Chapter 6
Georgie stood in front of a large gilt framed mirror staring at the girl reflected from it. She brushed her hand down the silver-blue dress she now wore, smoothing the fabric. The girl in the mirror made the same motion. As Georgie raised her hand to touch her intricately styled hair, the mirror girl touched hers as well. It it absolutely amazing that she is, in fact, me, Georgie mused, a slight satisfied smile appearing on her face.
Only two hours ago she had been brought by King Caspian to the very large bedchamber where she now stood. Once he left, promising to return later to escort her to dinner, three women entered the room and rushed to her, saying magical words like "bath" and "clean clothes." Then one of them uttered the most magical word of all: "food!" Georgie, in all the events of the past day, had forgotten she was hungry. A tray of food appeared moments later after the magic word was spoken and she attacked the tray, eating with a fervor she never knew she possessed. The three women, who Georgie later came to realize were ladies' maids, bustled about the room while she ate. One ushered in several men carrying buckets of hot water towards a large golden tub that was positioned behind a screen. Another rummaged through a large wooden wardrobe, pulling out various articles of clothing that were unfamiliar to Georgie. The final one clucked about Georgie, urging her to eat and murmured "Poor dear"s as she smoothed Georgie's hair in a motherly way. That gesture caused Georgie to pine for her lost mother, but sighed sadly as she remembered her mother rarely showed her such tenderness.
Mrs. Moore brushed her long chestnut hair, smoothing it back into a twist at the nape of her neck, tucking long hair pins into the perfectly styled coif. "Perfect!" she said to her reflection, noticing her tiny daughter perched upon a settee behind her. She smiled, and turned. "Do you think Mummy is pretty Georgie Porgie?" The little girl scowled at the nickname her mother called her, for she hated it. The silly rhyme was written about a boy! Seeing her mother's beautiful face quickly erased the scowl and she hurried over to her to wrap her arms around her mother, claiming "Of course Mummy! You look like a queen!" "Careful darling, you'll wrinkle me!" Mrs. Moore laughed as she pulled Georgie's arms from around her waist, holding them lovingly in her hands. "Will you brush my hair to make it pretty too?" Georgie asked. "Silly girl! Your hair is already pretty. Perhaps Nanny will brush it for you before you go to bed tonight." She patted Georgie's hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead before instructing her to go play while she finished dressing. Georgie skipped out of the room, only stopping to look at her mother from the door, a slight frown on her face, before she rushed off to find her nanny.
When Georgie finished eating, she was pulled from her seat and towards the golden tub, the hot water causing steam to rise from it. The woman who had oversaw the bath preparations began to help Georgie undress. Once her school uniform was removed, she climbed into the hot water, sighing as the heat relaxed her still sore muscles and warmed her to the core. She could feel the dirt and grime melt away as she relaxed. Her relaxation was brief, as hands began scrubbing her hair, washing it with a sweet smelling soap. She was then handed more of the soap and instructed to bathe quickly, as the dinner hour was near.
Once Georgie had scrubbed every inch of her body and removed any trace of dirt, she rose out of the tub, stepped out onto a plush rug, and dried herself with the soft linens hanging over the screen. She noticed a robe that had been left for her as well hanging on the screen, so she wrapped herself in its soft fabric and went around the screen, only to be pulled quickly to a seat at an ornately carved vanity. Hands began styling her hair, ones she realized belonged to the same woman who had washed her hair, as the second maid began laying out clothing that Georgie would wear, brushing what Georgie supposed was invisible lent from the dress which laid on the bed. The third woman, who had sat with her while she ate, began telling her about the kingdom, the Narnia King Caspian had mentioned when he met her in the cell.
It's all so strange. I've never heard of a place called Narnia before, Georgie thought. She was certain she had read books on nearly every country in Europe and had never come across one called Narnia, nor had she read of any place that still lived like the people here lived, without any of the modern conveniences that she had enjoyed in England. In fact, I'm certain I have never read of any place like this in the world that would choose to live like this. A strange thought occurred to her then. As a child she had been read fantastic stories of ordinary children, very much like herself, who had been whisked away to strange lands and forced to overcome the evil in the land, triumphantly saving the land and its people and returning home all the better. These stories had, she remembered, typically been explained by a blow to the head or a very odd dream, but she had fervently believed in these make-believe lands when she was younger. What if I am in one of those lands now? What if I've been whisked away from my own world to a new one? While this thought frightened her, it also excited her. Her life was fairly ordinary; this would be a chance to live adventurously.
And what do I have to lose anyway? she thought sadly.
Georgie looked away from the mirror when she heard a knock on the door to her bedchamber. It must be the king come to get me for dinner, she thought, eager to see a familiar face again. She walked over to the door, smoothing her hair (a move she had seen her mother make hundreds of times) and pulled it open. Behind it stood a tall man, perhaps around her age, rather than the king. This man was as tall as King Caspian, but that was where the similarities ended. This man was more gangly, seeming to be all limbs. His coloring was lighter than that of King Caspian's, with dark brown, and quite messy, hair and deep brown eyes. Across the bridge of his nose was a light smattering of freckles, as though he stayed out in the sun too long without a hat. The most striking feature on him was his smile; it seemed to radiate a happiness Georgie had not felt in a long time, one she thought was lost to her.
"So you must be our "Calormene spy" I've heard so much about."