Emma did not know what to think of this man's behaviour. Furthermore, she did not know how he recognized her. She still had the veil on her face!
That was to be a short-lived thing, however, as she felt a hand from behind snatch it off, as a voice screeched "Emma!"
This voice belonged to none other than her step-mother.
"You vile creature, where did you get this dress and how did you get here!" she proceeded to shout.
Emma shrank back, having developed a renewed sensitivity to the wounds she had received this morning. The cut on her wrist was particularly aggravated, especially since the man still had a vice-like grip on it. Its strength increased with each insult.
"My Lady, I…" she began to simper. She had no other way out of her current situation.
The man seemed to feel particularly indignant about this.
"My Lady? Why do you call her that? Emma!" He shook her by the wrist he was holding and she winced.
Prince Dominic started forward at this. "Can't you see she is in pain?"
Nobody heard his exclamation, however, as the Duchess had started off with her vituperations again.
"You wretched girl, I knew I should have thrashed you harder!" (The Prince shook slightly at these words.) she yelled. "And as for you…" she began, casting her eyes towards the man.
"What would you have of me, murderess?" he replied, calmly, but with a glint of malice in his eye.
The entire crowd hushed at this word. Emma, who had been the nearest to fainting she would ever be, collected herself and made a dash for the door. Her hand slipped out of the stranger's grip, though her bracelet was lost in his hands. She made a mad dash for the door (not easy to do in elaborate shoes and an even more elaborate gown). The combined shock of the stranger's accusation and her flight was enough to give her the few seconds' advantage she needed.
She would consider this night's events later. All she knew now was that she must flee.
She mounted Snowflake and he tore off at her command. She did not know where she was going to go. She only knew that she must escape. This was wrong, all of it. She was wrong to have come here tonight. More than anything, she had been wrong to stay with the Duchess. Now, certainly, her very life was in danger for such insubordination…
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Dominic was again too shocked to react to the Princess's flight instantly. The stranger fulminated quietly as he saw her run off.
"I'll go after her," Dominic volunteered, his eyes ablaze. So many things were wrong. He needed to know why and how.
"Don't bother," the stranger stated, in his maddeningly calm tones.
"But, she.."
"Do you even know who she is?"
"Well, no, but…"
"Exactly. How are you going to follow her if you don't know where she is going?"
"I…"
At this point, the King interrupted.
"I have had quite enough of this! I demand to know who this man is and why he accuses the honourable Duchess of Westbourne of murder!"
The court turned to the handsome young man who gave an eloquent bow.
"I am Frederick de Winter, son of Edward de Winter. I accuse the Duchess of Westbourne of conspiring against the life of my uncle, Lord Maximilian de Winter."
This statement was completely unexpected, and all eyes turned to the Duchess, who paled conceivably. She recovered herself quickly, but not quickly enough to escape the notice of the crowd. One word rang clear as she turned her eyes scathingly to the man who would prove her destruction.
"Murderer!"
This was met with a chorus of like statements, and many stepped away from the Duchess, spitting at her feet. The faint tinge of guilt had marred her face enough for people to believe the words of this young stranger.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Emma, meanwhile, had no idea that any of this was happening. She did not know that the handsome man was her cousin, nor did she know what the Duchess was enduring at that moment. She was aware only of the cold and the pain. The gown's enchantment seemed to have worn off and now every jolt she felt as Snowflake beat the ground with his hoofs was pure pain.
She felt as though she might slip from the back of her horse, when he stopped, quite suddenly, after hours of riding in a random direction. At least, Emma had thought it to be random, for she was not guiding Snowflake at all.
As she dismounted, she looked up to behold her childhood home and the last place she had ever truly felt at home.
A/N: I hope that satisfies everybody for now. Trust me, it is definitely not over yet! There is so much more left to be revealed, discovered, etc. etc.
Many thanks to all of my reviewers. I hope this meets your expectations!
-Titania