."

Christopher paced rapidly around his sitting room with a small fur slipper in his hand. He alternated between slapping it against his hand in frustration, and inspecting it as if to divine something of the whereabouts of its owner. How could he find Lenore? What did he know about her? Apparently she had no father, but a stepmother and two step-sisters, all of whom hated her. That's not much help in a city of some twelve hundred families. There were any number of widows; who could tell which one might have a step-daughter she despised?

Dead end, Topher; find another angle. How did she disappear so quickly? None of the carriages had left, and none of the footmen noticed anyone running past them… not that they were watching for such a thing, of course.

Stop and inventory. Something really obvious is just on the edge of awareness. He stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "No father, a stepmother, step-sisters, poor– well, a laborer any way, but intelligent… somewhat educated…" he glanced down at the slipper in his hand and smiled wryly. "And a friend who's a darn good dress-maker."

Click. "The dress! Where in the world did Lenore get a dress like that? It looked as good as one of Mother's."

Click, click; ding! He went over to his mirror, checked his hair and general appearance, then strode purposefully out of his rooms. In ten minutes he was knocking on the door of Beulah's cottage. No one answered. He noticed smoke coming out of the chimney, so he knocked again, louder.

"Ah'm a-comin'. Jes' keep yo' shirt on." The voice came from behind him. The Prince spun around to see Beulah coming up her path.

"Beulah! And I was afraid it was too early to call on you. I should've known you'd be up with the sun."

"Ah wuz up wid' de stahs all night, Topher. Ah hopes yo' business kin wait a minnit 'cause Ah surely could use a cup o' tea."

Christopher followed her into the cottage, so he didn't see the wide smile on her face. In her mind, Beulah went over the long discussion she'd had after the ball. She heard the Prince fidgeting, so her movements were deliberate as she poured the boiling water into her cup. "So how wuz de ball las' night? Did you-all have fun?"

"It was great fun and a complete failure; at least, from my point of view. The whole point was to introduce a girl to my parents without the whole court glaring at her. But my clever plan backfired, and I didn't even recognize her until late. I finally got a chance to talk to her, but before I could introduce her to my parents she ran away."

"Ran away?" interrupted Beulah. "You couldn't sweet talk dis gal 'nuff t' keep huh fo' one hour? You mus' be losin' yo' tetch."

"I didn't want to make a scene," he said, testily. "That was the whole purpose of the masquerade. But she loudly called me 'Your Highness', and fifteen matriarchs descended on me like wolves while she got away."

Beulah burst into laughter. "Ah'm sorry, Topher, but you gotta admit dat was clevuh. Dis gal you is aftuh is one shahp cookie."

"She is," agreed the Prince, "and I have reason to suspect you know where I can find her. Please Beulah, tell me where she lives: I need to bring her to the palace this morning."

"You is dat ser'ous, huh?" said Beulah. "Well, ez a mattuh o' fact…"

Just then the door burst open and Lenore came rushing in. "I'm sorry, Beulah, but I just have to… Oh!"

"Lenore!" said the Prince, his eyes lighting up. He stood looking at her.

Beulah moved towards the door. "Ah b'lieve Ah needs to tend mah gahden a bit. You all discuss yo' bus'ness and Ah'll be jus' outside."

"Lenore," said Christopher, "I apologize for trying to be clever about bringing you to meet my parents. I should have just asked you directly, so I'm asking you now: Lenore, will you marry me? And will you please come right now and meet my parents?"

Lenore looked at him for a moment, then lowered her eyes. "Your Highness, may I request something of you?"

"Anything!" he said. She looked up with a sharply arched eyebrow, so he added, "anything that is honorable and reasonable."

She smiled and said, "Would you please put on your eye-patch? The man I've grown to know and respect wore an eye-patch, and I'd like to speak to him now."

He grinned, then looked around the room. Seeing some rags on a shelf, he took one and wrapped his head with it, covering one eye.

"This is the best I can do, Lenore. I didn't plan to be in disguise today."

"Yes, that's better," she smiled. "Topher, I've wanted to love you for some months now, but I've always kept my heart at a distance because I did not want to be the wife of a beggar- even a supportive and attractive beggar. I'm not sure I'd like to be the wife of a Prince; that involves a lot more than being the wife of a merchant. However, I thought about it last night, and I realized that- with the notable exception of hiding your identity- I've always known you to be an honest man, a humble man, and a decent man. So yes, Topher, I accept your proposal, and will be delighted to meet your parents."

Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved