Chapter Eleven: Introductions

"I didn't even get to say goodbye..." Christine sobbed from where she sat, huddled against the wall, her face buried in her skirts.
Suddenly, her head shot up as she heard something coming up the steps.
Her eyes widened in shock as a gleaming golden candlelabra entered, followed closely by an ornate rosewood mantel clock.
"Enchanté, mademoiselle!" the candlelabra fairly purred as it bowed slightly, placing a delicate kiss to the redhead's hand.
Almost in spite of herself, Christine blushed, her lips twitching slightly as she fought desperately to keep from giggling.
The clock just rolled its eyes and coughed meaningfully.

Then Christine realized what had just happened.
"Wait, you can talk?" she gasped in amazement.
"Well, of course he can talk!" the clock huffed in annoyance.
"It's getting him to shut up that's the trick!"

"Might we escort you to your room, mademoiselle?" the candlelabra inquired.
The redhead frowned in confusion.
"My room? But I thought..."
"What, that you were to stay here in this gloomy old tower?" the candlelabra interrupted.
Christine nodded silently.
"No, no, no!" the candlelabra scoffed.
"You're not a prisoner, you're our guest! Right this way, mademoiselle..."
"André, the master..." the clock warned anxiously, but the candlelabra chose to ignore him, as usual.

As they walked, Christine couldn't help but glance around at the medieval tapestries on the walls.
There was one with a unicorn and another with a white stag and a third with a dragon.
Finally, they arrived at a large set of doors, which opened to reveal the most magnificent bedroom that Christine had ever seen.

As if in a dream, the redhead walked inside, her eyes feasting on every perfect detail of the room.
There was a large white and gold-painted armoire along one wall, and along another wall, a beautiful writing desk had been placed.
A chair covered in rich velvet was tucked underneath it, and a neat stack of crisp white paper was placed on one side.
Opposite a set of huge picture windows covered by thick satin drapes was an enormous canopy bed that took up nearly a third of the room.
And tucked in a corner, delicate and sweet, was a dressing table with a mirror framed in gold.
Even the ceiling of the room was breathtaking.
White clouds had been painted in a perfect blue sky, the detail so real that Christine could have sworn that she saw the the clouds move.

"And this is to be my room?" Christine asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.
"But, of course, ma cherie," said André, making his way to the bed and leaping onto it.
"As I said before, you are our guest. Everything has been arranged."
A cloud of dust rose up into the air.
"Oh, dear," he coughed.
"I must admit, though, your arrival was unexpected..."

As if on cue, a feather duster swooped into the room.
Christine's eyes widened as the feather duster quickly moved from surface to surface, sweeping until everything shined.
Stopping, she bowed in Christine's direction.
"Enchanté, mademoiselle!" the featherduster chirped sweetly.
"Don't worry, I'll have this room spotless again in no time!" she said before turning and jumping into the arms of André.
"This plan of yours is...dangerous," she purred, giggling.

Christine barely stifled her own giggle as André waggled his eyebrows and replied, "I would risk anything to kiss you again, Fleurette..."
He leaned closer and puckered his lips.
Fleurette stopped him.
"No, mon amour," she said, her voice serious.
"I've been burned by you before. We must be strong."
"But how can I be strong when you make me so weak?" André asked longingly, his voice husky with desire.

Christine averted her eyes from the romantic pair and turned her attention toward other items in the room.
"Is everything in here alive?" she asked curiously, picking up a silver mother-of pearl hairbrush.
"Hello, what's your name?"
The clock looked at Christine and shook his head.
"Um, that's a hairbrush..." he said, as though pointing out the obvious.
Christine opened her mouth to ask just what the rules were for enchanted objects when suddenly, a loud snore sounded behind her.
Turning, she yelped in surprise as the armoire's drawers opened and shut by themselves in time with the snoring.

"Do not be alarmed, mademoiselle!" André said smoothly.
"This is just your armoire! Meet La Esmeralda, a great singer!"
The armoire let out a long, loud yawn.
"But a better sleeper," the clock added huffily as he hopped over and nudged the armoire.

With a grunt, La Esmeralda awoke.
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she gave a surprised little shout when she noticed her audience.
"Firmin!" she exclaimed in an overly dramatic manner.
"You officious alarm clock! A diva needs her beauty rest!"
Firmin's springs tightened at the insult and his mouth opened, ready with a sharp rebuke.
But André didn't give him the chance.
He jumped in before the clock could say a word.
"Of course you do, Señora," he said in his most soothing voice.
Forgive us, but we have someone for you to dress!"

Spotting the redhead for the first time, La Esmeralda emitted a happy cry.
"Finally!" she crowed delightedly, "a woman!"
Then, as though she were doing inventory, La Esmeralda took stock of Christine.
"Pretty eyes...delicate features...beautiful hair...a perfect canvas. Yes! I shall find you something worthy of a princess!"
"Oh, but I'm not a princess..." Christine protested, blushing furiously.
"Nonsense!" La Esmeralda declared, brushing off Christine's protests.
"Now, let's see what I've got in my drawers."
Opening the top one, she shouted in surprise as a few moths flew out.
"Oh, how embarrassing!"
To Christine's surprise, both sides of the armoire went from white to a soft shade of pink.
The armoire was blushing!

Before the redhead could ask how such a thing was possible...or how any of this was possible, for that matter...La Esmeralda began to pull things helter-skelter out of her drawers and off of hangers.
A large hoop skirt went over Christine's head, followed by at least four different dresses cut right then and there by the armoire to be used as fabric.
Christine was turned and twisted as La Esmeralda assembled an outfit.

When the armoire paused to take a breath, Christine snuck a peek at her reflection in the mirror across the room.
To her horror, she saw that the armoire had indeed created something from what she'd had in her drawers.
But the result was the most garishly pink monstrosity that the redhead had ever had the misfortune to see.
She looked like a cream puff, for Heaven's sake!

Catching André's eye, she saw that the candelabra was equally mortified.
Both he and the Firmin were inching toward the door.
They knew better than to mess with La Esmeralda when she was in the middle of a creation.

"Anyway," André said, "if you have any further needs, the staff will attend to them. We are at your service. Au revoir!"
Then, with a deep bow, he grabbed Firmin and slipped out of the room.
Fleurette followed close behind.
A moment later, the door closed, leaving Christine alone with La Esmeralda.
"Cowards..." she huffed in annoyance, glaring at the door.

Turning back to La Esmeralda, Christine sighed.
"Señora?" she spoke up nervously.
"Sí, mi pequeña muñeca?" the armoire responded with a sleepy yawn.
"How did you get here?"
The armoire immediately perked up at the opportunity to gossip.
Leaning her large frame over the bed, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Well you see, my dear, all it takes is a stormy night and one spoilt little prince..."
But La Esmeralda's voice then faded into soft snores as sleep overcame her.

Christine groaned.
It seemed as if she wouldn't be getting her answers after all!
At least, not anytime soon...

Slipping out of the nightmare of a dress, the 21 year old turned and looked around the room.
She was alone, her only guardian fast asleep.
Now was the perfect opportunity for her to escape.
The only question was, how?

A/N: Please review to unlock Chapter Twelve...