VII

The Honeymoon Ends

Cinderella slipped her engagement ring onto her white-gloved finger, and then swiftly followed it with her wedding ring. She got up from the vanity, and glided over to the full-length mirror, to twirl before it and examine herself.

Cinderella was dressed in white, with a bodice tailored to fit each curve of her hourglass figure, and a calf-length skirt that billowed outwards, helped by several layers of airy chiffon petticoats that gave it bounce and volume both. The sleeves were short and off the shoulder, and consisted of several layers of almost transparent silk that wrapped tightly around Cinderella's shoulders and wound around the neckline of her gown, with the topmost layer being white, the bottom-most pink, and the other layers being shades in between. The skirt had a pink peplum, and there was a pink sash wrapped around Cinderella's waist, tied into a large bow at the back. White gloves, the extended to just past the wrists and fastened on at the sides with two pearl buttons, enclosed her hands, and Cinderella's hair hung down to her shoulders, restrained by a white headband with a bow on top, such as she had almost worn to the ball before her stepsisters had destroyed her dress. Today, Cinderella wore all the pearls that Eugene had given her at the beginning of their honeymoon: the necklace hung loosely around her throat, the earrings peaked out from beneath her locks, and one bracelet was clasped tightly around her right wrist, while the second dangled more loosely from the left. Her shoes were white, and high-heeled, with pink ribbons upon the toes.

Cinderella looked, if she said so herself as she twirled before the mirror and pulled her dress this way and that, quite lovely. But did she look like the woman that Eugene saw, the one that he put into his paintings?

Cinderella stood in front of the mirror, her expression suddenly stern, contemplative. She tried to brighten her look, and then she tried to smile as the girl in the painting, that mixture of shy and confident, welcoming and reserved, bright-eyed and uncomfortable.

She tried to capture it, but she just ended up looking ridiculous with her best effort. Her worst effort made her look rather ill.

You are making too much of this, by far, Cinderella thought. There is no 'girl in the painting' there is only you! You are that girl.

Then why don't I recognise myself?

You're being ridiculous.

Can you honestly say that it concerns you not at all that I cannot see in me what he sees? Is there no fear at all that he sees something that isn't there at all, and may realise it?

Obviously I can't say that, because I'm you and you just as good as said you were worried. But am I right to be?

Cinderella sighed. If her stepmother was here, then she would tell her that this was exactly what she ought to be worrying about: that Eugene did not love the real her, but only something he thought he saw in her. She would say that Cinderella had tricked her way into a dream, and soon it would be time to wake up.

And her stepsisters...well, they would probably have just stolen her pearls, because Anastasia and Drizella were far from subtle.

Cinderella walked slowly away from the mirror and crossed to one of the bedroom windows, where she could see out across the grounds of the summer palace. Soon that view would be gone, replaced by the more familiar sights of the capital, for she and Eugene were returning to the city today, and to that high tower in the main palace where the whole city would lie beneath her. Eugene had left her to get dressed while he went downstairs to see that everything was ready. He might be waiting for her even now, while she stood here dithering.

Her luggage was all packed away - a slightly wardrobe than she had arrived with, thanks to a delivery of dresses like the one she was wearing now that had arrived mid-way through the honeymoon - and waited beside the bed, but she could not move towards it.

"He loves me," Cinderella murmured. "He loves me not. He loves me-"

There was a knock at the door, Cinderella whirled towards it with a gasp.

"Begging your pardon, your highness," the voice belonged to Constance, one of the maids at the summer palace who had been set to tend to Cinderella as a handmaiden. "May we come in."

"Of course," Cinderella said.

The door opened and Constance entered, followed swiftly by Paulette, the other of Cinderella's two maids. They both curtsied to her.

"Apologies if we were interrupting anything, your highness," Constance said, her tone deferential in a way that Cinderella found it hard to get used to. Was I ever so meek and mild before my stepmother? Surely not.

Cinderella did her best to smile. "It's quite all right, Constance, is something the matter?"

"Oh no, your highness, it's just that his highness, Prince Eugene, sent us to tell you that he's ready to leave whenever you are, but to say specifically that he isn't trying to rush you, you can take as long as you like," Constance said. She was a lithe young woman of about average height, with light brunette hair tied up in a severe bun that made it impossible to judge the length. Her skin was pale and her eyes were a watery blue, and they would not meet Cinderella's gaze.

"His highness' exact words were that 'you can't rush perfection'," Paulette said. There was far less deference in Paulette's voice, and she was willing to meet Cinderella's eyes, at least some of the time. Her hair was blonde, done in the same severe bun that Constance endured, and her eyes were a greenish hazel. Any other differences in appearance between Paulette and Constance were lost in the identical uniforms they wore, the black dresses and white aprons.

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "I was just finishing off..." she waved her hand vaguely up and down herself.

Constance curtsied again. "You look quite lovely, begging your highness' pardon."

Cinderella smiled, more genuinely this time. "Thank you, Constance. I understand that you're both returning to the palace with Eugene and I, to continue serving as my maids."

Constance curtsied again. "Yes, your highness, though of course we won't be riding in the carriage with His Highness and yourself. We'll be in the second coach, with the luggage."

"I see," Cinderella said, grateful that the two maids were not being forced to ride on the carriage roof or anything similar. "Are you happy to be leaving here?"

"Oh yes, your highness," Constance said. "A handmaiden gets six sous a week more money than a house maid. Begging your highness pardon, I'm sure that you're not interested in such things."

"No, it's fine," Cinderella said. "And what about you, Paulette? Are you happy to be coming with me."

Paulette met Cinderella's eyes, and shrugged. "I am content."

"All right then," Cinderella said brightly, crossing the room to where her baggage was piled up by the bed, and out of reflex picked up the largest case. It turned out to be a little harder to balance the weight while wearing high heels, and Cinderella tottered a couple of steps before regaining her balance. "Will you both help me with the bags?"

Paulette and Constance looked at one another. Constance said, "Probably best if you let us take care of that, highness."

"I'm perfectly..." Cinderella began, before she understood what they meant. "I see. Are you sure I can't help you at all."

"Probably best if you don't, princess," Constance murmured. "We could get into trouble if people thought we were malingering."

"I see," Cinderella said, putting down the case and being careful not to drop it on her feet. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to leave you to it, won't I?"

Constance smiled nervously. Paulette's face was a mask, guarding her feelings well. Cinderella could have done with such a mask herself, but she felt too embarrassed to be able to put it on. She felt the need to leave the room and escape their eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured, and was barely able to restrain from running away, instead leaving the room with a firm stride, waiting until she had reached the corridor to close her eyes and put her head in her hands. I'm such an idiot.

These were her servants, not her friends. They worked for her, for the extra six sous a week that Constance had mentioned, but they did not serve her out of loyalty, still less love. And as for Cinderella herself, she might have done similar work once, but she was not one of them. How could she be, when they were doing her hair and heating her bathwater and she was the one taking the baths and having her hair done? When she wore pearls and they wore black?

She would have to get used to the fact that she was where her Stepmother had been, and they were where she had once been, and though she could treat her maids better than Stepmother had treated her, Cinderella could never be more to them than a good mistress.

If she was to look for friends, and Cinderella hoped that she could find them because it would get very lonely with only Eugene and the conversations she could sneak with her mice, then it would have to be amongst her ladies-in-waiting, whom she would meet today when they returned to the palace.

She made her way down into the hall, where the sight of Eugene waiting for her raised her spirits enough to allow her to smile for him, and to rush down the stairs and twirl for him in her airy dress.

He smiled as he took her gloved hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "You look wonderful," he said, then kissed her on the lips so boldly that Cinderella felt her knees start to weaken as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Are you ready to go?"

There was a part of Cinderella that would rather have stayed here, with him, in what felt at times like a cocoon cut off from the world. But he was a prince and she was now a princess, and the world called to them to take up the duties that entailed. So she said, "Yes, I'm ready. Paulette and Constance are bringing my things. I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?"

"Not at all," Eugene said, offering her his arm. She slipped her arm through the crook of his and laid her hand gently on his elbow. Eugene looked into her eyes. "It will be all right, I promise."

Cinderella smiled nervously. "I've never done anything like this before."

He kissed her again, a gentle peck this time. "You will be splendid," he said, then led her out of the summer palace.

Their carriage was waiting for them outside, with footmen in rich royal livery attending on it until their arrival. A second coach, devoid of much of the gilded ornamentation that characterised their own, waited a little behind to carry the luggage and servants. The muscular horses waited in harness, stamping their feet in eagerness to be off. Most surprising to Cinderella where the sight of a large number of cavalrymen, some mounted and some standing beside their steeds, surrounding the two carriages. She recognised Etienne Gerard, who had been Eugene's best man at their wedding, and he was standing in front of the house with another man she did not recognise, a short but broad-shouldered fellow with black hair and an extravagant moustache, with whom Etienne looked to be having a friendly argument.

"Best out of three," the man with the moustache suggested.

"You lost," Etienne replied, his tone as implacable as the tide. "Get to the back."

The fellow with the moustache bristled. "This is most dishonourable."

"You can blame my lady luck for that, not me," Etienne replied breezily. He was the first to spot Eugene and Cinderella, and swept an elaborate bow for them. "Your royal highnesses, how good of you to join us. Princess Cinderella, the day is made brighter by your presence."

"Just Cinderella will be fine, Etienne," Cinderella said.

"I fear, your highness, that it will not," Etienne replied.

"Cinderella, this is Colonel Xavier Georges, of the Crown Prince Dragoons," Eugene said, introducing the second man.

Xavier turned to her, and with his full face in view Cinderella saw that he had a duelling scar upon his left cheek. He bowed. "Your royal highness. We have the honour of providing your escort for the return to Rennes."

"Escort?" Cinderella asked. "Why do we need an escort?"

"It is the done thing, ma'am," Etienne said. "You are the prince and princess, you must return in style. Style that a squadron apiece of the Princess Royal Hussars and the Crown Prince Dragoons should be sufficient to provide."

"Which one of you is leading," Eugene asked, a hint of a mischievous smile playing across his lips."

"We are," Etienne replied, tossing a silver coin up in the air and then catching it with one black-gloved hand. Colonel Xavier muttered something under his breath.

"Are we ready to depart, your highness?" Xavier asked.

"Once Cinderella's luggage is all stowed," Eugene said. He looked back, and when Cinderella followed his gaze she saw Constance and Paulette coming out with her things. "Which will be soon, apparently."

"Mount up!" Xavier bellowed. Etienne had opened his mouth to give the order, but he had been beaten to it, causing him to look slightly chagrined and Xavier to look a little smug.

The two groups of cavalry sprang onto their horses, those who had dismounted in the first place, and formed up in front of and behind the two carriages. In front where Etienne's hussars, wearing dark blue tunics heavy with gold lace, dark blue breeches and red pelisses trimmed with black fur. Some of them wore shakoes with tall black plumes, others wore tall bearskin hats. Cinderella wondered idly if these had been the man who had chased her from the ball, certainly they wore the right hats, and in silhouette...they might look right. Not that it mattered, they had done her no harm.

Behind the carriages formed Xavier's dragoons. They wore green coats faced with red, and white breeches, and their heads were covered by brass helmets with black horsehair crests.

"Darling, shall we?" Eugene asked, gesturing towards their carriage. He held her hand as she climbed in and settled down upon the red velvet cushions. There was a few moments pause after he climbed in after her, presumably to allow the footman to take his place, then Cinderella could hear Etienne shout.

"Ride!"

There was the crack of the reins, then the carriage began to move forward with a jolt. For a moment there was no sound but the rattling of the carriage and the clip-clop of the hooves of the horses. Then one of the hussars made a bad joke about the dragoons behind which, in spite of being awful, got a volley of laughter from his fellows. Soon the column was alive with chatter.

"I can tell them to be quiet, if you'd prefer," Eugene offered.

"It's fine," Cinderella said. Though she would have preferred if their jokes had been funny - although the hussars certainly seemed to be enjoying them, though the dragoons probably did not share in the merriment - she had no desire to silence them. It wasn't as though she wanted quiet. "I don't suppose you know of anything happening soon? Anything that might require me?"

"Not that I know of, but I'm sure there will be invitations waiting for you when we return," Eugene said. "And there is the matter of your birthday celebration."

"It's only May," Cinderella said. "And my birthday isn't until October. That's six months away."

"In terms of royal events, it's practically next week," Eugene said. "Or so I used to think anyway, if His Grace can cobble together a ball for me to find you at in a single day I suppose we can cut it a little closer. Still, there's no harm in thinking ahead. I thought about a ball in your honour."

Cinderella laughed. "A ball, in my honour. I still can't believe this is real."

"But you've no objection to the idea?"

"None at all," Cinderella said. "I think it sounds wonderful."

They took lunch at an inn by the roadside, eating soup out in the light of the sun on wooden benches, together with a local wine that Eugene pronounced surprisingly good. Cinderella, who had little experience of wine, was willing to take his word for it on the grounds that it wasn't revolting her tongue.

Still, the food and the heat together made Cinderella feel a little drowsy, so she laid her head against Eugene's shoulder and closed her eyes as he put one arm around her shoulders and took both her hands in his own, squeezing them gently.

The one of the hussars started to sing.

Eugene sighed, leaned out of the window and said something indistinct. The singing very quickly stopped.

Eugene returned to acting as Cinderella's prop, kissing her on the top of the head as he squeezed her hands.

She slept for a couple of hours, waking up as they neared the capital itself. The sound of the horses' hoofbeats changed, becoming more of a rattle as they left the dirt roads of the countryside behind and moved onto the cobbles of the city streets. Cinderella pulled back the curtains as the carriage crossed the bridge and into Rennes.

It was mid-afternoon, and the streets were full of people. Cinderella realised that one of the functions of the cavalry escort was to clear those streets, as she heard Etienne shouting for people to make way.

Some people cheered, for Eugene and for her. Some simply waved. To both of them Cinderella waved back, and Eugene too sometimes. Others regarded the carriage darkly, with sour looks and silent voices.

"Witch!" someone shouted.

"Go back to scrubbing pots!" yelled another.

Cinderella retreated from the window, frowning.

"How can they say things like that without even knowing me?" she asked.

"When people don't know something, or someone, they tend to believe the newspapers," Eugene replied. "Unfortunately, the newspapers aren't on your side at the moment."

"Is there anything I can do to change that?"

"Perhaps," Eugene said. "I don't have an easy answer for you, I'm afraid. But the press is fickle, so hopefully they'll find someone else to scorn soon enough."

"That isn't especially comforting," Cinderella murmured.

"I wish I had more comfort to offer," Eugene said.

An orange hit the side of the carriage with a squelching sound. "Witch!"

The coach slid to a halt.

"Sergeant! Find whose responsible!" Etienne snapped.

"No," Eugene shouted. "Just keep moving."

He held Cinderella close, his strong arms enfolding her as the carriage began to move again.

"It will change," he whispered, though he whether he truly believed it or not Cinderella could not tell. "It will get better."

"What in the name of God was that?" Jean Taurillion yelled as he pushed the Great Ox into the wall that lined the narrow alleyway. Beyond the alley, the procession of soldiers accompanying the royals was passing by, but thankfully none of them looked down the dark crevice to see the urchins gathered there: Jean, Marie, Thomas, Christophe, Angelique and the Ox. The Taudis gang, and his to protect, though they didn't make it easy for him sometimes.

The Ox didn't reply. His real name was Olivier, but as he was the biggest kid in the crew by far and built like even more of a bull than Jean himself even Jean, who tried to avoid using the cruel nicknames the world gave his friends sometimes, found it hard not to call or even think of him as the Great Ox.

"I asked you a question," Jean snarled, pushing Olivier again. The Ox was a good foot taller than him, and as broad at the shoulder, but Jean's anger was a thing to behold and something Olivier would never have the wit to mach. "What were you playing at? Why? Answer me that, why?"

It had been Olivier who had thrown the orange. If His Highness had not been so keen on moving on, there might have been soldiers coming down here swords and pistols, and how could he have protected them then. He might call himself the Knight of the Alleyways, but he wasn't a real knight, he had no armour and his sword was a broken off broom-handle. What could he have done?

"Talbot told me I should," Olivier murmured.

"Talbot?" Jean chuckled manically. "What would make you listen to Talbot? He's a cock!"

"He's only saying what they all say," little Marie murmured from where she squatted at the far wall. "They say the princess is a witch, and that she ensorcelled the prince into marrying her."

"They say she doesn't deserve to be the princess," Thomas said. "Not really." Thomas, called Twitching Thomas by the unkind, was the smallest of the boys, with over sharp features and an inability the meet the eyes of whoever he was speaking to, and now he looked at the floor while he spoke to Jean.

"They say-" Olivier began.

"Yes, I'm sure they say a lot," Jean snapped, running his hands through his hair. "But do you know who they are, who are saying all this? Can anyone answer me that, who are they?"

No one answered.

"Rich people, that's who," Jean shouted. "They don't want people like us to climb out of the gutter, they don't want us to stand as high as them. They hate it that one of us has climbed all the way to the very top, so they make up lies about her to drag her down. And then they write down those lies so that we'll believe them and turn on one of our own." As far as Jean was concerned, the only magic going on was the magic way that writing something down made everyone think it must be true.

"What do you mean, one of us?" Angelique asked. She was the closest to Jean's own age, and she had an ethereal quality about her pale skin and unkempt blonde ringlets that had given her the name of the Angel, though to Jean it was as much a sign that she needed to eat more. "I've never seen her in the streets begging for coin."

"She worked as a maid," Jean said.

"I wish we were so high," Angelique muttered.

"No! Don't you see, that's what they want you to say," Jean said. "The well off want us to hate each other so we never get around to hating them. They want to keep us divided so they can rule."

"You know a lot of things," Marie said.

"Or he thinks he does," Christophe said. "If all that's true then why should we care about any princess? She's richer than any of them."

"The royal family is different," Jean said. "The king protects his people from the abuses of the rich. If the king knew what we endured-"

"He knows, he just doesn't care," Christophe said.

"If he knew he would help us," Jean shouted. "That's why the princess matters, someone who understands to speak for us in the palace. A foot in the door so that the rest of us can come in. Do you want to stay here in the mud for your whole life? I don't, I want to be somebody. And the princess is going to help me do it."

"How?" Angelique asked.

"What?" Jean demanded.

"How is she going to help? How are we going to follow her through this door?" Angelique said.

Jean waved his arms in exasperation. "I don't know yet! Why don't one of you try coming up with some ideas for once?"

The carriage came to a halt outside the palace, the spires looming overhead as Eugene held out his hand to help Cinderella down. She had dreamed of this, in the long cold nights when the wind blew in and the rain seeped through the gaps in the shutters. She had dreamed of wearing gorgeous gowns and shimmering jewels, and being married to a prince who loved her. Clearly she had done something very good to deserve the fulfilment of all her dreams. Or else she was going to continue learning that one's dreams were seldom unalloyed bliss when brought into reality.

Eugene squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. You're safe here."

"I do not want to live my whole life within these walls," Cinderella replied.

Eugene looked uncomfortable, it was clear that he had no answer. But then, neither did she.

Cinderella reached out and brushed his cheek lightly with her hand. "I'm sorry. I've no right to make you unhappy."

"I have no wish to be happy when you are unhappy."

"I'm not, not really," Cinderella said, and she was only lying a little bit. "I supposed that I hoped to be loved by everyone, but I don't need to be. As long as I have your love, that's all that really matters."

"Eugene! Cinderella!" the king came rushing down the stairs, trailed by the perpetually harassed looking Grand Duke and the rather more calm looking captain of the guard.

"Welcome back," His Majesty said, taking his son and daughter-in-law in his arms in a wide embrace. "Welcome back, both of you! How as the honeymoon?"

Cinderella laughed as Eugene put his arm around her waist. "It was quite lovely, your majesty."

"I'll bet it was," the king said. "I don't suppose there is any chance that you can already feel the life-"

"Please don't be vulgar, father, there is plenty of time," Eugene said sharply.

"I was only asking," grumbled His Majesty. "And you have been saying that for far too long, my boy. Now, come with me, both of you, you can tell me all about it."

Cinderella curtsied. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I'm feeling a little tired. If it's all right, I'd like to go to my room and rest."

"Oh, well of course," His Majesty said, his tone instantly becoming sympathetic where it had been commanding. He took her hand and kissed it. "You look absolutely beautiful, my dear. I hope that you feel better."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Eugene asked.

"No, you go with your father," Cinderella said with a smile. "I remember the way. I just want to lie down for a while."

The truth was that she was not so much tired as she was worn out. Her worries of the morning, her foolishness with the servants, the revelation of just what people thought of her, in the capital at least, it had drained her. She did not even desire Eugene's company at the moment.

"I'll see you later, at dinner at least," Eugene said.

"Yes," Cinderella said.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Cinderella said. "I'll see you later." She watched his father lead Eugene away, then she began to climb the steps into the palace, then make her way up the Queen's Tower.

His Grace accompanied her. "It was intended, your highness, that you should meet your ladies in waiting now. However, if you are fatigued, that can be postponed for the day."

"Thank you, Your Grace, that's very kind," Cinderella said. "But I'm sure I can manage to say hello." She was anxious to meet her ladies in waiting, if only because she hoped that they might become her friends; their job was, after all, to keep her company. Although they had been chosen for her by the king - after all, how could she have chosen them herself, as new to the court as she was - she had hopes that he would have chosen kind ladies whom she would like. She had already asked that her stepsisters not be chosen.

The ladies were waiting for her on the floor below her personal suite of rooms, standing in a line like soldiers on parade to welcome her as Cinderella came up the stairs.

"Welcome, your highness," they said in unison.

His Grace cleared his throat. "Ladies, allow me to present to you your royal mistress, Princess Cinderella. Your Highness, allow me to present to you your ladies in waiting: Mademoiselle Theodora Mercedes de la Tour, daughter of Colonel and Madame de la Tour."

Theodora curtsied. "Your Highness." She was a tall young lady, with dark brown hair worn in ringlets and penetrating green eyes that swept Cinderella up and down before looking down respectfully at the floor.

"Mademoiselle Augustina Dubois, daughter of General Pierre Dubois."

"Your Highness," Augustina curtsied. She was a little shorter than Theodora, but probably the most beautiful of all of Cinderella's ladies, with skin as white as snow and hair of raven black, cut so short that there was hardly a trace of it below the nape of her neck. Her mouth was a little small, but attention was soon drawn upwards and away from it by her amber eyes.

"Mademoiselle Christine Bonacieux, grand-daughter of the Lord Bonacieux, Marquis of Cherbourg."

"Your Highness," Christine said eagerly as she curtsied to the princess. She was a petite little thing, with golden hair in curly tresses and eyes that looked as blue as they did innocent.

"Mademoiselle Hortense Villeneuve, daughter of Admiral Jean-Baptiste Villeneuve."

"Your Highness." Hortense had a high pitched voice, brown hair worn loose down her back, and hazel eyes that sparkled with amusement as she curtsied.

"And Lady Serena Montcalm, daughter of Lord Montcalm, Duke of Brest."

"Your Highness," Serena said calmly, making no pretence to doing anything other than examining Cinderella keenly with green-blue eyes. She had sharp, fine features: high sculpted cheekbones, a sharp nose, a well rounded face, a slender, shapely form. Her hair was reddish-blonde, not too from Cinderella's own strawberry-blonde locks, and it cascaded in waves down almost to her waist. Four strings of diamonds glittered at her throat, the largest that Cinderella had ever seen, and at each ear she wore a diamond cluster, making Cinderella feel quite outshone and, indeed, almost underdressed in her single string of pearls.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Cinderella said, standing in front of the five ladies with her hands clasped in front of her. She smiled in what she hoped was a welcoming manner. "Hello, and thank you all for agreeing to enter my service. I'm going to lie down for a while now, but I look forward to getting to know all of you. I'm sure we're all going to be great friends."

"We are at your service, your highness, when you require us," Augustina Dubois said.

Cinderella nodded. "Thank you for being so understanding."

She went up to her room alone, closed the door behind her, and flopped onto her belly onto the bed.

"Everything okay, Cinderelly?"

Cinderella looked up as Jaq scrambled up onto the bed.

Cinderella sighed. "They don't like me, Jaq."

"Who not like Cinderelly?"

"The people," Cinderella said. "The newspaper said...they don't think I deserve to be here."

"I know you deserve to be here," Jaq said.

"I know, and it's very sweet of you," Cinderella said. "Unfortunately, your opinion doesn't carry a lot of weight."

"So," Theodora said, leaning back on her chair as she brushed the ringlets out of her hair. "What do we think of the new princess?"

"It's a little early for judgement, don't you think?" Augustina replied, tilting her face so that she could see everything in the mirror as she wiped off her makeup before bed. "We barely know her."

"First impressions matter, Gussie," Theodora said. "Come on, everyone must have some thoughts, so share them."

"I think she seemed very nice," Christine said. "Certainly she seemed friendly enough."

"Yes, friendly," Hortense said with a laugh that sounded like a braying horse. "Doesn't have a clue what she's doing though, that's plain."

"Of course not," Serena said. "She's a jumped up dishmaid, how could she know the first thing about true nobility? Look at how she dressed."

"I thought she looked lovely," Christine said.

"That bow in her hair made her look all of six years old," Serena said, ignoring Christine's remark completely. "Can any of you honestly believe that someone like that is going to be representing Armorique at state banquets and ambassadorial receptions?"

Hortense laughed at the prospect. "Perhaps she can become good friends with the Imperial ambassador as well."

Serena smirked. "I think, if nothing else, we can conclude that the dignity of Armorique will suffer with her as princess. And even more so if she becomes queen."

"You mean when," Christine said.

Serena's smile had something of the shark about it. "I never misspeak, my dear. I always mean exactly what I say."

"May I ask, since when has the Montcalm family cared about the dignity or prestige of Armorique?" Augustina asked. "Or, for that matter, when has the Montcalm family cared about anything but the fortunes of the Montcalm family."

The look that Serena gave her would have curdled milk. "Dubois. Your grandfather was a common soldier, wasn't he?"

"My grandfather was made an officer for being the first man over the walls of Port Royal," Augustina said flatly. "When was the last time your family did anything half as brave."

"Now, now ladies, let's not fight amongst ourselves," Theodora said, though Augustina thought she was rather enjoying what she had set in motion. "We are, after all, supposed to be the very best of friends." Hortense laughed. "Come on, Gussie, your turn."

Augustina narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you tell us all what you think, Theo, seeing as you're so very keen to find out the opinions of everyone else."

Theodora scowled, and Augustina restrained a smile. She and Theo had been at school together, and had even shared a room for three terms, which was why Theodora could call her 'Gussie' but also why Augustina knew what Theo was like. She liked to stir the pot better than she liked to sup from it, and she would much rather collect the gossip of others - she stored it all up like a magpie collecting shiny things, or possibly like a quartermaster hoarding ammunition for battle - than dispense her own wisdom to others.

"I think," she said. "I think His Highness could have done much better."

"That much, again, was obvious," Serena said, taking a heavy gulp of red wine. "Any one of us would have made a better consort, even the soldier's grand daughter. Of course, some of us would have been better choices than others, but her. A servant girl."

"Right, I answered, Gussie, so now it's your turn."

For a moment Augustina was tempted to call out what a poor answer Theo had given. But ultimately there wasn't much point, as blood could not be got from a stone so words could not be got from a closed mouth. She said, "My father likes to say that you can't judge a soldier's quality until he's been under fire."

"Who is going to shoot at the princess?" Christine asked anxiously.

Augustina sighed. "It's a metaphor darling. I mean it's too early to tell what kind of woman she is when we haven't seen her forced to perform."

"Oh, come now," Serena said. "You can't possibly think that this maid can do the job?"

"As I said, I've no idea," Augustina said. "And so I reserve judgement."

Hortense snorted. "What makes you think she won't fall flat on her face?"

"Well, Prince Eugene married her for some reason," Augustina said. "And I'd like to think that I was beaten on more than just looks."