CHAPTER 4
*
MISTRESSES AND THEIR MANY PROBLEMS
*
The days were getting yet colder, and the almanacs had predicted the first snow to fall around December 2nd. Yet, when that day came, it turned out to be sunny and rather pleasant, for winter at least. It was warm enough for Tata to hang the laundry to dry outside. I was her self-appointed apprentice, clumsily trying to figure out what exactly servants did. I had grown up in my sheltered and privileged world, where I never did an ounce of housework.
My uncle wasn't forcing me to do anything; it was actually quite the opposite. I wanted to do housework. I wanted to avoid him at all costs. I went especially out of my way to avoid Waldor. He scared me, a lot. So, knowing that two selfish, lazy men like them would never do anything that they could hire somebody to do for them, I decided to hang around the servants.
Most of the older servants ignored me, but I became friends with a few of the maids and one of the groom's who worked in the stables. I'm pretty sure Tata wanted to ignore me as well, but I followed her like a lost puppy. I hate to brag, but I have to say I got pretty darn good at folding clothes.
Tata would scold me that a ",proper young lady such as you should be served, not be serving." I suppose one plus of doing housework was bugging her. No harm, no foul…
I deeply wanted to tell Jerrold of my newfound skills, but that wasn't possible. For the past month, he'd been on Ogre expeditions with his own set of knights (he had made it perfectly clear to me that this time, unlike previous expeditions, his father was not going with him). He was so excited about the whole thing that I hadn't wanted to damper his enthusiasm with my worries. My own father had died on such an expedition, and every day (when I had time to think alone) I would fret over how he was doing.
When I told Tata of my fears, she had insisted that I probably worried more than his mother, and then put on some foolish smile that meant who-knows-what. I must admit that its sort of pathetic when you're sixteen years old and your sole-confidant (for the time being, at least) is a fifty-something year old woman. And one that chastised me endlessly, too! But it was true that I really did love Tata. She was my picture of a grandmother. I had never known my own, so I wasn't familiar with the warm loving kind that spoiled you incessantly. From growing up with Tata, I imagined grandmothers being somewhat strict and endlessly criticizing, but lovable just the same.
Anyways, on that December 2nd, I spent my time outside hang clothes and dancing foolishly under the sunlight. I always loved the first snow, or even the first couple snows, but by the middle of winter I hated the coldness and the dreary gray that seemed to never leave. Tata watched me, shaking her head at me but never scolding. I finally grew dizzy from spinning and dropped onto the cool grass, my face flushed.
"Rosalie, I swear, you act like you're a twelve year old girl," Tata admonished.
I laughed. "An eight year old girl. By twelve all girls of nobility are fretting over their hair and worrying if they've mussed their dress."
"All but you," she corrected, "When you were twelve you were off riding horses with the prince. Why, your mother and I mused on how the two of you were two peas in a pod."
"You know the only reason I was off riding horses was because I'd just learned how. Plus Jerrold made me because he was so excited I'd learned. I miss that silly boy… Anyways, I was terrified of them my whole life. By thirteen, I was bored of riding horses. Really, Tata, you must get your facts in order."
"You'll drive me insane yet," Tata muttered.
"I want to help you," I said, reaching into the basket piled high with dresses and shirts, "Not to drive you insane, at least not right now. With the clothes, I meant."
"Two many cooks in a kitchen ruin a stew," she quoted, annoyed with my intrusion of her work.
"We're not making stew, so that doesn't matter. We're not cooks either. Perhaps I should ask Olli (our cook) of his opinion on that statement."
"It's an expression," she exclaimed, before she saw the smile on my face. "You sly little thing! You just love to torture me, don't you Mistress?"
"It's not torture. It's joking. Living with my uncle is torture," I said solemnly. "He goes out of his way to make me feel unwanted; out of his way to be cruel to me in any way possible."
Tata clicked her tongue. "Of course he does. You're the only thing stopping him from owning this estate. Why, the moment you turn eighteen, you can turn him out of this place. Take heed, Rosalie, for he'll stop at nothing to get you to give this place to him. He'll use anything you say to put you in trouble. Why that will of your father's says that if you do not take ownership of this property at eighteen, it's all his. I know because I was a witness at the signing of it. You just have two more years; not even, until this place is all yours. Won't that be worth everything?"
I stared at her dumbly. I had often wondered why he hated me so and I had even asked him to his face. But I had never paid attention to that fact. It not only explained his behavior but also made me feel like an idiot. How could I not have known? He had practically told me that was the reason a month or two ago.
"Two more years until you are eighteen, and I highly doubt that you'll want to run the estate by the end of these two years, if you know what I mean." It ran through my head. It was blatantly apparent, and I felt awfully foolish for not discovering it myself.
"I know," I lied, pinning a dress onto the line. "It just bothers me so. It's not exactly easy living in the same house as someone who'd do anything to turn you out. I suppose I should learn to deal with it, shouldn't I?"
"It bothers me so, Mistress. Your poor mother trusted your uncle to take care of you. Just you watch, miss, bad things will happen to the man who betrays the dying wish of another. Your parents were such lovely people; it'd kill them to see how he treats you. Your father's own brother… why your father was nothing but kind to him! He lent him money when your uncle was in need, and when Edward failed to pay it back; it bothered him not a bit! He was a wonderful man, your father was."
I always smiled to hear Tata speak of my parents that way. It made me feel warm inside, like I knew that they still loved me, even from wherever they were. I hoped that even with the limited time I had with them, that some of their gracious spirit rubbed off on me.
"Tatiana, inside now," a cold and familiar voice yelled, interrupting my moments of bliss. I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder. Uncle Edward looked mad. Very mad.
"What's the matter, beloved uncle?" I asked sarcastically.
"It is none of your… wait, perhaps it is of your concern. I'd like an audience with all the servants, and since you seem to like acting like a servant, you should come as well. An item of personal importance to me has been taken, and I intend to find who stole it." He headed towards the house once again and Tata and I exchanged looks.
"You probably misplaced it," I called after him, "Why must you blame the servants? Waldor probably stole it. He seems the type to do such a thing."
"Rosalie, I would have asked for your opinion if it was wanted," he replied, meeting my eyes straight on. I was about the same height as him, for I had acquired my quite lofty height from my father.
I brushed off his remark and followed him into the sitting room where all the servants were gathered. I took a seat in the chair and observed the looks of complete annoyance on most of the servant's faces. I would be annoyed, too. My uncle complained of how they never completed their work, yet he was delaying it himself! How he annoyed me…
"You're gathered here because one of you has stolen a gold dagger that I left on the table beside my bed. I know not who or why, and to tell the truth, I do not care. If you come forward now, I will simply fire you and have you return the dagger along with last month's pay. If you've sold the dagger, you will have to compensate for it. Am I perfectly clear?"
The servants mumbled their 'yes sir's' and 'yes, master's' and I rolled my eyes. How could he be that arrogant? I wanted desperately to slap him. There was no way on earth he could have known if he accidentally knocked it on the ground or if it fell under his bed! And even if a servant had stolen it, what motive would they have now to give it back? He certainly did not know how to be persuasive.
"Are you done? It seems that no one is stepping forward, Uncle Edward, so you can let them go back to their work now," I demurred.
He ignored me. Instead he went to Waldor who was standing nonchalantly by the door.
"I'd like you to check who cleaned in my room on November 26th please. Now you know why I asked you to keep record of who cleans where."
Waldor nodded, smiling (which made him look even more evil than usual) and strutted off to retrieve his record book, or at least I assume.
That was when Lynette, one of our chambermaids, grabbed onto my arm, her eyes wide with fear. Lynette was a sweet girl, much sweeter than me, or any other girl I knew. She never uttered a complaint or looked remotely down. Ever. She was oddly happy all the time. Not that it bugged me. Or it only bugged me a little. How could you be that happy when you cleaned up after other people's filth? She was one of the younger servants who I had become friends with.
"Rosalie! I'm going to lose my job! I'm going to lose everything. You must help… I don't know what to do!" Her usually sweet voice was hoarse, and she clung to my arm nervously.
"What, were you working in my uncle's room that day?" I glanced at my uncle, who, to my luck was looking the other way. If he'd saw us there was no doubt in my mind that he'd blame Lynette.
"I stole it! I had to. I hope you're not angry with me! It was to pay for something important. You must understand. I can't lose my job! I really need the money or we shall lose the cottage…"
I gaped at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. Why was she coming to me? Did she expect me to take the blame? I wanted to, because I thought I'd become friends with her. Isn't that what a friend would do? But were we even friends? I didn't know where she lived or how many brothers or sisters she had. All I knew was that she was a kind and sweet, and not the kind to steal for nothing at all.
Tata's words rang in my head. Take heed… That was the complete opposite of what I was about to do! I was basically going to give him a reason to hate me more. For some reason though, I knew that the second Waldor entered the room with his ledger, I was going to confess. Stupid benevolence….
"Don't worry, Lynette," I murmured back, "I've got it under control."
"What are you going to do, Mistress?"
I sighed. "Just don't say a word, okay? I've got it under control," I repeated, "I think."
It was then Waldor re-entered the room. I felt suddenly nervous and there was a lurching feeling in my stomach. What was going to happen this time? Would I be locked in my room for two months? What if he put me in the stocks for a week? Or two weeks?
That was foolish, for we didn't even have any stocks for me to be put into. He was a clever man, I had to give him that much. He would think of a way to punish me, much more cruel and unusual than last time. I was having second thoughts about the whole thing. I hated Lynette for being so sweet, and myself for considering her a friend in the first place. Then again, even if she weren't my friend, I probably would have taken the blame anyways.
I broke away from my thoughts, and watched as Waldor flipped the book open and flipped through the pages. Lynette grabbed my arm. I didn't look at her. I didn't want to. I was waiting for the perfect moment.
'The perfect moment is now,' an inner voice nagged, 'You're just afraid.' And I was. I didn't want to be hated anymore. I didn't want to be alone with my Uncle. I wanted my mother to be alive. I wanted to be loved again. I was sick of everything. It was no use to try anymore. Why should I? Why should I have tried to please him, when he would never be pleased? He didn't matter anymore. The war had begun. Only time would tell the winner.
"Don't bother," I found myself saying, my voice unwavering. "I don't want you to blame anyone for this because the book says they were working in your room."
My uncle smiled. "And why is that? Have you a confession, Rosalie?"
"I stole it. It wasn't stealing though. I thought it belonged to my father. That used to be his room, you know. So I took it and sold it and used the money."
"What did you need to steal for?" Waldor challenged, "You're a rich girl. And what was so precious that you had to steal to buy it."
I bit my lip. What would my uncle believe? He knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't steal his dumb dagger to buy jewelry or some other luxury.
"A book?" I replied softly, then repeated firmly, "A book. I bought a few books. And I gave the rest to beggars who really needed the money. I have no money of my own because you're a greedy miser who keeps it all to himself."
I eased into my topic. "And furthermore, if I had asked you, you would have denied me because you love to torture me. You think you're going to win, but you're not."
"Win what?" Uncle Edward was still smiling, and I felt hate surging through me.
"This. Everything. You're not going to get it, so you shouldn't even try. Just leave me alone, okay?" I looked down at my feet. Everyone was listening to this.
"May we be excused, sir?" Tata asked. "Now that we know who's done it?" I met her eyes for a moment. She shook her head at me, and I could almost hear her voice asking, "Now why did you do that?" I wanted to explain everything to her right at that moment.
"Yes, you're all excused. Thank you, and I apologize that you had to bear witness to this. My niece should have been more considerate." His cold gray eyes bored into me and I shivered.
Now I was the evil one. Cleanly done, Edward, cleanly done.
The servants filed out, whispering to each other, most likely about what an ingrate I was. Tata and Lynette knew that I hadn't done it, and that should have been enough. I should have felt good about the whole thing, but somehow, I felt more guilty than good.
"You'll be duly punished in due time. Until then, you're dismissed as well."
I furrowed my brow. He was letting me go? I understood the part about being "duly punished"; but that he just let me go surprised me. I shrugged it off and finished helping Tata hang the laundry. If I had only known what was going to happen, I wouldn't have been so nonchalant about the whole thing.
*
"Mistress, wake up." I stuck my head under a pillow and ignored her.
"It's urgent miss. You must awake now."
I sat up groggily. "What is so important that you have to wake me? At such an early hour, too?"
Tata looked at me anxiously. "Put on your robe and come along. I have a feeling you'll not be happy."
I nodded and threw off my covers, pulling my robe on quickly.
It had been two days since the incident with my uncle, and the punishment hadn't come yet. I had a feeling that it had come, though. I found out that Lynette had needed the money so that her father, who had broken his leg, was out of work and her mother needed help feeding the children. Lynette had been the family's only source of income. Whatever regrets I had, or was about to have, shouldn't have mattered. I'd saved her family. I felt like a heroine of some sorts.
I figured Tata had woken me to show me my punishment. I felt my stomach lurching ever so slightly. What had he done during my sleep?
Tata stopped suddenly at the library door, taking my hand into hers. I raised an eyebrow at her and sent her a smile, but the somber look on her face erased it. I was beginning to get a little frightened.
"Rosalie, lady, you must remain strong."
"Tata, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
She turned the knob of the library door slowly, looking at me sadly.
"Just open the door, please," I said sternly.
"Mistress…."
"Just open the door!" I found my voice had risen.
"Yes, lady." Tata pushed it open.
There was nothing. Not nothing different, but nothing at all. The books that had overflowed from the shelves and lined the floor were gone. Not one remained. I felt my knees give out. I was numb.
"Where are they… Tata, where are they? Where are my books?"
"The men left with them this morning. When I awoke this morning, the last of the men were leaving with boxes overflowing. I tried to get them back for you, but… oh Mistress! Please don't cry!"
"Help me to my feet please," I requested in a monotone voice.
She took my hand and tugged at my arm. I rose to my feet uneasily. "Now you know that this is because of that dagger episode. I know for a fact that you didn't steal it, Mistress."
"Stop calling me Mistress! You make me sound like I'm a some sort of concubine or something." I gave her a furious glare.
Tata's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, mi-lady. I won't call you that again."
I said nothing. I knew I was being completely irrational. But I had to blame something or someone and I didn't have the heart to seek out my uncle.
"I know this is difficult for you, Mis--- I mean Lady. I understand what those books meant to you, and that it hurts, but you must rise above this."
I didn't reply again. I ran my hand over the smooth shelves, trying to pretend that it was the spines of books I was feeling. I closed my eyes and look down.
"Don't tell me you understand, because no one does. Did you lose your father when you were six? I didn't think so. Did you lose your mother only ten years later? Were you an orphan at sixteen? No, you weren't, I know that for a fact. Were you forced to live with an awful uncle? No. So before you say 'I understand' you should think about it. Because you don't understand, and I hate it when people say they understand when they have no idea about my feelings."
"Oh, Rosalie… you mustn't be hateful. You're such a sweet girl. You're letting your anger get the best of you." She reached for me and I backed away.
"I don't want to be sweet! I'm sick of being sweet! I don't want to be kind or act polite to anyone. Why, if the king were here right now I'd slap him right across the face just out of spite. My books were all I had of them, Tata, and their gone now, and I hate everything. I hate you, and I hate Lynette, and I hate Waldor. And you know, I wish my uncle would just die! Yes, I hate him that much!" I finished my speech without breathing once. I panted for a moment before breaking into sobs. I fell to my knees once again.
"Mist—oh, forget it! Mistress does not mean concubine, it means lady who has power. And you must stop being spoiled. I may not have been orphaned, but I was widowed when I was 21, before I had any children. I've lived a far lonelier life than you. My parents were considerably less kind than yours, and I was forced to move out and work when I was 15 years old. I haven't seen them since then. They probably died years ago. I've worked long and hard, and met many hardships," she tilted my chin up to face her, and narrowed her eyes, "But never once have I blamed anyone, even if the blame was not mine. What you did for Lynette was kind, but you should have expected the consequences. And yes, I do know it was Lynette. She told me the whole thing, and I'm very proud of your consideration, but you cannot act like such a child. Now, I won't tolerate another unpleasant word from your mouth, Rosalie. Get up, dust yourself off, and get on with life."
I stared at her and brought myself to my feet. Impatiently, I dried my tears and dusted off my dress.
"Is that good enough?" I asked, trying to, but unable to bring the spite back into my voice.
"Yes. Now I'm off to do some housework. I want you to… I don't know. What exactly did you and your mother used to do?"
I squinted back tears as I glanced at the empty shelves. "We did lessons together…"
"And?" Tata snapped.
I shrugged a shoulder and struggled to find an answer. "I-I don't know! Maybe… who know? Maybe we sewed?"
"Yes, that sounds right. I'll get your embroidery." She turned to the door.
"May I stay in here?" I inquired.
Tata turned back to me, her lips pursed. "Yes, you may. Just so long as not a single tear escapes your eye."
"I promise," I vowed, then felt a smile reach the corners of my lips, "Hey, Tata? Do you think my grandparents would being tossing in their graves at my most un-ladylike behavior?"
"Do I think?" She put a hand on her waist. "I know that your awful behavior will have them tossing for years."
I sniffled and put on a brave smile. "I never let them down, do I?"
Tata shook her head. "Never once, Mistress, never once."
*
A/N: Boy am I proud. I got this chapter out before Friday! Yay! I wanted to make this chapter have another section including everyone's favorite prince (Prince Jerrold in case you're clueless) but I figured it would make it the never-ending chapter and it wouldn't really go along with the current plot.
To address some things mentioned in reviews:
Fuzy Llama- Jerrold was the king of Kyrria, Char's dad, but you know how people name their kids after their parents or grandparents, etc. Thus, Char and Ella's son is Prince Jerrold.
Rora Kuusou- As to Rosalie's similarity to Ella, I'm working hard to make them different. I still want Rosalie to have spunk and determination, but I don't want her to be the carbon copy of Ella.
XkpsesamewrittenX- There was no mention of Rosalie in Ella Enchanted. She's my own made up character. I have no idea who Diana is, either. Could you please explain that to me?
C.L. Rhodes- This chapter was sort of angst-y, but they'll get even more so later in the story.
To everyone else: Thanks a ton for reviewing! It makes me want to be a much better authoress than I have been!