IV

The Florentine

King Louis slapped his hand down on the table. "Splendid news! Splendid! Congratulations, my boy! I'm delighted to see that after all these years I've finally worn down your defences...I mean, that after so much searching you have finally found love."

"Yes, father, that was what you meant to say, I'm sure," Eugene murmured. He glanced at Cinderella with a mildly apologetic smile, squeezing her hand gently as he did so.

"Welcome to our family, Cinderella," the King said heartily. "I'm sure that you'll make an excellent mother, ahem, wife."

Cinderella curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll do my best to be a good wife and a good princess."

"That's the spirit," His Majesty declared. "I can already see that my son could learn a great deal from you in regards to obedience and duty, my dear."

Cinderella permitted herself a smile. "If you say so, Your Majesty."

"I do. I do indeed," the King said loudly. "Now, Olivier, start making the preparations. The wedding shall be held tonight."

The Grand Duke - Cinderella was mildly surprised to realise that his name was Olivier - started a little at the royal pronouncement.

"Tonight? But sire, there are so many details to attend to that have not even been begun. The young lady does not even have a gown to wear."

"Oh, very well," the King grumbled. "Tomorrow then. That ought to be enough to sling some silk around her."

"Father, I'm not going to change my mind about this just because of a slight delay," Eugene said. "There's no need to rush into this as though I were some plough-hand who has gotten the farmer's daughter into trouble. I don't need a gun to my head. There is time to get this right, and frankly I'd prefer that it was. What do you think Cinderella, would you rather have a wedding quickly or a wedding to look back upon?"

In truth, Cinderella shared some of what Eugene evidently believed to be his father's fears, that he would wake from this dream and realise what madness he had been engaged. And yet, she feared that less now than when she had made the long walk into his presence earlier today, and she found comfort in the compassion in his eyes, the warmth of his hand, the softness of his touch. She did not want to walk down the aisle in her servant's rags, or forced into some awkward gown that barely fit her. She did not want to be wed in secret, before a priest yanked from his bed and a handful of witnesses.

"I...would rather my wedding be a special occasion, if it please Your Majesty."

His Majesty rolled his eyes. "Since you are the only maid in Gallia my son is willing to marry I suppose I must indulge you. Very well, but I wish for no unnecessary delays, mark me. I want you wed as soon as possible. But, since you two wish this done properly then it will be done properly, with all of the nobility of the realm and the good burghers of the city in attendance, and the common folk shall line the roads to cheer you in your carriage."

"As subtle as ever, father," Eugene said with a grin.

"Remember that you were the one who wanted a memorable occasion," the King replied. He looked around. "And? What else are you waiting for? Summon the tailors, summon the dressmakers! Dispatch the invitations and send for the Archbishop! Light the ovens and set the cooks to work! Let the word be spread across ever corner of Armorique! My son weds! Go!"

His Grace the Grand Duke scurried off, with as much dignity as he could muster while the King was waving his arms at him to get him to speed up. Other servants were on the move too, bustling hither and thither to relay the royal commands, moving across the royal parlour with steps that were at once hasty but solemn at the same time.

It felt exceedingly strange to Cinderella that she was one of only three people in the room who were not consumed by haste. For many years in her life prior to this she had been the hasty one, taking the brusque commands and dashing from here to there and back again to carry them out. It felt so strange that now she should be still, unmoving, while other servants moved around her.

It felt so strange that she turned to Eugene and asked. "What should we do? What should I do?"

Eugene blinked. "Do? What do you mean, Cinderella?"

"Well, surely we aren't going to do nothing," Cinderella said. "It is our wedding."

"True enough, but it is also a royal wedding, which means that it will be more done to us than done for ourselves," Eugene explained.

Cinderella frowned. "But it's our wedding day."

"And a pageant for the people," Eugene said. "Which means that, like leading actors, our role is limited to turning up, wearing the costumes and saying the lines that we're given."

"I'd rather you didn't talk about it like that," Cinderella said softly.

Eugene bowed his head. "I'm sorry. You're right, this is our marriage and it is more than play, for both of us. But, if you are going to become my wife, you will have to learn that there is an element of outward show in everything we do. There are always eyes upon us, and what those eyes see they will judge. So...watch your step."

"I have been watching my steps with great care since I was a child," Cinderella murmured. "I just...I have worked for my family for so long, waited on them hand and foot, attended to their every need; it feels so strange to be the only person not doing any work when something is going on."

Eugene laughed. "You should enjoy the rest, for I fear that you will be put to work again soon enough. Not sweeping floors or making breakfast, true, but for all that you will be better dressed you may find the work of royalty is harder, for all the weight of the kingdom bears down upon us."

"Harder, perhaps," Cinderella said, though privately she was a little sceptical that attending balls and banquets could ever be considered harder than bending her back day after day with mop and broom and bucket. "But a burden shared is a burden halved, and I won't be alone in this work, will I?"

"Never," Eugene said, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the room. "Are you sure you don't want your family punished in any way? It could be done you know."

"I know," Cinderella said. "But I have no wish to answer unkindness with unkindness. Leave them be, they are not as terrible as-"

"As you made them sound?" Eugene said.

Cinderella looked down at her feet. "If that is so then it is I who have been unkind."

"You have had cause enough, I think," Eugene growled.

"I don't want to talk about my stepmother, or my stepsisters," Cinderella said. "So, what do we do, while other people plan our wedding?"

Eugene laughed again. "I assure you, darling, we're in the very best of hands. And we do have our part to play each of us."

"Really? And what is that?"

"We are to become mannequins."

Cinderella soon found out what he meant when the dressmakers arrived, a gaggle of a half dozen master clothiers accompanied by apprentices being bolts of cloth in their arms or hefting boxes of fabrics and designs.

"Is my dress going to be made by committee?" Cinderella asked under her breath as she watched them jostle for first place through the door, scowling at one another as they passed the guards and competed for precedence up the stairs.

His Grace, who had found time amidst all his other tasks to be on hand while Cinderella watched the possession, bent a little to speak softly into her ear. "Unfortunately there has been no need for gowns or dresses in the palace since the late Queen's passing, so equally there is no dressmaker the crown is want to call upon. I thought you might like to make your own choice amongst the finest in the city."

Cinderella looked at him. "That was very considerate of you, Your Grace. But why are they being so rude to one another?"

"If you should choose them for your wedding gown, highness, and for your dresses after, it will be a great filip to each of them," His Grace explained. "They fear to lose their chance at patronage."

Cinderella frowned slightly, thinking that this boorish behaviour on their part was only making her wish that some other choice would present itself.

Just at that moment, voices began to echo down the corridor and very soon a latecomer appeared, with no servant or apprentice to follow in her footsteps, carrying her own cumbrous baggage, deep in argument with one of the palace equerries.

"Madam I am sorry but you cannot simply-"

"The master dressmakers have been summoned and I am a master dressmaker!"

"You have not been invited and you have no standing to claim-"

"I will have you know that I apprenticed with Cosimo and Giuseppe de Peora in Florence, I have recieved my master's credentials from the Florentine guild and I created the wedding gown worn by Margravine Matilda of Tuscany for her wedding to Signor Piero de Medici. I have as much right to stand in this company as any man and more experience. Now stand aside so that your princess may look truly splendid."

"What is going on here?" the Grand Duke inquired.

The eager newcomer turned towards the staircase, where Cinderella and the Duke looked down over the scene, and instantly dropped her boxes and her bolts of silk and swept a courtly curtsey to them both. "Your highness. Your grace. Allow me to introduce myself: Mademoiselle Lucrecia Adessi, dressmaker to ladies of the highest quality, at your service."

"You have come to present your work?" the Grand Duke asked.

"She has come without an invitation," the equerry said in tones of stentorian disapproval.

"If you knew of what I was capable you would have invited me and me alone," Lucrecia declared. She was a tall, lithe young woman with a Mediterranean complexion but surprisingly little of Italy in her accent. Her hair was charcoal black, falling down her face in waves, and her eyes were a light blue. "I am not known in this country yet, it is true, but I have letters of recommendation from excellent and worthy people vouching for my skill, and I am sure that I can more than demonstrate my abilities and worth-"

"Be that as it may madam," the Grand Duke interrupted. "You were not summoned, you are not known-"

"If to be known is all then why is His Highness not marrying the daughter of some foreign crown or noble scion?" Lucrecia demanded. "Instead we are here to garb a maid of whom none have heard because to be known means little to the prince in choice of bride. I am not known, this is true, though I believe with all my heart I shall be so well known that all the court of Armorique shall wear my fashions, but to be known in this matter should mean less to you than to be skilful. I am as yet unknown here, but I have a keen eye and deft hand, I have vision and I have many testaments to the keenness of my fingers. All I ask is an opportunity to prove my boasts, and in return I guarantee a gown unmatched in Gallia. Is opportunity so much to ask?"

"No," Cinderella replied. "It is not. You may show me what you can, mademoiselle."

"My dear," the Grand Duke murmured, raising one eyebrow.

"I am sorry, your grace, if I have overstepped," Cinderella said. "But I would like to give her a chance; one chance, as she asks."

His Grace hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "As you wish, my lady."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Lucrecia said. "You will not regret this."

In his dressing room, Prince Eugene held out his arms while this tailor took his measurements.

"Are they any different from last time?" Eugene asked. "Have I gained any, um...girth?"

"No, your highness, you remain a fine figure of a man," the tailor said.

"Good, good," Eugene murmured, looking himself up and down in the mirror.

"You should wear the dragoon uniform," Etienne said from where he sat at the far end of the room, reading a newspaper with his feet up on the blue ottoman.

Eugene glanced back at him. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I'd quite like to wear the hussar uniform, and if you wore uniform then as your best man I'd be able to get away with it."

Eugene rolled his eyes. "As I'm the groom, shouldn't you be trying to accommodate me when it comes to attire and not the other way around."

"It's a nice uniform," Etienne said.

"Not as nice as your hussar getup," Eugene replied. "If we dressed like that I would be quite outshone."

"That would make a change," Etienne said, amusement in his voice as he turned the page of the newspaper. He paused for a moment. "It's her regiment, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The Princess Royal Hussars," Etienne said. "Once she marries you, this Cinderella will become my Colonel in Chief, won't she?"

Eugene considered it. "Yes, I suppose she will."

"Hmm," Etienne murmured. "I suppose from that standpoint it makes sense that the Princess Royal Hussars should have a...fancier dress uniform than the Crown Prince Dragoons. Not that you'd be able to tell from looking at our Princess Royal to be."

"I would say that when you are a servant, dressing like one makes a degree of sense," Eugene replied, a trifle sharply.

"I said nothing," Etienne replied.

"No," Eugene muttered. "But your tone said everything."

Etienne turned another page in the newspaper.

"Is anything going on in the world?" Eugene asked.

"The Anjevins have given the Empire a pasting on the Loire, but the Flemish have been defeated. They may not last much longer."

"We're well out of that," Eugene said.

"Until the wolf comes to our door," Etienne muttered darkly.

Eugene said nothing. There was nothing to say that had not been said before. He changed the subject. "How's the boy?"

Etienne was silent for a moment. "Well enough. The question of his education will arise soon."

"He is so old already?" Eugene asked.

"Three, nearly four," Etienne said.

"Time enough yet for you to consider the matter."

"Not too much time."

"But time enough," Eugene replied.

Etienne was silent for a moment. "As you say, time enough." He sighed. "So, what's she like?"

Eugene smiled. "Everything I knew that she would be. And more, I think."

"She's asking you to take a lot on trust."

"And? What of it? I do trust her," Eugene said.

"Clearly," Etienne said. "And yet..."

"And yet what?"

"I can see for myself she's very pretty," Etienne said, looking up from the paper. "But yesterday she's a servant. In a few days she will be a princess. Do you think she can do the job?"

"I know she can," Eugene said. "You'll regret it if you underestimate her."

"I look forward to knowing her better then," Etienne said. "She certainly seems taken with you."

"No more than I with her," Eugene said. "I can imagine no other in her place."

Etienne chuckled. "If she is not a perfect paragon then I shall be exceedingly disappointed, both generally and in your judgement."

"You will not be disappointed, I promise you," Eugene said. "I am not, nor shall I ever be."

"Yes, well, you're her husband, or will be soon enough," Etienne said. "If she were to treat me the same as you something would be very wrong."

By the time that Lucrecia Adessi entered the dressing room Cinderella was beginning to wish that she had agreed to be married in her servant's rags, rather than having to spend hours being poked and prodded by dressmakers who did, as Eugene had told her, treat her like a mannequin on which they could hang their creations without the slightest thought to what she might want in a wedding dress. None of them had quite told her that she was wrong in her opinions, but they had each of them insinuated that she was too inexperienced, too poor - though again, not in so many words - to understand what was a suitable gown for a princess. Cinderella thought they should be grateful that she was who she was, a less controlled young lady might well have screamed at them.

When I dreamed of gorgeous gowns, little did I imagine that I would have to put up with this. It's a pity my fairy godmother can't make me a dress.

So when the door to the dressing room opened and the Italian woman tottered in, half concealed beneath all her things, Cinderella did not hold up high expectations.

Lucrecia deposited her samples and the like in the corner of the room, then curtsied. "Your Highness, thank you again for agreeing to see me."

"I am not a princess yet," Cinderella replied, a touch of frosty courtesy in her voice. "For a few days yet, I am simply Cinderella."

"You say that as though we are equals, darling," Lucrecia said. "But you are the bride, the customer and the betrothed of the Prince of Armorique. You are entitled to a bit of deference from a mere dressmaker, don't you think?"

"I am afraid your predecessors have not conditioned me to expect any," Cinderella replied.

Lucrecia chuckled. "I'm sure that I can put Your Highness at her ease."

"I told you, I'm not a highness, yet."

Lucrecia nodded. "As you say, m'lady. Now darling, what kind of dress would you like to wear on your wedding day?"

Cinderella blinked. "I...uh..."

"No one else has asked you this?" Lucrecia asked, rolling her eyes. "So uncivilised. Are you a horse, to bear tack and harness without complaint? No! You are the bride, why should you not choose for yourself what you would wear?"

"But aren't you supposed to be the expert?" Cinderella asked.

Lucrecia smiled. "And so, because I know my trade, I will take your notions and create beauty out of them, even though you ask me to make you a dress that will make you look like a pig in silk - quite a task in one so lovely, that would be - then I will make you look so beautiful a pig than all the lords in the land will rush to the farms in search of brides. But it is not for me to tell you what you may or may not wear, what is or is not suitable for your wedding gown.

"I create beauty, it is my calling and my passion. Sometimes, as now, ladies come to me who are already beautiful and it is my pleasure to enhance that beauty with my creations. At other times the ladies I work for are...less so, and so I must find the beauty in them and labour diligently to bring it out. But beauty shines in happiness, m'lady, it will not be found in misery or discomfort. And so I will hear your wishes, labour to them, and not force you to wear anything that you do not wish to don."

Cinderella smiled. "You are an unusual dressmaker, mademoiselle Adessi."

"I am a Florentine," Lucrecia said. "There, you would be given such courtesy by the greenest of apprentices. Of course there the greenest of apprentices would not be allowed within sight of a royal commission, but I am sure you take my point."

"I've never been to Florence," Cinderella said. "Is it nice there?"

"Oh! It is simply heavenly, m'lady," Lucrecia said. "The heart of fashion and the soul of art reside there beyond doubt."

"Then why have you come here?" Cinderella asked.

Lucrecia chuckled. "One of the difficulties with being the heart of fashion is that it is very crowded with dressmakers and tailors, many of them old and well established. I could not stay in Master Cosimo's shadow forever, and there was little space for me to establish myself. So I came here, where there is more room to grow.

"And now, m'lady, shall we get to work?"