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Throughout the day, Belinda had a difficult time keeping her mind on her work. She was yelled out of bed just before twelve by Harry, who called her a lazy wench and demanded to know why lunch wasn't ready yet, then was yelled at again for scorching the potatoes. Later in the afternoon, she dropped a tray full of drinks onto the floor when someone bumped into her, which was highly unusual; she was used to being jostled about in the pub, and could normally hold her balance without any problem. Thankfully, Harry wasn't around to see that event, and the mugs weren't glass, so there was no breakage. Still, she had to mop up the floor quickly and get a fresh batch of drinks for the men.
"There you are, dear," she said as she set the last mug down in front of a scrawny, unshaven man who looked as though he'd already had one too many.
"There's a good wench!" he called loudly, pinching her backside before she could get away, causing the rest of the men with him to erupt into laughter. She just froze a forced smile on her face and shook her head, keeping the image of her handsome prince in her mind; if all went well, she would be out of this place before very long, and as soon as she was, she vowed that no man would ever degrade her again as long as she lived.
"Hey, Belinda!" a loud voice called from the other side of the scrawny man's table. "Wot's this I hear 'bout you being at the royal ball last night, huh?" She froze, her back towards the man, and forced herself to keep calm.
"Now, where on Earth did you hear such a silly rumor as that?" she asked lightly, turning to face him with one hand on her hip. He grinned impishly at her.
"M'wife's cousin was working there, got himself a job as part of the cleanup crew. Said he saw you leavin'!" he replied, louder now that the attention was on him.
"Oh, that's a load of rubbish," she replied, forcing a chuckle. "What business would I have at a ball?"
Thankfully, the men had already had their attention diverted by an arm wrestling match on the next table. Belinda's heart was racing; she hadn't even considered the fact that anyone who knew her could have been at the ball. If word got around...well, she knew it wouldn't be pretty. The trouble was, word WOULD get around. People had a way of finding out things in places like this, and if she had been recognized by one person, there was no way of knowing how many others might have seen her. She knew she had to be prepared to leave in a hurry in case Harry caught wind of the rumor; he was much more likely to take the word of any random customer over her own.
"Alice!" she hissed to another worker girl just coming out of one of the storerooms. "Cover for me for a few minutes, will you?"
"Sure thing...hey," the girl added, catching Belinda's arm just as she was about to leave. "What's this I hear about you being at the royal ball last night?"
"Oh, blast, you've heard, too?" Belinda asked frantically, fighting back a groan. Maybe she didn't have as much time as she had hoped.
"Heard it this morning in the square...hey, did you really dance with a prince?" Alice asked, eager to hear all the details.
"Look, just don't let Harry find out, all right? You know he'll fire me right off the reel," she pleaded desperately. Alice nodded, and Belinda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, pigeon. I'll come back as soon as I can," she added before hurrying off to the potion room.
Once inside, she locked the door behind her to keep anyone from wandering in unannounced and pulled out a crate from the corner. She began packing her more valuable and harder to make potions, knowing there was no way she would be able to get everything in the room out safely. After filling the container, she bent down to try to lift it, only to realize that it was much too heavy for her to carry on her own. Frowning, she looked around for an alternate plan, finally deciding to drag the potion-filled crate underneath the table where she did most of her mixing and covering it with an empty sack. It wasn't likely that Harry would enter the room without her there, but she didn't want anything left out in the open just in case. Of course, if he were to find out about her attending the ball, there probably wouldn't be a chance to get the potions out before he exploded at her. But she would find a way to get them back, no matter what it might take. She refused to let all her hard work go to waste.
It was after nine o'clock that evening before the trouble started. The pub was busy, but Belinda was already finished with her waitressing shift and sat in Harry's office, working on the accounts. She hurried through them tonight, which was quite a change from her normal perfectionism; even though she knew she would be the last one to arrive at the ball no matter how quickly she finished her work, she still wanted to get there as soon as possible. When she was about two thirds of the way through, she heard an angry, wordless roar from the front and knew in an instant that Harry had found out.
With her heart racing wildly in her chest, she bolted up from her chair and ran out of the room, towards the stairs, which were in the front of the pub. Not for the first time in her life, she wished her legs were longer; Harry could take the stairs three at a time, while she had to run up them one by one. She was almost to the landing when she heard him barreling up behind her, yelling profanities and calling her an idiot for getting out of her place. Without hesitating, she slammed the door to her room shut and locked it, propping a chair up under the handle for good measure. She knew it wouldn't hold long. Harry was already throwing his weight against the door with heavy thuds, and she could hear the wood beginning to splinter.
"Fairy Godmother!" she called desperately as she started to grab her ball gown out of the closet, then thought better of it. There was no time, and she could always just ask the fairy godmother to whip up another one for her. Another thud, and she ran towards her dresser, pulling the top drawer out haphazardly and grabbing the money she'd saved from the back of it. "Please!" Another thud, and she could see the wood near the hinges splintering. "Dammit, I don't have time to cry now!" she yelled, frustrated. "Fairy Godmother! Carriage! Anyone!"
There was a loud popping noise outside the window, and Belinda turned to see the carriage, horses and all, floating in midair. At that moment, Harry burst through the broken door. He lunged at her just as she was scrambling out the window, catching the hem of her skirt. But he was too late; all that he got was a handful of ripped fabric as the material tore.
Belinda sank back against the cushions inside the carriage, the blood still pounding in her ears. She looked down at the sack of coins she held as the realization that this was all she had in the world slowly dawned on her. Of course, she was still determined to retrieve her potions, somehow, but all that was guaranteed in her life at the moment was the torn dress she wore and the money in her hand.
"Godmother!" she called again. There was no reply. Was the ONLY way to get in touch with this woman through teardrops? Belinda was too practical to be given to crying fits every day. "Okay," she said aloud to herself, trying to think of something that would force tears. "You're all alone in the world. You have no job. You don't have enough money to last for a week." But, far from bringing her to tears, all of those thoughts simply made her more determined to find her way out of the situation. With a frustrated groan, she stood up and stuck her head out the window.
"You there! Driver!" she yelled, and the thin chauffer looked back at her. "Do you know how to get in touch with the Fairy Godmother?" she asked.
"Sure," he replied, then took a deep breath. "STELLA!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. In a burst of blue sparkles, the fairy godmother immediately appeared beside him on the driver's seat, looking quite a bit frazzled.
"What is it, Stanley? I was right in the middle of...oh!" she exclaimed, catching sight of Belinda's head poking out of the carriage. "My dear!" With a wave of her wand, she was suddenly sitting beside the younger woman. Eying her disheveled appearance, she asked, "What happened?"
"Long story," Belinda sighed, shaking her head. "Look, do you think you can whip me up another dress? I had to leave the last one behind in a bit of a hurry," she explained, then added quickly, "Something pale green this time, if you don't mind."
"Green? You're sure, dear? I did so love the blue on you..." the godmother said, sighing as Belinda nodded. "Very well, then, green it is." She waved her wand a couple of times, and Belinda was dressed in a pale green gown exactly the shade of her eyes with shoes to match. "Though I must say, that looks lovely, as well," the older woman mused, studying the girl.
"It's perfect," Belinda said, looking down at the shimmering fabric.
"Hmm...let's try a little something different with your hair, shall we?" The wand waved again, and Belinda's messy blonde hair was loosened from its bun, then wound up again in a much neater style, with a few strands left loose to frame her face. "Fabulous. Now, I've got to be going."
"Wait!" Belinda called just as the fairy godmother was raising her wand. "I left some potions behind at the pub...do you think you could help me get them?"
"Potions?" she echoed, suddenly looking interested. "Do you make potions? I've been in need of a good assistant for potion making....I'm not that good at it, myself," she confessed. "I mean, just in case things don't work out with Fr- Prince Frederick, or something, it's a job offer," she added.
"What do you mean, in case things don't work out? Why wouldn't they?" Belinda asked, frowning.
"Oh, I'm sure they will, my dear, but...well, I do need an assistant! The offer stands if you choose to take it!" And, without giving Belinda any time to reply, she waved her wand and disappeared again.
"But what about my potions?" the girl called to the empty carriage, then sighed. "Oh well. At least I've got options, now," she muttered, watching through the carriage window as the palace gates came into view.
To her surprise and delight, Prince Frederick was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and he grinned when he looked up to see her approach. If she didn't know any better, she would say he had been waiting for her! He bowed and kissed her hand; she noticed he did that an awful lot, but then again, he was a prince and had probably been taught formal greetings before he could talk.
"Would you honor me with a dance, Miss Larae?" he asked, lifting his gaze to meet hers. The smile quickly faded from her lips, which fell open slightly in shock.
"I never told you my last name," she faltered, trying to pull her composure together again as her mind raced; she must have let it slip sometime the night before. But when?
"You didn't have to," he said, still holding onto her hand and leading her out towards the dance floor. "One of my manservants recognized you. He told me all about you, and the pub, and your potion business," he said, placing one hand on her waist as they began to waltz.
"So you know I'm a phoney," she remarked, somewhat bitterly. She kept her head turned slightly to the side, unable to face him; as wonderful as he seemed, she just knew he was waiting for the right moment to humiliate her in front of everyone.
"I know you're a beautiful, fascinating woman, Belinda Larae. And I know that I would like to know much more about you," he said, leaning down to whisper the last sentence close to her ear. She finally raised her eyes to meet his when he pulled away again and saw that he was smiling.
They danced together through a couple more songs before heading over to the refreshment table. Belinda started to reach for the punch, but he stayed her hand. With a grin, he jerked his head towards the other end of the table, then started walking towards it. Bewildered, she followed him to a section marked 'Royalty Only' and watched as he opened a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses.
"Do you like chardonnay?" he asked, offering her one glass. She accepted it with a nod, and took a small sip.
"Yes," she replied after a moment. In truth, she had never tasted any before the sip she had just taken. She suspected from his grin that he knew, but didn't say anything. They stood there for a moment, each sipping the wine and nibbling on some sort of pastry, watching as other couples twirled around the floor.
"Boring, isn't it?" Frederick remarked, breaking the silence. Belinda looked up at him, alarmed.
"Are you putting me on? What I wouldn't give to be able to dress up like this every day. To give orders, to have people work for me...to have people LISTEN to me, for a change," she said, taking another sip of wine. The prince just shrugged.
"It's nice, I suppose. Not a very adventurous life, but it's comfortable," he concluded. The short woman glanced up at him; an idea was forming in her head.
"So you want adventure?" she asked, a slow smile spreading across her lips. Frederick just looked at her questioningly, so she continued. "What would you say to breaking into a pub and helping me steal back a few things that belong to me?"
For a moment, the handsome prince looked almost shocked that she was asking such a thing. Then, very slowly, he returned her grin. "We'd need disguises, of course...but I know where they keep the spare servant's clothes..."
Belinda's grin widened as she set her glass down on the table. Frederick followed suit, then grabbed her hand and led her out of the courtyard.